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amberskywrites · 2 hours ago

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Little Problem

Fic Masterpost | Ao3 Link

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Fluff

Pairing: Sebastian/Elliott, Elliott & Robin

Prompt: Requested by @cooltuna69 :

Elliott is thinking of proposing to Sebastian, but his cabin is too small and needs an upgrade to fit in another person. So one day when he thinks Sebastian isn't home he goes up to the mountain to secretly ask for an upgrade from Robin, but Sebastian walks in on them. I was also thinking of the timeline being after Elliott's 10 heart event but before Sebastian's to fit your other fic, "Together".

Warnings: None! Lmk if there's any I need to add ^^

Summary:

Elliott considers what he could get Sebastian for their two-year anniversary. There's just one little problem… Luckily, he knows exactly who to ask for help.

Elliott leaned back in his chair, rocking it back slightly onto just two legs. He stared at his calendar, pinned above his writing desk and scribbled over with a myriad of notes and dates. At the end of the month, circled just about a dozen times and with little hearts doodled around it, was his and Sebastian’s two-year anniversary.

He still hadn’t decided on a gift.

What do you give someone, who has brought you absolute joy for 224 days? Who has been a light in a storm you didn’t even realize you were in? Who was willing to change to make things work and who helped change you? Who has become one of your most cherished treasures in the world?

What do you give someone?

The sappy, romance-adoring part of himself had an idea.

He’d been thinking about it for a while.

The letter from Lewis, Welwick’s vision at the fair, and Gunther’s recent book recommendations certainly did not help… but they just made him consider the idea more seriously, rather than passerby daydreams.

A mermaid’s pendant.

He may not have grown up in the valley, but the stories were not kept secret from him. And when he and Sebastian had been more open with their relationship, when others discovered how long they had been together already, it was soon that people began asking not a matter of if but when. Robin’s teasing questions, Evelyn reminiscing with Elliott on the mornings he visited her garden for inspiration about her and George’s proposal, Sam and Abigail poking fun at Sebastian good-naturedly.

Elliott would watch Sebastian, anytime someone brought it up.

In the beginning, he would bluster and his face would tinge pink but he’d roll his eyes, would say “yeah, right” or “we haven’t been serious for that long” and Elliott was never hurt, really, by these statements, because he understood and Sebastian was right, and while of course he had hoped everything would work out and they’d live happily ever after… even he knew one could not predict the future.

But as of late, Sebastian’s face would not tinge pink and he would not roll his eyes and he would not bluster. Lately, Sebastian would grow quiet, and not his usual quiet, but more contemplative, like when he visits the docks on a rainy day and looks out into the distance and just thinks. Lately, his face would bloom a deeper red and he’d look away.

Sometimes, he’d shrug and say “maybe” or “we’ll see where things go”.

Elliott hadn’t figured out a good way to broach the subject, just yet. He was terrible with this, talking about his feelings and discussing big changes. He remembered confessing to Sebastian and how he had nearly screwed that up, tripping over his words and almost making Sebastian think that Elliott didn’t even want to be friends anymore. But, well… he did hope that maybe, possibly, Sebastian would want to get married.

There was one little problem, however.

Literally.

Elliott glanced around his cabin. His bed tucked against the wall opposite his desk, his piano swamping about a fourth of the room. His bookcase takes up even more of the floor.

He didn’t have much, and for one person it worked out perfectly fine.

But if there were two people…

He sighed, leaning forward again, his chair hitting the wooden floor with a loud thump that reverberated through the cabin. He didn’t even have a kitchen, or any sort of appliances to actually cook. He usually swung by the saloon for dinner, or shared dinner with Willy or Leah. It wouldn’t be practical to have another person move in when, really, his cabin was barely big enough for one person.

He wouldn’t be able to move in with Sebastian’s family, either. He had no doubt that he’d be welcomed - Robin already did her best to make him feel at home when he visited, or was invited to dinner. Maru was easy to talk with, when it came to topics of sci-fi or medicine. And Demetrius was Demetrius - a little standoffish, he didn’t quite seem to get Elliott, but he was polite and still welcomed him for dinners or when he visited Sebastian. But their home was already constantly bustling, and there wasn’t much space for another person there.

And, most important of all, Elliott knew Sebastian already didn’t wish to remain there.

Elliott would never ask him to stay somewhere he didn’t want, and it would be cruel, he thinks, to ask Sebastian to somehow fit Elliott into the home he already wanted to leave just so they could be married.

He sighed heavily and slumped onto his desk, resting his cheek on his arm. What to do…

It was by chance, the next day that he found himself walking up to Sebastian’s, the memory of Robin offering to renovate his cabin anytime hitting him earlier in the morning and with a text from Sebastian that he would be at band practice all afternoon, but would stop by Elliott’s this evening. Much as he loved Leah, and she too had offered multiple times to help expand or decorate his cabin, even she conceded that Robin was more skilled when it came to architecture.

And besides, there was more than one thing he needed to ask Robin.

One thing at a time, Elliott reminded himself, knocking on the door before opening it - because no matter what Robin said about always being welcome, he still had manners - and returned Robin’s smile when she caught sight of him.

“Elliott! It’s so good to see you,” she rounded her desk as she spoke, enveloping Elliott into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, but Sebby’s not here. He’s with Sam and Abby right now in town.”

“I know,” Elliott reassures, extracting himself from her hug. “I actually came here because I needed to speak with you. I was hoping to ask you about home upgrades?”

“Oh? Well, by all means, take a seat!” She pulled one of the chairs from the wall and moved it to her desk, gesturing for Elliott to take a seat. “Yoba, I remember building that cabin of yours, let me pull up the layout. You haven’t changed it since then, have you?”

“Not really, no. Nothing besides furniture of course.”

Robin nods as she opens a large book, flipping through the first couple dozen pages before stopping. She pushes it so the book is between them, and Elliott sees the blueprint of his cabin, exactly as she had shown him when he had first come to town and needed a place to stay.

“Alright, you said you were interested in home upgrades? What did you have in mind?”

Back and forth it went, Robin pulling out another book to sketch their ideas into as they spoke. She would ask questions upon questions, from how large he wanted a room to be, to the color or style of the walls, if he wanted to change anything about the existing room. She took meticulous notes, and Elliott truly lost track of time as Robin engrossed him further into the process of working out the details.

Eventually, the questions about the house renovations tapered off, and Robin began to create a new blueprint for his cabin that she said she would place into her book, once the renovations were complete. The questions grew more casual as he watched her map out the new blueprint.

“So, what sparked you to upgrade now?” she eventually asked. “You’ve lived in Pelican Town for a few years, but are only now expanding.”

“Well,” Elliott started, and he could feel his face warm just slightly from nerves, “that’s actually something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Robin paused in her drawing to look up at Elliott, tilting her head, and Elliott couldn’t help but notice that this, this is where Sebastian gets his curious look that he tries so hard to stifle around others to feign disinterest, but has been so open with Elliott for so long now. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Elliott took a deep breath. He prayed to Yoba his words would come out clear, that he wouldn’t push the wrong idea across. “You see, I’ve been thinking about Sebastian and I, and where we are in our relationship. I’ve heard about a certain tradition in the valley, and, well… my cabin is too small as it is, if it were to ever fit two people…” he trailed off, realizing suddenly that he had looked away from Robin with a steadily warming face, and he snapped his eyes up.

He was greeted with her hands covering her mouth, but behind them he could see what he could only describe as a beaming smile.

She cleared her throat and dropped her hands, but didn’t manage to stifle her grin. “So, you want to marry-”

Robin was cut off by the door swinging open, and Elliott jumped as it hit the wall, not terribly hard but loudly. Robin’s mouth shut so fast and eyes grew so wide, that Elliott spun around to see who had entered only to find-

Sebastian, standing in the doorway of his own home, keyboard slung over his back and blinking in confusion at Elliott sitting in front of his mother’s desk.

Silence, for about thirty seconds, and Elliott could see Sebastian trying to work out what was going on before he had a chance to ask anything else. When he finally did speak, it was slow, the gears still turning in his brilliant head.

“El, what… are you doing here? I thought you were gonna be home?”

The warmth which had been on his cheeks since he started speaking with Robin only grew deeper as he stood, unsure really on what to say, because he hadn’t been planning on telling Sebastian just yet that he was hoping to upgrade his home. And, he usually did tell Sebastian when he would be stopping by, and rarely did he ever come up to the mountains on his own terms unless it was to the spa.

Before Elliott could think of anything to say, Sebastian’s eyes caught sight of the desk and his eyebrows rose. He stepped closer to get a better look, and a minute amount of tension bled out of Sebastian but upon seeing the blueprint of a different layout of the cabin he was growing so used to, confusion plagued his face once more.

“You’re renovating your cabin?” He looked up to Elliott, head tilting the way Robin’s did just a few minutes ago, puzzled but determined to understand the situation presented to him.

“Um, yes! I ah, it was a bit of a spur of the moment thought, really.”

“You never mentioned wanting to upgrade it,” Sebastian said, not accusatory but still something in his voice was off - a little hurt, if Elliott had to guess, and his heart clenched. “You’ve said before you liked how cozy it is.”

“Well, yes, of course-” Elliott stammered. “And I do love it the way it is now, but-”

“But Elliott stumbled across some cookbooks this morning at the library, and came up here wanting to discuss getting a kitchen,” Robin chimed in. “I convinced him to upgrade a liiitle more,” she said with a small laugh. “It was all very ‘spur of the moment’, as Elliott has put it.”

“I was going to mention it later when you came over,” Elliott added sheepishly, thankful also that Robin did not mention the true reason he was seeking to renovate his cabin.

The hurt that had creeped into Sebastian’s eyes dissipated at this, and Elliott could see even his hold on his keyboard strap relaxing. He even chuckled slightly after a moment, shaking his head and looking again between the blueprint laid out on the desk and Elliott. “Of course you’d randomly decide to renovate your place because of some cookbooks.”

Elliott laughed even knowing his cheeks were flushing a deeper red, and he nodded to the blueprint. “Would you like to see what I have in mind? Your input as well would be very valuable, if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

And - there it was, a spark in Sebastian’s eyes that Elliott loved to see, a glittering of happiness at being asked to join a discussion, to share his thoughts. Elliott vowed the first time he saw it to at any chance return it to Sebastian’s expression, and he was filled with pure joy each time he managed it. The spark was only emphasized by the soft smile Sebastian gave in return to the invitation.

Robin was already pulling up a chair as Sebastian nodded. “I’d love to.”

Sitting back down, side-by-side with Sebastian and across from Robin, Elliott figured he would broach the subject once more with Robin another time.

He wasn’t aware that she already had her answer for him.

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whump-me · 6 months ago

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Unseen: Chapter 22

Chapter 22 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

---

Yvette looked dead. She looked like a target after Violet had finished a mission. Only Violet had never treated any of her targets so cruelly. She never lingered over them, the way it looked like Yvette’s torturers had lingered over her.

But the pallor of her skin was the pallor of a corpse. And her dull eyes looked more dead than alive.

Yvette pushed herself the rest of the way to her feet. She visibly tried to suppress a wince of pain. She couldn’t quite hold back an animal sound of agony.

Violet flinched at the sound. She took a deep breath—and gagged. The room smelled like blood. Petric’s blood, but also Yvette’s. No two people’s blood smelled quite the same. That was one of the things she had learned on her many missions.

“Focus,” Yvette ordered, her voice sharp. “We’ve got two dozen of their cronies, minimum, headed straight for us as soon as they raise the alarm.”

Her voice was rough. Violet knew that roughness. It was the sound of someone who had spent too long screaming. She didn’t know that sound from her missions—she never gave her targets time to scream. She knew it from her training. The punishments for failure could be brutal.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Yvette wrapped her arms around her bare breasts. “Where are my clothes?”

Violet scanned the room for them. It was easier than looking at Yvette. She found a discarded pile of bloody fabric in the corner, and handed the clothes to Yvette. Yvette snatched them away with the irritable gestures of someone who didn’t want to need help, let alone accept it.

“I thought you were dead,” Yvette said as she pulled her clothes on. “I thought they killed you.”

Violet shook her head. “I got away.” Her cheeks burned. “I ran away.”

Her full belly felt as heavy as a condemnation. Yvette had been in this room, being tortured, and Violet had been stuffing her face and savoring the sound of laughter.

But she had come back.

For the moment, at least, Yvette was safe because of her.

It felt… good. Warm. Like sitting on the couch with Yvette, but with an added extra zing to it that only her missions had ever given her.

She shot Yvette a shy smile.

Yvette didn’t return the smile. “You shouldn’t have come back. You got away. You should have stayed gone, and been grateful.”

“Do you wish I hadn’t?” Violet asked, voice hesitant, heart suddenly troubled.

Yvette shook her head. “You saved my life,” she said, her voice more vulnerable than Violet had ever heard it—except for that one day when she had come to Violet to ask about her purpose. “Thank you.”

Violet’s cheeks burned hotter. Rather than figure out how to answer, she opened the door a crack. Immediately, the sound of distant voices and footsteps reached her ears.

“They’re coming,” she reported.

Yvette tugged her shirt back into place. She tossed her head back and wiped blood away from her eyes. “You still shouldn’t have come back,” she said. “Now there’s a good chance we’ll both die here.”

“Not if I can help it.” Violet held up the knife she had taken from one of the dead guards on her way back inside.

“You and me both,” Yvette grimly agreed. She reached down and grabbed a heavy-looking black pistol from next to the man’s still body. It was covered in blood.

She wiped it off carefully on his shirt. “Hope this thing will still work after the bath it got.”

She wasn’t holding the gun the way Violet had been taught to hold a pistol in training. “Do you know how to use that?”

Yvette shot her a scathing look that made her take an involuntary step back. “Of course I do.” Then she sighed. She lowered her eyes. “Or… I can guess.”

“Here, let me show—” Before Violet could finish her sentence, the door burst open. The enemy flooded in. Heavy boots and muscles and guns and cold, cold eyes.

Violet disappeared. But Yvette couldn’t do that. So of course they all closed in on her.

Violet slashed out with the knife in a series of expert strokes. One strike slid under a man’s ribcage to pierce his heart. The next opened an attacker’s throat from ear to ear. Slash. Slash. Slash. Blood coated her hair, soaked into her shirt, flew into her eyes until she had to blink it away to see anything but red.

But they kept coming. And they were coming for Yvette.

Yvette’s shooting stance was awkward. Her grip would have gotten her a day in the punishment room. But determination must have made up for lack of skill. Or it was hard to miss at point-blank range. An attacker dropped, and another, and another.

Violet realized her knife had stopped moving. She forced herself to turn away from Yvette and focus on the enemy. Yvette could handle herself, at least for now.

If she had been outnumbered before, now she was hopelessly overrun. But she was prepared this time. She kept moving, so their grasping arms found only empty air. In such close quarters, they couldn’t shoot without risking hitting each other, which worked in her favor. She moved and struck, moved and struck.

Even so, as the enemy kept coming, her PERI-honed survival instincts screamed that her only hope was to run.

She had once hastened a dying target’s end by placing a hand over his mouth and pinching his nostrils shut until he stopped moving. She stifled those instincts now with the same ruthless grip. She wouldn’t run. Couldn’t run. Not again. Not without Yvette.

Not without Yvette…

She went still for a second, in the midst of the blood and chaos, as a thought came to her.

She glanced across the room at Yvette, through the sea of enemies. Just as Yvette’s gun clicked empty.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” said Donnellan from the doorway. He and Tehrani walked in, Donnellan smiling, Tehrani’s face sober.

“We’ll take it from here,” said Donnellan. “We have plans for this one. And those plans might just take all day.”

Tehrani’s eyes swept over Yvette like a cold wind. “It’s important to demonstrate what happens to people who cross us.” He shook his head. “It didn’t have to end this way, Yvette. We gave you every opportunity.”

Violet didn’t strike out with the knife. It wouldn’t have gained her enough to be worth giving away her position. Instead, she ducked under outstretched arms. She crawled between legs spread wide. She pressed herself against the wall and tried not to breathe too loudly. She inched toward Yvette, as quickly as she could and as slowly as she dared.

Half a dozen enemies grabbed for Yvette at once.

Violet got there first.

Her hand closed around Yvette’s.

She had never turned another person invisible with her. She had tried, in training. The instructors had wanted her to make it work. They had wanted it enough to motivate her in all the ways they knew how. She had spent a lot of time in the punishment room.

But turning something invisible required feeling like it was almost a part of her, an extension of her own body. With her clothes, that was easy. With a weapon, even easier. But with another person?

She had always felt too on guard around people for that. The instructors and the guards were dangerous. The targets were prey. As for her cohort, she knew she would be punished if she got too close.

Even as she tightened her hand around Yvette’s, she knew it wouldn’t work. Yvette was her captor. Yvette was dangerous. She could never let down her guard around Yvette. Certainly not enough to turn her invisible with her.

But Yvette was also her rescuer. She claimed all her talk of rescue had been a lie, but Violet knew better. And Yvette had cried in front of her, had asked her for advice. They had laughed together.

Yvette disappeared. Donnellan and Tehrani gave identical shouts of surprise and outrage.

Violet yanked Violet away a second before the enemies’ grasping hands could reach her.

Yvette wasn’t used to moving without being seen. Her clumsiness showed it. She was all elbows and stumbling feet, with an entire room full of goons yelling and grabbing for her.

Violet pulled her toward the exit, weaving deftly through the enemy. She wrapped both arms around Yvette and shielded her from those grasping arms. They made it through the door.

Violet slammed it shut.

“It locks from the outside,” said Yvette, sounding faintly sick about that. Without letting go of Violet, she slid a thick deadbolt into place.

“That won’t last long,” said Violet as she pulled Yvette down the basement hallway. “We have to move fast.”

Yvette stopped. Violet tried to tug her forward, but Yvette stood fast.

“If we run,” she said, “they’ll only keep chasing us.”

“Maybe not,” said Violet, even as despair-laced fear squeezed her heart. “When I ran, they didn’t come after me.”

“You’re not me,” said Yvette. “They’ll always see me as a threat to them. And they’ll always have a score to settle.”

The truth of Yvette’s words reverberated in her voice.

“We can’t fight them.” Violet’s own voice was small. “There are too many of them.”

Yvette pulled her hand free of Violet’s. When she reappeared, she was smiling.

It was a feral smile, made darker by the blood running down her face. It was the most beautiful thing Violet had ever seen.

“I’m going to burn this place to the ground,” said Yvette. “Want to join me?”

“It’s a lot harder to start a fire than it looks like. And a lot slower.” That was something else she had learned in training.

Yvette only grinned wider. “My father was a gifted man,” she said, “but he had his vices. Eating too well was one. Paranoia was another.” She reached for Violet’s hand again. “My father had a plan for what to do if anyone ever tried to take what was his. Let me show you.”

* * *

After they opened the safe built into the basement wall…

After they reached into the tangled wires inside and started the countdown clock…

After they ran for the door, invisible, Yvette’s hand tucked inside Violet’s shy grip…

After all that, they crouched in the trees beyond the flower garden, and they watched the mansion burn.

“I’m sorry about your home,” Violet said, feeling a pang of grief for that comfortable couch.

Yvette just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“Before tonight, this would have been the worst thing I could imagine,” she said, when she had herself under control again. “But now?” Her eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight. “Now I’m free.”

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Unseen #my writing: Mind Games #living weapon whump #superpower whump #emotional whump #whump aftermath

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twopoppies · 2 years ago

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the "based on your likes" feature just showed me an older ask you got about older fans being "mean/unwelcoming" to newer fans and as a pandemic fan, i just wanted to say that, when people said how exhausting new fans are sometimes, i never took that as a general statement or felt insulted by it, i thought it was obvious that that was about the sort of fans who are here for a hot second and already think that they know better than everyone else without doing the proper research, just to take of with stuff like "zarry was real" or "they broke up 2015-2020"or whatever and when older fans correct them they get pissy 😅 sorry you have to deal with that btw and thank you for all the work you and others put into this fandom, it helped me out a lot when I was new😊💙

Hi honey. I would think people would understand that no one means every single newer fan, but I’ve gotten a lot of messages from people being very defensive about the conversation. And yes, that’s definitely the sort of fan I’m referring to.

The thing is, during quarantine there was a MASSIVE influx of new fans, many of whom started on Twitter or TikTok and got all sorts of wild misinformation. Then there was this enormous exodus from Twitter, especially, and blogs here were flooded with questions. And when I say flooded, I mean I was getting hundreds of new followers a week, sometimes hundreds in a day. It was insane. And many of those people were demanding answers on stuff that was already dead and buried a decade ago. But it was being dredged up as people started digging, and it was exhausting to explain things over and over to people who didn’t want to take the time to do any research themselves.

On top of that, I think there was a bit of a culture war going on. Those of us who’ve been here for a long time know that the reason we were so obsessive about masterposts and having facts and “evidence” is because larries were being constantly bullied and harassed and the gaslighting was insane. We were constantly told we were crazy and we were doing something awful etc. Having links and dates and photos gathered was what we had to fight back with. We knew we weren’t crazy because the evidence was right fucking there. We were here fighting to let Harry and Louis know that we saw and heard them fighting, and we wouldn’t be driven away.

But by the time this new group of fans came into the fandom, so many blogs had been deleted and a lot of evidence was lost and things that older fans took as fact because we’d been there, was no longer able to be “proven” so easily. Like babygate. Or the bears. When we say you can’t understand it if you weren’t here, we’re not gatekeeping. We’re not saying we’re better than you. It’s just that it literally is impossible to explain what it’s like when an entire fandom experiences something in real time. Summaries don’t do it justice.

This is such a huge topic and I feel like I’m a bit all over the place. But I hope I’m making a little bit of sense. I get why newer fans feel defensive at times, but I think they also have to look at things from long time fans’ perspective, too. We know trying to come to grips with a dozen years of information is a big task. But asking us to summarize it in a few bullet points so you (general you) don’t have to do the work, is so entitled and insulting.

