#i have a personal vendetta against chapter 6 actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dragon-fuccer · 4 months ago

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Hi!!! If u're reading this u're probably the author of this absolutely amazing fic ✨

And if u're not, go read it;!! It's so good u won't regret it<33

First some fanart jumpscare !!! (I hope u're ok w it bc I haven't asked for permission 😭)

It's just how I imagine Jack to look with a few smaller headcannons based on the fic, and there will be more fic related doodles soon, so prepare for that >;D (ofc as long as u're ok with it!!)

Second, the thing I lured ya here with, aka mine n my bfs ocs, art and description for ya to use in the fic if u want to ^^

TYSM for this offer, both me and my bf feel hella honored and it actually gave us a ton of motivation to actually expand on these two!

Tws : body horror, brief description of violence n death, mentioned suicide and brief description of murder

Smokey belongs to my bf and Something is mine !

Normal text is all written by me and green text was written by him ^^

Art and design by my dearly beloved:

Smokey

Real name : Victor Wilson

Age : around 26 yo

possible victor lore

used to be victor by marble hornets standards known as smokey

a dropout uni student with raging nicotine addiction (smokey did not retain any uni info but vic used to be psych student (projecting much lol))

prolly watched marble hornets with friends for fun and against better judgement decided to give a visit to rosswood park thinking its a film project in the beginning

turns out its not and they spotted the lanky guy

smokey the horror movie enthusiast wants out at that point before shize goes down but its late and they r deep in the forest so comes to conclusion they r all p much dead at this point

peeps want to go hunt for the lanky man cus cool and internet views

my guy is like f that yall r following basic horror lore of everyone dies im not playin like that and straight up says hes not going and hed rather go and sleep in the burned down psych ward

he gets called a wimp but decides if hes gonna die hes not dying an idiot and decides to vidtape everything on his mid tier phone camera

not sure what happens to the rest but they do their meet cute w slendy and prolly with time like half of em ends up in the arko e way or another

smokey manages most of the night fine but like luck would have it still end up meeting the guy

does not go well

wakes up in the burned down hospital not remembering the last unknown time and broken phone beyond repair

decides oho this is bad lets go back to uni and never talk abt it

meets with most friends back at uni but like 2 of em r missing and they just pretend nothing happened, friend group dissolves

after that he starts slowly having memory gaps, waking up in other places

all comes to head when it turns out he missed 5 months of uni after he wakes up back in rosswood really far from home and skinnier than ever and suddenly no more uni student

after that victor surfaces less and less till hes just kinda gone at that point

Smokey first shows up the night victor goes with friends to rosewood

in the beginning surfaces confused unsure who they are and what is their purpose

with time smokey goes through both phone and computer of vics

binges whole marble hornets in one sitting and decides he has a personal vendetta against the operator

since then they work on somehow stoping it (and terribly fails given the lack of information) leading to continuous trips back to rosewood and sleepovers in the rubble of the ex psych ward

figuring out the nicotine addiction takes a bit of time and leads to pretty nasty withdrawal symptoms as well as a very wrecked dorm room (he does find the cigarettes tho and is smart enough to connect the dots (smart cookie, here have a star sticker))

smokey learns asl and isolates themself a lot in the months of operator research

he still maintains two personas to some extends which is one the masked smokey who uses mostly asl and rarely speaks (to some extent also a tactic against being caught by police) and times when he goes without mask on library searches and grocery shoppings

smokey starts a yt channel dedicated to catching the operator and ending it which attracts at best some people commenting on obvious marble hornets ripoff and few cents into his wallet

with passing time they do start finding victims in order to keep themselves alive n appease the the big slinky leading to series of alleged suicides then turned to series of murders

he starts off with two of his ex friends who go back to rosewood and start showing symptoms he learned from mh

When they commit murder they hide in the trunk of the car and basically hotbox the whole thing due to smoking making the victim whoozy and confused, moving on they connect a pipe (like garden hose or whatevs) to the exhaustion pipe and suffocate their victims with the car smoke

the thing that tips off the police is the nicotine in the system of every victim and an account of almost to be one that got stalked by smokey who upon being discovered (also while smoking and which earned him the name) decided to bolt

since then he continues on just about the same, aka researching the operator, finding new victims and surviving untill they meet Something

His hoodie is dark green, the mask is greyish from the grime n dirt, the big cross on it is black so are his pants and hair

Something

Real name : Rae Dyer

Age : 23 before transformation, currently unknown

Something used to be a cryptid fan. They worked at a radio station and had a small night show where they played old rock and often rambled about the latest creature they heard about. While out, looking for a new creature to maybe see, they stumbled upon the Slenderman and became obsessed to document it somehow, quickly spiraling out of control and slowly, bit by bit became a creature themselves.

Something doesn't remember much from it's past life. It used to just wander, guided by the static in it's head towards it's victims, always terrified itself but not knowing why. After Smokey found it, they started wandering together. At first they had serious communication issues - Something only able to speak in tap code and Smokey mainly using ASL - but with time they learned to speak with each other, and now they can understand the other almost without words.

Something doesn't really eat, it survives on fear and between itself and Smokey, it always has more than enough of it. It does steal food for Smokey tho, cigarettes as well, usually leaving them in whatever ruined building he decided to stay in for the night. Something got also addicted to nicotine by just being around Smokey so much, leading to separation anxiety fueled by withdrawal when they're apart.

Something cannot speak, and can only communicate using tap code. When it's particularly worried or scared it does emit a small noise, that sounds like a particularly breathy whine, and more commonly when it tries to speak, quiet spider like ticking can be heard coming from it's mouths.

It usually walks hunched over, used to having to duck under branches, entryways, etc bc of it's height.

Something has pale skin reminiscent of porcelain, and is usually wearing a v neck sweater with a white undershirt and jeans or other pants. It's hair is very thin and scarce, floating around it's head down to it's lower back

Also a tiny doodle bonus of how I imagine these two showing up on Jacks doorstep xjbxbcbcb

We think the most probable case of them showing up would be Smokey getting bonked on a mission (probably by a car or a would be victim) and Something bringing them over to Jacks cabin to get pached up, tho feel free to do something else ya might think fits =w=

Again, thank you so much for the offer, we're both so honored to have the opportunity to show these two off and maybe if you're so inclined getting them a chapter in ur amazing fic<3

If u have any questions you need answered Abt the two don't hesitate to ask them as well! ^^

-Kai n Bean

#eyeless jack #creepypasta #fanfic rec #fanfic #creepypasta oc

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cuiizhu · 8 months ago

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Helios Rising Heroes - Sing in the Darkness 3

Chapter 23:

Sage: !!! Sirius of the…“Trinity”?

Sirius: Fufu, I’m honored you understand.

Sirius: Ah, I said “nice to meet you”, but perhaps I’ll take it back.

Sirius: This is the second time we’ve met. …….Been a while, Sage.

Sage: You know me…?

Sirius: I do. It should’ve been around…6 years ago? We met in this exact place.

Sage: ….Here?

Sage: N-ngh….!

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

Sage: —Sensei….thank you so much, for saving me.

Robin: Save that for later… for now, let’s get out of here, Sage—

Sirius: What are you doing with that child?

Robin: !?

Sirius: Aah, calm down. You don’t have to be so wary.

Robin: You’re not from the organization….? Who are you? What are you doing here?

Sirius: You’re Robin, right? A sinner banished from the ocean’s depths to the surface, and made into a “Hero”.....

Robin: ………..

Sirius: If you’re in Helios, you are probably familiar with “Eclipse”. I’m a person of that side.

Sirius: You’re aware that tensions are brewing between Helios and Eclipse now, right?

Sirius: There will probably be a major conflict soon…. I’d rather not light the spark too early.

Sirius: On that end, he…. the Savior of Thonis is a thorn in my side.

Sirius: I looked down on him as just a child, but his powers are nothing to be dismissed. And because of his honest nature, I’m worried he may make predictions that would be inconvenient for us.

Sirius: That’s why I thought I’d come here today to make that child disappear—

Robin: Hah….!

Sirius: Ohh, so suddenly?

Sirius: Oh, I guess you’ve acquired some good abilities. What an interesting shine it gives off…..

Robin: This child has done nothing wrong. He’s been hurt so much already…..

Robin: The only people at fault are the members of this organization who’ve trapped him here—

Sirius: Are you bringing this child to the surface?

Robin: …..Ever since I was banished, I’ve been looking for an opportunity.

Robin: I’d heard that you guys… that Eclipse has been more active lately, so I thought I had no choice but to take advantage of this opportunity.

Sirius: I see… so this timing is….

Robin: Sage, like me, doesn’t belong in this organization.

Robin: Let him escape and I’ll take care of him. I promised to never get involved with Thonis again and to keep watching over him. That’s why—

Sirius: You’d like me to overlook this?

Sirius: I see… well, it’s not like I’ve got a personal vendetta against this child, and killing him seems like it would be more trouble than it’s worth right now.

Sirius: In fact, if I could buy a few more years of time before the situation ignites, that would be fortunate…

Robin: ……..

Sirius: Understood, I’ll lend you a hand.

Robin: …..!

Sirius: I may have to do a little bit of tweaking. Bring the child here.

Robin: Eh….

Sirius: I won’t do anything bad. I’ll just use my powers to falsify a few memories.

Robin: Memories….?

Sirius: Not only that child, would it be necessary to do it to all members of the organization ...this is becoming rather troublesome.

Sirius: For both of you, I can guarantee a peaceful life in the future. This won’t be dangerous, so just do as I say.

Sage: [walks over to Sirius]

Robin: Will Sage…lose his memories?

Sirius: That’s right. I’ll implant some memories from being raised, but let’s say that …he’s just met you for the first time.

Sirius: I’ll erase it from the memories of those believers and pretend the Savior of the prophecy has not yet appeared…..

Sirius: Actually….

Sirius: Should I provide a substitute? …a small child would probably work best. Let’s make him into the true Savior.

Sirius: Since that would probably serve my purposes best—

Prev || Masterlist || Next

#helios rising heroes #cuitranslates #sing in the darkness #sage skyfall #robin goodweather #sirius #sirius helios

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pathetic-gamer · 3 years ago

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Hi so I was thinking about how Dimitri and Edelgard being step-siblings and childhood friends doesn't come up outside of AM and realized how broken family ties is so central to the Blue Lion house in general so it wouldn't hit nearly as hard otherwise.

Nearly! everyone! in! that! damn! class! has lost loved ones because of Duscur specifically, and half of them have to directly fight their family in their own route.

Ashe and Lonato (chapter 3)

Sylvain and Miklan (chapter 5)

Mercedes and Emile (chapters 4, 6, 8, 12, 20, paralogue)

Annette and her uncle (paralogue this one only half counts bc she doesn't have to kill him)

I also can't think of anyone from any other class who has to fight direct family in routes where they're recruited except Caspar w Randolph (but their battle dialogue makes it sound like they're not very close) Meanwhile, in CF, a recruited Felix has to fight Rodrigue and recruited Annette has to fight Gilbert, and we all know those two have some god tier daddy issues (and there's an argument to be made that the faerghus four are basically family and therefore count. I am going to make that argument thanks)

OF COURSE this matters to them! Half of them have reason to have a personal vendetta against the Flame Emperor, but they also know how it feels to have to fight your actual family!! It changes the dynamic of that last fight for literally all of them.

Anyway. These mfs need some therapy and Byleth is NOT qualified for that shit

#long post #kind of lol #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #blue lions #fe3h blue lions #azure moon spoilers #kind of

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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Protection Chapter 6

Summary: Mia and August are in the safehouse, but Mia has a plan, since she really doesn’t want to be here.

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of stabbing and guns.

Masterlist // Protection Masterlist // Previous Chapter

1 hour at the safe house

After the three hour drive, August and I arrive at this safe house. It’s the middle of the night and normally I’m in a deep and nice sleep, spooning Bobo and dreaming about some sort of male celebrity to ease my mind. That is not the case now, despite my brain being dog tired, but it’s also running over time.

The safe house is like every ordinary house, but maybe that is exactly what we need. We need to fit in with the rest of the world, not sticking out like sore thumbs.

Bobo is already acclimated to the place, curling himself up on the sofa, purring loudly as he is about to drift off to sleep.

Me on the other hand, can’t relax for shit. I’m pacing (no, not pacing, limping) through the living room, desperately hoping to remember something. It doesn’t matter what. Maybe something about my family, something that is a dead give away I’m not part of this weird family who had access to the safe. Maybe something about what happened between the crash and me sitting on the curb, holding my arm as I was waiting for help.

Or something that would get me out of this place.

August was my safe haven for the drive here, but I don’t know what to think of him. Do I believe him when he says he’ll protect me? Yes, especially what happened to me on the parking lot.

Do I trust him?

I have no idea…

Is he soft and kind to me?

Yes.

And is that everything I need for now?

I hate to admit it, but yes…

I let out a deep sigh. While I keep on wishing I need to be with someone who I feel safe with, it’s brutally obvious that… August is the only one who can both protect me and make me feel safe. I think about his strong arms wrapped around my body, my forehead resting against his chest and him allowing me to hold his hand. I know that’s not what he wants, or at least, what he would initiate, but he lets me. He lets me hold him, lean on him and cry on him.

And that sure means something right? He understands and gives in to my needs.

I turn on my foot, but since my brain is nearly frying itself, I forget this one hurts. I wince and sit on the floor, holding my ankle tightly. Tears trickle down my cheeks, without me actually crying.

I just want to go home, to my own psychical therapist who could help me out. I need normalcy back in my life.

‘What are you doing?’

My head jerks up, to discover August standing near the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The softness I felt during the way here, it disappeared. Maybe because I wasn’t responding well to it, or because I was responding to it a bit too much. I have been a snotty and hopeless mess since early Monday morning, when I found out about the file.

‘I was pacing.’

He walks into the living room and stops in front of me. ‘You need to be careful.’

‘Well spotted. I can see the CIA training taught you well.’

August sighs. ‘I think you need a new gauge on it.’ He holds out his hand and with a groan I take it. He pulls me up, but when I’m standing, his arm glides underneath my knees and back, carrying me to the kitchen. He does it so effortlessly and without a thought. Maybe that softness is still there. Maybe he does care. He places me on the counter and takes off my shoe.

‘That hurts,’ I hisses.

‘I know,’ he says. He opens a few cabinets, but doesn’t see what he was looking for. ‘Wait here.’

He wanders out of the kitchen and comes back with my mug. The one with the flowers. The one I left at his place. He fills it with water and holds it in front of me, together with a strip of painkillers. ‘Did you bring this with you?’ I ask him, as I wrap my fingers around the mug.

He nods.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s home and I figured you could need it.’ He ushers me to take the painkiller and I do what he asks me to do. I lean back, with my head against the cabinet doors. He grabs a dusty barstool and places my foot on his lap.

‘August,’ I whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He looks up. ‘I know.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘I know that too.’ He takes off my sock and bandage and checks my ankle, that is swelling and turning red. ‘I think I need to provide you with a brace. Or do you have one with you?’

I shake my head. ‘I left it at home, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he snaps and I tense up. Just because he isn’t apologizing, he all of the sudden has this personal vendetta against me doing it. ‘I’ll try and arrange something. For now a new bandage will do.’

While he prepares the new bandages, I carefully place my hand on his cheek as I lean forward. He lets it happen and maybe I’m totally hallucinating, but I think he is leaning against my hand. ‘You sure you’ll protect me?’

‘I will,’ he answers in a dead serious tone.

‘Even Bobo?’

August looks up and bites back a smile. ‘Especially Bobo.’

5 hours at the safe house

I’m back at the crime scene, but this time I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m the me of today. I walk around the car wreck, spotting the limb bodies of other me’s family. I notice a young girl sitting on the curb. Me on the curb. Clutching my arm and simply staring at the wreck, as someone without a recognizable face drags away the body of a teenage boy, while another man drags away the body of a man.

They look deceased, but as of right now, they could be unconscious.

A woman, who is just as unidentifiable as the other men, crouches down in front of me. ‘Vanaf nu, is jouw naam Mia,’ she tells me. From now on, your name is Mia.

The young girl—me—shakes her head. ‘Nee, dat ben ik niet.’ No, I’m not.

‘Jawel, luister goed. Als iemand er naar vraag, jij heet Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’ Yes, listen carefully. If someone asks, you’re Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’

With a jolt I’m wide awake. I look around me, expecting to find Bobo for some emotional support, but he is not here. I could use a hug, to be honest and Bobo is the one that I wished was right here to hug me. I slip on some warm socks and get out of my bed. No, the bed in the safe house. It’s not mine. It smells musty. My bed always smells like lavender.

‘Bobo,’ I whisper shout, ‘where are you?’

I see August’s door is opened ajar and I peek inside, only to see Bobo curled up on the windowsill, while August isn’t asleep. He looks up and flicks on his light. ‘What’s wrong?’

I want to make a stupid remark about Bobo sleeping here and how they are becoming close buddies and how it should make me jealous, but it can’t seem to leave my lips. I simply lean against the doorframe and fumble with my shirt.

‘Mia, what’s up?’

‘I had a memory,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. I close the door and I walk over to his bed. I sit on the edge, staring at Bobo, who is still asleep and doesn’t really care I walked in. Looks like I’m traded in for. Nice to know that my lovely cat will trade me for someone with testosterone. ‘My name is not Mia Makaruku.’ I tell him what the memory is about. I don’t feel tears coming up, but to be fair, I have cried for hours on end.

August sits up straight next to be on the edge. ‘You know what your real name is?’

I shake my head. ‘That was all I wanted to tell you.’ I want to stand up again, but August grabs my wrist and forces me on his bed again. ‘What?’

‘I know it’s hard.’

‘How?’ I ask him. ‘Because this all happened to you when you were younger? Did you have a promising career, that was put on hold because someone swooped into your life and all of the sudden you realize you are not who you think you are?’

He doesn’t say anything, but I simply pull my wrist out of his grasp, grab Bobo and march back into my room.

1 day at the safe house

I came to the conclusion that in no way, I can stay here in this safe house.

August is keeping a close eye on me and I have to tell him what I’m going to do every single time I leave the room. Even when I just need to pee! This whole situation is suffocating me. I wished he would just be a bit more relaxed, less controlling and just back the fuck off.

Ever since I had my first memory, I have been thinking about it, nearly giving myself a painful headache. But I don’t remember anything.

When I was wandering through the house, I confiscated a letter opener, to use it as some sort of weapon. Who knows if I might need it one day. And that one day might come sooner than I think.

I’m sitting in the living room, as the blinds are closed, leaving us with the lights on, in the middle of the day. I can barely sit anymore, so I walk towards a wall and do a handstand against it. I hear some bones in my shoulders crack.

For a top athlete, going from intense training to nothing, it’s unhealthy. I read about those people who get heart attacks after they retire and get a heart attack within the first week of doing nothing, after a very intensive job for forty years.

While I’m not suspecting a heart attack anytime soon and I shouldn’t compare this situation to retirement, I’m keeping it in mind.

Is it your left arm that starts to hurt when you have a nearing heart attack?

‘What are you doing?’

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see that. ‘I would swear you’re blind,’ I say, as I get back on my feet. ‘I was bowling, you happy now?’

August doesn’t say anything. He simply walks over to the couch and sits on my spot. Man spreading is tame in comparison with what he is doing. I think it’s a good thing this man wears pants, because I could’ve looked right up his ass and do an internal examination, without trying.

That’s quite the picture, Mia… What are you doing to yourself?

I turn around and let out a gasp when the doorbell rings three times very short. August stands up and ushers me to come over. I don’t understand why, but he looks pissed and I better listen to him. I limp towards him and he pushes me behind him. When he opens the door, he simply takes the package after signing for it and closes the door. ‘What was that about?’

‘Better be safe than sorry.’ He opens the package without using scissors (which is weird, because I would’ve needed a scissor or a knife to open it, but to each their own) and hands me my new ankle brace.

‘Oh,’ I say, when I see he actually arranged a real good one. Maybe he cares in his weird way… ‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything about it. ‘I’ll start lunch.’

3 days at the safe house

It has been two days since I found the letter opener and I don’t think he suspects a thing. The hours pass by without a mishap. I let him check my ankle twice a day, I try to get him to like Bobo (no success so far and that’s all on August) and we watch the stars every night, since that’s the only time he lets me out of the house.

Pretending I made peace with the situation, gave me enough opportunities to plan my escape. Even when he made me a hot water bottle the other night because I was shivering, even when he suggested to cut the onions, so I wouldn’t get teary eyed and that time when he carried me to bed.

Even when he makes me feel like no one else made me before, I cannot stay here. I have read the files, I have seen where he hides our passports, I know where he hides his guns. I can escape.

Especially now, since I don’t want him near me anymore.

The only way I can actually lock him up, is by luring him into the basement and that sounds painfully scary, I admit, but I have to try. I’d rather die trying, than give up and sit here like I’ve given up on life.

I have to leave him.

Everything is all set and done in my bedroom, ready for me to leave. If I can’t hide it in my room (the car keys, the file or the passports and of course his guns) I know exactly where to find it.

I’m standing in some tight black leggings and a cropped sweater in the basement, trying to find something on the top shelve I could desperately need and I can’t reach. Pasta sauce? That seems like something I could use.

I have made some food in these past couple of days and I have yet to make some pasta. It sounds like me to try something new.

Normally I wouldn’t wear something that accentuates my ass this much, but I have to distract him some way, so maybe this’ll do. I don’t know, I have never done this before. Sure, I’ve kissed, but never anything further than that. Being a professional athlete, you barely have time to date.

Or that’s just me, I don’t know. Other girls seemed to find time to date…

My heart is pounding painfully fast in my chest. You can say about August Walker whatever you want, but that man looks terrifyingly experienced. He seems like the type of man who can rip you apart and you’d beg him to do so again.

It’s now or never, Mia.

‘August!’ I yell.

It takes a second before he answers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can you help me out?’

Asking him for something, is the way to his heart.

I hear his descending footsteps and I turn around, to see him approaching me. ‘Can you reach the pasta sauce for me?’ I ask. ‘I wanted to make pasta tonight.’

August simply nods and stretches himself to grab the package from the top shelf. ‘Anything else?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

‘There is something on your mind,’ he says. ‘What is it?’

This man reads me like a book. I hate it. ‘Nothing, it’s silly, really.’ That and I might chicken out right now. Maybe this isn’t such a fantastic well thought out plan, though I thought about it non stop for the past forty eight hours.

But, am I seeing this correctly? Is he smiling? ‘Tell me this then: why are you wearing this?’

Oh shit, he is too good. Fuck, I just blew my cover, simply because it’s too much. ‘What?’

August places his large hand in the dip of my waist, his fingers touching my bare skin. ‘You never wear this.’

I clear my throat. Now is not a good time for that heart attack you were thinking about a two days ago, I tell myself. ‘Oh, I…’

‘Come on,’ he whispers, ‘you can tell me.’

I swallow hard, all of the sudden not so sure about this anymore. I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, but it sure does. It might have to do with this authoritarian lining I hear in his deep voice.

‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘did you plan this?’

I finally find my voice again, yet it’s not a very secure one. ‘Maybe,’ I whisper shakily.

‘Why?’

‘It’s you, really,’ I say and that is not a total lie. I mean, I have seen him pretty up close these passed few days. And since I’m a functioning human being with a heart beat and certain—slightly nasty—dreams about him… It seems reasonable to be planning this, right?

August nods, before lifting me on the empty table I wished in my initial plan he would place me. ‘If I start, Mia, I don’t think I can stop.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whimper, already completely at his mercy.

I curse myself.

He chuckles and bites his bottom lip, his eyes turning a few shades darker. He takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and broad chest, covered with chest hair that I only saw glimpses of.

Am I sure I can do this? Am I sure I can do what I plan to do?

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look like a deer caught in the headlights, Mia.’

‘Oh,’ I gasp, which is a dead giveaway that I am indeed a deer caught in the headlights.

His strong hands force my legs open. ‘It’s a good thing I sometimes find you adorable.’

Now I’m actually offended. ‘Why only sometimes?’

He smiles. ‘Maybe always.’

I shouldn’t do this, I think to myself. I feel sorry for him now, he looks so approachable and finally he shows me who he is deep down. The August Walker that I knew was in there, hidden by the walls he has built. The August Walker I saw glimpses of since the day I met him. Okay, maybe not since the day I met him, but since we went to that basketball game.

I place my hands on his broad chest and let my nails drag over his skin. August bridges the space between us and the second our lips touch and his tongue enters my mouth, I hook my feet together behind his hips.

The way this man kisses… I have never been kissed like this. Never have I ever been so overpowered, so dominated.

I’m getting too sucked into this moment, that for a second I forget my plan. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue running over the delicate skin. I bite my lip to keep my moans in, but somehow one escapes.

‘Such a needy little girl,’ he grunts in my nape, before going out of his way to leave his marks on me.

When he kisses my lips again, he seems distracted enough, I think to myself. My hand goes underneath the edge of the table, where I taped the letter opener…

But I can’t find it.

‘You were looking for this?’ he asks when he pulls back. His fingers twirl the letter opener around.

Oh fuck, I screwed up big time.

‘I admire you thought about this,’ he says, ‘but I’m not a total idiot.’ He lets the sharp tip drag over my cheek, causing me to pull back.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m a CIA agent, I notice everything you do. I’m trained to do such thing.’ He pulls back completely and I let out a groan. While he puts the letter opener in the back pocket of his pants, he grabs his shirt from the floor. ‘Shame, Mia, that I can read you like a book, but yet again… I appreciate the effort.’

He turns around with a cocky grin and I clench my jaw. What an asshole. I look around me and see a block of wood next to the table. I jump off the table, grab the wood and rush towards him. I am not giving up, because if I did so, I wouldn’t have become the soccer player I am today.

I was, I mean, because I’ve come to the realization those soccer playing times might be over.

August must’ve heard me (he is a CIA agent after all), but I’m mid swing already and the edge of the block hits him on his temple. I watch as the enormous man falls like a bag of potatoes and I stare at his limp body on the floor.

Did I just kill him?

Before I jump over him to go up the stairs, I quickly check his pulse in his neck. Okay, there is a heartbeat. I climb up the stairs and lock the door.

It’s game time.

I rush to my room, grab my coat and the carriage for Bobo. I figured I would bring him to a shelter, before I would get on the plane, because I’m not leaving my precious orange cat in a safe house with August Walker.

Within record time I have got my bag ready, the file and I grabbed the fake Indonesian passport I need. ‘Come on, Bobo,’ I try to coax him and the dumb ass actually goes into the cage.

‘Mia, don’t fucking do this,’ I hear August yell, as he is trying to force the door open.

Okay, it’s quite a relief to know he really wasn’t dead.

I grab the car keys and when I walk passed his room, my eyes fall on his weapon holster. The one last thing I need. I grab his gun and though I have zero idea on how to use it, I can just do what they do in movies.

Just pull the trigger, right?

I grab the carriage with Bobo, only to hear August breaking out from the basement. The door collapses in front of me and I see his eyes are dark, but not filled with lust like they were a few moments ago.

Filled with absolute rage.

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ he growls.

Before I even think, I grab the gun out of the bag and point it to him. My hands are shaking. ‘Let me go,’ I say.

‘Mia, I can’t let you go.’

‘I don’t want the CIA to help me,’ I tell him, as tears run over my cheeks. Way to make your point, Mia. ‘I just want my normal life back.’

‘You can’t and you know that.’

I do know that. ‘I want to find answers on my own,’ I continue, ‘and on my own, doesn’t involve you. I hate you, August Walker, I fucking hate you.’

I can see it in his eyes, that he tells himself that it’s not true and it’s not true. I don’t hate him, I just need to get out of here. He clenches his jaw. ‘Give me the gun, Mia.’

I shake my head. ‘No. Step aside or I’ll shoot.’

Even I’m not convinced…

August walks up to me and places his hand on the barrel, pulling the gun against his chest. ‘Do it then.’

My finger is on the trigger, but… I’m too weak to shoot him. I hand him the gun, before hiding my face into my hands. I lean with my back against the wall. This is so embarrassing. Why on earth did I think I could escape?

I hear August opening the door of the carriage, followed by the soft steps of Bobo.

‘Talk to me, Mia,’ he says, causing me to look up. When our eyes meet, he isn’t mad. He looks so disappointed. but I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me or himself for letting this happen.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what to say about this situation. ‘How is your head?’ I ask him, noticing some blood running over the side of his face.

‘It’s okay.’

I simply take his hand and drag him with me to the kitchen. He sits on a lower stool, so I can actually reach his face, without having to wear pointe shoes. I see a small cut on his temple, the source of the stream of blood and I grab the kit he used on me so many times. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘But I have to, August. I hurt you.’ I clean the wound, before grabbing the special bandages to pull wounds like this back together.

He sighs deeply. ‘You did what you thought was best. I can’t argue with that.’ His tone is low, raspy, but also soft.

He doesn’t sound angry at all, while I expect him to be. I mean, I kinda wanted to stab him.

‘It’s just that I… I just want to get out of here.’

August nods. ‘I know that and we will go. Eventually.’ When our eyes meet again, I see the hurt. Fuck, I hurt him so badly. Guilt washes over me and there are a million things I could say to him. But he doesn’t let me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over this.’

He can indeed read me like a fucking book and I should hate that. But I’m actually quite relieved as of now.

‘I’m not beating myself up.’

‘You are.’

I push back some of his hairs, my fingertips running over his scalp. He melts against the touch and shuts his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I won’t escape anymore,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s… I don’t know what possessed me. I mean… I hit you in the head quite hard.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it. Besides, I’m actually pretty relieved. I now know you can defend yourself properly.’

‘Properly?’ I can’t help but chuckle and I see a tiny smile form on his lips. ‘Don’t over exaggerate. August, I just… I feel so useless here. I don’t remember a lot of stuff. I just sit here and wait. I haven’t done that in a long time.’

He nods. ‘You are not useless.’

‘I need to do something with my time. It’s awful sitting here, with you breathing down my neck.’

He smiles. ‘How about I teach you some basic self defense tips?’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you could ask me to do some embroidery and I would take it.’

He places a hand on my back and actually forces me to sit on his thighs. My eyes enlarge, causing him to chuckle. ‘I meant what I said in there,’ he says. ‘Both the deer caught in the headlights part and the needy little girl part.’

Yeah, I just want to disappear and I wished that could be arranged. ‘Could we maybe not mention that. Like, ever again? I’d like to maintain some form of dignity.’

His lips graze over my cheeks. ‘Had I not found the letter opener,’ he whispers, ‘how far would you let me go?’

‘Not far. I was gonna stab you, August,’ I chuckle, but it’s a nervous one, since I can hardly focus as I sit on his thick thighs. ‘Why?’

‘Because something tells me… You’ve never done that before.’

That can’t be good. I feel like my self confidence just disappeared into thin air. ‘Was it that bad?’

‘No, no, no!’ he quickly says. ‘It’s just that your heart rate was out of the roof and… You seemed nervous.’