#fandom dynamics

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

The Man Comes Around

Over at the Wen Indoctrination Tower, which seems to exist just to torture Lan Wangji with stair climbing, Lan Wangji is climbing the stairs. Too bad his cultivation level is too low to be able to just jump up. At least this time his leg isn't broken.

This is the first vengeful stair-climb in the show, but not the last. (Parallel gifset here).

The Wen guards are stationed all the way at the pinnacle of this tower to guard...what? Why are they not at the bottom of the stairs? What is this location for, actually? This is further up the stairs than the scenes with the indoctrination lectures. Anyway, it's been three months since Wen Chao threw Wei Wuxian into the burial mounds, so naturally these guards are talking about that exact thing as Lan Wangji approaches.

Lan Wangji knocks them all down with a blast from his guqin. Did you know his guqin is named Wangji, by the way? It is. A guy who is that lazy about naming his quqin maybe shouldn't feel so superior to a guy who named his sword "whatever."

(I'm suddenly remembering a plush lamb I had as a child, whose eyes were orange, that I named "orange eyes.") (I, however, was three. And I had a lot of plush lambs. Little ones. Grown-ups found it hilarious to give them to me.) (Native speakers of English can probably guess what OP's real name is. Hint: it rhymes with Canary.) (Everybody else: there is a kid's rhyming song called Mary Had A Little Lamb. OP's name is Mary.)

Anyhoo, after Lan Wangji is finally finished with his dramatic entrance, Jiang Cheng comes flying in from wherever he's been hovering for the past 20 minutes of stair time. A bunch of Lan sidekicks also flood into the frame from wherever they were hiding during the wide shots of LWJ on the staircase.

In case you hope that CQL Lan Wangji is as much of a top (offscreen) as MZDS Lan Wangji is (on the page), here's a gif for you.

(more after the cut)

He uses the patented Lan string attack to choke this guard. Lan Wangji doesn't have to hold a guqin string in his hands to choke someone with it. He doesn't even have to tighten it, judging by how absurdly not-tight this string is.

Or maybe this guy is choking on the chin strap of his helmet. This is exactly how OP's son reacts when OP sticks a bike helmet on him. (Note: it's GOOD that they are following choking safety protocols on set. Very good. However, they could have just left the string out and pretended, and it would look better, in this instance)

The Wen guard tells Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng about the whole "thrown into the burial mounds" thing. Team Let's Find Wei Wuxian is not happy to hear this.

A Vengeful Ghost

Meanwhile, in some Wen office somewhere? Where the hell is this? Yiling, we get an ominous shot of the rooftops where Wei Wuxian is lurking and then we see Wang Lingjiao trying to sleep and having a nightmare.

Wang Lingjiao has gone to sleep with a full face of makeup on instead of washing her face before bed. She has forgotten the important maxim, Go To Sleep Pretty, Wake Up Zitty.

She leaps out of bed to go cling to Wen Chao and freak out about Wei Wuxian's ghost. Wen Chao is trying to read the sports section and has clearly had enough of this crap. This has presumably been going on for a little while now.

Wang Lingjiao is in a new outfit, which is...pajamas? It has the feel of a 1930's French peignoir set, and it's much more softly colored than her usual bright red-purple combo. If this is her pajamas is it weird that her day clothes are a lot more aggressively sexy-looking than her nightgown? A freak in the streets but a lady in the sheets.

Wen Chao rants about the Sunshot Campaign and talks some smack about Wen Qing, and then leaves to go to the bar and watch the game with Wen Zhuliu. After he leaves Wang Lingjiao freaks out for a bit and then looks at the notice he was reading.

The notice basically says that the Sunshot Campaign is kicking their ass. She should be proud for inspiring the name of the campaign with that kite-shooting bullshit she made up at Lotus Pier. Before slaughtering everyone.

No Matter What You Do, I Only Want To Be With You

Back at the Indoctrination Tower, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are having feelings about Wei Wuxian. Jiang Chang does all the talking but Lan Wangji's thoughts are louder because a sad violin is playing Wangxian while they talk.

Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji about their meetup plan and says he thought WWX had dumped him to go find Lan Wangji in Lanling. Lan Wangji telepathically indicates that this didn’t happen. This means two things: 1. Lan Wangji has been hanging out in Lanling, where Jiang Yanli has been hanging out, so maybe they have bonded over the past 3 months and 2. This is the first time Jiang Cheng has talked to Lan Wangji since Wei Wuxian disappeared.

Much as my fic-loving heart would like to believe these two spent three months on the road together looking for Wei Wuxian, in fact they are both important high-level fighters in an active military campaign, and Lan Wangji was busy taking back the Cloud Recesses while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were having elective surgery. They probably both were assigned to the "Indoctrination Bureau" mission and this is the first chance they've had to talk about Wei Wuxian.

Is it heartbreaking that, while Wei Wuxian was helplessly getting his ass beat because he'd sacrificed his golden core for Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng believed Wei Wuxian had abandoned him for Lan Wangji? Yes. Yes it is.

For some reason Jiang Cheng is hesitant to believe that Wei Wuxian really was thrown into the Burial Mounds. I mean, I understand not wanting to believe Wei Wuxian is dead, but given that Wen Chao is the dude who oversaw the massacre of all of the people at Lotus Pier, including kids, why would Jiang Cheng think his guards are wrong? Maybe he just feels like Wei Wuxian is invincible, since so far he kinda has been.

The Sword is Mightier Than Not Having a Sword

While they've been chatting, the Lan disciples have found their swords. One disciple is holding Bichen (LWJ's sword), Sandu (JC's sword), and OP consults wiki Suihua (Jin Zixuan's sword). Another disciple is holding Subian (WWX's sword).

Jiang Cheng grabs Sandu while the Lan disciples, who apparently know their gongzi’s heart, offer Wei Wuxian's sword to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji takes Subian (Bichen: What am I, chopped watercress?) and immediately tries to draw it. Like you don't do. It's sealed itself, which apparently means that it's upset. It's unclear if it's upset because Wei Wuxian is dead or if it just misses him, however.

Lan Wangji definitely misses him, and wonders, out loud inside his own head, where Wei Wuxian is. Um, he's in the Burial Mounds, dude, they just told you. Well, I guess he's actually in Yiling proper at this point, haunting Wang Lingjiao as he promised her he would.

Twa Corbies

The scene shifts to Qinghe, where there are about 12 dead bodies lying around, which in this show means that there are really a few hundred. In fact, per Jiang Yanli's statement "nothing can be seen but corpses covering the plains." The camera can't see most of them, is all.

Wen Xu's head is hanging in the doorway, and the Jins talk about how Nie Mingjue killed him, cutting his head off with just one swing. Is this foreshadowing anything, like perhaps someone else's head being cut off by Baxia in just one swing? Nope, definitely not.

A couple of crows are perched on a body, totally not eating it, but Jin Zixuan gallantly zaps them with a talisman to make them fly away anyway. It might be noteworthy that nobody used to use talismans but gradually more and more people are using them - particularly people who have spent time with Wei Wuxian.

With mony a lock of his golden hair-o, we’ll theek our nest when it grows bare-o

Asshole cousin Jin Zixun says “scavenger rights,” so Jin Zixuan puts him in charge of collecting all the bodies.

Since OP just finished watching fur-collar-happy Nirvana in Fire, these crows look to me like they are wearing luxurious fur collars. Where OP lives, crows are not this fancy.

A Romantic Corpse-Filled Interlude

Disaster het Jin Zixuan goes to help Jiang Yanli get out of the carriage but she rejects his hand just like he rejected hers back in Gusu.

Jiang Yanli is extremely shocked when she sees Wen Xu's severed head, and turns away in horror, preferring to calmly rest her eyes on dozens of crow-pecked corpses.

Jin Zixuan tries to comfort her and she tells him she'll be going now, thanks for the hospitality. He tries to say that he has to personally deliver her to a representative of the patriarchy one of her brothers, but then one of her brothers shows up.

Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng arrive, having presumably flown there from Qishan. They show that they are flying by blowing a fan on the ground and then jumping off of a box, which is better than the effects we were subjected to earlier in the episode.

Jiang Cheng rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Jiang Yanli, while Lan Wangji rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Wen Xu’s severed head. Jin Zixuan kind of spoils it for him by talking about Wei Wuxian's absence while Lan Wangji is trying to have a moment.

The whole time Jin Zixuan is talking to him, Lan Wangji appears to be gazing into the middle distance but in fact he is staring at Wen Xu's severed head. This is the guy who led the burning of Cloud Recesses, killed a bunch of disciples, and personally broke Lan Wangji's leg. Lan Wangji stares at his head for more than a full minute before glancing away.

Jiang Yanli hasn't seen Jiang Cheng since they were in Wen Qing's clinic, and she is happy he's recovered. When she asks about Wei Wuxian he gives her the bad news in the classic Jiang fashion, which is to say nothing, but look stricken until your interlocutor figures out that something is horribly wrong, but not precisely what.

Four Angry Men

Inside the fortress, Nie Mingjue is slapping the table and saying, this bad boy can hold so much resentment and vengeance. They're having a mini war council and we're getting a better sense of Nie Mingjue's anger management problem. Note for those who don't get the gif reference: this is a The Godfather joke, not a sex joke, but it can be both, if you like.

We're also getting a little more info about Baxia, who seems to be eager to go fight even without anyone wielding it. (Her? Him? Them? do swords have gender? I don't know). Well done, person below the camera frame whose job is to rattle Baxia in a menacing manner.

They've got a giant model of the battle targets, which looks like it was carved out of real rock (I mean, as much as any of the rocks on this show look like real rocks) and has its own table and everything, decorated in Nie colors. Where was this before they took Qinghe back? Has Nie Mingjue been traveling with it?

Anyway, I'm assuming Nie Huaisang made it, because it's pretty nice. Hopefully they will keep it around for tabletop gaming after the war is over.

Jiang Cheng is upset but is using his anger management mantra to help control his temper while Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji talk with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Wangji talks by leaning forward meaningfully, mostly not by using any words, but he asks for a battle assignment and Jiang Cheng immediately joins in. They both want to go find Wei Wuxian.

Nie Mingjue says Yiling is too difficult of a target, but Lan Wangji puts on his determined face, which is apparently very persuasive.

After Team Find Wei Wuxian leaves, Nie Mingjue asks Jin Zixuan to hang back so he can ask him how Meng Yao is doing. This is the first time he finds out that his ex didn't go to Lanling. Jin Zixuan tries to delicately remind him that Dad's got, like, SO many bastard children, they really don't have space for all of them. Nie Mingjue dismisses him immediately and abruptly.

Nie Mingjue might invite the straights to his party but he isn't interested in actually socializing with them.

Unconditional Soup is Only for A-Xian

Jiang Cheng can't sleep, and takes some time, now, to be sad about Wei Wuxian. Presumably he spent the prior 3 months being mad, not sad, because he really thought he just buggered off without saying anything for all that time. Which is sort of fair, but sort of not. One thing about these two bros is that for as close as they have been and as much as they love each other, their mutual understanding has some big, messy gaps.

Fortunately while he is feeling sad, Jiang Cheng does not try to draw Subian from its sheath, because wouldn't THAT be awkward.

Jiang Yanli can't sleep either, and comes to sit with him. Jiang Cheng feels bad that she's wearing herself out with worry and she says "As your sister, I have nothing to do but to worry about you." Jiang Yanli isn't one to complain but she doesn't like being inactive or helpless. In Lanling she was far from the war, but now that she's in Qinghe she'll make herself useful by tending the wounded, and later she'll help Jiang Cheng shoulder his responsibilities as he takes over the Jiang clan.

At the moment, however, all she can do is fret and make soup. As she gives Jiang Cheng a bowlful she reminds him that he absolutely has to rescue their brother who has, according to his captors, been reduced to bone dust.

With all the impossible shit that Jiang Cheng is expected to achieve - and in many instances, does achieve - he is absolutely the embodiment of the Jiang Clan's motto. Fuck his father for disrespecting him because he hadn't figured out how to do everything by the age of 16.

Definitely Not Chilling in Yiling

Back in Yiling, Wen Chao is hearing the news that the Qishan Indoctrination Bureau has fallen and that he's being called back to Nightless City. Wen Chao says he shouldn't need to go back because his dad has a new right-hand man. That new right-hand man, we will eventually learn, is Meng Yao. Wang Lingjiao, meanwhile, is hiding under the bed covers and deciding it's time to dump Wen Chao.

She locks the door and goes to pull out her jewelry box, which is locked and hidden under the bed. Maybe this is Wen Chao's jewelry box, because she acts kind of squirrely about opening it. Upon opening the jewelry box, she doesn't find jewelry but a pair of bloody fake eyeballs staring at her. She screams and freaks out and then the wind picks up and we hear the sound of a flute, playing the "I'm here to fuck your shit up" tune that Wei Wuxian likes.

Wang Lingjiao runs to the door and pulls down the protection talisman that's pasted above it, and pastes it directly to her chest instead, which is, we will learn in the next episode, the worst idea she could possibly have at this point.

Then she uses a poking stick to go flip the jewelry box open and finds it's full of ugly-ass jewelry again, plus an improbable number of weird round paper-mache biscuits that have been painted gold. None of this jewelry looks anything like the exquisite accessories people wear in this show, which means this stash was put together by the practical effects department, not by the costume department.

Anyway, Wang Lingjiao apparently thinks she can sell this fakeass stuff for a good price, so more power to her. But then we get a short glimpse of the menacing eyeballs again, this time on the floor, having moved out of the box and brought their little blood pool with them. Screeching ensues.

Next episode: Lady in Red!

Soundtrack: Twa Corbies, by Steeleye Span

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #jiang cheng #wang lingjiao #jin zixuan

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #ironstrange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Back - Interlude

Adrien centric. Basically an apology for all that chameleon induced salt I had on him during wttb.

Masterpost

Adrien sneaked a look outside. There was a gap between the panels that made up the background of the show, just large enough to peek out without being seen. It was quiet here, away from the bustling make-up artists and designers, hurrying to put finishing touches on their assigned models. His father wasn’t among them of course. He was Gabriel Agreste and didn’t need to improve anything, his designs long since perfected during late nights in his atelier. And he had full faith in his son!

(“I trust that you know how important this is,” he had said this morning, with face like marble, “how crucial it is to not lose face when working with the competition. I have no doubt you will behave accordingly.”)

Still. His happiness that his father had taken the time to build him up did not keep him from scanning the crowd for him. Was he there already? Or would he arrive in a way his mother called “fashionably late”?

Sighing, he turned away from the panels. He wasn’tsad that his father didn’t visit him before the show. Really, he had already talked to him only hours ago and was doubtlessly busy; Adrien shouldn’t be selfish.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was on his own.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked the other model when he returned to their private changing room. “There are so many people out there!”

Felix Leanne rolled his eyes, but his finger was tapping on the table relentlessly.

“Of course there are many people. Otherwise this whole ordeal wouldn’t be worth the hassle.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Adrien noted with a tiny hint of smugness. He liked Felix, even though he was a little cold sometimes. They had worked together often enough to be on friendly terms, both being the only models of each other’s age in their shoots. Both fairly isolated, both so busy.

Felix sighed.

“I’m not. Nervous, I mean. Just impatient.”

His eyes flitted towards the door.

“Mum… Mum said I can start accompanying her to work if I do well tonight. I’d get to see how everything actually works! I wrote down so many questions I want to ask. I just want to be able to askthem already.”

Adrien frowned.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be so interested in… company math?”

“We’re the same age, Adrien.”

“Exactly! The same youngage.” He couldn’t hold in a deep sigh. “If mymom offered to let me do anything I want, I would ask to go to a real school. No more homeschooling, just… doing something normal for once. I’d get to meet so many people, to make so many friends!”

Felix pretended to shudder.

“Ugh, people. Horrific.” He ignored Adrien’s giggling. “Seriously, they’re everywhere.”

“I bet you could go to school with me!” he, in turn, ignored Felix’ nagging. “Then we’d already know someone there. Plus Chloé, of course.”

Felix grimaced at the name but refrained from commenting. He’d learned that Adrien didn’t handle it well if you openly disliked his only friend. He wouldn’t have had the time, anyway, because just then a blur of oranges and yellows stormed into the room, carrying dozens of safety pins and wearing several dozens more clipped to her dress.

“Felix!”, Evelynn Leanne squealed, “you look wonderful, darling, navy blue just makes your eyes pop! Let me see the jacket, will you? Oh, this looks a little tight! It doesn’t chafe, does it? Does it?”

“Mum, stop it! Personal space, please.”

Felix pulled a face when his mother gave his jacket one last tug before stepping back.

“Of course, of course. It’s just… Ugh, you look adorable! Doesn’t he, Ms. Cess?”

The Leanne’s assistant, a round black woman that looked absolutely unshakable, gave Felix a small smile.

“He looks like a professional.”

Felix didn’t beam. Adrien was sure his face was physically incapable to. But the hint of a smile that graced his usually tight lips might be his version of that.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, before sobering up again. “Now, if you’d leave me to prepare? Also, I’m pretty sure you have more than one design to check up on.”

Evelyn sighed, just the way her son was prone to do.

“Let me have my moment, will you? But fine! I still haven’t heard any news from the missing accessory line, and that Sancœur lady was very adamant that it be complete. Good luck, Felix! You too, Adrien! Love your tie, by the way.”

He perked up immediately.

“Thank you, Madame Leanne!”, he tried to answer, but Felix was already hurrying her and Mademoiselle Cess out of the door. When they were gone, his coworker was leaning against the door in relief and Adrien’s throat felt weirdly tight.

“Sorry about that,” Felix said nonchalantly, “she’s been a little clingy since… you know.”

Of course. The divorce, he’d read about it in the newspaper. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to lose his father like that, how terrible Felix must feel.

“Are you okay?” the (slightly) older boy asked after a moment. “You were so quiet.”

Adrien shook his head, shushing those thoughts.

“Of course! Your mother is great, I just… Mine can’t be here today. She’s still not feeling well.”

An understatement, he feared. His father wouldn’t let him into her room to say goodbye before he went to the show. He was just worried, of course! And he’d explained it to him.

(“Don’t bother your mother now, Adrien. She needs her rest.”

“I just wanted to see her before the show. To say goodbye- “

His father flinched at that; his tone sharp.

“There’s no need to- She’ll still be here after the show! Don’t- Don’t let your nerves get the better of you.”

Then, a little softer: “You can talk to her tomorrow.”)

Felix looked at him through somber blue eyes.

“I’m… sorry to hear that. But your father will be here, yes?”

Hurrying to smile, Adrien nodded.

“Yes, we’ll drive home together.”

At that, Felix’ eyes narrowed.

“Uh… great? But before that he’ll want to see you, won’t he?”

To be honest, he was never quite sure what his father wanted. But that wasn’t what this was about, anyway!

“He is very busy,” Adrien explained. “Managing the Show, and all that. But that’s alright! It’s very important to him, and I’m happy to be part of it. It makes me feel… I don’t know, closer to him.”

Felix’ did not relent.

“But don’t you want him to say Good Luck or something? Surely, he can’t be thatbusy.”

“Well…” he admitted. “I… I did hope he’d come by. Like your mom always does. But I don’t want to be greedy! He’s needed elsewhere, probably.”

He straightened.

“Besides, I don’t want to complain to you. With all that… divorce business you’ve already got on your shoulders.”

It was a cheap trick to change the topic, but it worked. Felix scoffed and turned away.

“Oh please, I’m happymy Dad isn’t here. Not that he would care, anyway. I barely saw him even before Mum kicked him out, and what I saw of him was distant, dismissive and derogatory at best. Really, I could never see him again and not lose any sleep about it.”

Adrien couldn’t believe anyone could truly feel that way about their father. Sure, he was disappointed in his father from time to time, sometimes even angry. But he was still, well, his father.

“I’m sure he does love you.”, he tried to comfort his friend. “Maybe if you gave him another chance, he would- “

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Felix snapped, still not looking at him. “He had thirteen years’ worth of chances. I won’t let him… I won’t stand for that kind of inconsequence.”

With that, he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

“Besides, you’re hardly unbiased. It’s rather obvious you’re projecting.”

His voice was harsher than intended and it showed. No sooner than he said it, his eyes widened and he looked away.

“I… I meant…”

“I’m not projecting.”, Adrien said. His voice was oddly quiet to his own ears, and his chest felt cold. “I’m not- I love my père. He’s not- I love him. You don’t know him. He’s just- I’m sure you love your father too, deep down.”

He didn’t know what his own face looked like, but Felix looked stricken.

“Yes,” he said softly, caving, “I guess so. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien quickly assured him. No need to be so upset. He was just getting emotional again, and that so close to the beginning of the show. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’ll just…” – he pointed towards the door – “…leave you to, y’know, prepare.”

He was out of the room before Felix could protest, towards the back entrance. He needed air, just for a moment. To ground himself.

The heavy door swung open and the security personnel outside gave him a curious glance, but let him pass without question. Cool evening air hit him, soothing and clear. It helped. It always helped.

He could always think more clearly when he was outside. Felix hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant it, because it wasn’t true. Adrien’s father wasn’t dismissive. He wasn’t distant. He cared, and he loved him. Adrien knew it. So what if-

The crash of a shutting door around the corner caught his attention.

“…know who I am?!”, an angry voice shouted. “I have a right to be here!”

Curious, Adrien came closer until he could see the speaker. A light-haired man with impressive sideburns and an expensive looking suit was raging against a closed door, or rather the person who had shut it.

“You can’t keep me out! Tell her that! Tell her she’s a- “

The man fell silent when he spotted Adrien.

“What are you looking at, boy?!” he snarled and Adrien took a step back. Oh god, had he been staring?

“S-sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to- “

That’s when he noticed his eyes. Blue-grey, like cold stone. Like Felix’ eyes.

“Monsieur- Monsieur Leanne?”, he asked tentatively. The man in front of him flinched, then towered over him with something in his eyes Adrien couldn’t place. It frightened him.