‘I kinda was. But mostly because I needed to stab you.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘You are,’ he says, before placing a kiss on my cheekbone. It’s so soft and tender, almost a full 180 of that kiss he gave me in the basement, a place I will never go back to again, because I’ll probably die of shame. ‘And that’s okay.’

I want to say something, but then I hear a loud meow and August growling. ‘Stupid cat, stop doing that!’

‘The attack thing on your leg?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, what a stupid idiot.’

‘Hey, don’t talk to him like that!’ I look over and see Bobo peeking around the corner of the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I genuinely thought I could take Bobo with me on my little adventure.’

August pulls me closer to him. ‘It shows your character, Mia.’

I meet his eyes again. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘I haven’t been mad at you. I know you don’t want to stay here and that is a mutual feeling. I just have to know I can guarantee your safety.’

I nod. ‘When do you think we can leave?’

‘Next week somewhere?’

‘Is it allowed for me to get wasted or am I bringing the operation in danger if I do so?’

He smiles. ‘One drink, that’s the best I can do.’

I don’t want to do it, but I press my lips against his. A quick peck, nothing compared to the kiss earlier. But it’s all I can do right now. ‘Can we start now?’

5 days at the safe house

‘What’s that?’ I ask August, when he places a box on the table.

Ever since my little escape debacle (I let August swear never to mention it again and so far he lips were sealed), time doesn’t go by as slowly and August actually trusts me now. I don’t have justify myself for every step I take. He teaches me some self defense, but I’m a very slow learner and he tries to be patient, but really isn’t.

It’s nice being around August, especially when he tries to be nice to Bobo.

He is just a bit uneasy around the cat.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, not making eye contact.

‘It’s not even my birthday,’ I say.

August simply shrugs. ‘I can give you gifts, right?’

‘I mean, if you want, you won’t hear me complaining. I love gifts.’ I grab the box and pull it closer to me. It’s not really tightly closed, so I can easily open it. I peek inside, only to discover a…

A soccer ball?

‘Are you serious?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know you miss soccer,’ he tells me. ‘I know I can’t bring back full stadiums, screaming fans and a better opponent, but this is the least I can do. Just remember: take good care of your foot.’

‘Of course, of course.’ A smile appears on my face and I take it out of the box, balancing the ball on my hand. Memories flash through my mind. My first soccer ball, the first goal I made in amateur soccer, after that professional soccer.

I walk around the table and I give him a kiss on his cheek. Ever since kissing one another after the basement event, we didn’t do that anymore. But now feels like an appropriate time to do so? Maybe not, but it’s happening now.

I can’t go back now.

‘Since I can’t use my foot, you want to throw it with me?’

‘Of course,’ he says. However, before we can start, I sense he wants to say something to me. I wait, but he shakes it off. ‘Never mind. Let me move the couch, so we have more room.’

10 days at the safe house

I am in a deep sleep, when I hear some rumbling sounds in the background. I open my eyes, but I figure out it’s one of August’s nightly escapades. He does that quite often in the middle of the night. Just wandering around, moving around some things and sometimes I even hear him exercising. I wonder if he ever sleeps.

Not me though, when it’s dark outside, I’m sleeping.

I turn around and try to drift off in a nice sleep again, hoping to go back to that lovely dream again, but then my door opens. I jolt awake, when August enters my room. ‘Easy now,’ August says. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I got your clothes, your stuff, everything. Even your creepy cat worked with me and got in his carriage.’ He hands me a thick sweater and helps me in it. My head is still a bit drowsy and my body barely works. August lifts me up and I place my head against his shoulder.

‘I can walk,’ I mumble.

‘I know, but you’re sleepy,’ he whispers. ‘Besides, I don’t mind.’

That shouldn’t make me smile as much as it does.

He carries me to the car and places me in the passengers seat. He starts the car and with an illegal speed he drives off. I look over my shoulder, to see Bobo in the carriage.

‘What’s happening, August?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we leaving?’

‘We might’ve been found,’ he says, his eyes not leaving the road.

I nod. I grab his hand from the steering wheel and I hold it in both of mine. ‘I trust you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do.’

#august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker fanfiction #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #fic: protection #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom

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jeongyunhoed · 3 years ago

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Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: So... I didn’t expect this would happen for some reason? But it’s interesting how things unfold when you just wing it. Anyway, more reveals ahead a.k.a Yeosang reveals what more he can do and not just suck the life out of people/mutants.

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Loud yelps of pain echoed what looked like a ballroom found within the abandoned school that Ten created. Jongin was seated on top of an operating table, his injured leg that had a gaping wound was being tended to by another male, wearing a suit. Dr. Lucas Wong, another telepath that also had extensive medical knowledge. “She tore through your muscle and the tendons, this might take a while to repair, the tissue damage is extreme and even if it did, there will be some discrepancy in the weight distribution when you walk,,” Lucas muttered as he wiped the rest of the antiseptic over the wound.

“Yeah, she did,” Jongin bit his lip to stifle the groans leaving his mouth in pain. “Even threatened to wipe out my entire family while she did it. She’s got quite a grip.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t do the same to you, hyung,” Lucas glanced at Baekhyun, who had a brace on his neck.

“Yeah well, I thought she needed to know who was making her suffer. I don’t regret it one bit of course,” Baekhyun frowned, sitting back against the red chintz chair.

“And now you’ve turned her loose against us when we should be convincing her to join our cause,” Mark said. “You chose to pursue your vendetta over the greater goal that we plan to achieve, and from the looks of this, it seems like Ino has already let it slip that you and Jongin tampered with their Danger Room. We aren’t the enemy, the non-mutants are.”

Baekhyun fell silent. “To be fair, it was fun helping them out in their plans, it gave me something to do,” Taeyong spoke, his feet up on the table that had Lucas’s medical journals, making the doctor swat his feet away while he dressed the teleporter’s wounds. “I think she also turned Yeosang away from the venture though.”

“See?” Mark sighed in frustration. “We need her and Yeosang. Yeosang wields significant influence, granted that he practically owns the entirety of Seoul. With Mirae, it’s going to give the venture the added muscle.”

“You mean she’ll be our enforcer,” Jongin chimed in.

“In a way. If people have a problem, we can convince her to take care of it. She’s got a lot of skills, skills that must be utilized. She’s let herself go ever since she got rid of the Utopian cult,” Mark explained.

A portal soon appeared in the middle of the room and Ten stepped out of it. “She’s here. And she’s pissed, and at the same time sad,” He said. He glanced at Baekhyun. “You should’ve kept the ruse going, hothead.”

“She blew up my house though,” Taeyong pointed out.

“You’ve got the money, you can build a new one,” Lucas muttered, dressing Jongin’s wound. “Taemin’s still not done from his meetings, is he?”

“Nope. But I already told him what happened. He should be here in an hour? Two hours tops,” Taeyong replied. “He’s not going to be happy.”

“Damn right I’m not.”

Taemin had appeared by the door, looking evidently pissed off. He slammed his jacket down on the nearby desk along with his briefcase. “Didn’t even give me some time to get my stuff before she blew the place up.”

Lee Taemin was also a telepath like Mark and Taeyong, but his main powers were mostly being able to mimic or augment a mutant’s powers. If Taemin were near an omega-level mutant, he could only mimic but not surpass their abilities completely. Unlike his younger brother Taeyong, who could turn into a diamond form to shield his mind from other telepaths, Taemin’s was naturally present, and he often used it to hide from other psychics. If there were even other psychics apart from them.

Ten put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I placed her in one of the rooms of this whole...estate. If I were to go to her now, she would hear everything you are all saying. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened in the mansion now would we?”

“So what’s our next move?” Taemin asked.

“We call on Ino, ask him regarding what to do about Mirae, and then maybe approach a few willing politicians. I heard not everyone remained arrested after that encounter with Chun Doohwan’s adviser,” Mark explained. “Some are desperate to make a comeback in the political scene. Even after they were exposed.”

“How are you framing that? I’m not so sure people in this country are keen to forget something like what they did,” Taemin questioned. “Actually, people in this country don’t forget nor do they forgive unless they’re like us.”

“You could say the same with everyone everywhere, it’s just that we feel it more here,” Taeyong argued. “Then again, it’s not like they know who we are.”

“Exactly. We should take advantage of the flaws of this society. We’re the superior race, and they will know about their inferiority soon enough,” Mark said.

It was making Jongin think. “Since that could take some time, I wonder what we plan on doing with Mirae? Are we just keeping her here? Clueless? You forget, you can’t read her mind.”

“You don’t need to read a mind like hers to know what to do with her, silly,” Ten smirked. “All I can say is that all of you better watch your backs with her. A person who is grieving over the loss of the people closest to her will not think straight, but a person like her who is grieving over losing three people she holds dear? I wouldn’t be surprised if she does turn around and wipe out your entire lineage. She almost did that with you, didn’t she?” He turned to Jongin.

“How can she do that while she’s over here?” Jongin raised a brow, until he figured out what Ten really meant. “...You wouldn’t.”

“She’s got every reason to hate each and every one of us now that she knows you were all behind the deaths of her friends. With the shield in her mind, no telepath can control her,” Ten pointed out. “Of course, she doesn’t know my affiliation with the rest of you so she may leave me out of this.”

“Bring it on, then,” Baekhyun said.

“Really? You’d really take that risk? I could tell her where your families and loved ones are right now and you can watch them go bye-bye at her hands,” Ten looked satisfied seeing the older male get uncomfortable.

“I’m already dead to my family, what makes you think I still care?”

“Enough, Chittaphon,” Taemin rolled his eyes. “We get it. The only one she can’t kill in here is Mark, but even his own life isn’t certain. We need to control her somehow. We’re not the enemy. The non-mutants are.”

“There is a way,” Baekhyun raised a brow. “Choi San and Jeong Yunho. I’ve been thinking of making my next move towards them. Make Mirae really alone.”

“How much longer do we have until we get there? How do we even get there?” San looked over at Junhong. They were still driving down the road that seemed to lead to the city proper with Yeosang’s help. There was a kind of uncertain quality about the city, as if it was part of a certain time yet had modern technology. The people living in the city were wearing different variations of the hanbok, styled in either coordinates or as dresses and suits.

“It won’t be long,” Yeosang replied from his seat, making all of them look out the windows. “One kilometer more and we’ll be able to find her, or them, or both.”

“We don’t have much time, unless Yunho can teleport us even at this time, by the time we get to her, she’ll have probably made up her mind,” San said.

“When I was at those ruins, what I saw gave me chills,” Wooyoung said quietly. “It’s as if all I could feel from that place was rage and sadness. Junhong, both Hyuk and Chanyeol meant so much to her, didn’t they?”

“Oh yeah they do. If they survived the explosion, you can imagine we’d get things done faster,” Junhong glanced over at them.

Yeosang sighed. “Oh well, here goes nothing,” He closed his eyes and muttered a few words, making others look over at him.

A flock of seagulls was flying out of the way of the van, making all of them whip around to look out the window. Their surroundings changed. They were no longer in the city proper, but they were at a dreary-looking street and at the end of the street was the gates of the school. “...Yunho?” Hongjoong glanced at the taller.

“It’s not me,” Yunho looked just as surprised.

Yeosang shook his head. “Well that spell was rusty,” He muttered.

“Spell? What do you mean by spell?...You can do magic?” Mingi stared at him.

“It’s a gift I try not to use very often. It takes the fun out of everything,” Yeosang casually replied. “I must confess I fear I might be losing my touch with it.”

San grabbed him by the collar. “You mean to say you could’ve brought us there without having to travel?!” He couldn’t help but yell.

“In my defense I didn’t do that when I came to the rest of you,” Yeosang yanked his hand off his collar and straightened himself up.

“You better figure out which side you’re on because it seems to me that you’re buying them some time,” Hongjoong shot at him.

“Give me a reason not to kill you right now,” Yunho suddenly looked over at him. “You could’ve saved us the time.”

“Whenever I use magic, I will need to feed. It uses up my energy and turns me into a ghostly hag,” Yeosang held up his hand, his skin becoming translucent, revealing the veins that were becoming more and more visible.

“You are an old hag,” San pointed out.

“Regardless, the more I use, the hungrier I will get. I don’t think any of you would be willing to give your lives to me, and thus control is needed. It’s one of the downsides of my abilities. That and, I tend to absorb the memories of those I kill,” Yeosang said quietly.

“In that case, you’ve now got a reason to feed,” Hongjoong said as Junhong pulled the brakes.

“All of you have your weapons, I can stay behind and wait. There are communicators with you, so you should be able to talk to me and each other in case you split up,” Junhong turned to them. “Good luck. Get Mirae back.”

“We will,” San nodded and the rest of them got down.

The eight of them faced the massive gates of the estate. “Do we climb over or do we break in?” Seonghwa asked, an idea immediately coming to mind. His eyes and fingertips glowed green, the chains locking the gate coming apart, opening the gate in front of them.

“I’m here to remind you that we’ll be dealing with a few telepaths and teleporters. Be careful,” Yeosang said as they walked inside, a cold gust of wind hitting them. “As much as it pains me to say it, San is our best bet to get to Mirae. I’m sure they already know of his relation to my dear, as much as they already know who Yunho is in her life.”

“So we need to watch Yunho and San, is that it?” Hongjoong deduced.

“Precisely,” Yeosang replied, only to duck out of the way when he felt something strike him. It was an axe, Mingi’s axe, and the taller male himself was attempting to strike him.

“Mingi!” San tried to stop him, but he wasn’t answering and instead tried to strike towards everyone else, making them take out their weapons. Mingi seemed to be in a trance.

“Mingi!” Hongjoong sped around the taller male. “He’s- What’s happened to him?!” He dodged a shuriken that was thrown his way. Wooyoung and San had joined in the fray.

Yunho dodged his strikes with an axe, only to run out of the way when he saw Jongho charge towards him. “Oh no, Jongho!” He yelled, avoiding the spikes that were protruding from his arms and legs. Jongho was also in a trance.

Yeosang took out the concealed sword from his walking stick and knocked Jongho out of the way. “They seem to be under a spell- They know we’re here,” He said, realizing the situation. “One of them’s controlling Mingi and Jongho, or should I say two- Mark!”

A portal opened from one side of the grounds and out stepped Mark himself, followed by Lucas. “I thought as much, Yeosang!” The immortal said.

“Can’t get your hands dirty?” Yeosang cast a spell only for it to hit Lucas instead as he saw Taemin step out from the same portal and Ten.

“Why would I need to?” Mark scoffed.

“We’re not the enemy,” Taemin said, his eyes and fingertips glowing the same green glow as Seonghwa who was already trying to redirect the shurikens and axes that Mingi was throwing while also dodging Jongho’s kicks and punches. He disarmed their weapons, throwing them to the side.

“Where is Mirae?” San asked.

“She’s safe, somewhere in there. But I’m sorry to say that you can’t get to her,” Ten replied. “We need her.”

“And we need her,” Yunho stared at them. “We’re not joining you and your Project Apocalypse and neither should Mirae.”

“Ah, Yeosang told you. I guessed as much, he’s turning into a literal vampire before our eyes too,” Mark gestured to the immortal, whose skin was becoming even more translucent, his eyes turning icy blue in color. “You might as well show them how you actually look after all of that magic, you know.”

“Still sore about Julia the Elder choosing me over you after all,” He said.

“We’re not the enemy as you all seem to believe. Mutants are the inheritors of this earth, we’re all on the same side here,” Lucas reasoned.

“Oh really? Then why is Mirae being kept?” Hongjoong questioned. “You’ve got her, we want her.”

“You’ll have to get through us first, then,” Mark said.

“No problem,” Hongjoong said, before speeding past Lucas and Taemin, knocking them off their feet.