“It’s Bordeaux.”, he spit, emphasizing every syllable, “René Bordeaux. And who are you?!”

Oh god, he was doing everything wrong today. Leanne was Felix’ mother’slast name.

“Adrien- Adrien Agreste,” he pressed out, not knowing whether to apologize or to run. His fear was misplaced, however. Within mere seconds Monsieur Bordeaux relaxed, all hints of aggression evaporating like boiling spaghetti water.

“Agreste!”, he said cheerfully, a dizzying contrast to his previous demeanor, “Gabriel’s boy, I take it?”

“Y… yes!”, Adrien confirmed quickly, relieved that the situation was apparently saved. Had he imagined Monsieur Bordeaux’s anger? There was no trace of it now! Perhaps he had read the situation wrong… it wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, I’m a big fan!”, the reporter beamed. “Of you andyour dad. Excited for the show? You must be so nervous, being the main star!”

Flattered, Adrien shrugged.

“Oh, it’s not… not a big deal. But thank you, Monsieur Bordeaux.”

“But it is!”, Bordeaux insisted. “Call me René, young man, no need for formalities.”

He put a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice.

“To be honest, I’m very impressed how well you are handling all this pressure. I have a son your age, and I know he would be at a total loss for what to do.”

“Oh. Oh!”, Adrien realized, “You mean Felix! I’m actually working with him tonight!”

“Oh? You don’t say!”

“It’s true! He’s doing great, though. A real professional!”

Monsieur- René sighed.

“I’d love to believe that. The Felix I know tends to be… stubborn. I fear he’ll refuse help from everyone, even those who have his best interest at heart.”

Adrien frowned. That was true, Felix was stubborn. But Adrien hadn’t noticed anything the other boy might need help with, so he couldn’t judge. It just didn’t sit right with him that his dad didn’t believe Felix could do it.

“Really, you can be proud of him!”, he tried again. “He’s gonna be flawless, you’ll see at the- oh.”

Another mistake. René wouldn’t see his son, because he was not allowed at the show.

“Well, yes.”, Felix’ father agreed, patting him on the back as if to say ‘no worries’. “There’s the problem, you see?”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Ah, don’t be! It’s not your fault. Really, that’s between me and Evelyn. She just… doesn’t want me to be a part of Felix’ life anymore. All because of some small mistakes I made. And now, now Felix will never…”

“Give you a chance.”, Adrien concluded. René smiled wistfully.

“Exactly. I just want… another, uh, chance.”

He was looking into the distance, before promptly jumping up and turning to him.

“Wait a minute! You are the star of the evening! What if youbrought me in with you? Then I could see Felix before the show!”

Adrien blinked. He… he could do that! But…

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea. Felix said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did. But sometimes, what people say they want, and what they need are two entirely different things!”

…that sounded familiar, but not quite right.

“I don’t understand.”

“See,” René began, crouching down to his height, “take your dad! He’s probably very busy, isn’t he?”

He didn’tflinch.

“That’s fine! I am supporting him!”, Adrien said, voice sharper than intended.

“Of course you do! And you probably tell him that. You don’t wanna nag him, am I right?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“But surely, deep down, you would like him to see you more, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess. And you think Felix is the same? Even though he is mad at you?”

“Let me put it that way. I did some tinythings wrong, and now Felix wants to punish me for it. But you make mistakes too, don’t you? And you don’t want to be abandoned for them either.”

“No!”, he gasped, horrified, “No, of course not!”

“See? And you’re right! Know why?”

René gestured into the distance.

“There’s good people, and there are evil people, who do evil things, like bombing churches, or kicking puppies. But people like you and I – Good People, the rightkind of people – wecan change.

“...or explain why we didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. There’s always two sides, and all that. Nothing is made better if everyone just turns away from us! Punishing us for mistakes doesn’t make them disappear. Only if we are given another chance we can make things right.”

Something still didn’t sit right with Adrien, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“But… but what if the mistake is really bad?”

René’s face darkened, before lighting up again.

“Clever kid, you! Even then, punishing bad things never made them good, am I right? You can only” – he snapped his finger – “suck it up and support others to do better. And you are exactly the kind of person who would know better, clever as you are. Really, Felix could take a page from your book!”

He stood up, looking down on him.

“So, what do you say, young man? Do you wanna be my hero and help a worried father care for his son?”

Adrien looked back at the private entrance. The security people who would do as he said. The building his own father was probably in.

“I…”

Felix would thank him, eventually, right?

“I’ll do it.”

“So, here we are!”, Adrien announced to his companion. “Welcome to the back... stage. This is the hallway that leads to the stage, there you’ll arrive at the stairs to the audience, and here’s the way to our private changing room! Do you want me to tell Felix you are coming, or do you want to talk alone?”

René wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were darting over the many settings on his camera, then towards the changing room.

“Know what, kid? Maybe don’t tell Felix I’m here just yet.”

Adrien’s smile faltered.

“But… but the show is going to start soon! Don’t you want to wish him good luck?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”, René dismissed with a wave of his hand, “Luck is the last thing he needs. Tell you what, I have something… special planned. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

That made sense. He shook his head, and the reporter grinned.

“That’s what I thought. No off you go, get ready for your modeling gig!”

Adrien’s chest felt tight. He didn’t like the expression in René’s eyes. But he had been wrong so often. Felix would thank him eventually, he reminded himself. René just needed another chance.

Felix would thank him.

Felix did not thank him.

An hour later, there was press everywhere, and at least one police car. Adrien was lost and stumbling around between running people. Camera’s clicked, someone was yelling, he could see Felix’ mom talking to an officer. Her make-up was running. Was she crying?

“Adrien!”, a hoarse voice yelled, and suddenly Felix was there, pulling at his arm, “What did you do?!”

His eyes weren’t like stone anymore. They looked like thawing ice. Cold and watering andbreaking.

“I-”

“What did you do?!”

“I only wanted- I was just- “

“What?! Whatwere you?! Trying to ruin everythingfor me!?”

“No! I didn’t think- “

“There you are!”, a familiar voice called and Adrien almost sagged in relief. Nathalie pulled him away from Felix with no effort at all, instructing the security personnel to drag the kicking and cursing boy back to his mother. Then she pulled Adrien with her, towards the private box where his father sat.

Adrien gulped.

Gabriel Agreste was utterly motionless, looking down upon the chaos below. Not a hair was out of place, not the hint of an emotion in his eyes.

“That would be all, Nathalie.”, he said simply, and Nathalie let go of Adrien to return to her tablet.

“Father…”, he said, voice breaking. “I don’t understand what happened. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

His father was still watching the crowd below. The press, trying to get a shot of Evelyn Leanne. The police, running around and interviewing people. A blonde boy in navy blue, so small from above, blocking his ears and trying escape the cameras.

A show in ruins.

“Sir,” Nathalie spoke up again, before Gabriel could even turn to his son, “we heard back from Madame Bourgeois. She wants to reconsider doing her Fashion Highlights article about the Gabriel Brand instead of Leanne’s. And there’s a British perfume company looking for a new partner in fashion.”

With that, Gabriel stood up. His son lowered his head, trying to sink into the ground before the yelling could begin. But instead of raising his voice, his father raised his hand and –

“Let’s go home, Adrien.”

–…pat him on the shoulder.

“Father?”

He was confused. He’d been so sure this was his fault, that he had messed up somehow.

“Shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I go talk to Felix first?”

His father looked past him, towards the Leanne’s.

“I doubt you will be working with him again.”, was his reply. He looked almost… content when he turned away from the scene. “Let’s not waste our breath.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, ever the obedient son, followed.

—

Many things would happen between that fateful night, and another night that promised to be even more fateful.

Adrien had lost his mother.

Adrien had gained friends.

Adrien had gone to school; Adrien had left it.

He had been a hero and a villain, and through it all, a child.

A child that had to be better. A child that now knew, he could become what had become of René Bordeaux.

A child that would not.

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila. He wouldn’t allow it.

And he would prove it!

He would do better, be better. So that he could return to school, to his friends, and show them that he wouldn’t let them down again. If they’d still have him.

He would show Nino that he’d never ever lie again.

He would show Alya that he’d never let her be used again.

He would show Marinette that he would never abandon her again.

And… he would show Felix that he got it now. That he wouldn’t disappoint him again.

And maybe, that would show Ladybug that she had been right to trust him one last time. Even if it wasn’t as her partner.

The door to his room opened, and Adrien held his breath. Nathalie would have knocked.

“Adrien,” his father greeted him, an even for him atypical amount on tension in his face, “we need to talk.”

“We do,” Adrien agreed, opening the tab with the list of therapists he’d been considering. Then he remembered himself and bit his lip. “Uh, you go first.”

He didn’t know if his father had even heard him. He was turned towards the window, before looking back at his son.

“I always wondered… I knew you were hiding something. Your behavior was so… unlike yourself.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed.

“Father?”

“I am not mad at you Adrien, though I admit, at first…”

He turned around, simmering anger in his usually cool eyes.

“I couldn’t believe you would be able to hide something of that importance from me. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Father, I- “

“No. Listen to me, Adrien. This might be our chance, our onlychance. Your mother’s only chance.”

The room seemed to get colder. Gabriel talked on.

“I never thought I would be able to involve you, always thinking you might be too… fragile. I see now that this was a mistake. If I had been more open in my endeavor, this would have ended a long time ago. But maybe it needed to happen. It needed to happen, so that you would truly understand what needs to be done.”

What do you mean, Adrien wanted to ask, but his mouth was frozen shut. Something icy was growing in his chest. In his pocket, he clutched a colorful little lucky charm like a lifeline.

“Adrien.”

His father stepped closer.

“I know that you were Chat Noir.”

Somewhere, deep in his soul, his subconsciousness was already connecting the final dots, only waiting for his mind to catch up. It kindly refused the invitation, choosing to revel in blissful ignorance for a few more minutes.

“I… F-father, I… I swear- “

“It’s alright, son. Everything will be alright. Look at me, Adrien.”

He did. He did, and he did not know who he was looking at.

“My son,” his father said, and there was a spark in his eyes that scared him, “it seems so fitting. That all of us would carry such a burden, at one point. As if fate itself kept a close eye on our family.”

“You are Hawkmoth.”, someone said. It took both Agreste’s a few moments to realize it had been Adrien who’d said it. And even then, it took Adrien’s mind several more to put ‘blissful ignorance’ back into its box and catch up with his subconscious and mouth. The lucky charm in his pocket felt cold, so cold, like it had felt only once before.

At TV1.

“You are Hawkmoth,” he repeated, and his voice didn’t falter. Neither did his father.

“I understand if you feel… betrayed.”, the latter said slowly, pronouncing the last word like something spiky he didn’t want to get too close to. “There is much you don’t know yet. But until I show you, I need you to remember that we are family. And that we have a common goal, and since quite recently, a common enemy.”

In his head, his thoughts were racing, too fast to be of any use to him. He felt numb. But fifteen years of experience with his father had taught him when to be quiet, and when to ask questions.

“A… common enemy?”

“Yes.”

His father smiled. It looked wrong.

“You were a hero. You were the Black Cat, you were Chosen. But they took that from you. The moment you didn’t meet their expectations anymore, they tossed you aside. As if you hadn’t sacrificed so much for them. I saw you, everything you did for them. For her.”

“Ladybug.”

The word felt odd in his mouth, as if it didn’t want to be said. His father’s smile widened.

“Ladybug,” he agreed, and if the name had hesitated on Adrien’s tongue, it positively rebelled on Gabriel’s. It sounded poisonous, dripping with disdain. “And the Guardian. And, not to forget, the imposter that took your place.”

Adrien looked up at him, slowly.

“You akumatized me.”

His father didn’t flinch. But he blinked, once, before stepping back.

“So I did.”

He turned around, towards the window. Towards Paris beyond, that feared him every day.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the one I was doing this all for was the one fighting me, all along. That the key to our happiness had been beneath my very own roof.”

He shook his head.

“The past is in the past. I know exactly how you felt, in that moment. I could feel it firsthand. How alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.”

He turned back around, facing his son. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was genuine emotion on his face.

“Adrien, if you still feel that way, then we can fix it. Together. We can retrieve your Miraculous, and every other Miraculous too!”

He gripped his shoulder with unexpected strength, eyes wide.

“Adrien, I know just how deep Ladybug’s betrayal cut you. But now that you see her for what she really is, you have the power to make her regret. To take back what you deserve, what you are owed.”

He remembered Lila. Her power to make people believe anything. Just by knowing what they wanted to hear.

“Imagine it, son.”

Adrien imagined.

Being Chat Noir once more. The thing in his life he had loved so much, so much.

But he knew, it hadn’t been the costume he’d loved. When he thought of being Chat Noir, he thought of Plagg’s annoying voice. His constant company, his purrs. He thought of Ladybug and laughter, and racing over rooftops with someone that believed in him.

He thought of escape. Why did he want to escape?

Alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.

He hadbeen alone, for so long. He had been abandoned.

“I love you, Father.”

He looked up. His father looked confused.

“I will always love you.”, he added, and the words felt right. They felt true. He smiled.

“Of course I will help you! I have always supported you, no matter what.”

Because what else could he do?

“I knew I could trust you.”

He was no hero anymore.

“I am so proud of you.”

And he was no villain either.

“You’ll see, Adrien.”

He was a child.

“It will all be worth it, in the end.”

A child that knew he could become everything his father wanted him to be.

A child thatwould not.

“Of course, Father.”

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila.

Like Gabriel Agreste.

“Let me show you the reason for all this.”

Adrien felt like he knew already. Like it would be painful. Like it still wouldn’t change anything. And yet, he smiled. He smiled, the exact same smile he had always worn when his father ignored another birthday. The smile for when his father turned his back yet again. The smile that was so false it hurt.

The smile that would have given him away if his father had looked at him just a little bit closer, those past few years.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, reaching out with one hand for his father’s, with the other for his phone. He had no way to contact Ladybug now. But he knew someone who could. Whose lucky charm was in his pocket, comforting and warmonce again.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry. He knew exactly what needed to happen, and that she would makeit happen.

“With your help, Adrien, this will all be over soon.”

Alone. Abandoned.

Oh yes.

Distant, dismissive, derogatory.

He was right.

I will not disappoint you.

More so than he knew.

“My son,” his father said, and Adrien was so sure he could see love in his eyes. “Now I know that we will be victorious.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, no longer the obedient son, followed.

#miramu writes #wttb #welcome to the back #felinette #adrien agreste #salt fic #this one isn't particularly salty tho #ml sugar #?#let me know if the tags don't fit

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Be Alright

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Luz was never known to be overly cautious.

She was reckless, impulsive, and an overall disaster of a human.

Titan, Amity loved her.

It was almost routine at this point, how it would go. Luz would jump into oncoming danger, others would (sometimes) follow, and she’d limp out with a big grin and a cheer about how she’d shown them, whether or not she’d actually won. It was no surprise that Amity had taken up healing as a secret secondary track.

It was always a gamble how things would go. Sometimes Luz would only have a few scratches, other times she’d be clinging to consciousness by a thread, moments away from breaking Eda’s house rule of nobody jeopardizing the rebellion by going to a public hospital.

But they usually had it handled. Luz would bounce back with twice the enthusiasm, even if her scars told a different story.

Despite all of this, Amity knew she’d never get used to seeing a scar in the making.

“Who brought fireworks?”

“Ed!”

“Worth it!”

Explosions rung out, painting the emptying Night Market in scattered debris and bright flashes. Amity ducked under a broken roof, cursing as another explosion sounded off further away, accompanied with whoops and cheers.

“It’s a miracle none of them are dead yet,” Came a hiss from beside her.

She whirled around, relaxing when she saw it was just Willow appearing by her hiding place, vines wrapped all along her arms. Out of everyone, Amity was sure she would come out the most unscathed.

“I’m convinced Eda’s already died a few times,” Amity said, tilting her head to the sounds of explosions. “But she keeps coming back. My bet’s that she’s on life seven now.”

“That would explain a lot,” Willow agreed, peering out of their hiding place. “Dawns breaking, we should get out of here.” She added, raising her head.

“Already?” Amity lifted her head as well, seeing that, indeed, there was light seeping around the Market.

“Think you can wrangle Luz without setting more things on fire?” Willow asked, glancing at her with a smirk.

“If anyone is going to set things on fire, it’s Luz.” Amity said matter-of-factly, wincing as she heard shouts and a crash from elsewhere in the Market. “I can promise my best,” She said simply.

“That’s the best I could ask for,” Willow chuckled, stepping out of their hiding place. “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Amity muttered, peering around the debris as she heard another explosion sound off. “Titan knows who she's going to piss off this time.”

Amity felt like she shouldn’t have been surprised.

And yet, she still felt a wave of exhaustion just finding situations like these.

Luz stood atop a pile of debris, swinging her staff like a club and knocking it against the heads of those in the Night Market who had stayed to attempt to fight her and the rest of the Owl House residents. Aside from a few scrapes and cuts to her hands and cloak, she wasn’t any worse for wear. Even her owl mask was relatively intact.

Eda was somewhere at the bottom of the pile with King, also giving their attackers a hard time. Amity was almost about to be surprised at how tame Luz was being...before she combined a firework and ice glyph and shot it towards an attacker, flinging them back with an explosion and into a busted stand with a gleeful cheer.

Amity sighed and calmly summoned a regular sized abomination, sending it off behind her towards other assailants that had assumed she couldn’t hear them approaching. In boots covered in metal. Honestly, she wondered how nobody had caught them yet.

Luz swung her staff at a different demon, grinning as she turned and scanned the area. Near instantly, her eyes landed on Amity, who was a good few meters away from her trash pile.

“Hey, Ams!” Luz shouted across the battleground, frantically waving her hand, her smile somehow growing.

Amity couldn’t help but return a smile of her own, her ears flicking back as her features softened.

There was a bark behind her and she snapped out of it, glancing back as Barcus ran by, giving her a tired look.

“Oh don’t you start,” Amity warned, flashing a fang.

Barcus rolled his eyes and rushed off around a broken stand vanishing from sight. Though the sounds of yelling from those of the Night Market confirmed he was still as much in the fight as everyone else.

“Hey,”

Amity yelped at the sudden noise by her ear and spun around, almost falling over before an arm holding a staff hooked around her back and stopped her falling.

“Oops,” Luz smiled sheepishly, her head hovering over Amity’s as her shoulders hunched. While the top half of her face was hidden by her mask, the eyes were very expressive. “Sorry, wrong time for surprises?”

“That’s not going to stop you,” Amity grumbled, getting to her feet as Luz pulled her staff back and thumped the blunt end against the ground. “I was just with Willow, we need to--”

Luz’s head tilted away from Amity’s face for barely a moment before she withdrew a fire glyph from her sleeve and activated it. She chucked it right by Amity’s head, almost grazing her ear.

Amity turned barely half a second later, watching as the fire glyph made contact with a demon trying to sneak up on them. This one hadn’t worn metal boots and Amity hadn’t heard them approaching. Smart. She’d see if she could get the Emperor's Coven to help her arrest that one.

“Sorry about that, you were saying?” Luz said, looking right back down at Amity. She assumed so, at least. The eyes of her mask were more like pale circles than actual eyeholes.

“The Coven, Luz.” Amity said, also unphased. “It’s dawn, the Coven will be here soon. You know how they like to come early to catch people trying to flee the Night Market.”

“Aren’t you also in the Emperor’s Coven?” Luz reminded, unconcerned. “Can’t you make them leave or something?”

“I’m the leader of my small, and remarkably passive,” Amity enunciated, ignoring explosions sounding off. “Group of the Emperor’s Coven. They don’t come here. Other guards do. I have absolutely no power here.”

“I wouldn’t call Archie breaking Jerbo’s nose passive,”

“Oh you have not seen the kind of guards they have by the Toes.”

“Shame,” Luz leaned against her staff. “Perhaps you could show me sometime?” She asked, the eyes of her mask moving in a sort of eyebrow wiggle.

“Luz,” Amity sighed, clasping the palms of her hands together and pressing it against her nose as she mentally reeled herself in to keep her composure. “Asking me on a date in the middle of a battle is bordering on impressively bold and tacky, which is a line I didn’t know even existed.”

“What can I say? I like making new lines.” Luz beamed widely. “Does this mean I can keep kicking in teeth?” She asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Amity crossed her arms. “I just said the Coven is going to arrive. Do you want to explain to the rebellion you need another prison breakout because nearly everyone here got captured for not leaving?”

“Tell you what,” Luz said, passing her staff to her other hand. “You can grab everyone who’d rather not be here when the Coven arrive while Eda and I finish up here.” She suggested casually.

“Luz you're going to get captu--”

“Oi, there she is!”

Luz and Amity calmly turned their heads, spotting that over the crest of the fallen stands, with the sunrise behind them, was a small band of demons and witches. A little less than a dozen or so. They all looked a little beat up, but many still sported a decent amount of weapons and, likely, magic.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Amity groaned, leaning her head back.

“Well, since we’re already here…” Luz said, nudging her shoulder. “I mean, it's pretty bad form to back down from a challenge…”

Amity, ignoring the gang approaching them (who clearly thought they had the high-ground at were taking their sweet time, the idiots), gave Luz a half-hearted glare. Luz was still giving her a hopeful look, giddy with excitement. And Amity had to admit, it had been a while since they’d fought an enemy on the same side. Publicly, at least.

“Fine,” Amity relented, sagging as Luz perked up. “But as soon as they’re gone we are leaving.”

“As you wish, Miss Blight.” Luz said with a low, dramatic bow, mocking the title Amity’s Coven would give her.

“Only you could get away with that,” Amity muttered, finally turning her gaze back to the group of demons and witches, who had spent the last few minutes pulling up weapons from the debris and scattering to ‘hide,’ if you could call it that.

Snowy finally decided to show up, flying around Luz before landing on the end of her staff. Luz stood from her bow and gripped her staff with two hands. Amity summoned her own, already determining where to place three different abominations in the area.

“Shall we?” Luz said, giving Amity a coy look and gesturing broadly to the approaching witches.

“Try not to get your head blown off,” Amity said casually, offering the tiniest of smiles. Luz’s staff began to glow as she took a step back and braced herself, a springboard moments away from uncoiling.

“No promises!”

It was hardly a fight.

But Luz didn’t seem to mind. She never did. She was just thrilled to be part of one.

Amity would’ve been bored were Luz not there. One could count on her to make things interesting. Granted you had no say on if it was for better or for worse.

Amity swung her staff, her abomination following and lumbering right into a cluster of demons. She had multiple up and running around, and she’d admit, it was a little tiring. But she’d done worse before, and their assailants were almost gone.

Dawn was well upon them now, the light casting long shadows. Amity had lost track of who was or wasn’t around them anymore. She figured Willow had already left, and likely dragged a few others with her. She’d get yelled at later, she knew it.

There was a holler to her left and she turned towards it, flicking her wrist to move an abomination out of the way.

A spire of ice shot up from the ground, sending three witches flying off to who-knows-where. Luz’s head popped around from behind it, laughing as Snowy flew at another witch trying to run at her. In the same movement, Luz drew a plant and lightning glyph. She threw the plant glyph at one of the larger demons around the ice spire, wrapping his arm in vines. She ran by and slapped the lightning glyph on the vines, causing them to erupt and explode as the demon yelled and bolted.

Amity shook her head, glancing at her own palisman, Fang, sitting on her staff and giving her a bored expression that could rival Willow’s.

“Hey, at least she's effective.” Amity shrugged. Fang only huffed and clung tighter to the top of her staff, melding into it until he looked like nothing more than a fancy wooden carving.

There was a crack and a shout, and Amity looked back just in time to see a demon stumble away from getting Luz’s staff whacked right into their face. Amity quickly moved an abomination towards them to get them stuck, should they try to retaliate. She did a double check on the rest of her abominations, which were thankfully beginning to drive away the remainders of their attackers and beginning to melt into the ground when they were done doing so.

“And you better stay out!” Luz shouted after a demon behind her, waving her fist in the air.

Amity was about to call out to her, but sounds of rapid footsteps grabbed her attention. She whirled around, summoning a small abomination as a shield before a witch crashed right into it. It took all of two seconds for Amity to recognize their white cloak and gray mask before she recoiled and cursed under her breath.

“Titan I hope you weren’t paying attention,” She mumbled before drawing a circle in the air. One of her other abominations turned into goo and quickly fused with the abomination in front of her, caging in the guard as they yelped and thrashed about.

Amity flicked her wrist and her abomination lumbered off, taking the guard with them.

They had run out of time.

“Luz, we gotta go!” Amity yelled, her shoulders tense as she searched for her human.

Luz had ended up a good few meters away on a slope, hollering after a few running demons. She glanced back at Amity’s shout, and seeing the worry on her face, wasn’t about to argue with her.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” Luz shrugged regretfully. “I suppose this is where I bid you adieu” She said, giving Amity a cheeky bow. In the same movement of her bow, she had hooked her hand into her mask and easily took it off and held it out in a hand. It was mainly for show, anyway.

Amity huffed and raised a brow, despite her amused smile. Luz lifted her head slightly and gave a teasing wink before standing back to her feet.

The witch, who hadn’t paid attention to anything else going on, saw a sudden movement from behind Luz. She could only process the mild annoyance at having to patch up another bruise on Luz before she spoke.

“Behind y--”

In barely a second, the demon behind Luz wrapped an arm in front of her and tugged her back, startling the human. In the same moment, before any of them could react, they brought up their other talon. There was the flash of a blade between their fingers before said blade was jabbed straight into Luz’s throat.

Amity froze. Luz froze. Everything seemed to go still. The blade was dug high up on Luz’s neck, blood already coating the object and beginning to leak around the demon's claws. Blood trickled down Luz’s neck and began to stain the collar of her shirt.

And, just as fast as it froze, time snapped back at a jolting speed.

There was a shriek overhead and a dash of white. Snowy reappeared and slammed her body into the demon's face, flashing her talons and screeching. The demon threw the blade to the side, yelping and stumbling back to try and throw off the palisman.

Blood gushed from Luz’s neck, and upon finally being released, the human gasped as her hand flew up to her wound. She stumbled, having nothing holding her up. Her knees shook and buckled, sending her tumbling to the ground, still grasping at her neck.

Amity could only stare, her eyes wide and pupils so narrowed they practically vanished. She visibly flinched and broke out of her state when Luz’s body hit the ground.

“Luz!” She screamed. A scratchy, shrill sound that even Amity didn’t know she was capable of.

She was running before the name was out of her mouth. She suddenly knew what tunnel vision was like. Her focus was solely on Luz, collapsed on the ground. Her feet seemed to hook and stumble against every little pebble as she rushed up the slope, her heart in her ears. Everything else was fuzzy and irrelevant, and they faded into background noise.

Amity was at Luz’s side far too soon and still too late for her liking. She stared down at her, her throat going dry.

Luz was gasping and pressing both hands to her throat, whether it was due to the pain or some part of her conscious enough to try and stop the blood flow, she couldn't tell. Blood pooled out, creating almost a sort of halo around her head.

But her eyes, oh Titan her eyes.

They were blown wide, and were so white it looked almost unnatural. Her pupils had shrunk to sizes that she’d learned from Luz should not be physically possible for humans. A constant side-effect of shots she had gotten years ago.

Her eyes stared off into nothing, glazed but still so full of pure, unbridled terror. Luz was not someone who was scared easily, and seeing such an unmasked horror from her was nothing short of unsettling. Her eyes darted about as she wheezed for air, and she looked as though she couldn’t tell where she was.

Then those eyes landed on Amity.

Her face barely changed, although her eyes did. Her pupils dilated, ever so slightly. She locked those eyes with Amity as she gurgled through the blood bubbling in her throat. Amity could see her own petrified, still expression reflected back at her in those eyes. She was like a deer in the headlights, and she could feel her hands going numb.

One of Luz’s hands left her wound and she reached out, coated and dripping with blood as her fingers grazed Amity’s pant leg, weakly trying to grab at her.

Finally, though now that she looks back, the entire experience probably only lasted a few seconds, Amity snapped out of her trance.

“Luz,” Amity’s voice cracked, startlingly quiet as she dropped to her knees.

She panicked, and she knew she was. She looked over Luz rapidly as she wracked her brain for what to do. She knew healing magic, for Titan’s sake!

Instead, all she could think of to do was to press down on Luz’s throat, taking over as her girlfriends own hands started to shake and fall. Her eyelids drooped slightly and Amity felt a violent spike of fear at the sight.

“Viney,” Amity croaked, shaking her head as she wrapped an arm around Luz and pulled her closer, placing her head on her lap in some feeble attempt to elevate the wound, even though that wouldn’t do anything for a neck wound because of course it wouldn’t.

“Viney, Viney!” Amity cried, raising her head and frantically looking around the debris and dying--wrong word--chaos around her. “Where’s Viney?” She yelled pitifully, tightening her hold on Luz.

Yes, Viney could help. She was a far better healer than Amity. She’d healed bad injuries all the time. She just needed Viney and everything would be fine.

“Where are you?” Amity wailed, her panic rising to near hysteria as she searched the area with blurry, tear-filled eyes. She wasn’t sure who specifically she was calling for now. “Please, please she…”

Amity risked a glance down at Luz. She was now breathing through laboured breaths, raspy and shaking like a building that was about to collapse. Her eyelids were droopy, but she was stubbornly keeping them open as she lightly tried to hold her hands against her neck.

“There you guys are! What--”

Amity jerked her head up, pulling Luz closer to her chest as her ears dipped low.

Eda.

It was Eda. She was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

Eda faltered, her confused, but still cocky, grin falling as she looked over Amity. Sitting on her knees, covered in blood that wasn’t her own, holding Luz like she was going to slip away from her at any moment.

“Kid!” Eda exclaimed, rushing forward and skidding to her knees so fast she likely cut them up as she grabbed Luz.

Amity was too numb to stop her, letting Eda take her as she stared off. Eda turned Luz over, sharply inhaling at the sight and her pupils narrowing and ears flicking back. Amity felt selfish for being glad that Eda had to see this, too. Because now Eda could take Luz, and she’d be fine, and tomorrow this day would be a funny story they’d tell the rebellion on a slow day.

Snowy had shown up again, though Amity couldn’t remember when. She had landed beside Eda, chirping and flapping her wings frantically as Eda scooped up Luz in her arms. She stood, momentarily forgetting about Amity as she yelled words the younger witch could no longer make out.

Her vision became splotchy and her ears felt fuzzy. Everything felt like a blur, and she was barely aware of being lifted off the ground. But she could still acutely hear the frantic beating of her heart and feel the stickiness of the blood drying on her clothes and hands.

When Amity finally came to, she was in the Owl House.

It wasn’t a consciousness she eased into, but rather was jerked out of by nothing in particular. She simply suddenly snapped up, her eyes shiny with emotion again as she looked around.

She was sitting on the couch, and Lilith was beside her, obviously lost in thought. Willow, Barcus and Gus were the only ones in the room, all of them sitting on the floor around the table in front of the couch.

She felt something warm in her hands and looked down, realizing she was holding a cup of tea. Lilith must’ve made it, considering how obsessed she was. Likely one of the kinds that helped keep her calm, she used those a lot.

She stared at her hands in fascination, seeing that they were no longer covered in blood. And for a moment, she thought she’d imagined it all.

But if she looked closely, she could still see the small bits and splatters of dried red liquid on the back of her hands. And when she looked down at herself, she saw that while her cloak and extra layers had been removed, her pant legs were still covered in dried blood and her shirt had specks of it that had soaked through.

Amity felt like she was going to be sick.

“Are you back?”

She blinked, forcing her eyes away from herself as she looked to the coffee table in front of her. Gus was sitting next to it, leaning his arms on it. He was looking at her now, face full of concern.

“Come--” Amity stopped and cleared her throat, hating how strained it sounded. “Come again?”

“You, um,” Gus gestured to his face with his hand. “Had a bit of a...gone look, for a while. You just, I dunno, you were…” He shook his head and swallowed. “H-how are you doing?”

He was nervous, clearly so. And seeing Gus as such did little to ease her own nerves. At least it was only nervousness, Amity wasn’t sure how she’d react if he was full-blown freaking out.

“I…” Amity blinked a few times, trying to get her mind in order. She was aware of everyone else in the room looking up towards her. “I’m--I’m fine.” She said, looking down at her hands again before sharply turning away. Right, the blood.

“Where, where’s Luz?” She asked, looking around the room. She tried to push down the growing feeling of unease, she didn’t trust herself not to hurl if she thought about it too much.

“She’s upstairs,” Lilith said, frowning slightly. “You saw Eda carry her up there with Viney.”

“I-I did?” Amity said, staring at her mentor.

“Yeah, you wanted to go with them.” Gus nodded, looking increasingly worried. “You don’t remember? You were freaking out and Willow had to calm you down.”

Amity turned to Willow at that, like just looking at her would suddenly explain everything. Willow was sitting at the other end of the coffee table, looking tired. That was nothing new, but her looking ready to fall asleep where she sat wasn’t. She met Amity’s gaze with exhaustion, cringing slightly and glancing away.

“Oh,” Amity said, gripping her cup of tea a little tighter. “I...I don’t remember that.” She said, shrinking in on herself. “Is Luz okay?” She asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Nobody met her gaze. Aside from Barcus, who lay underneath the table, for some reason. He met her gaze for a moment before his ears flicked back and he growled something under his breath.

“I’m going to check on her,” Amity said, pushing back the way it felt like her heart dropped as she sharply put her cup down on the table and stood up.

Her head felt dizzy as she did so, and it didn’t help that everyone started talking over each other as soon as Amity spoke. She stumbled for a moment before Lilith grabbed her shoulder and awkwardly pushed her back onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” She said sternly. “We barely got you cleaned up, and still need to get you out of that.” She said, gesturing to the stained clothes Amity still bore. “Eda only took her up there a few minutes ago, we were simply catching our breath before you came to, it's why not everyone is here yet.”

“I know healing magic!” Amity protested, shrugging off Lilith’s hand. “I can help Viney.” She said, getting up again.

“You are in no condition to help Luz right now,” Lilith insisted, getting up just as quickly and lightly touching Amity’s arm as she stood in front of her. “Not after all that.” She said, her voice softening.

“What would you know?” Amity growled, more harshly than she meant. “You weren’t there. Nobody here was!” She hissed, resisting the urge to throw her hands in the air.

“No, we weren’t.” Lilith agreed, and the fact Lilith had done so with no argument had Amity shutting her mouth instantly. “But Eda told us where she found you, and judging from how you reacted and looked when they brought you back, I highly doubt seeing Luz in her current state is going to help anyone.”

Amity wanted to protest, she really did. She wanted to shove Lilith aside and storm up to wherever Luz was and do all she can to make her look up at her with eyes that didn’t get burned into her mind like a nightmare and a smile that didn’t have blood gushing out of it. But she knew she’d never make it far. Lilith was stubborn, and Willow would surely help keep Amity downstairs. There was no fighting Willow.

And, if she were honest with herself, she doubted she’d be able to do anything, anyway. Eda was probably already panicking, and the mere thought of seeing Luz laying on a cot with bandages around her neck and curled into a ball made her knees feel close to giving out.

“Luz will be okay,” Lilith continued, moving her hand up from Amity’s arm to the shoulder. “Viney said the blade entered too high,” She explained. “It didn’t hit any main arteries. She’s made it through a lot, this’ll be barely any different.” She assured, giving a tense smile.

If Amity had the energy, she’d argue that the fact everyone was anxiously waiting around didn’t exactly give any good signs. But right now, she wanted to do anything but dwell on today.

“Come on,” Willow said, pushing herself to her feet. “I have spare clothes here, we should get you out of that mess,” She said, offering a hand for Amity to take.

Amity stared down at it for a moment before her shoulders slumped and she took it, letting Willow guide her out of the living room. Gus and Barcus gave her pitying looks as they left through the door by the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Amity mumbled, bringing her free hand close to her chest, where it was currently fisted. “I didn’t get her out of there in time, I humored her and now--”

“Hey,” Willow said sharply, turning around and narrowing her eyes. “I know how Luz is, this isn’t your fault.” She said, lowering her head so she could keep eye contact with Amity. “Something like this was bound to happen, anyway.” She mumbled bitterly.

“But I…” Amity trailed off, her throat feeling dry as she broke away from Willow’s gaze and glue her gaze to the ground, her hands trembling.

“It’s alright,” Willow said, gently squeezing her hand. “Luz will be fine, and so will you. Knowing her, she’d probably fight the Bat Queen herself if you so much as said you vaguely missed her.” She added, trying to joke.

“I know,” Amity said, looking up as her ears flicked down. “And that's what scares me.”

Amity was on her fifth cup of tea when the door to the Owl House had opened.

Barely an hour had passed, with no word from anyone upstairs. Barcus insisted that if Eda wasn’t worrying about having to risk a hospital visit, Luz was bound to be fine.

Nobody had left the house since Luz had been whisked away, leaving none of them able to tell the others they hadn’t picked up on the way back about the situation.

So the laughing and jeering that greeted them when the door opened was a bit jarring.

“Ey, there they are!” Edric grinned, walking in as he shoulder-bumped Jerbo. “I can’t believe you guys left us!”

“Ed almost got caught by the Coven,” King said, sitting up on Jerbo’s shoulders. “I rescued him.” He added proudly, a paw on his chest.

“You did not,” Jerbo shook his head with a smile. “What was the rush? We thought you’d all been carted off to prison again.” He asked, looking around the room.

Exhausted, stricken faces greeted them. You could see the joy die from their eyes, replaced with bone-chilling worry.

“What happened?” Emira demanded, stepping in and closing the door.

“Luz got hurt,” Lilith said calmly. “Badly.” She glanced to Amity beside her, who was staring at her tea. “Amity witnessed it.” She added, quieter and full of pity.

The twins looked to each other with similar faces of fear before they rushed in, moving to crouch beside their sister. Lilith silently moved to the furthest side of the couch so Emira could sit next to Amity. Jerbo and King glanced to each other before hurrying to the others on the floor, talking in hushed tones.

“She’ll be okay,” Amity said, her eyes flickering between her siblings. “I’ve learned from you two that things often look a lot worse than they actually are.” She added with an obviously forced lighter tone, giving a small smile.

“Oh, Amity…” Edric trailed off, his ears pressing back. “What...is…”

“Wasn’t fun,” Amity said, continuing her fake tone. “I can tell you that. I think I washed my hands raw.” She said, looking down at where said rubbed-red hands were shaking as they held her cup. “She’s--” She broke off, swallowing thickly and refusing to let her voice break. “She’s with Viney and Eda.”

“If you start using humor to cope I’m going to punch you.” Emira warned, a growl forming before dying out.

“Hypocrite,” Amity rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea.

“Well hey, if Viney’s with Luz, then she’s going to be up and running in barely a day.” Edric said, quickly changing the topic away from them. “She's dealt with all kinds of ridiculous injuries, especially from Em.”

“Oh your one to talk,” Emira snapped. “If Jerbo was a healer--”

“Behave,” Lilith called sharply, giving the twins a warning glare from the other side of the couch.

“Yes, mom.” Edric mumbled under his breath so she couldn’t hear.

“Hey, Luz is tough.” Emira said, wrapping an arm around Amity’s shoulders and pulling her against her side. “A little scrap will barely graze her. It’ll be a joke within hours, just you wait.”

Amity raised a hand to her neck, lightly rubbing it as she glanced to her sister, grimacing before looking away.

“It was here,” She said quietly, almost inaudible. “They got her here.”

The twins tensed. Edric squeezed Amity’s arm and she slumped, letting Emira keep her upright.

Neither of them spoke after that.

It was late afternoon when they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Everyone's heads were up in a flash, waiting in bated breath.

It was Eda.

She looked drained, a hand running down her face. She paused at the doorway, looking out into the living room with anxious faces staring back at her.

“She’s okay,” Eda said, and it was like the weight of the sky had been lifted off their shoulders.

Amity almost fell off the couch by how fast and heavily she sagged in relief. Emira’s arm around her was the only thing keeping her stable.

“She’ll need rest for a few days, but Luz will be back to normal in no time.” Eda said, walking into the room. “Viney’s doing a final once over,” She added, catching Emira’s eye.

“Can we see her?” Gus asked, standing up.

“Kids exhausted, you can’t all see her at once.” Eda deadpanned. “Viney already almost bit my head off for staying that long,” She mumbled under her breath. “One at a time, and honestly, Viney might yell at you to leave her alone within the hour.”

Amity was on her feet in seconds, her cup forgotten on the table. She took a step towards the stairs before pausing and turning back to Gus.

Sure, Amity had seen what happened to Luz but...he was Luz’s friend, too. He and Willow were still her closest. And...well, she couldn’t help but feel guilty as she met his eyes.

Gus seemed to understand and smiled, sitting back down on the floor beside Willow.

“Go ahead,” He said, and Amity once again wondered how his emotions could almost flip on a dimel. “But I call seeing Luz next.” He said, looking back to the others with a joking glare that couldn’t frighten a squirrel.

“Yeah, good luck fighting for that.” Willow taunted, punching his arm as he yelped and gave a sheepish smile.

“Don’t break anything,” Amity warned, but smiled back as she nodded to her siblings and made her way to the stairs.

As she passed Eda, the witch reached out for her. Amity paused, watching her. Eda seemed to hesitate for a moment before patting her shoulder and moving away, towards where the rest of their family began to discuss who-knows-what, all the tension having left them.

Feeling a bit lighter, Amity made her way up the stairs.

She hung outside of Luz’s room for a moment, scuffing at the floor with her feet. She could hear shuffling and muffled voices through the door, and wondered the consequences of busting in when Viney was still packing up.

The door opened and Amity jumped. Viney stepped out, looking surprised for a moment before relaxing with a smile.

“You know, she was just asking to see you and the others.” She chuckled, re-situating her medical bag under her arm. “Try not to--never mind.”

Viney only shook her head as Amity pushe right by her, rushing into Luz’s room. Viney couldn’t blame her, and only shrugged and shut the door behind her.

Amity paused for a moment to take in the scene, suddenly remembering she probably should’ve mentally prepared herself better.

Luz was laying on her mattress Eda had upgraded her too, under a single sheet. She was laying on her back with one hand hanging off and brushing the floor. The other was situated on her stomach. She was still wearing her outfit from earlier, but her purple cloak had been discarded on the other side of the room, and Luz had been changed out of her surely bloodsoaked shirt. She wore one of her gray tank tops instead, and her eyes were partially closed.

For a brief, horrifying second, Amity was reminded of a corpse in an open casket.

That was, until Luz saw who had entered the room.

“Ami--” Luz’s gleeful cry was cut off by her hacking loudly, coughing as she sat up and pressed a hand to her throat.

“Are you okay?” Amity worried, rushing over and standing over Luz, reaching out a hand.

“Fine,” Luz wheezed, lifting her free hand to reassure Amity. “Voice is just gonna be off for a little while.” She said, her voice scratchy as she rubbed at her neck once before dropping her hand.

And once it moved away, Amity finally got to see the bandages wrapped tightly around her. True to Lilith’s word, they were much higher up than a typical throat-slit. On Luz, it was just below her chin, right where her neck met her head. Though it still didn’t stop Amity from wincing at the sight of the gauzes.

Luz noticed and deflated slightly. She attempted to shake it off and grabbed Amity’s hand, pulling it closer and encasing both of her hands over it. Which was an easy feat, considering they were noticeably bigger.

“I’m glad you're okay,” She said in her strained voice, looking up at Amity with a smile that the witch lingered on a moment too long to be natural.