Mark took out a swiss army knife from his pocket and shook his head. “Care to duel, Yeosang? To the death as it seems,” He said.

“I’d want to stick around more, no thanks,” Yeosang sent a hex towards him, sending him to the end of the field, almost knocking into the pillar. Wooyoung transformed into his shadow form, slithering across the ground and capturing Ten, nearly getting sucked into the portal he was trying to create.

Mingi took out his lighter, sending blasts of flames towards Mark who reappeared, making him fall over, covering his face in pain. “Chanyeol taught me that,” He grinned.

Mirae looked out the window from the room Ten placed her in. She was getting restless. She wanted to know where Baekhyun and Jongin were, and possibly kill them when she found them. The room she was kept in gave off the impression that it was once among the opulently decorated rooms in the school, perhaps a room of a teacher or school head.

“Mirae.”

She turned around upon hearing the familiar voice. It was Ino. “So now you’re here.”

“I am, and I don’t blame you for what you did to me-”

Her eyes and fingertips glowed and she reached into her pocket for her deck of cards. “What makes you think I’m sorry for what I did to you? You deserved it as much,” She hissed.

“Baekhyun, Jongin, their entire group has a cause worth fighting for.”

“And Hyuk and Chanyeol are collateral damage, is that it?” Mirae flung a charged card towards the older male, only for it to explode through him. “Baekhyun killed them, and he killed Jihoon too. And you let it happen.”

“Their deaths were a price to pay!” Ino tried to reason, dodging all the cards being thrown at him.

“They never deserved that! And you know it!” Mirae yelled and a shockwave of energy suddenly reverberated around the room, causing cracks in the windows and walls. Ino saw his face had traces of burns caused by the shockwave. “They never deserved to die!” She yelled again, sending another shockwave that made the furniture burn and disintegrate and Ino felt more burns on his skin.

“You’re becoming stronger, Mirae,” Ino realized as the burns on him were healing. “Remember what Junhong said to you-”

More shockwaves of energy reverberated around the room, the ceiling and the walls already on the verge of collapsing. “All this time I was living with guilt thinking that I was responsible for it, when it’s you- You let everything happen!” She shouted, another shockwave making everything collapse and fly outwards.

“It was the price to pay for Project Apocalypse, Mirae!” Ino tried to reason again, even if he knew it was inevitably futile. “There are people willing to die for causes greater than themselves. It’s time mutants had considerable influence in the world, we have a right to live in this world just as much as everyone else does. Out from the shadows, no longer hiding.”

“What makes you think I was hiding? What makes you think Hyuk and Chanyeol were hiding? Jihoon wasn’t even a mutant yet he was killed!” Mirae threw another card at him followed by another, the second card ricocheting off the column as it exploded, knocking it over.

Ino looked up and everything that was about to crumble down froze in mid-air. Baekhyun and a limping Jongin appeared, followed by Taeyong. Baekhyun released a beam of light towards her face, making her fall over, covering her eyes. Taeyong transformed into his diamond form and charged towards her, Mirae knocking him over before he could strike.

“You don’t even bother to see that your friends are out there right now,” Baekhyun tried to blast another beam of light towards her. “San and Yunho, did you really care for them?” He taunted, only to gape when the beam of light hit the staff she had extended, the energy coming from her being redirected towards him and sending him flying towards the other side, Jongin teleporting in time to catch him.

The whole school burned down into ashes and shockwaves reverberated all throughout the grounds, making everyone in the midst of their fights fall over on the ground from the impact. Taeyong, Jongin and Baekhyun appeared close to the rubble as Mirae emerged from the ashes. Ino had also reappeared, the burns on his hands and face healing.

Yunho got up upon seeing Mirae and he ran up to her. “Mirae! Mirae!” He called out, only to get pushed inside a portal.

“Yunho?” The glow in her eyes faded. “Yunho!” She called out, running towards the portal only for it to close, making her stumble and fall over. Mirae looked over, her eyes scanning the ground for San and getting back on her feet. “San!” She called out.

“Mirae!” San got back up on his feet only to get pushed inside another portal that closed before Seonghwa could keep him out.

“San! San!” She yelled, staring at the spot where San disappeared. Mirae glanced at Ten, who was still within the grip of Wooyoung’s shadow form. “Wooyoung, get out of the way,” She said, her eyes glowing red.

“Project Apocalypse must go online without any interruptions,” Ino said.

“Wooyoung,” Mirae looked over at the shadow form still wrapped around the male. “Get out of the way.”

The shadow seemed to slither away from Ten, transforming back into Wooyoung as Mirae’s staff began to glow the same red glow from her eyes and fingertips. “If you kill me, you won’t know where Yunho and San are,” Ten pointed out. “If you join us, Project Apocalypse, you will have them back, unharmed, not possessed or crazy that’s for sure. If you refuse, let’s just say you will have lost two more people you care so much about. In such a short span of time too.”

“Don’t join them, Mirae,” Hongjoong called out. “Yunho and San wouldn’t want you to join them either.”

“There’s nothing but pain for you if you join them,” Wooyoung chimed in. “It’s not going to end. It’ll only get worse.”

“If you can’t command, you must obey,” Baekhyun said quietly.

The words made Mirae look over at him and she struck her staff into the ground leading up to where he was standing, the shockwave sending the rest of them flying back in different directions. “How dare you control me,” Mirae muttered, the glow in her eyes becoming brighter than ever.

“Mirae don’t join them!” Seonghwa called out, the green glow in his eyes and fingertips.

She ran up to Baekhyun and before he could get away, she struck her staff in the ground again, the impact making him stumble and fall. Mirae grabbed him by the collar. “Could you really kill me, Lee Mirae?” He said. “One of the last in our group, the sentimental value of it all is enticing isn’t it? You don’t have it in you to kill me. You keep searching for a face to blame for all your grievances, when that face is staring right back at you in the mirror.”

Baekhyun’s satisfied expression soon turned into horror when Mirae’s eyes turned black. “You really are a monster,” He said, before disappearing.

Mirae looked back at the group where a portal had opened. “Ino.”

“Baekhyun is part of Project Apocalypse. It is about to go online in a matter of hours,” Ino explained. “Make your choice, Mirae. If you want to see Yunho and San again, if you want to find them unharmed, you will make the right choice.”

Mark, Taemin, Lucas, and Taeyong had entered the portal. Mirae closed her eyes. She could hear Yunho calling out to her. Somehow, she had relayed what was happening to Yunho, who was now also aware of what was going on.

I’m here in this kind of wild west village

There’s so many crows, a murder of crows.

It’s deserted

Mirae, don’t join them, just find me, I’ll tell you where to go

San won’t want you joining them either, and Wooyoung will know what’s going to happen if you do

Don’t join them

She kept hearing him. Mirae opened her eyes. “Keep your word and I will consider.”

“I’ve kept my word that I took you to the place where you will find your revenge, didn’t I?” Ten replied, seeing Jongin limp inside the portal. “You can trust me.”

“Trust, that’s a word that I haven’t heard in a while,” Mirae struck the other end of her staff on the ground towards him, making him fall inside the portal. She turned to Ino.

“You will regret that decision,” He said.

“And you will regret the day you allowed everything to happen,” Mirae stared at him, a wave of energy hitting the elder once more, burning his face. As Ino fell over on the ground, he disappeared.

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years ago

Text

A Moment Of Glory

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Chapter 7; Parva Sub Ingenti

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Chapter 8 babyyyyyyyyyyy! Oh man, the next chapters to come are not going to be fun for Henry. I also had to rewrite this chapter like... Halfway through finishing the third-to-last chapter bc I realized that this route would be better to go with <3

Also, note, in case I did not make it clear in the actual chapter: it’s a week’s timeskip between this chapter and last chapter!

Also also! Since I have written all chapters now, I would not mind to update more frequently if that would be desired! Either I can hold onto the schedule I have rn (twice a week - Wednesday and Saturday) or I can change it so I update three times a week, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday? I would very much like some opinions on how often to update!

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Wordcount: 4300

Chapter summary: Brokenshire and the Scotland Yard come to a disappointing discovery, but waste no time in following a new lead.

CW [for this chapter]: Mentions of blood, mentions of murder.

[Ao3]

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Chapters:

[Prologue] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Epilogue]

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Sergeant Enoch Brokenshire, a man who so often took pride in the loyalty and hard work he put into his position in the Scotland Yard, did not like his night duty.

He sat by his lone desk, elbows placed upon the only empty space on his messy workspace that was not already occupied by paperwork. The only source of light that found itself in the dark office was a flickering flame from a tiny, half-melted candle that was placed next to him, so bravely and so obediently bringing light to the documents that had caught his sole attention. For once, it was completely quiet. Not even the normal noises from the world going on and on outside could be heard tonight; no drunkards laughing their way home from the pubs, no footsteps from late-night wanderers exploring the streets, not even the sound of other officers standing guard outside seemed to find its way into the office. Had Brokenshire not long since gotten accustomed to the eerie silence that so specifically seemed to haunt him tonight, he might have found the loneliness and the quietness a bit depressing, a bit bleak. Perhaps it was merely because he had one of the most boring, yet most important jobs tonight. Perhaps it was merely because he was waiting. Perhaps it was merely because he was alone.

Of every late-night duty he could have gotten, Brokenshire got the unfortunate luck of being stuck in his office for the evening. He could have been out wandering the corridors of this very station, maybe checking on one of the few currently held in the cells in the basements, or maybe he could have been patrolling the streets with Wipple and Jenkins like he normally did. Maybe he could have been breaking up gang fights, catching thieves, or inspecting the new shipments and arrivals by the docks and train stations in search of stolen goods, but no, he was stuck waiting for his two colleagues. A soft sigh of boredom escaped his lips, and yet he decided to occupy his time by gazing over the many documents laid upon his so often neat desk, the shiny wooden surface now hidden under dozens of chaotically sprawled papers. His eyes traveled, and yet it did not take long until his gaze was caught by a single photograph that displayed none other than Dr. Henry Jekyll, stapled to a short investigative essay about the doctor’s career in London, written and documented in hopes of getting a bit of insight about the whole case. Through the two weeks that had recently passed since his estimated disappearance, it felt like they hadn’t managed to get a single step closer to figuring out what had happened to him, who did it and where he was currently located. They could find no possible motives; after all, Dr. Jekyll was a beloved man. No one seemed to have any ideas of someone who had actively disliked him, rather than his work and connection to yet-so-stigmatized science, yet they were stuck on the single ‘suspect’ they had gotten from finding branded trinkets on the crime scene. They had interrogated practically every single person that had lived on the streets by the Society, and yet there hadn’t been a single witness, not a single trail to follow-- not even the blood that had so horrifyingly splattered upon almost every surface in the entire study had been found anywhere outside of the room, not in the corridors outside nor by the broken window. It seemed like the doctor had just disappeared in thin air, once he was, assumingly, dragged out of that window. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all and yet this wasn’t even one of the most gruesome or violent cases the Sergeant had gotten his hands on, no, but it was still so very unnerving, maybe because of the specific circumstances, maybe because it was specifically Dr. Jekyll everything was about. No matter, it was unnerving regardless and Brokenshire was going to stand by that fact, and yet he couldn’t help but let out another sigh. Another sigh among the thousands he had made just this night. Another sigh among the thousands to come.

He felt how his eyes began to roam once more, and yet they did not wander for long before they were caught by a second photograph; this one displayed the second subject of the mess of his desk, one Mr. Richard Crawford. Having found his name-engraved jewelry on the crime scene, the opposition, aggression, and hatred that Crawford harbored for the Society for Arcane Sciences had only seemed to confirm their suspicion of him as a suspect, and since there were no more suspects at all, he was currently their main lead as well, yet Brokenshire doubted that Crawford had a vendetta against Dr. Jekyll himself, rather than their two opposing beliefs and opinions. There had been a lot of theories for why Crawford would have wanted Jekyll out of the way, some including the simple fact that Jekyll was probably the only other man in all of London as popular and influential as him, some including their clashing opinions in important political and scientific questions, and yet, through their feud, it had seemed like their rivalry had been quite one-sided. Brokenshire and his team had spent the last two weeks researching both men and their rivalry and at this point, the Sergeant was quite sure that he could give a ten-page essay for each topic respectively. Crawford was about a decade older than Jekyll and had therefore been in the public eye much longer. He was a working aristocrat and a businessman, having funded many of London’s most successful businesses, spanning from medical supply companies to breweries to real estate, and it seemed like he had seen the rise of Dr. Jekyll’s career as a threat to his own. It was not a secret that most of London and the people of power in the city were-- or had been-- against science, so while Crawford had been on top of the food chain for years, the establishment and success of the Society seemed to have struck a nerve of some sort, especially so once Crawford’s allies began to support it. It seemed like Crawford had seen that as a type of betrayal, and had come to the “clever” solution of trying to shut the operation down immediately, and yet he had never managed. It seemed like no matter what Crawford threw at Jekyll, the doctor would catch it with a smile on his face, light it on fire and toss it in the trash. No matter what the aristocrat did, Brokenshire couldn’t find a single instance of Dr. Jekyll doing anything to actively harm Crawford, his image, or his businesses, despite everything the latter did to him.

He guessed it was just another instance of what a goodhearted man that Jekyll was, of course. Ask anyone on the street and they would all tell you what a great man the doctor was, and it always seemed like every single person in London had a story about how the scientist had personally helped them, their family, or their friends. The only ones that Brokenshire and his team had heart talking badly about him had, of course, been the few people still against the Society, and yet it had never really been about his character rather than the entire idea of the Society. Everyone knew the doctor was a kind, helpful man who just wished everyone well. Men of his stock were, sadly, few and far in between, and it saddened the Sergeant to know that people were willing to hurt such a good man like that. He could not figure out why someone would do such a thing-- sure, Jekyll had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He doubted that the doctor could have done anything to anger someone to the point of them thinking the only logical solution was to hurt him, abduct him, murder him. Sure, there were probably people mad at Hyde who decided to take it out on Jekyll, but that made no sense at all. After all, Jekyll had been just as much of a victim of the fire and Hyde’s scheme as everyone else had been. Going after Hyde’s ex-employer after leading the Scotland Yard to the Blackfog Bazaar was absolutely absurd, yet a type of revenge that Brokenshire would not put past the many criminals that lurked in the London Underground.

Really, the reason why the offenders could have done it was completely unimportant. What was important was the fact that Dr. Henry Jekyll was gone, and they had to find both him and his kidnappers as soon as possible. Hell, Jekyll could be dying or very badly injured at this very moment! Who knew what kind of torture, what kind of sadistic treatment he was suffering through? Who knew if he was even alive still? Who knew if he even was in London at all? Who knew what kind of man he would be if he was found? For every day that passed, the probability that he would be found and found alive plummeted heavily, the odds and statistics were against them. They had to be quick, so very quick, and yet...

Brokenshire’s hands found the edge of his desk as he pushed his chair away quite abruptly, grunting as he got on his legs and turned his head away from all these godforsaken documents, feeling the clinically white paper blinding him in the dim light. He made a beeline towards one of the few windows in his office, quietly running a hand through his ginger locks as he peaked between the blinds, observing, watching, praying that his goddamn colleagues would come back soon. It was dark, yet it was brighter out there than it was in his office, giving him just enough light to be able to decipher anything going on outside. The streets were empty, the night was quiet... Goddamnit, where were they?

He sighed and shook his head, mostly to try to get rid of the slight paranoia and weariness that began to grip him. He moved away from the window, feeling how all the energy in his legs only got worse and worse for every second, and he almost could not stop himself as he began to pace around the office, trying to pass time and trying to distract himself as it only seemed like all his energy got worse and worse and worse for every second that passed. Jenkins and Wipple should have been here a long time ago. What could possibly have taken them so long? They didn’t have all night!

Brokenshire was an impatient man as it was, he knew that. He seldom had the patience to wait for something unimportant and he had particularly no patience for things that were important. The fact that Wipple and Jenkins had been sent out to collect documents, proof of possible evidence of Crawford’s involvement in Jekyll’s kidnapping that could either incriminate him or prove him innocent of the whole ordeal... Sure, they had his jewelry, but that was certainly not enough proof to arrest him just yet. They needed more... More proof of Crawford’s suspicious behavior, proof that he was not above kidnapping, proof that he was not a man to be trusted. Two weeks of research, two weeks of potentially wasted and precious time amounted to this. Two weeks of quietly investigating Crawford, sinking so much time and so many resources in a potential dead-end... They were hoping to find the evidence they needed to arrest Crawford, after all, they hoped that he was the criminal in all of this, the orchestrator to the entire kidnapping and especially since they had no other leads, but for that, they needed definite proof, proof that Jenkins and Wipple had been in charge of, and if they never showed up...

The Sergeant rubbed his sore eyes, regretfully feeling how the late-night weariness slowly began to get to him, slowly washing over his body like algae clinging to every surface, only seeming to become worse and worse and more and more in quantity the longer you didn’t pay attention. He had been working on this case non-stop for the last two weeks, having barely gotten any rest at all during that time, and yet it was much less because he couldn’t pawn the case off to someone else while he took his normal days off and got the rest he so desperately needed, it was much less the work piling up and being forced upon him because there was no one else to take the case, no, it was mostly the fact that he wanted to get to the bottom of this as fast as possible, and he wanted to be the one in charge of such an important case. He trusted his colleagues with his life and yet he only trusted himself with the Henry Jekyll case, even if he wasn’t fully sure why. Everyone was worried, of course, so he had no doubt that the other officers would be just as precise and active with the case as he currently was, but... Yeah. Jekyll was a beloved man, a man who was friends with practically everyone-- the commissioner specifically, but Brokenshire could not deny that he had taken a liking to that man, as much as he regretted admitting it. He knew the cautionary tale of scientists who went mad with hubris, narcissism, and... Well, madness all too well. He knew the tale of the bright young men and women who wanted to test the limits of every aspect of the world they lived in, who wanted to understand how things worked and wanted to manipulate it into their own liking, who only got hungry for more and more until they went insane and could find themselves in the Asylums all of them seemed to fear so, or until they found themselves exiled and on the run from the law. After all, Brokenshire had known Moreau once upon an eternity ago; he had been just as respectable of a gentleman as Jekyll was, then Moreau had shown his true colors, got exiled, and now he spent the last of his days stuck in a padded cell under solitary confinement and burnt to a crisp in Bethlam Royal Asylum. He knew that there seldom were scientists who did not go mad in their own way-- everyone knew the story of Frankenstein, even if she did seem... Relatively sane now, she had still caused catastrophic damage to the people around her, innocent people specifically, and Moreau was already mentioned... The odds that Jekyll and his Society, too, were just as mad as the rest of the scientists that had made and snuck their way into the history books were far too high. Respectable facades and silver-tongued speech were all they needed to trick practically everyone, both of which Henry Jekyll undoubtedly had. Impulsive, uncontrollable, testing the limits of reality while claiming that it was for the betterment of society, humanity as a whole. It was a tale Brokenshire knew all too well and yet Jekyll had done a good job of pushing himself away from any and all possibilities that he was like those scientists. They were rogue scientists, he would say, not mad scientists.

Oh, it was a speech that the sergeant had heard a handful of times already, yet it was almost endearing, and quite charming after a while. He guessed that was just the effect the doctor had on the people around him. He was a charming man and no one could deny that. He had all of London wrapped around his pinkie, spun and held together with the silken thread he had woven with his silver-tongue, and that had been quite obvious, and it still was. After all, people had been outraged over his disappearance, and they could still hear the people of London making a ruckus and demanding that they find the doctor they all loved so much. Many of Jekyll’s friends had offered to put up rewards for whoever could come forward with any possible statements or for whoever could find the doctor, and with many, he meant many; Dr. Robert Lanyon, Sr. Lanyon, Sir. Danvers Carew, the commissioner himself, and of course the entire Society, and that was only to name a few, so there was quite a large sum of money at play now. So much money was at stake and yet they still had heard nothing related to the Henry Jekyll case. No one had seen suspicious activity, no one had any clue what possibly could have caused it... You might as well have thought he disappeared in thin air just because someone wished him gone, for no reason whatsoever. You might as well have thought the doctor never existed.

The only real ‘evidence’ and the only real statements they had about the case came from their investigation of Crawford. They had dipped their noses in practically every part of Crawford’s life, investigating and interrogating every servant, worker, acquaintance, business partner, and rival with a connection to the man in question, their statements now placed upon the sergeant’s desk, neatly waiting for when they would be of use. All they needed was Jenkins and Wipple with the rest of the accounts and statements, and hopefully they would bring the long-awaited truth. They all had theories, of course, both personal and more... Hmm, official ones, so to speak, all of which suggested that the kidnapping of Henry Jekyll was not the only crime that Crawford may be involved in, many of which seemed to be about tax evasion, blackmail... The classic stuff that men of his stock often dipped into sooner or later. Now, if Jenkins and Wipple could just come back...

Knockknockknock--

Speaking of the devil, Brokenshire couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as he finally stopped his pace. His attention immediately shifted towards his door, and it only took a moment before he saw the door handle moving, and then through the darkness, Brokenshire finally-- finally!-- saw his dear colleagues entering, the expected documents in hand.

“Oi, sergeant, why are you cooping up in the darkness?”

As Jenkins moved forward with the documents, Wipple stayed behind to close the door behind them, taking the opportunity to also turn on the light, which, in its turn, successfully blinded the poor sergeant whose eyes had gotten so accustomed to the soft, simple light from the candle on his desk. He did not get a lot of time to adjust to it, however, as Jenkins soon placed the new documents down on the little empty space on the sergeant’s desk that had not been occupied with paperwork and, instead, occupied it with more documents. Brokenshire watched the papers, then his gaze turned to Jenkins, who looked less than proud of the work they presented. His thin lips and mustache curled into a frown, the disappointment in his sigh seemed to echo through the room.

“You are not going to believe this, sir.”

“Well, what is it? Did you find anything?”

“Well... You are not going to like it.”

The three of them surrounded the desk, waddling together so everyone could have a good view of the newly added documents. Brokenshire eyed it up and down with great interest, if not suspicion and caution, yet he was quick to look back up at Jenkins, quietly gesturing for him to continue to explain.

“Crawford has been actively against the Society, as we knew, but his way of sabotaging, as we theorized, is nowhere near illegal.” Jenkins filtered through the documents until he got a specific page, tapping it with his finger against the headlines, and them moving the tip of his finger down to the summary, “According to his bank statements, the only money that has been taken out and put into anything remotely against science as been into perfectly legal campaigns, some of just so happens to affect the Society, would the things they push for actually go through. Other than that... The only proof we have is the jewelry found on the scene. Sure, yeah, it’s clear proof but it’s nothing we can arrest or accuse him with. It’s practically impossible for the jewelry to have found its way into the office...”

Brokenshire might as well have thought he got a door slammed into his face.

Their main suspect turned out to be a dead end. All the work, all the time, and all the funds they had put into investigating Crawford turned into a dead-end, and now they came up empty-handed without a new suspect.

But... That didn’t explain why his jewelry was in Jekyll’s workspace.

“Well... Do either of you have any idea why the ring and necklace were in the office otherwise?”

Wipple and Jenkins stayed silent, glancing at each other for a short second, yet they quickly looked back at Brokenshire and seemed to struggle to come up with a logical answer to such a question. So many things could have made the jewelry appear where they did, yet none of them actually seemed as logical as... Well, the theory that Crawford paid some thugs to get Dr. Jekyll out of the game, although having paid them with jewelry-- specifically name engraved jewelry-- was certainly not the most logical option, either. The thought that Dr. Jekyll might have stolen the trinkets didn’t even cross their minds, the thought that Dr. Jekyll might have planted them there seemed too absurd for any of them to even consider it, the thought of Dr. Jekyll having faked the entire thing would probably be the dumbest thing either of them would have thought in years. Dr. Jekyll was gone, he was kidnapped, there had been blood everywhere in the office and the blood might have dried into the wood at this point. Red crimson that coagulated and stained into the mahogany wood was a reminder of what Jekyll, in this very moment, might be suffering through, a reminder that if they weren’t quick, Jekyll’s blood might not have only stained his office.

But... Hold on...

“What if it wasn’t Crawford who planted them there?” Jenkins suddenly spoke up, you could practically see the lightbulb shining over his head as the idea struck him. Both Wipple and Brokenshire furrowed their eyebrows, looking at their colleague.

“Well... Obviously. It isn’t like someone-- if Crawford did hire criminals, would have put them there intentionally. Crawford would clearly not have done the dirty work himself.” Brokenshire pressed.

“No, no-- What if someone tried to frame him?” Jenkins continued, “Think about it-- Crawford is a high standing man, he has a lot of enemies, someone might have stolen the jewelry and planted it on the scene when they kidnapped Jekyll, to throw us off of their tracks?”

The officers all went silent for a moment, as Jenkin’s words and his theory began to sink in. It only took a moment, and then Wipple gasped, almost with excitement. He grabbed Jenkins’ arm and stared at him in awe, before immediately giving him a quick pat on the back.

“Jenkins! You might actually be onto something!”

Jenkins grinned proudly, preening under the praises before the two constables turned towards the sergeant for his input. Brokenshire continued to stare down at the documents, eyebrows knitted into a deep, deep frown upon his forehead. Jenkins’ and Wipple’s excited grins slowly washed away as they watched their friend, a bit confused, a bit worried, as the sergeant reached up a hand to scratch his beard in thought.

“That... Complicates things.”

Brokenshire straightened himself, placing his arms behind his back as his frown only seemed to deepen by the second, yet his eyes did not leave the documents. If someone had kidnapped Jekyll and tried to frame Crawford for it... This might be a much more complicated situation than they had anticipated. This must be a gang activity, or someone who was very dumb for using two pieces of jewelry and nothing more. He could not deny that the idea seemed plausible-- it actually sounded quite reasonable and logical, But how did the criminals get their hands on the trinkets? Could the Scotland Yard afford to finally go and confront Crawford about it, if he knew that his things had recently gotten stolen?

Well... It wasn’t like they had anything to go on, otherwise.

“Gentlemen... I think it’s time that we go to the source, eh?”

“Source?”

“We have to interrogate Crawford. Perhaps he can point us to the reason for why his stuff was in Jekyll’s office.”

Wipple and Jenkins looked at each other, and yet they both immediately turned back to the sergeant.

“Well... What are we waiting for, then?”

The three of them looked at each other for a short moment, only allowing a second of hesitation before all three of them practically sprinted to the door, tearing it open and practically running down the corridors, immediately jumping into the police carriage that was stationed outside and then they were off, galloping through the city streets, off to an unsuspecting Richard Crawford. They had no time to waste, perhaps that’s why they all decided that they had to rush, perhaps that’s why they decided to be quick, or maybe it was the excitement of finally having another lead-- another lead that actually made sense and could be true. In just a few hours they might have their truth. In just a few hours they might find the culprits. In just a few hours, they could all just hope that they would find out what happened to the beloved Dr. Henry Jekyll.

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This chapter was originally going to be Thomas going home from the... Ahem, “hook up” with Robert and meeting Emma Carew and flirting a bit with her, but that plan was only in the drafts and I never wrote it so it’s not what I originally had planned and mentioned in the notes above, but I’m weak for Emma and also Emma X Henry so I hope I will be able to write something for them when this fic is over <3

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Taglist: @artzycreature @jekkiefan

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#tgs #the glass scientists #tgs fanfic #tgs fanfiction #the glass scientists fanfic #the glass scientists fanfiction #banshees fanfic #banshees writing #tgs brokenshire #tgs sergeant brokenshire #tgs sergeant enoch brokenshire #the glass scientists brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant brokenshire #the glass scientists sergeant enoch brokenshire

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reddrobins · 4 years ago

Text

of coffee cups + criminals - three [j.todd]

TW: language

ONE - TWO

Chapter three

Waking up whilst tied to a chair was not on [Y/N]’s to-do list.

Groggily, she tried to look around the dimly lit space - though found it nearly impossible to open up her eyes. The front of her face felt hot and sore, a temporary reminder of the punch she had endured.

Pushing through the searing pain, she opened her swollen eyes to the best of her ability. From what [Y/N] could make out, it was a large room - the ceiling nearly impossible to see. The space around her seemed to be crowded. Multiple different crates littered the area, some open - their covers tossed among the floor, others stacked atop each other.

Based on the minimal sight of her surroundings, [Y/N]’s best guess at her location was a warehouse. Though, that didn't really help her narrow down exact places as Gotham was full of warehouses.

Assuming that the Black Mask was smart enough to operate in secrecy, she knew that the warehouse wouldn't be one near Gotham Square. No, it must have been near the outskirts of town, maybe even close to Blüdhaven.

“...my end of the deal.”

A voice sounded from the far right of the room, [Y/N]’s head snapping towards the sound. It was just light enough to make out a few figures, one animatedly talking.

“I told you, I always keep my word.”

[Y/N] could easily tell who the baritone belonged to. Hell, it was the last thing she had heard, right before that fucker punched her in the face. Sionis grew closer, his conversation now clearer to her ears. Deciding it better to be found asleep, rather than face the criminal again, [Y/N] drooped her head, feigning a deep slumber.

“Not sure why you think she’s needed, didn't seem to know a lick about the Hood - but if this is all I gotta do to make sure he's taken care of… She's all yours.”

The small group was now mere feet in front of her, all the members oblivious to her eavesdropping. Risking it, she peaked open an eye in an attempt to count the pairs of feet.

One, Two, Three…

On the fourth pair, her breath caught in her throat.

She didn't believe it.

There was just no way.

And then in one quick sentence, Roman Sionis confirmed her fears.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. J.”

Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and 12 seconds since the last time he had heard from her.

Jason was officially starting to panic. After phoning, dare he say it, Batman, he had sent a signal to the rest of the family - putting his own hubris aside to get [Y/N] back safely. Though, that was over 6 hours ago.

Dick and Damian had gone to Blüdhaven, expanding the search effort outside of Gotham. Meanwhile, Tim had been instructed to remain in the cave and access each and every public camera in the city in hopes to catch a glimpse of [Y/N]. Steph stayed too, wanting to be on guard just in case Tim found something. Cass and Duke briefly went out on recon, but came back empty handed. The only two that were actively on the scene were Jason and Bruce. The distant father and son duo had spent the waking morning on the roofs of Gotham.

Currently, Batman stood with his back towards Jason - getting intel from Oracle through the cowl. It had been like this for a while now, Bruce would silently get filled in whilst leaving his son to wonder what Barbara had said. Jason had just about had enough, it was his search after all, no one would be involved if it weren't for him. They should be filling him in, not Bruce.

“You ever planning on filling me in, old man?” Jason finally spoke. He leaned against the rooftop ledge, angrily (and anxiously) drumming his gloved fingers against his leather coat.

Bruce grunted as a reply, acknowledging his son's question, but not bothering to turn around.

Jason, with years of practiced impatience, scoffed and tapped the side of his helmet, tuning into the comlink. “Oracle, do me a favour - quit talking to Bats and actually tell me what's going on.”