“I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” Amity said, a little sternly as she pressed her ears back. “If anything, I should be saying that I’m glad you're okay.”

“Aw, you care.” Luz teased, sticking out her tongue. Amity gave her a half-hearted glare and she faltered, her smile falling along with her eyes.

“I just,” Luz swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek as she noticed Amity’s unease. “I’m--I remember what you looked like when I,” Luz hesitated, clearing her hoarse voice as a hole opened in Amity’s gut. “I...I was worried about you.” She mumbled, lowering her head.

Amity stared at Luz’s hunched form for a few moments. Then, tentatively, like she was expecting Luz to bolt, she lifted her other hand and stepped right to the edge of the bed. Luz spared a glimpse up as Amity wrapped her hand around Luz’s back and pulled her closer.

Luz drooped into her hold, thumping her head against Amity’s chest and squeezing her hand tighter. Amity lightly ran her hand through the hair at the base of Luz’s head, which she also rested her chin on and rocked subtly to the side, shutting her eyes.

They stayed like that for a while, letting the memories of the day roll over them before forcing it back, all in silence. Amity was sure Luz could tell she was fighting back crying again, and she knew Luz wasn’t as alright as she acted. Not from how her hands left her own and clutched tightly at the girls sides, pulling at her baggy shirt and pressing her face close.

“I was scared for you,” Luz finally broke the silence, her raspy, painful-sounding voice almost inaudible. “You looked like you’d seen the end of the world.”

“Well, I was certainly scared for you.” Amity said matter-of-factly, trying to cover up her disturbance at Luz having remembered more than she thought. “Don’t worry about it, I’m alright now.”

“That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Oh, and you're a master at figuring out liars now?” Amity snarked, looking down at Luz and meeting Luz’s eyes, which were wonderfully normal and not full of panic.

“I’m good with you,” Luz said cheerfully in her stupid scratchy voice that Amity hated she kind of liked. “Your right ear moves when you lie, when you forget about it.”

Damnit. Edric and Emira had always remembered that tick of hers and Amity had learned to stop herself from flicking said ear whenever she was lying. But every now and again, she forgot.

“That proves nothing,” Amity said stiffly, turning her head away. “I move my ear when I’m annoyed all the time.”

“That's your left ear,” Luz said with gleeful factuality. “I noticed.” She said proudly, giving Amity an expression like she’d solved a puzzle and was looking for praise.

“That you did,” Amity mumbled, ruffling Luz’s hair so it’d fall into her eyes. She needed to cut that sometime. “You're very annoying like that.”

“Too bad I’m your annoyance,” Luz teased, giving Amity a smug wink.

“Woe is me,” Amity said in a bleak voice, laying her head on Luz’s to hide the blush creeping up her face. “I’m going to be suffering for the rest of my days.”

“C’mon, I do that all on my own--” Luz broke off in a fit of coughs, doubling over and releasing Amity.

The witch stepped back, eyes flashing with fear as got to her knees beside the bed and laid her hand on Luz’s leg. She shoved down the helpless feeling she thought would’ve been gone by now as Luz coughed and rubbed at her bandaged neck.

“Sorry,” Luz wheezed, her fit finally calming down.

“It’s alright,” Amity said, her voice quiet as well. “You should rest your voice.”

“No, I-” Luz flinched, rubbing at her neck more before shaking her head. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” She rasped. “You said we had to leave, and I didn’t, and--”

“Hey, hey,” Amity chided softly, lifting to hold Luz’s free hand. “It was an accident, I don’t blame you. Nobody does.”

“I know, but…” Luz sighed, her shoulders slumping. She leaned forward, lightly knocking her forehead against Amity’s as she closed her eyes for a second before opening them. She kept her eyes locked on where Amity was still holding her hand.

“I’m a mess,” Luz mumbled, stroking her thumb over the back of Amity’s hand. “And I should’ve...I dunno...I just…” She groaned and finally met Amity’s gaze. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things. And I wish that it,” She gestured around them with her other hand. “Didn’t end up like this. You know? This is a rebellion, I thought it’d be fun. They always make rebellions sound so cool and how you’d always escape them okay and be heroes.”

“So, Azura, then?” Amity lifted a brow.

“Don’t patronize me,” Luz huffed good-naturedly. “Look, I’m just...sorry. That I got hurt, that someone else could’ve gotten hurt, that you're stuck in this mess, that…” Luz muttered and blinked her eyes rapidly, like Amity somehow couldn’t see they were beginning to water. “God, I think I’m still high off those pain medications.” She groaned, covering her face with her hand.

Amity blinked before giving a small smile. She moved her head back slightly and raised her other hand, reaching out for Luz and cupping her cheek. Luz immediately leaned into it and slipped her hand off her face to hold Amity’s in its place.

“I’ve been stuck before,” She said, pointedly keeping her gaze away from Luz’s bandages. “And if this is your idea of stuck, then you better believe I’m not leaving.”

Luz gave a small half-smile, leaning further into her hand. Amity brushed her thump behind Luz’s eye, looking over her with mixed feelings. Luz wasn’t one to admit her fears so openly, and even Amity could tell how she tried to cover up her awkwardness at being open. Perhaps taking a page out of Luz’s book wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn't be bothered to worry about herself right then.

Amity leaned forward, catching Luz’s minor surprise for only a second before she placed a kiss on the side of Luz’s mouth, where a small scar went right over it. She remembered when Luz had gotten that scar, and she recalled how at the time it seemed like nothing more than an inconvenient cut.

Amity pulled back only a moment later, almost snickering at the sight of Luz. She was flushed and looked like a deer in the--nope. Wrong analogy.

Amity hoped her quick cover-up smile was enough to make up for her sudden shift.

Luz eventually reeled herself in and her expression shifted to that of a pout, letting her hand fall from Amity’s as she thumped her head on her girlfriends shoulder.

“Cheater,” She whined, her voice muffled.

Amity giggled, relaxing as she wrapped an arm around Luz and held her close. It was an awkward position, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

She remained there for a moment, laying her cheek against Luz’s shoulder. She glanced to the side, looking over the bandages around her throat. And for a moment she saw just how deep that blade dug into the human’s skin.

“It’s going to scar over,” She found herself saying, feeling Luz stiffen in her arms. “Isn’t it?”

Luz was silent for a few moments, and in those moments Amity feared she shouldn’t have spoken. Luz had never been one to dislike her scars until...well, she’d gotten a rather nasty one from Eda she’d rather forget. But then Luz exhaled, sounding far more tired than she had been before.

“Yeah,” She croaked. “Viney said it would.”

“I’m sorry,” Amity murmured.

“It’s okay,” Luz said, resting her chin on Amity’s shoulder so she could be heard better. “This isn’t my first and it won’t be my last.”

Amity felt a chill at that line. She knew it wasn’t meant to be foreboding, only a small joke so she wouldn’t worry. Yet, it made her uneasy at how Luz brushed it off. And it was a small reminder that, even if Luz felt regret, she was still a naturally reckless person. And one day she’d be right back in her bed, covered in bandages and possibly in a worse condition than a hoarse voice.

“Luz,” Amity said, tightening her arms around the human. “I…”

Titan, what even was there to say? Don’t say that? You deserve better? I love you?

She wouldn’t get anywhere with any of those. And especially not the latter. There was too much going on already, and this was neither the time nor the place.

Amity squeezed her eyes shut and sighed before leaving her eyes half-lidded.

“Be careful,” She said instead. “If not for yourself, then for the others. You have no idea how scared we were.” She flicked her ears further down. “Don’t do anything overly stupid, okay?” She said, her voice hitching as she tried to cover it with a more teasing tone.

She could feel Luz swallow against her shoulder, shifting in her hold slightly.

“I’ll try,” She murmured.

And Amity supposed that was the best she could ask for.

“Also,” Luz started nervously. “Uh, not to rapidly change the subject,” Luz said, lifting her head slightly, her voice a bit more strained than before. “But your claws are kind of digging into my back…”

“Oh, right!” Amity squeaked and jerked back, sharply tugging her hands off of Luz and wincing when she felt her claws slide out of Luz’s shirt and skin. “Sorry, sorry,”

“I’ve had worse.” Luz chuckled, pulling away and giving Amity a mildly pained smile. “And as much as I love having you here,” Her eyes trailed somewhere behind Amity. “I think Gus is about to break something if this doesn’t hurry up.”

Amity turned around, confused. Sure enough, the door to the room was just barely cracked, and Gus could be seen pacing outside it. And Amity was willing to bet Willow was there, too.

“Seriously, guys?” Amity rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“We weren’t listening, I swear!” Gus insisted, pulling the door open further and poking his head in. “We weren’t even here that long!”

“Next time, you can just knock.” Amity grumbled, flicking her ear at Luz’s snickers behind her.

“Eh, figured you’d tear our heads off if we did,” Willow said, pulling the door open further. “So, can we come in then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Amity sighed, getting to her feet and brushing herself off. “Eda’s going to kill you if she finds out both of you were sneaking in at the same time.”

“Eh, I’ll probably be fine.” Luz shrugged, her voice scratching more as she clearly tried to hold back another cough.

“Get it out of your system,” Amity told her simply, deciding to push back her earlier turmoil as she turned back to the door. “You want me to cover for you two?”

“You and I both know it's going to take ages for you to finally go downstairs instead of hovering by the door.” Willow deadpanned.

“This is bullying,” Amity complained as Gus and Willow walked in, with Gus instantly springing to Luz’s bedside and going off about some topic Amity was tuning out.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” Willow said with a smirk, raising a brow as she passed Amity.

“...Touché,” Amity mumbled with an acknowledging nod.

Willow only shook her head and came up by the head of Luz’s bed, calmly watching as Gus talked a mile a minute, so much livelier than how he was mere hours ago. Amity stood back and watched, fiddling her hands together as Luz coughed and assured her friends she was fine and letting Gus continue his rambling.

Amity unconsciously rubbed her hand at her own throat before quickly dropping it again. She fiddled her hands together, feeling that her claws were still unsheathed. She pressed along her fingers, trying to coax her claws to sheath. It only somewhat worked, and she relented that her claws weren’t going to go away for a while.

Willow glanced over at her with a questioning look. Amity cringed at seeing her concern and gave a forced smile and nodded her head. She knew it didn’t convince Willow, but she didn’t push and turned back to Gus and Luz without further comment.

She’d always be worried about Luz, she decided as she watched said human listen to Gus and pointedly ignore the warning glances Willow gave her as she messed with her bandages. Luz would always be a handful, no matter how much she changed, she’d still be the human who had to learn as much magic as she could and the one who wouldn’t stand for an emperor like Belos. If nobody would do it, Luz sure as hell would.

And, as scared as she was to blink and suddenly see that blood on her hands again, she decided it was worth it. She’d never get used to it, not completely.

Amity could almost hear Willow calling her a hypocrite, because the more she thought about it, the more Amity began to realize that she’d likely do anything of Luz’s request to make her safer. Hell, she didn’t doubt she’d fight her own parents one-on-two if Luz asked nicely.

And while the thought of that terrified her, she couldn’t find the common sense to find a reason to stop herself, should it happen.

Perhaps that's just the impact Luz had on people.

Or maybe it was just Amity.

She couldn’t find it in her to care anymore.

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mc-i-r · 4 years ago

Text

Thrill of the kill

Chapter 10

Masterpost

Ship: intrulogical

Pov: Virgil

Tw: guns, shooting, blood, dead bodies, yelling, suicide (by cop)

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 1794

A/N: As promised, here is the last chapter of Totk. I'm so proud of this and seeing everyone who reads it has made me infinitely happy. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the super long last chapter!

“We’ve got ‘em. They’re at a bank downtown, holding everyone inside hostage. If we hurry we can diffuse it before it gets too bad,” I said, leaning on the doorframe to Roman’s office. He quickly got up, following me out of the station and to the car. We mixed in with the flood of police cars exiting the precinct, heading downtown to finally catch those maniacs.

“What have we got so far?” Roman asked on our way up there. I kept my attention on the road, following the back end of the police car in front of me.

“They planned out a bank robbery, a big one at that. I won’t be surprised if this is their last, if I’m being honest with ya. We profiled that they would stop at nothing to get away with it and if that means suicide by cop then so be it. They’ve been escalating for a few months now so keep your eyes open. This one is gonna be big,” I said. We turned the final corner, both of us practically jumping out of the car. I found one of the first responding officers, asking what the current situation is.

“So far, they’ve locked the door from the inside with chains and sealed off all the exits. We counted around 50 to 60 hostages inside. They moved them to the middle of the building but that’s all we know so far,” he said. He got a call over his walkie talkie, stepping way to answer it. I turned to Roman, sighing and running a hand down my face.

“It’s worse than I thought. They’re not gonna let those hostages live,” I said. Roman tiled his head like a puppy in confusion. Dammit, why does he have to be so cute?! Virgil, not now.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because, Roman, they’re psychopaths. They feel no empathy. No remorse for anything they’ve ever done. They don’t care about those people and they don’t care about the money. They’re only doing this because you need money to survive, no other reason. They aren’t going to let those people go, Roman. I know it,” I said, gesturing to the door. I started pacing, trying to figure out the best tactic to cool down the situation. None of them were good options.

“We need to set up communications. It’s the only thing I can think of. We need to get in their heads somehow. You! Yeah, you. Can you help me set this up?” I ask, calling out to a random officer. He nodded and came over to where me and Roman were trying to set up the communications operation. “Thank you….?”

“Oh, Officer Heart. But you can call me Patton,” the officer said, the cheery character extending a hand for me to take. I don’t do handshakes so Roman stepped in, shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Roman and this grumpy man is Virgil,” he said. I glared at him, elbowing him in the side.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for!?” he said, grabbing his side. Patton just snickered, hooking up a few wires onto the recorder and phone.

“You know what it was for, Princey, don’t act dumb,” I said, turning back to the task at hand.

“‘Princey’?” Patton asked, raising an eyebrow. Me and Roman both answered at the same time.

“It’s what I call this idiot.”

“It’s his special nickname for me.”

I let out a huff of air as Patton giggled, hooking in the last wire. I pressed the power button and the line went live.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you two to be quiet, okay?” I said. The both nodded and I punched in the number for the bank, picking up the phone and putting it to my ear. I heard it ring;

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Bingo.

“Eh? What d’you want?” a nasally voice sounded from the other end. It took all my willpower not to grimace.

“Who is this?” I asked. It's best to set the scene first before getting into negotiations.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Virgil. Detective Virgil.”

“Ooh, fancy. So, Detective Virgil, what brings you here this fine day?” the obnoxious voice sounded from the other end. I’m going to have a headache by the end of this.

“Oh, you know, just a couple of serial killers robbing a bank. The usual.” A shrill laugh rangs over the phone, making me pull the phone away from my ear to save my eardrums. “You never answered my question. Who is this?”

“Remus Prince at your service,” he said. That name made me pause. It was...familiar somehow. Remus, Remus, Remus. Prince. Remus Prince. Roman Prince.

Oh. My. God.

It’s Roman’s twin brother.

Oh no.

“Do you plan on coming out anytime soon?” I asked. I had to keep my cool and try not to freak out that my crush’s partner’s lost brother is currently holding a bank hostage with his psychopathic boyfriend.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. I sighed. ‘This is going to be a long conversation.’

“Then tell me, Remus, why the bank robbery? Why now?”

“Well, I was getting quite bored and thought a good ol’ bank heist would do the trick.”

"So you don’t have any friends to visit?”

“Friends? HA! I haven’t had a friend in years,” the eccentric man laughed.

“Well I’m sure it’s hard to make friends when you murder them.”

“That was rude,” Remus pouted.

“So is murder,” I said, deadpan. “How do you plan on getting out of there? We’ve got all the exits covered, front and back.”

“I’m sure Logan will think of something. He always does.”

“So Logan is the other one? How long ha-”

“Hang on there sunshine, gimme a moment.” he interrupted. The line went silent for a second, the sound of distant yelling coming through on the other side. There was a gunshot, then another, and another; the sound echoing off the concrete walls. Several officers shouted, trying to advance forward to bust into the building. That would only panic them, making them shoot at random and kill more people than necessary.

“DON’T MOVE IN!!” I yelled, commanding the officers to take a step back. I put the phone to my ear once more.

“I had to take care of something. I’m sorry, you were saying?” Remus said nonchalantly. I wondered just how many people he’s killed in his lifetime for this to be normal. I didn’t like that thought very much.

“How long have you two known each other? You and Logan I mean,” I ask. I hear a humming noise come from the other end, indicating that he was thinking.

“About three years now,” he responded.

“So you haven’t seen anyone except him for three years?” I asked.

“Nope!” he said, popping the ‘p’ once again. “And I’m not complaining either. I mean...have you seen that man?”

“Not even your brother?” I asked. The line went deathly silent; so much so that I thought he had hung up. The light on the monitor proved me otherwise though, as well as the burst of gunshots that came from inside. I heard the phone disconnect and I slammed the phone down in anger.

“Dammit! We almost had him,” I yelled. I started pacing again, trying to work away the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“What happened? Why were there so many gunshots?” Roman asked, looking more confused than concerned.

“I must have struck a nerve. We need to move in soon or else this will end more bloody than we hope for,” I said. I tried to walk past Roman but he held an arm out, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked, voice having dropped to almost a whisper. It was sweet how much he cares. If we weren’t in a hostage situation right now I probably would have finally confessed.

“Yeah, I’m good. We just need to get them out of there,” I said, walking past him and to the line of officers.

They had formed a barricade around the entrance of the bank, many of them already aiming their guns at the glass doors. I made my way over to them, joining in the line and aiming my gun as well. A minute or two later, Roman joined me, Patton following closely behind. I was getting ready to give the command for S.W.A.T to enter when two figures approached the door, both carrying guns, one undid the chains on the door while the other pushed the door open, both of them aiming their guns at us.

I held up the signal for ‘hold fire’, analysing the two psychopaths that now stood in front of us. One officer yelled for them to put their guns down, both of them ignoring the command. They were almost in a daze, ignoring the outside world. The same officer warned them, saying that they would open fire. Again, they didn’t comply. Instead, they made their way closer to one another, guns still aimed at the line of officers. Their lips collided with one another, fingers pulling the trigger and opening fire. I ducked behind part of the barricade, shielding myself from the incoming bullets. They were doing it. They were actually doing it.

They were going to die.

I took a breath and peeked around the barricade, watching as the two serial killers were almost riddled with bullets. Still, the two stayed locked in a kiss, holding on to each other. In their last moments, they pulled apart, both whispering something that was lost to time. Then, their bodies fell to the ground in a pool of blood, limp and growing cold.

I never forgot that day. The day two lovers were caught in the whirlwind of bullets, how their love faded just like the life from their eyes. The day dozens of bodies are hauled out of that bank, their loved ones weeping at the sight. The final look they gave us before their bodies were torn to shreds. It was peaceful almost, like they had prepared for this since the moment they met. I suppose they had; having a plan in case things went wrong. It wasn’t just me that was haunted by that day. Roman almost broke down when he found out it was his brother, often visiting the crime scene and replaying the last moments of his lost brother’s life. I found him coming to my apartment almost every day, sobbing and almost collapsing from exhaustion. It was a sad day, one that ruined too many lives to count. It did help me realize something, something that I never forgot in the many years to come.

People really will do anything for love.

Taglist:

@whattheremus @falsemood @braingoburr @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @martini46

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hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried.

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.

“Well, do you know where she is?”

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”

A victim?

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he?

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.

“So does your Jungkook do film too?”

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”

“God this is so weird.”

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”

“Done and done.”

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Will you… fall in love with me again?”

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

When you wake up, it’s loud.

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #goldenclosetnet #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff

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medeafive · 4 years ago

Text

Blood and Stone - 29

Masterpost

Prague has never smelled so much of vampires. It’s in every street, behind every corner, and she follows the smell as she speeds on her motorcycle towards the screams, through the cold night air. She smells blood, too, human and vampire, though the screams are harder to distinguish. They’re coming closer, right side of the street, and when she sees the broken windows and the glass on the street, she knows exactly where to go.

The strong wooden door has been kicked down with more than human force and she heads straight for the stairs, gun drawn. The screaming has stopped but the smell of blood intensifies with every step. The doors on the second floor are all barred and intact, though heavily scratched, so she heads up one more. The door on the left is ripped to pieces, blood splattered into the hallway. She presses against the wall, keeping her breathing down, peeking in.

There’s a severed arm in the hallway but worse, she hears faint breathing. Oh no. Not again. Steps. She braces herself-

The vampire tries to sink his fangs into her arm and she slashes his face with her knife, he screeches and presses his hands to the graying skin and she takes the opportunity to kick him in the chest, sending him flying down the hallway with a cracking sound, hitting the floor hard. His fangs are bloody, his eyes very dark, not a fledgling anymore. His clothes are shredded, dirty, barely covering the pale white skin. He’s probably one of those lone vampires roaming the countryside, hiding from detection by Schmidt’s goons, hoping to make it long enough on his own to be considered worthy, taking the lucky opportunity of a siege to ensure his own survival and drink as much blood on the way as he can. But now, he’s run into her.

She jumps at him as he scrambles up, sinking the knife into his shoulder, twisting it as he shrieks, she knocks out his right fang. His claws cut through the air and she has to retreat, shield her face. He hisses at her with his bloody fangs and attacks her. She rolls out underneath him, slashing his calf, he howls and drops to one knee, she grabs his head from behind and slashes his throat quickly but not deep enough, he pulls her to the floor with him, her armor creaks miserably under his claws but she delivers a clean uppercut, punches out the second fang and blocks his jaw while his claws try to break through her breast plate, she gets her hands on his knife and stabs him under the chin. It's not silver but it gives her enough time to grab her own knife from the floor, she bats his arms away, gets on top of him and drives it through his chest until the tip of the blade sinks into the wooden floor.

She remembers how darkness crept into Pierce's eyes when he died, flooding the white eyes with dark blood, but Pierce was an old vampire, not like this one. This one, his eyes are already dark, you'd never see it. Pierce is the only vampire she has killed whose eyes weren't red or black.