He almost cringed at the harshness in his tone. He had never had anything against Barbara, if anything he felt closer to her than anyone else in the family. Shared trauma tends to do that to a person. Nonetheless, the secrecy between her and Bruce was getting on his nerves. He knew the longer he was out of the loop, the longer it would take to find [Y/N] - and that was the opposite of what he wanted.

“...Red Hood, I don't know if that's the best course of action right now. I think letting Batman handle this would-” Jason was quick to rebuttal, the notion of letting Bruce handle anything set him off.

“I’m sorry Babs - But last I checked I asked him for help, not the other way.” The name drop, Jason will admit, was immature. Though the line was secure, he knew better than to expose identities. Sighing, Jason apologized, “... Sorry Oracle, that was on me. I just… I just need to find [Y/N].”

It wasn't often that Jason shared his true feelings with the Batfamily, thus this admission of truth was a pleasant surprise to Barbara. The older woman then spoke through her link, “It's fine Hood.” She then turned her words to Bruce. “I- I think he's right Batman. It is his case… He deserves to know everything.”

Maybe it was admiration for Barbara or maybe it was the swell of ‘I told you so’ to Bruce, but Jason, for the first time since [Y/N] had disappeared, felt hopeful.

Bruce finally turned around to face his son, who in turn titled his head in earnest. “Oracle,” The older man voiced, “shut off the coms.” A click resounded inside the two mens headsets, signaling the radio silence.

“Before I disclose the information, I need a promise.” Though he donned the cape and cowl, Jason knew that this was not the caped crusader asking for a promise, but his father. As civil as he could be, Jason nodded for him to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won't go running into wherever, that you won't let your emotions get the best of you.”

The former Robin wanted to scoff, but opted for rolling his eyes under his mask. Bruce was being ridiculous, “This isn't fucking Serejavo, alright?” He knew that he stuck a nerve, he could see a fraction of a flinch from his mentor. “I’m twenty-two, not fifteen - remember? Or do you have me confused with another one of your child soldiers?”

Uncomfortable silence ensued between the two, the seconds ticking by as Jason quietly wished for [Y/N] to be by his side, making this time spent with his adoptive father tolerable.

Bruce’s response was monotonous, practiced as to not show emotion, “That's enough. We’re on a life or death search, this isn't time for a pity party.”

‘Okay, Ouch.’ Thought Jason, ‘Thanks for rubbing salt in the wounds, really great work there B-man.’

Having had enough of this familial crap for the day (lifetime it felt like), Jason conceded, “Just get on with it.”

Heaving a sigh, Bruce took a small tablet out from under his cape. He handed it to Jason who quickly sifted through all of the information. It was chocked full of files, pictures, videos, fingerprints, fuck - blood samples. He perused more and more, going further into the database and then -

Jason thought his heart stopped, again.

He felt as though all the air had been pulled from his lungs.

File 104 out of 305: a single strand of acid green hair paired next to an unknown fingerprint.

“Nightwing found it while crashing a drug trade.” Bruce stated, tone calm and collected.

At that, Jason's brows furrowed, “That's not usually his M.O. Drug trades were never his thing.”

‘No,’ A sick voice hissed in Jason's head, ‘Brutally beating a child to death is though!’

Batman nodded, “Correct. He didn't conduct it. The Black Mask did.”

Roman Sionis, that fucking dweeb.

Jason had had a personal vendetta against him ever since his successful take over of the Gotham underground. In the past, he wouldn't have paid a second of attention to that idiot, but once Falcone dipped, the crooks of Gotham were his for the taking. Sionis seemed to think that just any ‘Roman’ could replace ‘The Roman’.

“What's this got to do with [Y/N]. I don't have time for an extra case, if you haven't realised, my girlfriend-”

Bruce was quick to interrupt before Jason continued one of his heated tangents, “We have reason to believe that he and Black Mask are working together.”

Jason stayed silent, for the first time actually wanting to hear what Bruce had to say. “That being said, rather, we believe Black Mask has hired…” The older Wayne looked at him head on, trying to gage his emotional response before he pressed on, “We think he has hired the Joker.”

It was involuntary, just an ingrained reaction for him to tense up at the mention of the Clown Prince of Crime. Maybe his constant thoughts of [Y/N] were clouding his detective skills, but he had yet to make a connection - or maybe he knew exactly where Bruce was going, but refused to even think of the implications.

“So what are you saying…”

The dark knight closed his eyes, composing himself before giving the final blow.

“I am saying, Black Mask has hired the Joker… to get rid of you.” Even with the mask on, Bruce could sense the indignance oozing from Jason, he held his hand up to silence him and continued, “You’ve been severely depleting the Black Masks profits - he’s losing grip of the crime world. He’s deemed you as the one thing stopping him from complete control, and he's desperate. So desperate that he's hired a maniac to do his bidding.”

Taking another deep breath, Bruce let the information he had been keeping in, spill out, coating Jason in its toxic bearings. “The Joker knows you, as much as I hate it - he knows you better than any other criminal out there. He knows how to get to you. He knows your weaknesses. He knows your strengths, and he knows your allies. Even Jason Todd’s allies.”

And just like that, the small ounce of hope that Jason had felt earlier, diminished to nothing.

He would have taken being blown up again than this.

“Where is he?” Was all that Jason could muster.

Bruce immediately shook his head, “No, Rob- Red Hood, I told you, you promised not to go in like-”

“Like last time?” Jason interjected.

Under the cowl, Bruce's face felt hot, unexpected embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “I didn't say that.” He grit out.

Jason finally let out the over do scoff, “But you meant it.” He then approached the larger man, leather gloved hand stretched out, “Now give me the fucking location.”

Though Jason was the closest to Bruce's build within the family, the older Wayne still had a height advantage on him. He stared down at his son, piercing eyes glaring at Jason to ‘stand down’.

Lifting a hand to press the comlink on, Jason spoke into the helmet mic, “Oracle, send me the Jokers coordinates.”

Before Bruce even got a chance to interrupt Barbara's channel, Jason had received the map, location locked in.

Jason backed away from the Bat, crossing over to the ledge once more, grappling gun at the ready.

“Jason!”

Annoyed, he turned around to catch a glimpse at his mentor, expecting to be yelled at or lectured. Surprisingly, Bruce gave him a tight lipped nod, then - “Be safe.”

Not bothering to acknowledge his fathers - what he assumed to be - half assed façade of care, he swung to the next building, ready to get his girl back.

Bruce knew that two words wouldn't make up for all the hurt he's put Jason through, but it was the most he could do at this moment. He was afraid, he was worried, he was everything a father would be when their child throws themself into danger. Letting out a sigh of built up frustration, he linked up to Babs.

“Keep an eye on him, if it gets out of his control - I’m going in.” Oracle gave a hum of recognition, tuning in her cameras to Jason's helmet.

“Keep him safe… please.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #batfamily #batman imagine #batman x reader #batfamily imagine #batman #red hood #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc comics imagine #DC comics

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tlou-1 · 4 years ago

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Her Own Worst Enemy | Chapter 10 | Resolute. (Joel Miller Fanfic)

Ada awoke to the sound of feet padding across the wooden floor, she looked across at the clock. 6:00, it was still early. She had began to recognise the sound of Joel’s movement and steps across the room, he was a big guy and as much as he could try to be quiet, well it was no good.

“I am off for a patrol with Tommy but I will be back at lunch” he said in a whisper as he sat down on the bed to put on his boots. Ada felt the bed sink beneath him. She moved and perched on her knees behind him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing morning kisses to his neck.

“Don’t make it harder than it already is to leave this bed” He groaned. Ada sighed defeatedly and collapsed back onto the bed.

“Be careful!” She called to him as he left.

“Always am” He said before closing the door behind him.

It was only a few minutes before Ada decided to get up herself, she couldn’t get back to sleep and she should be starting a shift in the greenhouse within the hour anyway. After getting dressed she made her way into Joel’s kitchen to find something to eat before work. Joel had left out a mug with some of his stash of coffee ready for Ada to boil some water. Thinking back to the times Joel had spoken about how much he treasured every cup of coffee he could make from a bag she felt like the small gesture was more than a cup of coffee. As she sipped at her drink her eyes couldn’t help but look at her hands holding the mug, the hands that yesterday had been covered in blood, in the blood of someone she knew, not that she had told a single soul about that part. She kept telling herself she didn’t know who it was when she attacked… but if she had, would she have done anything different? Joel would have died if she hadn’t acted. In any case Owen had travelled to Jackson for one obvious purpose, Abby. She didn’t know if more were behind him but she couldn’t imagine Isaac sending out his recruits after one person a second time round.

“Shit” muttered Ada realising the time, she was late for her shift.

“I am here, I am sorry I am late” she called as she ran to the greenhouses not far from Joel’s. She set to work alongside Dina for the day, Dina was beginning to show. What had been a complicated situation for her, Jesse and Ellie, they had made work. They obviously cared about each other a lot, it was heartwarming seeing them work with each other to raise a baby.

“When do you get maternity leave? Or do you even get that here?” Ada joked with her.

“Soon I hope” Dina smiled. It was then Ada clocked Maria walking past the greenhouses, she tapped on the glass to grab the woman’s attention.

“Maria” called Ada waving the woman over. Maria made her way across to the pair.

“What’s up you two? Working hard I see”

“Do you know what time Joel and Tommy might be back this afternoon? I was thinking it could be nice to invite you all round for a home cooked meal after our shifts today” Ada suggested towards Maria and Dina.

“Tommy? Joel isn’t out with Tommy this morning”

“What do you mean? He said he was on rota with Tommy for Patrol” Ada was puzzled, it didn’t seem like something Joel would lie about.

“He was until Tommy spent last night coughing and sneezing. He’s still In bed, I had to switch the rota around this morning” Maria explained unsure why Ada seemed so bothered, it wasn’t a big deal, usually.

“Who is he out with Maria?” Ada didn’t even notice she had raised her voice, she felt her hands shaking.

“The new girl, Abby”.

Ada dropped spade she was holding and felt the familiar sickness in her stomach from the moment she saw Abby in town.

“Ada? Ada are you alright?” Dina asked wrapping her arm around the woman who was currently not blinking. As if a switch had been flipped in Ada, she snapped right out of it.

“We have to go after them” She dusted off the dirt from her hands and made her way out of the greenhouse.

“What are you talking about Ada? No one is going out there that doesn’t need to” Maria said sternly.

“Dina, go and tell Ellie to get Shimmer and follow the patrol route that Joel is on” Ada called. As odd as it all sounded, something in Ada’s voice made Dina do as she was told.

Maria continued to protest as Ada made her way to the stables.

“Maria!” Ada shouted making Maria go silent, not many people had ever spoken to her like that… actually no one had in a long time.

“Abby isn’t who she says she is okay? If you don’t let me go out there, Joel isn’t coming back, she will make sure of it”. There was a silence between the two head strong women for a moment. Maria looked angry and Ada knew why. For the first time it was now clear Ada had been hiding something and Maria didn’t like the idea that she didn’t know the person standing in front of her.

“If you have brought trouble here” Maria began but broke off, there was more important things at stake right now than an argument, “You go out there and bring Joel back”. She flung a loaded rifle to Ada who caught it with both hands.

“I will” Ada confirmed to Maria but she didn’t feel convinced. How long had Abby been out there with Joel? Had she hurt him? Had she already done what she had come here to do and killed him? Ada had to put those thoughts out her mind for now.

She set off at a pace following the trail to the familiar check point, the ski lodge from when her and Joel first patrolled together. She clocked two Jackson marked horses tied up outside of the building. Ada slowed down on her approach and tied her horse out of view, her foot steps were a lot quieter than that of a hoof. Part of her wanted to run in there, burst the door down, scream at the top of her lungs but her training and years of living in this world had taught her so much better than that. Checking her rifle was fully loaded Ada heard a loud groan, almost a cry, the kind that sent shivers up her spine and made the hair on her neck stand up. The only good thing it let her know was that Joel was still alive, getting low to the ground she lightly pushed the door open hoping it wouldn’t creak.

Between the different tables and chairs she could see Abby crouching next to Joel who was propped up against a wall. She moved quicker now, she had to get a good angle but not get spotted, Abby was too close to Joel and a lot stronger than Ada could ever hope to muster, even with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Joel’s eyes opened after wincing at the pain he was in, his eyes locked on to Ada’s, she put her finger to her lips pleading him not to give anything away. Ada watched as Abby twisted the knife she had clearly placed in Joels upper leg, “You stupid old man, do you know who I am?”.

Joel groaned in pain, “Whatever you plan on doing, how about you just get on with it?” He spat. Abby then stood, towering above him.

Ada got to her feet “Don’t fucking do anything Abby, don’t move a muscle or I’ll put a bullet right through your skull” she cried.

Abby slowly turned to see Ada behind her, “Of course, you’re here”

“What are you going to do Ada? Save him after knowing everything he’s done?” She continued. Joels gaze went between both woman, as he registered the familiar tone they took with each other. It was then he realised they knew each other and not just from Jackson.

“What he did wasn’t right Abby, but neither is this. What happened to your father was horrible but we have all lost people we love. You have killed so many people, you don’t think any of them had a family?… When it comes down to it we all just want to protect the ones we love and I will too”

“What, you’re going to shoot me?” Abby laughed, “What’s to stop me from pulling my gun on you?”

“Don’t make me! We both know I am the better shot and before your hands reach that pistol, I will have killed you in one clean shot” Ada said as her hands tightened around her rifle.

Abby’s hand moved slightly in the direction of her holster and Ada shot a warning shot so close to her head that if Abby had moved any further the bullet could have hit her.

“I am not messing about Abby!” Shouted Ada. It didn’t matter Abby was resigned to seeking revenge, convinced that killing Joel would bring her peace. Abby turned her back to Ada and facing Joel was about to pull her gun when a second gun shot rang in the air.

Ada exhaled and lowered the rifle that she had been resting against her shoulder. Neither her nor Joel said anything for a moment. She made her way across to Joel trying to avoid looking at Abby’s body, she just couldn’t face that.

“I think I can take this out and bandage it up until we get back home. It’s going to hurt for a moment okay?” She said in a hushed tone and she got ready to remove the knife wedged in Joels upper leg. He winced and shouted as she removed and cleaned the area. Ada was still surprised he hadn’t said or asked anything about what had just happened and as if reading her mind.

“Who was she? Who are you?” Joel asked as she tied the cloth around the injury.

She looked up at him, his eyes meeting hers, she felt ashamed “She was a firefly, from Salt Lake. She met me in Seattle where we trained together”.

Joel scoffed and shook his head, “Fucking Firefly” he muttered.

“You knew who she was and you said nothing?” He continued, his tone was harsh but it was deserved thought Ada.

“I hoped she’d change her mind… I should have known better knowing she travelled here a second time on her own”

“A second time? She was here before?”

“WE were here before…We travelled from Seattle, me and some friends. They had this vendetta against some man who killed their friends, family, people they knew. They said ‘he took away the cure from man kind’.” Ada began explaining, she continued focusing on Joel’s injury so as not to see his face,

“So it was suggested I would travel with them. Help them get where they were going alive knowing I was the best shot out of all of them. We travelled all the way just outside of Jackson before getting stuck in a storm, they left me behind and I was set upon by a hoard of infected. Nearly died too, until the man they were looking for and his brother came across me and saved my life. You know the rest”

Joel didn’t say anything and began trying to get to his feet. Ada offered to help but he shook her off, “I don’t need anything more from you”.

At that point Ellie arrived having caught up with Ada. “What the fuck?” She said quietly looking at the scene she had just walked in on.

“Just help me to my horse Kiddo. We can talk about it back in town” Joel said putting his arm around Ellie for a bit of support as he walked out the lodge. Ada was about to follow when he turned around to look at her. “That’s it now, consider us even” and they left. Ada was still stood in the same spot a few meters from Abby’s body, she could see the blood beginning to stain the wood. She fell to her knees and began brining up the contents of her stomach. She couldn’t believe what she had done and what she may have just lost. Where could she go from here? Could she go back to Jackson or would she be shot on sight like she should have been when she first arrived.

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us part ii #the last of us part 2 #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel miller #ellie williams #Joel Miller

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inkribbon796 · 3 years ago

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The Marvelous Misadventures of One: S. Marvin Argentum Ch. 1: To County Kerry and Back Again

Summary: Marvin goes to clear his head, and gets caught up in a huge conspiracy in the process.

A/N: *side eyes at the recent Techno and Quackity lore* I saw it, and I’ll address that loaded but fun character development it another time. I don’t have Dream in jail . . . yet, maybe . . . so fortunately so I don’t have to adhere/spoil it too closely.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Marvin relaxed a bit, as much as he could, into the train seat he was in. His train was traveling from Althone down to his mom’s home in Kelly’s Bay, Ireland.

He’d lost his mask and cape long before he got to the train, and he felt very exposed and uneasy without them. The long scars down his face on display for all to see. But he was going to distance himself from everything that had happened recently.

Fortunately he had nine hours to nap and think. His phone was silenced, except for emergency calls. This would be the start of a time for meditation and reflection.

And it was, for about two hours.

“Marvin?”

The mage did everything in his power not to jump or startle. But when he looked over to see Ghostbur materialize right next to him, he just about launched himself out of his own seat.

“Fook!”[1] Marvin cursed.

“Oh sorry,” Ghostbur held up his hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wasn’t sure it was you at first without your mask.”

“How the fook[1] did yeh[2] find me?” Marvin hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

“Well I followed you and Average to the station,” Ghost admitted. “You looked really sad and lonely, so I figured I should keep you company.”

“Ghostbur,” Marvin tried to keep his voice down and his anger obviously. “I’m tryin’ ta get away from the heroes. Not brin’ it with me.”[3]

“Yes, you mentioned that, but I just wanted to keep you company,” Ghostbur told him. “Toms was lonely when he was sent off and I didn’t want you to be lonely.”

Marvin was about to snap back that being lonely with his thoughts was the whole point, but at the mention of Tommy, or “Big Man”, and about some more pieces of what had to have been a very tough period in Tommy’s life he decided not to.

“Yeh sure Tommy won’t mind yeh bein’ here with me instead ‘a with him?”[4] Marvin asked.

Ghostbur looked at him hands, “Tommy has Tubbo and Ranboo and . . . Tommy likes them more.”

Feeling like that hit him a bit too personally, Marvin sighed. “Fine, yeh[2] can come with, just make sure yeh[2] don’t tell people who I am.”

Smiling, Ghostbur perked right up, “I won’t, I won’t, I promise.”

Ghostbur more or less kept his word. He meandered up and down the train and they reached County Kerry. Ghostbur was enthralled by the nearby sheep fields. He would lean over the fence and feed them. His sheep companion field often trotted by his side. The farmers and dogs weren’t too keen on him, but the sheep seemed to adore Ghostbur.

One rental car later, Marvin slipped into a petrol station to grab some snacks. No one seemed to recognize him anymore, which Marvin was eternally grateful for.

The ghostly young man was floating next to Marvin as he was in the back grabbing some drinks. He was floating upside-down.

“Mar— uhh, mage I don’t know, uhm,” Ghostbur immediately corrected himself.

“What?” Marvin sighed, closing the fridge door a bit harsher than he needed to. “An’[5] Marv is fine.”

“One of the demon hunters is here,” Ghostbur whispered, hunching in on himself to make himself smaller.

“From Egoton?” Marvin tried to look around the shelf and saw someone in a dark cloak talking to the person behind the register.

“Fook,”[1] Marvin magicked his mask into his hands and put it on. “I’m supposed ta[6] be on leave, stay back here and[5] stay down.”

“Okay,” Ghostbur nodded nervously.

Marvin braced to start casting spells as he walked out. “Well, this is a shite meetin’. The fook yeh doin’ so far from home?”[7]

The hunter turned and pulled down their hood, revealing themself to be the Grandmaster’s second-in-command, “I thought I detected your aura close by.”

“Why don’t we take this outside?” Marvin snarled. “Leave the nice human out ‘a[8] this?”

“Of course, of course,” Taylor promised, and began to back out. Marvin rushed to pay for his things and handed the bags to Ghostbur, who was ordered to stay back in the shop as Marvin stepped out. People were definitely starting to recognize who he was now.

“Yeh need ta turn back around an’ head back o’er ta Egoton, before this fight gets nasty,”[9] Marvin warned. “Not on the clock, supposed ta[6] be headed back home.”

“I would have left you be, but I need help,” the hunter said.

“That’s what the rest ‘a yer Guild is fer,”[10] Marvin spat.

“The Guildmaster is planning another attack on Egoton, but she’s got help,” Taylor told him quickly. “I’ve tried everything to stop her, but she’s only doubling down, all she cares about is killing demons.”

“Why haven’t yeh[2] told the other heroes?” Marvin demanded.

“Are you kidding me?” They spat. “Spade would kill me. Besides, the Host didn’t let me even get close. I’m being watched by the Guildmaster’s favorite hunters. I only just managed to lose them.”

“What are they gonna[11] do?” Marvin demanded.

“The Guildmaster has been talking with the CIA and some showboat freak that’s got a vendetta against the Entity. He passed all the tests as a human but there’s no way that thing is human.” Taylor wasn’t meeting his eyes and they looked pissed. “I think his name is Mark or Marcus.”

Something triggered in the back of Marvin’s memory. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard something in passing but he could have sworn he knew what person the hunter was talking about, but his mind couldn’t conjure a message.

Either way, the demon hunters team with a dangerous personal enemy of Dark’s and the government was a bad idea.

“Shit!” Taylor spat, looking back and pulling out a staff from their robe. “No!”

Marvin looked around, expecting to see more Hunter walking over to him, but he only saw Ghostbur fall out of the little convenience store’s door. He was desperately trying to be discreet and failing.

“Wait, he’s with me,” Marvin got in between the hunter and Ghostbur, readying his cards to defend him.

“With you?” Taylor balked. “Are you insane? Do you know who that is?”

“I work with a guy who’s sleepin’[12] with a mob boss behind my back, an’[5] a demon kid who talks ta[6] squirrels.” Marvin could already feel his blood pressure rising again. “Don’t talk ta me about knowin’ who people are, ‘cause I don’t, an’ I think you do either.”[13]

Ghostbur began getting close but was clearly nervous. Marvin looked at the people watching them and Marvin decided, “Maybe we should get outta[14] here.”

Taylor looked around and threw down a smoke bomb, letting Marvin get into the rental car with Ghostbur and the hunter and driving away, which was immediately tense because Ghostbur was obviously nervous. She was sitting in the back of the car.

Ghostbur was turned around his his seat, looking sadly at her, “I’m sorry if old me ever hurt you in the past. I can’t remember if we’ve ever met.”

“What are you playing at?” The hunter snapped.

“I’ve had really bad memory since I discorporated,” Ghostbur ducked behind the chair. “I know I was a terrible person but I don’t remember you.”

“We never met,” Taylor told him and Ghostbur visibly calmed down.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Ghostbur sighed and turned around. “Have you met Friend? He’s quite lovely.”

“Don’t summon yer[15] sheep inta[16] my car,” Marvin told her, he knew he shouldn’t be driving to his Mom’s house but he knew that if he didn’t visit her after telling her he was coming back to town and didn’t visit her he would be in trouble. She would find him and that was the last thing he wanted. Besides, he could probably keep the hunter in the car. He glanced at the hunter in the rearview mirror. “So yeh’ve ne’er met Ghostbur, but yeh know who he is?”[17]

“Their entire pact has titles,” Taylor told him. “Philza the Angel of Death, Techno the Blade, Lady Death, Wilbur the Sootling, and Tommy the Child Soldier.”

Marvin thought back to Tommy, laughing and joking around with Ethan and Tubbo. He’d seen Phil and Techno, knew they were dangerous, but he could only imagine the kinds of things Tommy had been through before meeting him in an almost empty sheep field with Ghostbur.

“I’m Ghostbur,” Ghostbur corrected, trying to hide behind the seat again. “Wilbur is dead.”

“Is that so?” The hunter demanded. “Why would the Angel of Death allow that?”

Ghostbur fell quiet, and Marvin verbally moved in to save him. “Hey, I’m gonna[11] call the heroes before I lose all my service out in the middle ‘a[8] fookin’[18] nowhere.”

Before the hunter could argue, Marvin was already speed dialing Chase.

It took a couple rings before Chase actually picked up and Marvin could tell there was someone else talking to him but over the hum of the car on the road there was no way to tell if it was Dark or Jackie.

“Yeh[2] good?” Chase asked.

“Wish I was,” Marvin told him. “The demon hunters are plannin’[19] an attack on the city next week.”

“What?” Chase demanded in shock and someone on the other line was talking to Chase. “Is it on Friday?”

Shit! Marvin thought and his eyes darted back at Taylor and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “Is it on Friday?”

“Yeah, why?” Taylor asked.

“Shite, that’s the wedding,” Marvin hissed, then shouted back at the phone, “Yes!”

“Fook!”[1] Chase spat. Then Chase leaned away from the phone. “The fook yeh wanna do?”[20]

More muffled speaking followed.

“That . . .” Chase cut off, leaving Marvin unsure if he stopped talking or Marvin just couldn’t hear his rebuttal. But it let Marvin narrow down who Chase was probably with and talking to. “Look, Marv, I’ll call yeh back later. Gotta talk ta Dark about this.”[21]

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Marvin said, “take care ‘a yerself, ‘kay?”[22]

“Yeah,” Chase hung up, leaving the car in silence.

“What happens on Friday?” Taylor leaned forward closer to the driver’s seat.

“There’s a wedding, one ‘a Dark’s sons an’ one ‘a our aged out apprentices is gettin’ married next week, an’ this is too coincidental,”[23] Marvin explained.

“Is that what the event is?” Taylor realized. “We were told there was some big festival or gathering.”

“Nothing bad ever happens at a festival,” Ghostbur mumbled blankly, as if recalling some past, bad memory.

“Okay, okay, we’re comin’ up ta my stop, I gotta talk ta someone an’ then we can come up with a plan,”[24] Marvin told his passengers.

“Alright,” the hunter seemed to calm down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. Fuck

2. you

3. I’m trying to get away from the heroes. Not bring it with me.

4. You sure Tommy won’t mind you being here with me instead of with him?

5. And

6. to

7. Well, this is a shit meeting. The fuck are you doing so far from home?

8. of

9. You need to turn back around and head back over to Egoton, before this fight gets nasty

10. That’s what the rest of your Guild is for,

11. going to

12. sleeping

13. Don’t talk to me about knowing who people are, because I don’t, and I think you do either.

14. out of

15. your

16. into

17. So you’ve never met Ghostbur, but you know who he is?

18. fucking

19. planning

20. The fuck you want to do?

21. Look, Marv, I’ll call you back later. Got to talk to Dark about this.

22. take care of yourself, okay?

23. There’s a wedding, one of Dark’s sons and one of our graduated apprentices is getting married next week, and this is too coincidental

24. Okay, okay, we’re coming up to my stop, I have talk ta someone and then we can come up with a plan

#superhero au #Masks and Maladies #dream smp #footnotes #marvin the magnificent #ghostbur #magic #magic man denied his rightful vacation

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todisturbtheuniverse · 4 years ago

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FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [8/9]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 5000 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one. Chapter-specific note: All of the remaining chapters are up on AO3; they’ll be posted more slowly here on tumblr so as not to clog your dashboards.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

"She's late," Bull said.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "You don't say."

Cassandra, ignoring them both, continued to look toward the village through her spyglass. Josephine watched her, hands clammy. They were all awfully comfortable with the idea that something had already gone wrong. Perhaps from long practice.

Josephine, unfortunately, wasn't practiced at all.

Cassandra lowered the spyglass. "That's the last of them."

"Really," Bull said, doubtfully. "All of 'em in the tavern?"

"Or standing around outside it." She tucked the spyglass into her belt. "Ten, all told. A few in older gear, but otherwise well-equipped."

"I'd've left some men out in the field. They have enough to spare for that. Catch us off-guard when we're in the middle of cracking heads."

"I believe they hope that if they are all in one place, you can be prevented from doing that," Dorian said dryly.

"We'll see how that works out for them."

"No change to the plan, then," Josephine broke in.

They all looked to her, as if they'd forgotten she was there. Fair enough. She wasn't usually here when they did this kind of thing. And after this experience, she hoped she never would be again.

"If she wasn't fast enough to observe without being made, none of us are," Bull said. "So either she's injured or worse, and we need to ride to the rescue sooner rather than later—"

"Bull," Dorian said, not exasperated now, but sharp. Maybe Josephine's face had given away something of how she felt about this hypothetical scenario.

"—or she's just tied up, and we might as well get on with it," Bull went on, perfectly even. "We're not going to figure out more about these people by standing out here with our thumbs up our asses."

Dorian glared at Bull. "If they've gone to the trouble of luring her here, she's probably the picture of—"

"She'd rather know the score than listen to me lie," Bull interrupted.

"We don't gain anything by waiting," Cassandra said, taking over. "She is very good with those daggers, but not good enough to handle a dozen opponents at once."

"She lacks the reach," Bull agreed.

Josephine looked to Cassandra again, who looked back at her, frowning. "They're not Red Templars," she said, not reassuring—that was not Cassandra's forte—but simply conveying facts. "I'm certain of that much. Well-outfitted, but no identifying regalia."

"Professionals, then," Bull said. "Not hungry folk."

"I just imagined I would know more about them than that when I walked into this negotiation," Josephine said.

"We always knew that we would have limited information," Cassandra pointed out. "Besides, you have worked miracles before. I have watched you change the mood at many a meeting in a single blink."

"To you, it may certainly seem that way. There is a lot of groundwork before we reach that point." Josephine took a deep breath. "And the stakes here are higher."

"Nah," Bull said. "Just think—usually we have to do this part without you."

Dorian looked torn between outrage and amusement. "You are creating more and more problems for future Adaar, you know."

"She can handle it," Bull said easily, and winked at Josephine. Well, maybe he just blinked. It was hard to tell.

"Very well," Josephine said, ignoring all of this regardless. "Let's waste no more time."

They took the wagon-rutted road on foot, leaving the horses tied at the turnstile that marked the highway. Josephine took the opportunity, as they walked, to unwind the chain of office that had been packed carefully away in her saddlebags and don it again.

"If they are as well-researched as they seem," she said, to Cassandra's questioning look, "then best they know who they're dealing with from the outset."

Cassandra's mouth twitched toward a smile. "They may be so distracted by the idea of all the money they don't know that we don't have that it will all be over before opening remarks."

"You would like that," Josephine said mildly. "Given your distaste for wasting time."

"Mmm," Cassandra said, noncommittal, but still she smiled. She hadn't drawn her sword, but her hand rested on the pommel; she watched the fields, eyes seeking any sign of movement.

Josephine spoke more quietly this time. "Do you think she really could be injured?"

Cassandra's gaze flicked to her, just for a moment. She hesitated before answering. "Yes. Anything is possible. If this is a hopeful grab for money, though, they would be stupid to seriously wound her." She let out a barely-audible sigh. "As long as she keeps her mouth shut. But if these people know her...if they wish to harm her because of some personal vendetta...well, she is resilient. She will recover."