Okay. Now to the less pretty part.

She still hears the faint breathing. She already knew it wasn't the now dead vampire but the confirmation still hits her uncomfortably. She gets up and passes down the hallway into the apartment.

The crumpled body with the ripped off arm is in the living room, sucked almost entirely dry, definitely not breathing anymore. Faint whimpers coming from what must be the bedroom. Natasha heads there, knife gripped tight, controlling her breathing.

The woman is on the bedroom floor, bleeding from scratches on her arms, thighs and chest, trembling and whimpering, trying to crawl somewhere and just rolling in on herself. She has all the signs, the shaking, the sweating, the blown and twitching pupils. She smells like it, too. Natasha crouches down, carefully turning her head to bare the side of her neck. The woman startles but she can't really see, eyes darting around unfocused, fingers closing around thin air. Natasha stays back as good as she can, sweeping the hair back. The woman chokes with a sob. She must be in a lot of pain. The red bite mark on her neck is unmistakable.

"Please," the woman whispers, blindly flailing around without any force. "Please."

"I'm sorry," Natasha replies. She doesn't feel any hate anymore, it's just what it is, but if she lets this woman turn, she'll rip apart the people downstairs in a few hours. It's not her fault. It just has to be done.

"No!" the woman shrieks. "No, please, don't-"

The silver knife sinks into her chest, piercing her heart, and the begging stops, her arms drop heavily on the floor, empty eyes staring towards the ceiling. Natasha takes a deep breath, twisting the knife, then grabs the woman's head by her hair and cuts her head off with one vampire blood-fueled swing.

Now it's truly quiet. Lots of blood. The window is broken, cold December air streaming in. Maybe the smell will attract more vampires, scavengers, but she can't stick around when there are so many more places like this, so many more helpless victims, so many more vampires. She surveys the apartment once more, finding no survivors, retrieves her gun and then jumps through the window, three floors down, rolling through the impact, the armor protecting her from the glass shards, and before she knows it, she's back on the motorcycle, speeding towards the next unspeakable horror.

It's been a week. It had started slowly, more and more vampires, more and more attacks, and now every fucking night is a nightmare. A real bloodbath. Every vampire on their own is easy to kill, especially now that the vampire strength still hasn't worn off, but for every single one she kills, there are a dozen more the next night. A steady stream that only ever increases.

She's so in thought the falling thing almost hits her, throws her off the bike, but she zips out just barely. When she's steady enough to look up, she sees a window close on the fourth floor, wooden shutters slamming. Oh yeah. Driving through the city at night murdering people, very popular. That's also part of it.

She drives on anyway, catching a whiff of something around Nové Malešice and following it West. The area around the cemetery is deserted, as always, a popular superstition, so she turns South, stopping near the old prison when the smell becomes intense. A figure emerges from the shadows as she climbs off the bike. Sure, it has a few scratches from when she crashed into a bunch of vampires but it's not like she ruined it, no matter what Fury complains about. It's Sam.

He nods towards her blood covered armor and she shrugs, checking that her gun is still there. "Don't ask."

He shakes his head, looking up towards a dark window. "It's a group, five of them. Thought I'd better wait for backup."

"My phone broke two fights ago," she replies. "Are they in there?"

"Made sure they wouldn't leave," Sam confirms. "Actually, I was waiting for your friend but it looks like he's still busy."

It's beginning to annoy her she had a fucking baby with that guy and they still can't bring themselves to call him anything else than your friend. Nobody has mentioned the baby either, not even once, and she can't really complain about that but it still irks her. All the chiding looks, the quiet judgment, the barely hidden disgust. First, she had the benefit of the doubt when they didn't know how intimate she and James were, and then she was pregnant and dying and wasn't going to get too much criticism, or maybe she just wasn't well enough to notice, but now she has neither and she's just waiting until someone dares say something instead of it being clear on their faces, in their eyes.

"Don't need him," she replies. "Let's go."

It's actually less messy than the previous fight. Sam shoots two before the vampires notice them and she gets the jump on another. Most of all, she doesn't have to kill humans again. It's not a difficult fight, at least for two people.

She takes the moment outside for a breather, staring at the cloudy sky as she grips the bloody jagged knife. This is only going to get worse. More vampires streaming in than they can kill. And then the black cloaks. Well, the ones who aren't already here. Sam joins her. "You okay?"

She nods. She's not even tired. Just weary. "Where are we going next?"

Sam checks his phone. "I don't know. Looks like your friend is still busy."

"Don't call him that," she snaps, regretting it instantly.

"What am I supposed to call him?" Sam asks calmly. "Your boyfriend?"

She doesn't reply. This is all stupid, she knows it. It felt like it would all be okay once she survived the pregnancy but it's the opposite, now she has to deal with the monster baby and the vampire invasion and her own relationship to a fucking vampire, none of it having gotten any easier. Chiding Sam for politely ignoring the nature of her relationship with James doesn't help a thing.

"Look, I know you like him, seriously," Sam adds. "He likes you, too. And I don't blame you for that or anything but- don't you ever think it's wrong ?"

It's never felt that way. But who is she to tell? Her morals are questionable at best. She knows what she's done. She also knows that she has already killed two people tonight, two humans on the verge of turning, and meanwhile she's running around still high on vampire blood and doesn't even really feel bad about it, if she's honest. At least not as bad as she should. Like she would still know what's right or wrong.

"Killing vampires is what feels right, doesn't it?" Sam asks. "Like tonight. You didn't stop for a second to think about whether one of them has feelings, you instantly knew they're bloodsucking monsters and you killed them. Seeing your- your friend's claws on your skin, that felt revoltingly wrong."

She only really has one reply, one counter argument, and she hadn't wanted to use it because it'll only make it worse but now, it slips out. "You're just jealous."

"I'm not jealous and you know that," Sam swats away easily. "I just can't help the feeling that one day, he's going to rip you to pieces. Maybe it'll be Schmidt's mind control, maybe it'll be his true nature coming through, maybe it'll just be an accident. Doesn't really make a difference. Actually, you're lucky if Schmidt kills him before it comes to that."

She shudders. Yes, she knows the prospects are grim. She knows James is still a vampire, still wants to drink her blood, she's dancing on knife's edge and hoping he miraculously has the self-control not to do it. Sam is right, he could slip at any moment, even by accident. She just can't bring herself to get off the knife. "What am I supposed to do? Dump him?"

Sam sighs. "Bobbi says he- he bit you."

She groans loudly. So much for secrets. "Not like that, it wasn't- I'm not turning-"

"I know," Sam interrupts. "I know. But don't tempt him. Don't let him get too relaxed, too close with you."

Dropping into American euphemisms again. "I'm not sleeping with him anymore, if that's what you're asking."

"Good." Sam rubs his nose. "Just, he's in your room a lot."

He doesn't really believe her. And he's not completely wrong, maybe she would sleep with James again if he wasn't- profoundly not in control of his body. Which is exactly Sam's point. "He sleeps in the chair. Sleeps a lot, actually."

"I mean, it's your business," Sam retreats. "But that's a dangerous game you're playing."

"Yeah, because everything else we do is so fucking safe," she returns. "Come on, let's go to Malá Strana, there must be more than enough vampires around."

The castle side of the river is even worse. She hardly gets to get on her bike between fights, between shooting and stabbing and beheading. Vampires everywhere. She excels at fighting, of course, so it's not all that hard on her. Her constitution doesn't fail her even once. Compared to everything else she put her body through, this is easy.

She kills some and she saves some. Humans, that is. She kills every single vampire she comes across. For the humans, it's often too late.

She has just shot three vampires when she smells blood in the dark back room, human blood. More vampire blood, too. She takes a deep breath and kicks the barred door down.

There are vampire corpses inside, their mangled composition making it impossible to tell their number at first glance. The human smell is stronger. She's about to go through the next door when a man appears, arm wrapped in a fresh bandage, bleeding. Human. He still smells human. He looks wary when he sees her but he doesn't hide. "You weren't bitten," she states.

The man shakes his head. He's young, actually, though she couldn't tell at first. This war ages all of them. "I fought against them. The rest… it was a blur, and then they were dead."

He smells human so she'll believe him. By now, she knows what they smell like when they're about to turn. "I shot those outside. You should patch that up better or the smell will attract more."

The man bites his lip. "You should know- I saw it outside. It had a black cloak."

That could have been just James. Or it could be the Viper already, in which case they're fucked. "Was it a man?"

"Yes." The man shakes his head. "I think. No, I'm certain."

"What did he look like?" she asks. Maybe it's that Karpov guy from Russia. Or the Strucker guy from Germany. Probably not Schmidt himself, the red skin would be too recognizable.

"Dark hair," the man says. "Long. I mean, for a man."

Yep, that's her guy. "Don't worry about that one. I know him."

"You know him?" the man repeats, horrified.

"He didn't kill you, did he?" she asks back. "And you smell like a fucking buffet. Really, you should patch that up better."

The man recoils from her. "Get away from me. You- you monster ."

"Learn to kill your own fucking vampires," she returns. "Without spreading your bloody smell all over the street."

"Wow," James remarks. "You smell like a thousand deaths."

Yeah, she has all sorts of vampire blood all over. Some human, too, even though she tried to avoid it. "More like a hundred. You should get back to the tower, sun's coming up."

James grins, stepping into her space, looking for her own smell in the puddle. Or maybe he's trying to keep the different smells apart. "You know I like to live dangerously."

He smells of vampire blood, too, though it seems to have gotten less messy for him. "Not much living if you burn to a crisp."

"Make sure Steve gets home safely," he says. "Haven't seen him for a while."

She snorts, getting on her toes. "Yeah, sure. Big muscle man needs to be walked home."

"Thanks," he replies unironically. "Letting him run around just feels unresponsible."

"Yeah, yeah." She kisses his cold cheek. "Get inside already, I'm not nursing you back to health again."

He snorts. "I'll be fine, I promise. Okay, I'll see you at the Tower, or are you doing the daytime raids?"

Fury's idea, but they haven't tried it yet. She sighs, stepping back. "Nah. Should probably sleep."

"Yeah, you should," he agrees, already eyeing the next roof. "Okay. Take care. Don't forget Steve."

Steve with the good smell is starting to annoy her. James' cloak swooshes and he's up on the roof, throwing her a last look before jumping into the cold night air, disappearing.

Okay. She really should get Steve home, everything else would be petty. Clint is waiting down the street, also looking quite annoyed, and disgusted. She snorts, heading towards him. "Shut the fuck up."

"Didn't say anything," Clint returns, checking dents on his bow.

"Your face says it all," she replies, trying to remember where she last left the motorcycle. "Do you know where that Steve guy is?"

"It's like watching you cuddle a tiger," Clint states, ignoring the question. "Sure, you'll say he hasn't eaten anyone for a while and he's really nice or whatever but it's still a fucking tiger. One day, without warning, without reason, it'll rip your fucking face off."

"Spare me your circus tales," she replies. "At least the tiger is really fucking good at hunting vampires."

"No reason to cuddle him," Clint counters. "And to answer your question, no, I have no idea where Golden Boy is."

She'll have to track down his smell then. "I'm not asking you to like it. Actually, someone threw something at me tonight. Out of a window, while I was driving down the street."

"A rock?" Clint asks.

"I don't know what it was, didn't stop," she replies. "Do you ever think… if this ever ends, we're fucking done? Absolutely useless and widely despised?"

"It won't end, though," Clint returns. "But don't worry about it, we'll all be dead in the next week or two."

Natasha snorts. "Well, in that case, might as well go cuddle my tiger."

#blood and stone #buckynat #vampire au #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sam wilson #clint barton #fanfic #my writing

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delaneytveit · 4 years ago

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Satellites Part 16

Insomnia at its finest! wow, 3 chapters in one day, amazing! This has now turned into the How I Wish the Writers Handled Lance’s trauma. because lets be honest, we did not get that in the show, and I will mourn it until my dying breath!

So what else will we learn about Project Leo and Lance’s time as a captive? Let’s find out!

As always, here are my twitter handles if any of you want to follow me or yell at me or anything.

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @15_agentwash

and maybe buy me a coffee??

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

oh, and before I forget! TW: blood, gore, death?, corpses

(part 15) (Masterpost) (part 17)

The mission had been approved an hour before they were to embark. As simple as it seemed on paper, there was nothing simple about it. They were to go to the exact facility that Lance had been held in.

Lance was to return to the place that had taken everything from him. The place that had broken him and made him into their own perfect image. It made him sick to even think about it. They thought they were helping him, making him stronger, better, faster. They thought that what they were doing was just and that their findings could be used by the very empire trying to colonize the entirety of the universe.

Lance had never believed anyone could be evil, not the pure kind in which they held absolutely no shred of humanity. He had never believed that anyone could be so deprived of morality. They had changed that.

His time in the lab, and in the prison before it, had changed that. He had been exposed to people who treated him as nothing more than an experiment, people who found enjoyment in his pain and torture. He had found people who would so easily deliver pain to anyone they deemed as below them, take power away from the already powerless.

He was going back.

But this time it was different.

This time it was on his own terms.

The argument over whether or not Lance should accompany the rest of the team on the mission was surprisingly brief. Allura had been very adamant about ensuring Lance’s dependability, regardless of his mental state. And frankly no one could really argue against her due to the fact that Lance was the only one who knew the layout of the facility.

He had been the only one able to escape after all.

The flight to the ship was brief. Allura had wormhole the castle to a neighboring gas planet that it was able to hide behind. Due to the Green Lion’s ability to remain undetected, the paladins each boarded it, and Pidge was the only one to pilot to the facility. In just under 20 dobashes, the Green Lion had made its way onto the ship.

Keith was the first out of the Green Lion, activating his bayard and plunging it into the steel outer wall of the ship. In a few ticks he had successfully cut a circular hole wide enough for the team to slip through individually.

Up until now, no one had really noticed the lack of security of the facility. No one except for Lance.

The last time he had been here, it had been hell to get out. Patrol ships were everywhere and the large ion cannon would have shot anything down within half a tick. It was weird how quiet the facility and the area around it was, and he most certainly didn’t like it.

“Keep your eyes open,” Lance called over the comms just as his feet touched the floor of a familiar hallway. “Something’s not right.”

“Lance is right.” Shiro announced, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

Once everyone had successfully boarded, Lance wasted no time in leading them down the ever winding hallways. He was honestly surprised he was able to remember the path. He had only walked it once, and it was more of a wild sprint than a walk, but the path came with ease.

He knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning. In no way should a team of five paladins be able to simply walk into a heavily guarded lab facility. They should have encountered at least a dozen sentries since they even stepped foot on the ship, and yet, nothing.

He didn’t like being back, the memories were much too overwhelming, but he needed to do this. He needed to put on a brave face for the team. He needed to get them to the people that needed them the most.

He could break down later. Until he turned down one specific hallway.

“Where are you taking me? Who are you?”

“Subject 7234, you are in distress. Please I need you to-”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!”

“Subject 7234, I really must encourage you to calm down, you’ve already ripped your stitches.”

Lance looked down. He hadn’t even felt it. He should have felt it, the pain of it, filling his abdomen. It was only the thick dark blood that told him she was right.

“What are you doing to me?” he yelled, he couldn’t move his arms to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was tied to a bed again, at the mercy of Clipboard and her assistants. The squeak of the wheels was loud as they wheeled him down the hallway.

The vision evaporated almost immediately as Keith grasped Lance’s hand.

“Hey, you okay?” The red paladin scanned his face, searching for anything that could possibly give him an answer.

Lance took a second to breathe before he steeled himself. “I’m fine.” He turned and made his way to continue down the long hallway.

Not now.

It was much too quiet. It made him uneasy, and it was clear that the team was equally as confused and were likely thinking the same thing.

Where is everyone?

After a few more long hallways, a few more twists and turns, the armed paladins finally made it to the infamous lab itself.

Like the room he had been held in, the walls of the lab were made entirely out of glass, thick and at the time virtually unbreakable. And yet, shards were everywhere. The entire wall had been smashed and glass had spilt over the otherwise empty hallway.

Hunk cleared his throat, “What...happened?”

Lance had been thinking that exact same thing.

Shaking his head, Lance responded. “I-I don’t know.”

“...Mmmaybe we should head back?” Keith had placed his hand on Lance’s arm, apparently trying in some way to comfort the obviously affected paladin.

“No, we keep going.”

“Lance-”

“We owe it to them, Keith! We have to search for survivors.”

“Lance, do you really think that there is anyone still alive on this ship?” Pidge questioned. She was beyond skeptical. The destruction she could see of the room before her only fueled it.

There was a long silence before Lance moved out of Keith’s grip. With long legs, Lance stepped over the broken sill and into the destroyed lab.

“We have to try.”

As much as Shiro wanted to just turn back, there seemed no way to convince the Blue paladin of such. He was too focused, too determined. The only way to get him to leave prematurely would be to drag him out kicking and screaming. For the sake of Lance, and whoever would have to carry him out of the ship, he decided against the notion and instead turned to the remainder of his team.

“Alright guys, split up but keep you comms on. If you run into any trouble just say the word.” He announced. The group nodded and followed the suit of Lance, into the lab.

As much as Keith wanted to follow Lance, he knew that doing so could only do more harm than good. This was something Lance had to do on his own. So he made his way through the room, to the opposite side of where Lance was walking.

More glass littered the floor as it seemed that everything in the room had been completely destroyed. Test tubes and glassware were shattered. Debris was everywhere. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone had wanted to erase whatever work had been done here.

He couldn’t say he was sorry for it. All that they had done to Lance, in his mind they deserved it. He hated them for what they did to Lance.

The small amount of satisfaction had quickly dissipated once he walked closer to one of the aisles of lab tables. At the far end, staring back at him, was a corpse.

The body slouched against the wall, its chest ripped apart and blood was splattered everywhere.

“Holy shit.”

Shiro wasn’t doing any better. He had found three more bodies scattered throughout one of the storage rooms. Each with their chests ripped open, their mouths open in a silent scream.

Pidge and Hunk had set up working on one of the only non destroyed computers hopeful that they could somehow get some information out of it.

Lance had taken his own path, towards the back of the room. The place he called home for 5 months. The room stood no longer. The glass having been given the same fate as everything else. The only evidence that it had even stood was the foundation. The metal that kept the glass connected to the floor.

Without the frosted vision, he was able to make out 6 more foundations. Six more rooms. Six more patients. Five bodies discarded among the debris, now nothing more than nameless faces.

Six experiments.

Four successful trials.

Only one survivor.

It wasn’t until then that Lance noticed the archway behind the holding cells. It must have been obscured before. Or maybe he had just never chanced a look behind him. But it was there now, standing in front of a lightless hallway.

Slowly he made his way towards it. Crossing the threshold, Lance took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

The hallway was completely new territory, one he hadn’t even known existed, though he explored it all the same. The fluorescent light at the end of it flickered from where it hung haphazardly from the ceiling, giving off the only bright light in the area.

Lance took a step, then another before he heard something.

“Did you say something guys?” he asked over the comms and various negative responses answered him.

“You good, man?” Lance heard Hunk say.

“Y-yeah, just thought I heard something.”

“We should leave soon, there’s nothing here that can help us.” Keith had never been the one to call a retreat, though Lance assumed it was for his sake. Him being back in the facility put them all on edge.

Keith was right though, the only place that could have held prisoners was completely trashed. There was no one here.

They were too late.

He debated turning back when he heard it again. A high pitch sound that could obviously just be a machine, though no machines were down this way.

“Give me a sec.” he called, before muting his comms and continuing down the hall.

He was surprised to see the metal walls turn to clear glass, shattered but mostly intact. A glass door separated the rooms from the hall, one on each side of him, though both were wide open.

The sound came again, this time a bit clearer. He turned to the right room and stepped inside.

He was greeted by rows upon rows of open topped containers. Many of them tipped over but all of them empty. They almost resembled those plastic tubs his mother used to buy for organization, though the walls of them were much higher.

The ones that were still upright sat on little rolling carts, placards adorning the carts with various numbers.

7839

9846

4562

9843

There were multiples of numbers. Some having been printed on six or seven placards.

The sound came again from the far side of the room. Lance quickly transformed his bayard from its sniper configuration to a simple handgun, and made his way towards the muffled sound. For some reason it almost sounded familiar, as if he had heard it before. Though he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Up until then, the containers had been empty. Clearly though, he was wrong. They were empty, all except for one. As he got closer he understood what the sound was. And he cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner. There was no mistaking what was making it.

He walked to the singular container, the placard reading clearly.

7234

His breath caught in his throat as he approached the cart. What he had previously seen as just a lump was instead a blanket, thick and dark grey in the glowing purple of the emergency lights.

With a shaky hand, Lance reached out to the blanket and with one swift motion pulled it away revealing the one thing he never thought he’d find on this ship.

Large blue eyes stared up at him, as the owner of the cry ceased their noise almost instantly and suddenly everything became clear.

This was how they were going to make their soldiers.

With those bright, blue eyes.

#tw blood #tw gore #tw corpse #vld lance #lance serrano #lance mcclain #i love two blue bois and lance is one of them #langst

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artnerd1123 · 4 years ago

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A Familiar World

Shopping Day (pt 1) ——————————————-

With her newly acquired shopping responsibilities, Seraph hits the town to buy what’s needed. Though the task is daunting, Seraph is optimistic and determined to do a good job! She even meets a few friends. The only trouble comes when her budget of time and energy starts running out...

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————-

so this is a two parter, but it’ll have a chapter in the middle! I’m actually really surprised at how quick I finished this, but, nevertheless, here’s another installment for ser n evangel! with bonus appearance by an old oc- brownie points if u recognize them :>

The first shopping day was like any other. Outside was warm, the fading heat of summer chasing fall’s heels. The sun was bright. The town was bustling. What birds were left in the trees sang along with the sirens’ autumn songs. It was a beautiful September afternoon. And a certain familiar was doing her best to remember where the shop was. It wasn’t that Seraph hadn’t explored the town with mama! They’d been living there almost a year now. She just didn’t go out on her own very often. Which was ok!!! She just had to ask the people she passed where to go, and they’d tell her. She was a friendly little hybrid. People here were nice. So, the shop came into view soon enough. Seraph pushed open the door as best she could, the bell jangling to signal her arrival. She practically skipped inside, eyes wide. One hoof clutched her grocery list tight. The other held a pouch of gold slung over one shoulder. She held it in place with her wings. Looking around, she did her best to take in the shop. The store clerk sat at the counter. They were a weathered individual, a shock of brilliant green hair laced through with stripes of white. Their grassy gaze moved about the shop with an air of practiced ease- one long used to looking after their home. The clerk glanced up with a smile when the bell rang… only for their grin to falter when nobody caught their gaze. Seraph watched them blink for a second, face flushing. Ah, right. She was a lot smaller than the normal customers. Should she have announced herself? “Er… down here,” she said sheepishly. The clerk’s gaze drifted down, and they blinked again. Seraph gave them a little wave as they recovered. “Oh! Oh, hello there, little one,” they replied, a bemused smile on their face. It seemed her earlier guess was right. At least they were still smiling at her! “Are you looking for someone?” “Nope! I’m by myself,” Seraph chirped confidently. “I’m here to get the groceries for my mama!” “Ah, a pickup?” The clerk asked. They nodded towards a couple baskets sitting on the counter, their little labels written in neat handwriting. Seraph tilted her head in thought. She didn’t think Evangel wrote ahead for groceries… that’s what her list was for, right? “Well, if me picking food from the shelves counts, yes,” Seraph joked. The clerk chuckled softly. The sound made her smile. She liked that sound, it was a good sound. A happy sound. “I guess that could count,” the clerk mused, “but it’s not quite the same.” Looking her over, they set their head on one hand. Seraph was doing some looking of her own- it wasn’t often she came to the shop. She wondered if mama would let her grab some cookies… she wasn’t here, so it would be ok if she bought some on her own, right? Maybe? Hmm… maybe she should’ve asked… “Is this your first errand, little one?” The clerk spoke up. Seraph jumped a little, bleating in surprise. “How did you know???” Seraph gasped. “I had a hunch,” the clerk winked. “If you need any help, just give me a holler and I’ll be right over.” “Thank you so much!!! I’ll keep that in mind!!!” Seraph beamed. With that, the little familiar turned and skipped down the nearest aisle. She looked over her list carefully. Mama trusted her with this. She’d written it very carefully. There was no way she’d let her down. She had this in the bag! The familiar trotted over to a shelf of cereal happily. Her eyes carefully searched the shelf for the oat cereal mama took a grudging shine to. This is perfect! She thought, still searching. Now all that’s between me and home is gathering the- Wait a minute. Was… was the oat cereal on the… top... shelf…? … groceries… oh dear… “... hey, um, clerk?” Seraph called nervously. She waited a minute, and didn’t hear a reply. Maybe she was too quiet. Or maybe she wasn’t supposed to be disturbing them? But… she had to try something. Mama was counting on her. She trotted back to the mouth of the aisle, coins jingling in her pouch. The clerk was lazily eyeing the door, still leaning on the counter. “Excuse me… um…” she cleared her throat. The clerk glanced up, straightening a bit as they located the voice’s source. “Ah, you’re back,” they hummed. “Can I help you, little one?” “Yes please, if that’s ok, Mx. Clerk,” Seraph said meekly. Her wings shifted to hug her shoulders, braced for a scolding. “I… um... forgot I’m not tall enough to reach a lot of the shelves yet…” However, the scolding never came. “That’s ok! Fetching things off shelves is my specialty,” the clerk smiled. Their cheer was a surprise, but Seraph was instantly relieved. “I’ll grab a basket, and we’ll go grab what’s on the list, ok?” “Ok!!! Thank you so so much!!! I-I really appreciate it!” “Not a problem, little one. Not a problem.”

When she arrived home, giant basket in hand, Evangel’s joy was instantaneous. Seraph beamed, happily helping put things away as Evangel chattered about how much work she’d gotten done, and how happy she was that Seraph managed the shopping. When she methodically checked the purchases, she only complained a few times- that the cereal was too plain, and the familiar forgot to get some tool she didn’t remember mama saying she wanted. But!!! Everything else was there!!! So it was good enough, right? Evangel even told her she’d “done well.” That had to mean something. Mama’s praise was like music to the little familiar’s ears. Maybe shopping day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~~~

The fourth shopping trip came sooner than Seraph would have liked. Usually, mama went grocery shopping once every week. She’d decided to stick to the same schedule. After all, mama knew what she was doing. Or… so she hoped. But it was barely even three weeks later, and she was toddling to the store for the second time that week. You just run out of everything fast when someone tiny does your shopping. The clerk was a big help, as they always were. Grocery shopping was a lot more fun with a friend. Especially one who was so funny! She and the clerk had started playing games and making puns while they collected the things on her list. She liked hanging out with them. Plus, they teleported the groceries right home for her! Free of charge! She promised them she’d start carrying the basket home when she was big enough. No matter how many times she promised, the clerk just smiled at her, giving her a pat and a mint from the bowl on the counter. Yes, she liked the clerk. But the clerk wasn’t the only one she was out to see. Mama had trusted her with another important errand. Mama said she needed to find the musician’s shop. There was a music box being sold there, and mama wanted it. She just hadn’t had the time to go get it! Seraph could understand that- their little tailor’s shop was getting more business now that the weather was cooling down. Lots of people needed new winter clothes or old cloaks mended. Mama was busy. And mama needed something to help calm her down. Music could definitely do that. At least, it helped for the familiar. Seraph wove between the legs of passerby on the street, squeaking out little apologies as she eyed the tall shop signs. Music store, music store… where had mama said it was? A bit farther down from the grocery store, if I remember right, she thought to herself. Sure enough, a sign for “musician’s oasis” sat proudly along the road. Seraph sighed in relief, quickening her pace to reach it. The sign was pretty well kept, and very nicely polished, with interesting little symbols all over it. If memory served, the symbols were music notes. She’d seen them next to illustrations of sirens in her library books. The thought of being somewhere with song excited her beyond words. Turning to the door, she waited until the entry cleared before wiggling into the shop. A peal of bells and strum of strings signalled her arrival, making the little familiar jump in surprise. “O-oh-! Oh dear-” she sputtered. Her wings huddled around her shoulders protectively. Where had that sound come from??? She looked around timidly for the source. … though… it was all but forgotten as she took in the space around her. Seraph’s eyes were like sparkling gems as she glanced around the shop. It was full of nothing but shining metal, masterfully carved wood, expertly pulled strings, and all manner of beautifully strange contraptions. A word sprang to mind- instruments. Her books and their pictures told her they were for making music. Just like the sirens she went to the cliffs to hear. Her ears flicked forward eagerly, claws clicking on the wooden floor as she moved further into the shop. Sure enough, she could hear some sort of rhythm coming from somewhere among the instruments. Music. Not the same as the sirens, but familiar nonetheless. She had to see what was making it! She had to! It didn’t take her long to find the source. It was some sort of stringed instrument. Like a bow and arrow, but with a dozen strings instead of just one. A harp, if her books were right. One of the things the angels on the pages played often. It looked as if invisible fingers plucked the gilded strings. The sight was utterly fascinating. But not nearly as much as the music. It was gentle and soothing, like listening to ripples in a pond. Seraph was utterly transfixed. So, this is where it came from. Those soft melodies she heard when she was half asleep in the morning… the ones that came from down the street instead of from the sea… Oh, how lovely… “Did you need something, sweetheart?” At once, seraph snapped out of her thoughts. Her head jerked up at the sudden voice. A stout woman with long, curly blonde hair stood before her. She had a big witch’s hat on her head, and a comfortable looking dress, half hidden by an apron. Despite her kind blue eyes, Seraph felt her stomach drop. Oh no- oh no- mama told her not to go poking around places! Her face flushed, and she squeaked as she scrambled for words. “U-um- maybe- i- s-sorry, was I not supposed to be back here-?” She stuttered, wringing her hooves. “I-I can go back to the front, s-sorry, I didn’t mean to-” “Hey, hey, it’s ok little one,” The woman broke in gently, holding up a hand. “You’re welcome to wander anywhere in here, hon. It’s alright.” “R… really…?” Seraph mumbled. “Yes, really,” the woman smiled. Carefully, she crouched down to the familiar’s level. “You just looked a little lost. Are you here alone?” “Y… yeah… I am,” Seraph replied shyly. “I’m running errands for my mama...” “Ahh, you must be the little Sanyi familiar!” the woman beamed. “I’ve seen you around in the tailor shop windows. It’s nice to meet you, dear.” “O-oh! Er- thank you!” seraph squeaked. Her? She was glad to meet her? She… didn’t know what to think of that. She twittered shyly to herself, kicking at the floor. “E-ehehe… thank you…” “Of course, dear,” the woman hummed. “Oh- where are my manners! I’m Sadie, dear. I’m the shopkeeper.” “It’s nice to meet you, miss sadie!” Seraph chirped. She did a little curtsey, her eagerness slowly trickling back in. “Do you run this whole place by yourself…? It’s so lovely in here!” “Well, thank you, dear!” Sadie laughed. “I run this shop with my husband. Usually he’d be here with me, but… well…” She chuckled softly. “Someone needs to watch the baby.” “The baby?” Seraph gasped softly, eyes wide. She was still a kid herself, but the prospect of a playmate excited her! Or just another little one. She had such a soft spot for the little ones. “Ah, you might see her one of these days, if you come by again,” Sadie said. “She’s napping now, I’m afraid. But! While you’re here, was there something your mama wanted you to fetch?” “Aww… ok…” Seraph sighed. “A-and! Um! Yes, sort of! Mama sent me to buy a music box!” “Oh, she did?” Sadie asked, looking surprised. A flash of confusion passed in her gaze, and seraph shifted nervously. “Is, um, n-now not a good time…?” she asked meekly. “Ah- no, that’s not it, sweetheart,” Sadie soothed, giving her head a little shake. “I’ve just never seen a familiar your age doing more than quick fetch quests.” “Mama says I’m old enough to help with the shopping,!” Seraph reported proudly, wings fluttering. “I like to help, and she trusts me!” “Hmm… fair enough,” Sadie replied hesitantly. She heaved herself back upright before Seraph had time to share her unexpected worry. “What sort of music box did she want, dear?” “O-oh! She wanted the one with the gold embellishments, and the dancer in the middle!” Seraph chirped. “The shiny one in the window!!!” “Ooh, a good choice! Let’s see- I believe it’s back this way, we had to move it off display to polish it…” Seraph bounced after Sadie happily, her worries forgotten. The shop’s gentle melodies drowned out any concern or memories of Sadie’s hesitation. After all, she was on a trip for mama. And mama sent her somewhere amazing. Surely it all worked out, right?

When Seraph returned home, mama was still swamped with work. She gave her a quick bit of praise- “ah, yes, the groceries, very good- could you put the music box on my desk, doll? And do make sure you put everything away right this week, especially the frozen things, it was all disgusting last week-” before getting right back to her sewing. Seraph would’ve been a little put out if she hadn’t just come from the music store. The melodies were still floating around in her head… painting lovely pictures in her mind… It was enough to keep her going even as she put away the groceries on her own.

~~~

The eighth shopping trip came the week before an important day. Well, important to seraph. It was October again. Today was the tenth. In three days, she’d officially be a year old. The thought excited her a lot!!! She’d heard from Sadie’s familiar, foffee, that birthdays usually meant growth and change for a familiar. Nothing incredibly drastic- at least not after your first few years. Seraph was hoping it gave her some height. It would be nice to be a bit taller. It meant she could help more. Plus, she’d seen birthday parties before! It would be so fun if she had one!!! She bet her mama was planning it. Party plans had to be somewhere among all those papers and notes on her desk. Why else would she be so flippant and want Seraph to stay away from them? Why else would she keep asking for her to go elsewhere and leave her be? It had to be a plan. Even if it was just something simple. Like sweets for breakfast, or a trip to the music shop. Oh, she couldn’t wait!!! Her heart was full as she bounced down the street. Groceries were first, as per usual. The thought of being able to carry her own basket soon made her so excited. She told the clerk as much when she entered. They were as delighted as she was! The two bantered with their usual puns before they parted ways. On her way out, the clerk gave her an early birthday cookie and a promise of discount sweets after her big day. After that, she skipped down to the fabric stall in the marketplace- they had some sort of new silk that mama really wanted. Every stall was filled with a merchant today. Plenty of people were out shopping. The cliffs were close, and the sirens’ final fall songs laced through the buzz of marketplace chatter. With all the bright colors, smiling faces, and upbeat energy, Seraph felt like she was floating on a cloud. Oh, she wondered if mama had gotten her a gift… each stall full of toys and pretty dresses made her beam in anticipation… Finding the silk was easy enough. The stall was full of people looking for just the right patch of fabric, or the new material for a cloak. Seraph snuck her way into the crowd. Her two feet of height was useful at the moment- she could get into all manner of places easily. Now, where did it go… she wondered, eyes searching the fabrics laid out on tables. Her eyes caught on the brilliant white silk after a moment or two. A happy bleat bubbled from her as she bounced over, tail wagging and wings fluttering. Perfect!!! It was perfect!!! Just what mama asked her to get! She reached for it carefully, little hooves only pausing when she realized she didn’t know how best to carry what she needed to the merchant. She frowned in thought, foot tapping on the ground. She was so deep in her planning that she didn’t notice someone come up behind her. “Need some help?” a voice asked. Seraph perked up instantly, a grin rising to her cheeks. “Sadie!!! Hi!!!” seraph chirped, waving a hoof. “That would be nice, thank you!!! What brings you out today?” “It’s no problem, dear!” Sadie replied, gathering some silk into her arms. She continued as Seraph told her how much to take. “I’m looking for something soft I can use to make a new onesie. Molly Lily’s outgrowing all her comfortable onesies, so I need to whip up a few new ones.” “Aww, that’s fair! I bet they’ll be so cute!!!” Seraph giggled. “Better make it something she can move in, too!” “Oh, of course,” Sadie laughed, starting towards the merchant. Seraph followed, making sure none of the silk spilled from Sadie’s arms. “You know my girl likes to move.” “She really does! I always like seeing her!” Seraph hummed happily. “Well, you could come by and say hello today, if you’d like,” Sadie offered. “I know your birthday is in a few days, but we do already have a bit of baking done in preparation…” “Really???” Seraph gasped excitedly. “Yes, really,” Sadie chuckled. She set the silk down on the counter, calling the merchant over. Seraph held up her hands for a boost- Sadie gladly gave it to her. The two made sure the silk was paid for and teleported home before the conversation resumed. “If you’re done with your errands, you can come by the shop to say hello and grab a snack!” Sadie continued. “We’ve made plenty of cupcakes, and Molly Lily’s already had her nap. I’m sure she and foffee would love to see you!” “That sounds so good!!!” Seraph beamed. She thought it over for a minute. She was done with her shopping, right? Groceries, silk… she’d gotten the week’s candles earlier, and the mail, too… Right, yeah. That was everything. It was all at home now, too. Surely mama could put things away herself. And mama didn’t say she needed her at the shop today. So… it should be ok if she went with Sadie for a little. She bet mama would be fine with it. The familiar gave a decisive nod, wings flapping eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go!!! It’s playtime!!!”

When seraph wandered back home, it was around dinnertime. Before the time she usually ate with Evangel, of course! She didn’t want to miss that. Though she’d stayed out longer than she’d wanted, the little familiar was still happy. Her tummy was full of cupcakes, her ears full of laughter, and her mind full of playful memories, stories, and more of that lovely music. She wondered if mama would let her bake cupcakes at home. It sounded like so much fun! She’d ask once she went inside. Or, at least… she meant to. She didn’t have the chance to say much of anything the moment she stepped in the door. Evangel stood right in front of it, hands on her hips, her face twisted into a distressed grimace. It was a look Seraph didn’t see often. But she knew exactly what it meant. Oh no. Oh no. She’d really messed up, hadn’t she? “Seraph! Where have you been?!” Evangel demanded. “I’ve been waiting for you for hours!” “I-I- I just w-went to the neighbor’s house-” Seraph mumbled, quailing under Evangel’s accusing glare. “You should have come back to the shop, not gone somewhere else!” Evangel broke in with a scoff. “Half the frozen food has spoiled because I haven’t had time to put it away! Not to mention the silk is horribly wrinkled!” “I- I’m sorry mama- I- I didn’t mean t-to-” Seraph whimpered. She could feel herself tearing up. She’d really really messed up. “I p-promise I’ll come right back home n-next time-” “I would hope so. What kind of familiar leaves their mother to fend for herself?” evangel sighed. Her look of lament shifted to one of discomfort as she noticed Seraph’s tears. “... oh… and now I’ve upset you…” “M-mama-” Seraph said hastily, scrubbing away her tears. “Wait- I-it’s not your fault, I’m the one w-who was late- I was j-just- I lost track of time when we were playing-” “I guess I can understand why you’d want to go somewhere else, then. I’m upsetting and I’m not fun,” Evangel sulked. Heaving a long sigh, she turned towards the steps. “I’m so sorry I’m not enough for you, Seraph.” “Mama, that’s- that’s not what I mean!” Seraph cried, running over and hugging her leg. “You’re so so good mama! I-I just lost track of time! I’m sorry, I won’t be late again! I’ll be good, really!” “... mmm…” “I promise, mama. I won’t leave you.” “... ok, Seraph. If you say so.” Evangel was still for a moment more before she reached down. She scooped seraph into her arms. She held her close, bouncing her with all the gentleness of a precious porcelain figure. “I won’t leave you either, doll. Not once. I was just worried for you, and for the shop. You know I love you,” Evangel soothed. “I… I know mama…” Seraph sniffed, taking some deep breaths. “I love you too…” She snuggled close to her mama, sighing softly. She promised herself she’d be better about times. There was no need to worry mama like that. Not again. “How about we put away those groceries, hm?” Evangel asked. “We can read a book afterwards, if you’d like.” “A book?” “Whatever book you’d like off the shelf.” Seraph gave Evangel a small smile. “That sounds great, mama. Thank you.” “There’s my happy little doll...”

~~~

The ninth shopping trip came late. Seraph meant to go out on the fourteenth. She’d marked it on the calendar. She’d gotten a list ready. She’d chosen an outfit. Everything in her wanted to go. But when her birthday came the day before, mama hadn’t said anything. Instead, the two had worked. All day. Stocking the shop, helping customers, organizing orders- even manning the register while Evangel slipped out for some emergency frozen dinner food. Seraph fell asleep curled around the music box from Sadie’s shop during the evening rush. Mama gave her a scolding, and sent her to bed early, because she was tired. When she woke up in the morning, she didn’t feel right. She was drowsy. Sluggish. She felt as ravenous as a wolf, and as sleepy as a sloth. Evangel just left her upstairs with a box of old swan feather boas, dyed wool, and scraps of gold trim. She muttered something about how familiars get all droopy after their birthdays, and how she hoped seraph liked the feather colors, and hoped they did her some good. Seraph didn’t know what to think. When she finally managed to get her energy back up, the week was almost out. She was shaky on her feet- she hadn’t moved much. It was a little awkward trying to find something that fit, too. She’d certainly grown some in her post-birthday slumber and chow fest. She was a little under three feet tall- almost a whole foot taller than she had been earlier. Getting used to it was… challenging. But mama needed her to go out. There were so, so many errands that needed done. She was a year old now. She couldn’t let mama down.

The twentieth was the day she went out. The clerk asked her out her birthday went. She just gave them a smile, said it was ok. She did her best to joke around. The clerk didn’t need to know she was tired. She needed to do this. For mama. The marketplace was full again. She had a lot of stalls to go to. Each merchant was kind, but she barely processed their words. Her smiles were like glass, and her gaze as warm as a forgotten blanket. Everything she couldn’t carry she had them teleport home. The rest was in her arms. Carefully, gently, she carried the basket of groceries, the fabrics, the paper, the pens, the tightly sealed ink bottles, and two new books. All of it for mama. All of it going home. When she got there, mama only spared her a glance. A nod. And a sentence, to tell her to put it all away, and that she’d done well. Seraph had done well. Tired as she was, she tried her best to cling to that sentence. She clung to it like a moth to a lamp, or moss to a rock. She didn’t let it go through all the organizing and assisting. She didn’t let it go as she went to bed that night. Mama told her she’d done well.

That should be enough for the familiar.

#afw chapter #afw #a familiar world #my story #arty writes #seraph sanyi #evangel sanyi #im not gonna tag the bg extras bc LSDKJFSLKF no #amyway #this was an excuse to write cute baby ser and also show evangel being The Worst (tm) in the bg #next part will be fun :)))#but h yea heres this #enjoy

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whumpthisway · 4 years ago

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Huck and Stephen - Shelter

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3 (which needs updating sorry >.< if you can’t find anything, send me an ask and i’ll link you)

A/N: This one is set directly after Acceptance, with Huck/Pet being moved from the hospital to the shelter where Mariann volunteers. Please check the tags and do ask me for specific tags, further details, or warnings if you need them or I miss something. If you have opinions, questions or thoughts, feel free to send me an ask :3

Huck and Stephen’s story can now be read on my AO3 here, and this new chapter is here.

Content warnings: panic attack

Huck/Pet POV

The creature shelter was little more than a pair of terrace houses that’d been knocked through, and almost every room except the kitchen and bathroom had been converted into sleeping spaces.

It was cramped and busy and, on average, filled with a dozen on-edge creatures. Pet was hiding in a boiler cupboard, since the kitchen cabinets were jammed full of supplies and saucepans, and the cupboards in the bedrooms were similarly full with spare clothes, sheets and towels. It was a tight squeeze in the boiler cupboard too, but it was warm and quiet. They left the door ajar, and the little bit of noise and light that filtered in kept the cupboard from being too similar to the pitch-black cellar Pet had been abandoned in; that, and the heat.

Mariann didn’t live at the shelter like the two main human workers, Arwen and Si, but she visited regularly to check on Pet and her other charge, a tiny, yellow-furred creature who couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

“Tea’s ready!” Si called up the stairs. He didn’t exactly yell so much as just raise his voice. There wasn’t any force to it.

Careful not to touch any of the exposed metal boiler pipes where the insulation had flaked away, Pet shuffled themself slowly out the cupboard and out onto the landing, squinting in the bright lights. Their still-healing ribs ached slightly from how curled up they’d been, and their splinted tail itched, but their injuries had recovered so as to hardly bother them anymore.

They’d tried to avoid meals at first, until realising that led to Arwen or Si coming up to find them. The boiler cupboard switched very quickly from a sanctuary to a trap when there was a human at the door, unintentionally blocking them in.

Tea was spaghetti hoops on toast with a poached egg. Neither of the human shelter workers were very good cooks, but the food they made was cheap and tasty and Pet didn’t have to force themself to eat it. Pet ate on the floor, crouched in the corner where they could keep an eye on the room. The creatures were split half-and-half between those who ate on the floor and those at the table. The humans never pushed it either way; there was always chairs free at the table and cushions on the tiled kitchen floor.

Pet couldn’t reach the sink easily to wash up without a stool, so their after-dinner chores usually involved mopping the floor and wiping the table. They were perched on a kitchen chair, scrubbing at a bit of stuck on jam on the table when there was a sudden, awful smash from behind them and Pet yelped. They folded flat down on the table so fast they smacked their chin, covered their head with their paws, and cowered, shaking.

“Aw shit.”

Through the haze of their panic, Pet heard the sounds of a creature whimpering apologies, a human’s low voice, and the chink of shards being cleaned up. Shaking violently, Pet stayed still and quiet and hoped that no-one would notice them at all.

But they weren’t so lucky. They heard Si’s heavier footsteps approach, his feet always making a slight scuffing noise from his worn-out slippers, and then the big man crouched down beside them. Pet realised the cleaning cloth was still clenched in their hand and had made a small puddle by their cheek.

Si was the man who’d carried them out of the car and into the creature hospital. He was huge and his face creased between his eyebrows so that he often looked like he was frowning in thought, his thin lips and crooked nose making him look mean. But Pet hadn’t seen him raise a hand to any creature yet, not when the pale-brown creature wetted her bed every night, nor when Si moved too fast near a scruffy-looking, off-white creature, who then tried to stab Si with a fork.

So Si’s approach didn’t send them into a panic like it might’ve done a couple weeks ago, but Pet still curled further in on themselves, pressing their forehead to the damp tabletop.

“Buddy, everything’s cleared up now, okay?” Si said, his voice slow and even. “There’s no problem. We’ve got too many mugs anyway, the cupboard’s overflowing. Half of you guys don’t even drink tea.” Si paused. “Can you sit up for me? No-one’s angry, and nothing bad’s gonna happen. Lenna didn’t mean to drop it and I don’t mind, no-one minds.”

It helped to hear Si say it, but Pet had already begun to realise that the shelter people didn’t seem to get angry over the things they really ought to get angry over. And if someone’d been angry at the dropped crockery, there would have been immediate shouting, and there hadn’t been. Just quiet voices and clearing up. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to stop shaking.

After a minute, Pet managed to shakily sit up like Si asked.

“Good,” Si said gently. “I’ll finish wiping the table, then I think it’ll be bedtime for everyone.” He extended his hand for the cloth, but didn’t try to take it from Pet’s clenched paw.

Pet swallowed and then minutely shook their head.

“No? You don’t want to sleep?”

Pet flinched. They hated to disagree with anything, it made their heart feel like it was sticking and juddering inside them. But they didn’t want to leave the table unfinished just because they’d had a stupid reaction to a bit of noise. So they forced their paw to relax around the cloth and, sending Si a nervous sideways glance, slowly resumed cleaning the sticky table. Pet might be broken, but they’d be damned if they let it stop them from completing the task they’d been set.

“Ah.” Si nodded in comprehension. He moved to stand and Pet flinched, going rigid, but Si just slowly moved away from the table, over to the sink where he fetched a cloth to wipe down the kitchen counters that Pet couldn’t reach without standing up uncomfortably on their legs like a human.

Once Si was occupied, Pet set to cleaning the table thoroughly, wiping off all the bits into their cupped paw and then dumping them in the rubbish bin.

Si finished up too and rinsed the dirty cloth for them, before gently herding them upstairs. Unlike some of the others, Pet was used to brushing their teeth, a habit Master Parry had rigidly insisted on lest they become even more repulsively disgusting to him.

After that, they slid under one of the bunk beds and pulled their shelter-provided blanket and lumpy pillow close. Arwen had tried to coax them into a bed, but it’d felt too exposed and they couldn’t untense enough to sleep. Instead, they pressed themself into the dark corner under another creature’s bed, carefully arranged their healing tail so it was lying comfortably, and felt safe there instead. Arwen hadn’t fought them on it, but insisted on giving them blankets and hoovering out the space so that the dust didn’t get up their nose.

Still twitching from the incident in the kitchen, Pet heard the other creatures in the room fall asleep before they did, their quiet snuffles and settled breathing calming Pet. At Master Parry’s, they’d always slept alone on a folded-up blanket in the laundry, curled up close to the radiator in the winter. But there was something about sleeping in a room with other creatures that brought up half-formed memories of their parents from back when they were very small, and a sense of safety. Safety in a pack, in having other ears and eyes to listen out, and the remembered comfort of another creature’s fur pressed up against their own, keeping them warm. But it’d been a very long since they’d had that, and Pet wasn’t entirely sure they hadn’t just imagined it.

Even before they’d been at the shelter for a full week, Pet realised that they were unwanted.

Unless they were injured like Pet had been, the creatures moved quickly enough through the shelter system that new ones seemed to show up almost every day. At first, Pet was afraid that the shelter was disposing of them somehow, disappearing the damaged creatures, but Si caught them watching nervously from behind the bannister as creatures were taken away or arrived and sat them down in the kitchen to explain.

SI didn’t say it in so many words but Pet slowly gathered that the especially difficult creatures, ones who tried to bite, flinched, cried constantly or starved themselves, would go away to volunteers’ homes. Volunteers like Mariann, except Pet hadn’t seen her take one home yet. Si told them that the volunteers looked after the creatures until they got better, not in their body but in their heads. Sometimes the volunteers kept them permanently, or else the creatures went to new homes.

The less damaged ones; the pretty ones who might be scared but were still soft, obedient, and eager for affection, went directly to new humans. There were a lot of humans who wanted to adopt, Si explained, and Pet filled in the gaps of what Si wasn’t saying. Creatures were rare, they knew that because people often stared at them, and they knew creatures were expensive too, because Master’s guests had asked him how much Pet had cost and then gasped at the answer. The creatures here weren’t new, so they must cost less, Pet reasoned. And that was why humans wanted them. Maybe they were a little broken, but they were cheap.

Pet didn’t really fit into either category. They weren’t aggressive, they ate when they were told, and they didn’t try to run away, so they weren’t fostered out to volunteers. But their muddy brown, scruffy fur wasn’t pretty and only got frizzy when Pet tried to comb it with their clipped claws. They weren’t young and cute, they flinched easily, and they were wary. Humans wanted creatures who’d trot over to them in eagerness, and lay their head in the human’s lap. Pet couldn’t do that.

After another week at the shelter, their ribs felt almost entirely healed and though their tail itched a great deal until the bandages Arwen changed regularly, there wasn’t much pain. They were moving quietly along the hall with a glass of juice held carefully in their paws when raised voices from a bedroom on the ground floor made them go still and rigid on instinct. No creatures were staying in that bedroom yet, they remembered, because the big, quiet, grey one who’d been in there on his own had been adopted that morning.

“It’s out of the question,” Arwen hissed. Pet knew they shouldn’t be listening, but they’d never heard either Si or Arwen angry before and something bitter and wary in them wanted to know, wanted to see the worst because the humans’ pretence of constant calm and kindness couldn’t be real.

“What do you suggest, then? We’ve tried-”

“No, Christ, just no. Auctions attract the worse fucking people, you know that!” Pet startled to hear gentle Arwen swear so viciously.

“Arwen.” Si’s voice was quiet now, and firm, like he used when a creature was panicking and Si was trying to stop them from doing something to hurt themselves. “The shelter-”

“I know.” Arwen audibly exhaled, following by a creak of springs, like she’d sat down heavily on the bed. “We’ll do fundraisers, though. We can’t do this, it goes against everything we aim for. The poor thing could end up with-”

“Anyone, yeah, it’s a risk. But we can’t cover the medical bills of the three we’ve got in hospital right now. They’ll shut off the lights in a week, and the gas-”

“I fucking know,” Arwen spat. Pet couldn’t stop the soft whine in their throat. The shelter… what would happen to all the creatures here? Pet thought of the lights all being turned off and it being completely dark at night, dark and cold and empty because all the other creatures had been chosen by humans and there was only Pet left.

“Their sale will be triple what we get from an adoption.” Si sounded as exhausted as Arwen was angry. “It’ll keep the bills at bay.”

There was a quiet, shaky breath. “I can’t, we can’t do that. We won’t be able to vet the buyer. They…” she trailed off.

Pet felt cold and shivery all over. A loud, sudden clunk made them startle. The feeling of cold liquid soaking into their shelter-provided socks made them look down at the glass they’d dropped and the juice making a mess of the wooden floorboards.

The bedroom door opened and Pet staggered backwards until their back hit the wall when Si stepped out, staring at them. The shock on his face turned to something anguished and… guilty.

Pet stared at him, frozen and shaken.

“I don’t know what you heard, but it’s going to be okay,” Si started.

Pet bolted up the stairs, their wet socks sliding on the wooden steps. They understood, and at the same time didn’t understand at all. They were so fucking stupid, starting to think that what? These humans would actually protect them?

They dived under the bed, startling one of the other creatures in the room, and started sobbing. A creature tried to approach to talk to them, to reassure them, but Pet couldn’t respond for how hard they were crying.

Si… had been talking about selling a creature at a second-hand auction. And from the expression on Si’s face when he saw them… and Pet having been here longer than any other creature, made Pet sure Si had been talking about selling them. And hadn’t it been Pet who’d hid or cried whenever Arwen or Si tried to coax a small group of creatures into meeting some potential adopters? It was just their own fault for not being… a better pet in every way. And yet the realisation that Si had given up on them shouldn’t have hurt so much, or made them feel so sick, but it did.

soo... what’d you think? we’re moving back into the emotional whump again, rather than physical :3 my inbox is always open for thoughts, requests, feedback and ideas!

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#whump #hurt/comfort #angst #betrayal #mine #huck and stephen #huck and stephen shelter #panic attack tw #panic attacks #nonhuman whumpee #emotional whump #emotional angst #this is also kinda a 'loup celebrates a follower milestone'#im so happy y'all like my whump content #both reblogged and original #i rly do like being (a small and quiet) part of whumplr and i always make sure there's enough whumpiness in my queue to keep the blog busy #so im glad it hits the spot for peeps :)) love you all :)

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fire-the-headcanons · 4 years ago

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Follow the Beacon Taiyang—Fair Grounds

[Link to Masterpost]

[Oof, Tai’s chapters are long.]

"Okay, that's enough," Tai said, standing up and stretching.

"Huh?" Qrow glanced up from his notes for half a moment. "...Oh. Thanks for your help."

"What? No. I'm not bailing, I'm saying we need a break." He lifted the book out of his hands and snapped it shut. "Aren't you hungry? We've been working for hours."

"Uh… yeah."

Qrow had fallen pretty far behind during his bout of "flu", but at least he was eating and talking again. Since… well, since then, they'd been careful not to leave either of the twins alone too much. Which meant spending a lot more time holed up in their room.

Not that that's a bad thing, he thought irritably as his scroll buzzed in his pocket again. What part of taking some time off made Dan think he wanted to text with him all day?

He glanced over at the girls, also bent over their desks. Raven was still unusually withdrawn—which, for her, meant that her average words-per-day had gone from fourteen to about six. And Summer…

It was like losing Sterling all over again, finding out he was murdered. At least—that's how Tai felt, and it wasn't even his dad.

That really had been the worst winter vacation ever, hadn't it.

"Let's go check out the fairgrounds," Tai said to the room at large. "They're supposed to be setting up for the Vytal Festival today."

Qrow paused, one hand still reaching for the book in his fist. "I thought Professor Mikado said that was next year."

"The Tournament happens on a bi-annual basis, but people celebrate every year." He grinned. "And it also means that our first official missions as Huntsmen-and-Huntresses-in-training are coming up too."

"Oh yeah." Qrow scratched the back of his neck. "I forgot."

"What kind of job should we pick?" Tai asked, setting the book on Qrow's shelf before opening the door and holding it for everyone else. Slowly, they got up and gathered their things. "Search and destroy? Wall patrol? ...Migration tracking?"

"Ha, ha," Summer rolled her eyes as they followed him into the hall.

"We are gonna have to pick."

"...What about a bounty mission?" Summer asked absently.

Tai stared. She'd never talked about doing that kind of work before—was she thinking about revenge? He glanced back at the twins and found a dual reflection of his own shock. When had she told them?

She glanced back at the three of them and scowled. "It's just practice—godssakes, Tai, it's our first mission. I'm not saying we should fly to Anima!"

"...I…" he scrambled for a way to tell her that no, this is a terrible idea and also I think we should talk about this, maybe with your mom, but all he managed to say was "I don't think they let first years take bounty missions."

"Oh, yeah," she muttered, pushing out of the exit. "I forgot."

The door clanged shut behind her, everyone else still stuck in place. "She told you about her dad?"

"N-no?" Qrow stammered. "Is… is she okay…?"

Summer probably wouldn't mind them knowing—and he could really use help talking her down. "We thought he died on a mission, but we found out over break that he was…" It was still so hard to say. "Murdered. I guess she's taking it harder than I thought."

"I'm sorry. That's awful."

"Come on, we'd better catch up."

Summer was only a few paces ahead, and they hurried after her. "So, should we stay in Vale or head out into the wilds?" she asked, as if nothing happened.

Raven folded her arms against the chill. "Why don't we just go with Professor Mesánychta?"

"Because you're the only one she likes."

"She likes me," Qrow protested.

Tai grabbed her hand. "Summer. Don't you think we should talk about this?"

"Aren't we?" she asked, barely glancing at him before pulling away. "I'd like to get out of the Kingdom. It'd be good experience, even if you two laugh at our outdoor skills the whole time—"

"Summer!"

She stopped, finally turning to face him directly. "What?"

"Are you planning on going after them?"

"I don't know who they are," she said evenly. "But we'll run into them when we start working for Ozpin. Fighting people is different from Grimm, that's why it's a separate career track. The earlier we start, the better prepared—"

"Is that what you want to do? After we graduate?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

Tai rubbed his arm, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. "I… I haven't thought about it, to be honest."

Summer shrugged, turning back down the path toward the fairgrounds. "Are you going to the dance with Dan?"

Oh. Forgot about that. "No." Probably why he keeps calling me.

"Want to go as a team then?" she turned, smiling as she turned to walk backwards and gauge their reactions.

"Sounds good to me." Dan might leave him alone if he was with his team the whole time.

Raven almost flinched as the attention turned to her. "I can't meet the dress code."

"Well, you've been eyeing my sewing machine since I brought it back from break," Summer said. "Let's alter something from Ramparts and I'll teach you how to use it!"

"O-okay."

"Maybe we should go now, then," Tai said, checking the time. "You'll probably want tomorrow to work on it. The dance is Friday and who knows how much homework we'll have this week."

"Who's 'we'? Summer demanded, taking Raven's arm. "Dress shopping is strictly Girl Time."

Tai leaned toward Qrow and fake-whispered behind his hand, "Except when it isn't."

"Huh?"

"Anyway, you two have fun. We're going to see if any of the food stalls are open yet," he continued aloud, carefully putting his arm around Qrow.

"But—"

"My treat. I want to eat outside."

"Great! See you at dinner!" Summer shouted, pulling Raven toward the docks. Tai didn't want to risk jostling Qrow's bad shoulder wrong so he let him go before continuing on toward the fairgrounds.

"...Think I can get away with just wearing the uniform?" Qrow muttered.

"Well I'm not renting a tux. We'll make some bow ties out of scrap fabric and change it up, how about that?"

"You mean I'll make some bow ties," he teased, quietly. "You can't sew."

"If the three of you are going to keep making fun of me, I'll have to learn." They rounded the forge, and the rows of tents finally came into view. Three or four were fully set up and a couple dozen were nearly finished—Tai hadn't expected it to go so fast.

"They're still not done?" Qrow asked.

...But not fast enough, apparently. "Okay, well, not all of us are intrepid hunters-slash-wilderness explorers," Tai joked, "and only put up tents once or twice a year at most." That got a laugh out of him. "Camping is just too in-tents for us city-dwellers." That got him a laugh and a light punch on the arm. "Hey, I thought you liked my puns."

"Yeah, but Summer's not here so I thought I'd fill in."

They walked around the outer edge, trying to stay out of the crew's way as they looked around. Most were food stands from restaurants in Vale, popped up to serve the tourists from outlying settlements that always flocked to Beacon this time of year.

Qrow shuffled oddly on his feet for a step, pulling Tai's attention from the activity around one of the largest stalls back to his teammate. He walked normally for a few more steps, and then limped again. A few more paces and Tai realized he was stepping on the tent stakes as they walked past them, trying to push them deeper into the ground before moving on.

"Oh come on, we're not that bad with tents," he said the next time Qrow's pace faltered.

He froze. "Uh—"

CRASH.

They both jumped about a foot—the largest tent, that most people were working on, had collapsed on a truck full of lights. Even several paces away, and buried under torn fabric and snapped poles, he could see a whole lot of scratched paint and broken glass.

"Ouch. I stand corrected."

Qrow stepped back, horrified gaze fixed on the accident. Hands shaking.

"H-hey, man, what's wrong?" Tai asked, and his eyes snapped toward him, stretched wide in fear. So this is why panic is the first thing we learn about in first aid, he thought in a detached way as he slowly stepped forward to put his arm around Qrow, holding his elbow instead of his shoulder. "It's okay. Take deep breaths with me." It only took about a minute for the shaking to stop. "…You want to get out of here?"

He nodded.

"Sounds good." Tai started back toward the castle, guiding Qrow along with him. "We can just grab some to-go boxes from the cafeteria. I don't think any of the food stalls are even open." Ugh, that was just typical of his luck lately. It had upset Qrow and it would have been pointless to boot. "Do you want to talk about it?"

To his surprise, Qrow slowed to a stop.

"…Qrow?"

"They…" he swallowed, eyes fixed on the grass, choosing each word. "They hurt me when I messed up the tents."

Tai's stomach churned. Gods, what was he supposed to say to that? What could possibly make that any better? "I'm sorry." The words tasted flat. "They were shitheads. You deserved better." He shook his head. "Man, they can't be bothered to deal with their own tents and then they hurt you for making a mistake? People are worse than Grimm."

Qrow blinked. "I never thought of that."

"Oh. It's, uh, something our parents said a lot."

"They…" Qrow didn't seem to hear him. "If they'd taken six fucking seconds to check their own damn stakes they would have been fine."

Had he helped? Gods, he hoped that helped. "Can… can I ask you something?"

"…What?"

"Why didn't you leave? Sooner, I mean."

He fumbled with his thoughts for a moment. When he spoke he couldn't meet Tai's eye. "I was scared."

"Of being on your own?"

His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he picked through his words like walking through a field of Creep burrows, and the answer was barely above a whisper. "They kill people who run away."

Tai's whole body seized with a chill like he'd been dropped in ice water. Instinctively, he grabbed at Qrow's hand. "Are—are they looking for you?"

"N-no. We—" he swallowed again, and Tai squeezed his hand. "We convinced them to send us here. So we could protect them."

Who in their right minds would send someone they'd treated so badly to a Huntsman Academy? Then again, Dan had proved that Qrow didn't have a malicious bone in his body. "Don't go back."

Qrow shook his head. "Never." The word rang with lethal certainty.

"…What happens when they realize?"

"If I can earn Valian citizenship, I won't have to go back to Anima, at least. …I didn't really think I'd make it this far," his voice petered out and Tai's stomach twisted. From what Summer said, he almost hadn't. "P-please don't tell Raven I said any of this. It's supposed to be secret."

"I won't," Tai promised with a pang of guilt. So far he had a great track record with Qrow's secrets. "…What about Summer?"

After a moment, he nodded. "As long as Raven doesn't find out."

Should he push his luck? "…What's been going on between you and her?"

This time, Qrow really did whisper, and he almost missed it. "She wants to go home."

"What?" Tai breathed. "Why? After what they did to you?"

"She—" he picked through the words again, selecting them one by one, "—they didn't hate her. She felt safer there."

"But why?" Tai cried. "What did we do wrong? How—how could she be more afraid of us?"

"It…" He had to think. "…It was easier to tell what people wanted."

"We want to be your friends. Qrow. You—you know we would never hurt you."

After a moment, he nodded. "You're…you're nothing like them." The next words had to fight their way out if his mouth. "W-we—I—"

"It's okay. It's okay." He pulled him into a loose hug, throat tightening at the way he shivered. As much as Tai was desperate to know more, he'd probably pushed Qrow far enough for one day. "Come on, we should get something to eat."

He nodded gratefully. "Y-yeah."

[Oh look more accidental Taiqrow. And next week's chapter with the girls ended up about 80% more Rosebird than intended]

Next Chapter: Raven—Strictly Girl Time

#rwby #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #taiqrow #summer rose #raven branwen #strq #team strq #tw panic attack #rwby fanfiction #follow the beacon

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