Adaar had once told Josephine a story too terrible to be false. Now she had a hard time forgetting it, the images it had evoked: the close cellar, the tortured sawing of blade against horn, the just-in-time arrival of the Valo-kas.

She'd promised Adaar that no one would do that to her, ever again. She hoped that she was not too late.

"And if it's worse?" Josephine asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"She would fight," Cassandra said easily. "To her dying breath. We would already have heard the ruckus." She paused, considering. "And if she got the opportunity, she would run."

Josephine held onto that through the long walk down into the valley, where the light from the Dancing Star still gleamed, brighter and brighter, resolving clearly now into firelight, not a star at all. The others didn't talk much, either, all preparing in their own way: Cassandra, steadily alert; Bull, whistling a low tune; Dorian, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his staff; and Josephine, combing over the possibilities, trying to think of what she'd missed, trying to guess at every angle this adversary might arrive from.

Five mercenaries stood just outside the tavern building, bright with nervous energy. They perked up when they saw the group. "Nice of you to finally join us," one of them—a lean woman with her hair braided tightly out of the way—called out. "No funny business means no mages." She pointed at Dorian. "Give up your staff."

"Of course, good woman." Without any apparent hesitation, Dorian threw the stick at her, maybe a touch harder than necessary. She fumbled the catch a little.

"Boss wants to talk to someone agreeable," she said. She leaned the staff against the wall behind her. "Amenable, like. Just one."

Some might call the diplomats, merchants, and nobles Josephine dealt with mercenary, but she had rarely dealt with actual mercenaries. Still, they were just people, in the end. People she wanted something from, who wanted something from her.

So she had gotten through many moments like this. She had just not been bargaining for her heart, then.

But her head took over. Like Adaar's long years of practice with a blade, Josephine had honed her craft until it was muscle memory, until it was second nature. She did not hesitate.

"Lady Josephine Montilyet," she said, stepping forward. She did not curtsy. "Chief Diplomat of the Inquisition. I believe that I will serve." Before they could get halfway through their uneasy looks to one another—maybe they hadn't bargained on quite so high an officer—she pressed ruthlessly on. "I must insist, however, that I bring some protection to the table. Cassandra will accompany me."

This was important; they would have a hard time inside, at the crucial moment, if only Adaar and Josephine were on hand to deal with the number Cassandra had marked going into the tavern—or, worse, if Adaar wasn't in there at all.

The woman said, "Boss said just one."

Josephine smiled, unthreatening, polite. "Two is not so different than one. We come in good faith; our mage has already surrendered his weapon; this is the nature of compromise."

With a scowl, the woman flung open the door to the tavern. Josephine heard the murmur of conversation through the thin walls. She listened with half an ear in case the words became discernible while she observed the others.

One of the men, standing a few feet to the right of the tavern door, had paled. His eyes flicked from Josephine's chain of office to the tall, tall points of Bull's horns. His armor was older than the rest, not as well-fitted or well-maintained. The mercenary standing beside him wore a similar outfit, but his jaw was set. He did not look at their group at all.

The woman reappeared, a sour twist to her mouth. "You two, go in." She gestured to Josephine and Cassandra. "You two, stay put." She pointed at Bull and Dorian. Bull made a display of scratching his belly and yawning.

"Thank you," Josephine said pleasantly, and led the way into the tavern.

It had been mostly cleared. There were a handful of small tables in front of the hearth, where three of the mercenaries stood; one of them broke off, following Josephine and Cassandra to the table that stood apart from the rest, where one man sat.

Adaar was on the ground behind him.

She still catalogued the rest of the room, took in all the information she could: a third mercenary near the hearth with lopsided leather armor; the old man behind the bar on the wall opposite, shoulders hunched, watching the room from beneath a furrowed brow; the man at the table, tossing one of Adaar's daggers idly as he watched them approach.

But she spared a heartbeat for Adaar, to feel the relief that she was alive, even if she couldn't allow it to show on her face.

Adaar knelt on the tavern floor, a mercenary to either side of her, their weapons already drawn, guarding. The neutral expression on her face spoke to how deeply annoyed she really was; Josephine had seen it now and then, when a visitor to Skyhold got too pushy with their demands. But her dark eyes met Josephine's, and they were steady, unafraid. There was a suspicious red shininess around one of her eyes, but she appeared otherwise unharmed.

They'd bound her hands behind her back, a problem she was likely already working on, especially now that the mercenaries were distracted by newcomers. Josephine would need to buy her time.

"Ah," Adaar said, breaking the silence. "The cavalry."

"Shut up," the man at the table said, eyeing Cassandra. "Moiraine failed to mention that your bodyguard is the bloody Hero of Orlais."

"I assure you," Cassandra said, in a tone that no one would have believed, "tales of my exploits have been greatly exaggerated."

It would be best to remove attention from her, immediately. "I don't think it's unreasonable to enlist such a chaperone," Josephine said, "considering the number of soldiers you have in this room."

Six, by her count. Just one more than Cassandra had marked. Bull and Dorian would have their hands full outside once it all began, and in these quarters, she would have a hard time keeping out of the way. It was several feet to the bar counter; she wondered if she would be fast enough to dive behind it before the mercenary standing behind her could act.

She sat. The man at the table still held one of Adaar's daggers, though he'd stopped tossing it. The other lay on the table in front of him like a trophy. She heard the mercenary behind her settle into position—no weapon drawn, and within reach of Cassandra, but the casual threat was clear.

"I assume your lieutenant already introduced me," she said. The man across from her glanced at her chain of office, as if in acknowledgment. "Who do I have the pleasure of dealing with?"

He sneered. "Ellis Koster," he replied. "Of Koster's Carvers."

The company name didn't give Josephine much confidence, but she pressed on. "I wish we'd made this acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances, but we must make the best of what we have." She folded her hands on the table in front of her. "So, to business: what do you want?"

He pulled a folded slip of paper from his breastplate, placed it on the table, and slid it across to Josephine under the point of his forefinger. There was a smug look about his face, every movement slow and exaggerated, as if he'd always dreamed of doing it—holding all the power, dictating to others.

She had been afraid, waiting for Adaar's return, realizing she wasn't coming. But now—now, seeing this foul man put a price on the head of the woman she loved, seeing him crush it beneath his insignificant finger, she was angry. She was furious.

She took the paper, unfolded it, and read the sum with a carefully schooled expression. Even had she been seriously considering the ransom, it was a preposterous amount. No one could be under any illusions that the Inquisition had such deep coffers.

She adjusted her understanding of his intelligence.

"What offense has the Inquisitor made against you to make such an amount appropriate?" she asked, looking up again.

A little surprise tugged at his features. "Against me, personally? None."

"Then I find it hard to believe that you demand this payment seriously," Josephine said, setting the folded paper delicately on the table.

"This ain't a court, Ambassador. I've got something you want; you've got something I want. I baited a trap, and this is the tax you pay to get out of it."

"I see," Josephine said. "Well, then I think you know that this is far too much to demand for one person."

A little of the lurid anticipation fell from his face. "That so."

She did not elaborate; she simply waited, keeping all eyes on her. She had learned early in her career that silence was a powerful weapon. Even now, she saw it doing its insidious work: sowing doubt, planting second thoughts—not just in Koster, but in his thugs.

One, in particular. The woman by the hearth with the ill-fitting armor. The rest of them showed discomfort in other ways, in a hardening of the brow, a shifting of weight, but this one had panic in the twist of her mouth, in the nervous flex of her fingers.

The barkeep, by contrast, had stilled. He glared—not at Koster, Josephine, or Adaar, but at the nervous woman across the room.

Interesting.

"Because it seems to me," Koster said, breaking the silence, "that there's not much of an Inquisition without an Inquisitor."

Josephine felt the flush of a minor victory. He hadn't been able to outlast her, and now, whether he understood it or not, she had reclaimed some of the power he had tried to hold over her.

"The Rift is closed," Josephine said, choosing her tone carefully. Bored, relaying outdated facts. Her attention already turned to other, more serious things. "The days of paying off common thugs so that we can retain the Inquisitor's services are past. There is the matter of Corypheus, certainly, but we will be able to make do, I believe. After all," she gestured to Cassandra, "we are among esteemed company."

She sat back, physically signalling her disengagement, ignoring the discomfort of putting herself any nearer to the thug behind her. Adaar was no longer looking at her, she saw; she was instead focused on the mercenary by the hearth, the woman the barkeep was glaring at. She avoided Adaar's eyes. Her hands had curled into fists.

The barkeep knew this woman, Josephine realized. And so did Adaar.

"That's too bad," Koster said, drawing her attention back to him. "Too bad for you, I mean."

Josephine tilted her head to the side, as if vaguely curious. "Oh? How so?"

He put the dagger down on the table and leaned forward. "You can't imagine I'll let you leave, Ambassador, if you don't give me what I want. The next person to sit in that chair might be more interested in playing ball if we have half your war table in our cellars."

Josephine allowed a beat of silence, and then she brought a hand to her mouth to cover an amused laugh.

"By all means, Messere," she said, twisting the honorific into a taunt. "Show us to our accommodations. We will see who decides to negotiate with you next. For your sake, I do hope Nightingale does not take an interest."

Finally, he betrayed a twitch of unease. She'd guessed correctly; his mercenaries had recognized her, and he had recognized Cassandra. Not a small leap to imagine he'd heard of Leliana—and some of her less savory methods of doing business.

Sometimes it was good to have questionable friends.

"Perhaps it's time for us to move on, then," Koster said, staring Josephine down. "We'll take what we need from these fine people and make ourselves scarce." He had an ugly, unkind grin. "Wouldn't do to leave anyone to tattle on us, though, would it?"

"You said no one would get hurt!" a new, shaking voice broke in.

Josephine judged it acceptable to look toward the woman. She'd taken a step forward from the hearth; the other mercenary, a few feet away from her, put his hand on the pommel of his sword, frowning.

"Vilya," Adaar said, her voice low, "don't—"

"I told you to shut up," Koster snapped over his shoulder. He pointed at Vilya. "And you—"

The situation was rapidly escalating out of her control, but Josephine had bought enough time. Adaar's gaze swept the room, cataloguing and assessing, muscles tensed on the verge of movement. She was ready.

Josephine caught Cassandra's eye and gave the tiniest of nods, one that Koster, distracted by a room of unraveling threads, wouldn't notice. Cassandra's sword made a magnificent, ominous sound as she pulled it from the sheath. All eyes went to her.

In that moment, Adaar was meant to act. Josephine was meant to dive for cover.

But Josephine wanted more than to cower in a corner while others took care of this creature. He had made it necessary to say untrue things, words that had left such a sour taste in her mouth. She would play a small part more in his demise.

She snatched up Adaar's daggers.

"Catch!" she called, and threw the blades to Adaar.

Adaar was already moving. She had one foot planted on the floor beneath her; her hands, trailing snapped rope, reached up to pluck the clumsily-thrown daggers from midair. Her rise was graceful, effortless, and as she straightened to a height taller than either mercenary flanking her, she left a dagger in each of their chests. She never took her eyes from Josephine.

"Duck," she replied.

The room erupted. Josephine scrambled under the negotiation table. She heard the whistle of a near miss above her; the mercenary standing guard over her had acted, but too late. Only a second later, his body thudded to the ground behind her. Cassandra's sword had found an opening.

Three down, she thought, pulling her knees tight to her chest, so as to present the smallest possible target.

From her vantage point, she couldn't see much. She saw Koster's boots and Adaar's bare feet, moving, in and out, back and forth; she heard the snarls of his rage and Adaar's eerie silence. When she dared glance over to her right, she saw Cassandra's greaves, the occasional flash as the firelight reflected off her sword—and her opponent's. She kept him crowded near the hearth, blocking his path to his commander.

Vilya's was the only face Josephine could see. She'd backed into the far corner, huddled on the ground behind the tables and chairs.

Josephine returned her attention to the fight in front of her. She stared at the light way Adaar's feet moved across the dirty floorboards. Her footing was so sure, so graceful. Koster lunged and hacked, and Adaar, without the benefit of armor or boots, moved fluidly out of his way—and yet, at the same time, closer. Trying to get inside the reach of his weapon. There was a yelp—she'd made contact—and then an angry bellow; her points made, Adaar slipped out of reach.

But Koster was not ready to give up. Josephine had hoped that the blood now dotting the floor would slow him down; instead, he stopped swinging so wildly, waited, focused. She heard him give a mean, breathless laugh, and her blood ran cold.

"I've heard tales of your skill," he said. "Glad you measured up to the challenge. But someone got the better of you once. Maybe I'll take the other horn, as a trophy."

Adaar didn't rise to the bait. Josephine had seen her temper, secret, boiling. But she directed it as she liked; it did not direct her.

Josephine could hear the smile in her voice. "I've been saying for years that I'm just not symmetrical anymore."

The battle rejoined. Their feet moved faster now, the movements so quick they left Josephine breathless. She clenched her fists and watched, not daring to blink.

Now and then, she saw the length of Koster's sword, just barely sweeping into view. It was after one such upswing that she heard a dull, sickening thud.

Adaar had frozen in place, her stance unbalanced, wobbling. Koster gave another nasty laugh. Josephine tossed a panicked look toward Cassandra, but she was still occupied with the other mercenary.

She cast around frantically for a weapon, found her guard's fallen sword, and snatched it up. Then she crawled toward the fight, the scene coming into view as she peered out from beneath the table.

Koster's sword was stuck in Adaar's horn. Josephine's heart seized, but Adaar was smirking, and after a second's panic, Josephine understood why: the sword was truly stuck, about a third of the blade's width trapped in the horn. Koster pulled and pulled at it, the look on his face transforming from triumph to concern, and Adaar only turned her head in a way that made pulling it free harder.

"Sorry, is the angle bad?" Adaar asked, all innocence.

The next time he pulled, she pulled too, away from his sword. The sudden release of the blade threw him off-balance; he caught himself on the backfoot, but not fast enough. Adaar had used the moment to move in, lightning-quick, daggers extended. She crashed into him, toppling them both to the floor.

For a long, terrifying moment, they both lay still. Josephine could not move, could not breathe—

Then Adaar, with a hard exhale, rolled off Koster's body. The hilts of her two daggers stuck up from his torso. One had left his breastplate askew, no longer protecting his ribs; Adaar must have cut the leather fasteners that held front to back, at his sides, on an earlier pass.

The other, she'd left in his neck. Blood was still pumping from that wound, though sluggishly. Josephine's stomach turned, but she ignored it. She scrambled out from beneath the table, around Koster's body, and to Adaar, who still lay on her back, breathing heavily, mouth twisted in a grimace of pain.

Closer now, without a sword in the way, Josephine saw why. Koster's sword had clipped the pointed tip of Adaar's ear in its doomed arc toward her horn; the wound was still bleeding.

"I don't think he understood symmetry," Adaar said, fumbling to feel at her ear. She smiled at Josephine. "Were you going to duel him?"

Josephine stared at her, uncomprehending, then remembered the sword in her hand; with a noise of disgust, she tossed it away with a clatter. She caught Adaar's hand instead, pulling it away from the wound.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Josephine tensed, but then Cassandra asked, "Are you well?"

"Fine," Adaar said. "Thanks for the rescue."

Cassandra snorted. "What will we do with this one?"

Josephine turned. Cassandra held Vilya by the shoulder. The woman stared at the ground. The other mercenary lay dead on the floor beside the hearth.

"Herah," a reedy voice said—the barkeep, shuffling toward them with the aid of a walking stick. "I mean, Your Worship—"

"Don't start with the holiness stuff, Hammond." Adaar sat up with a grunt, holding fast to Josephine's hand. "Please."

"Well." Hammond cleared his throat. "You're not going to hurt her, are you? She's been awfully stupid, but...she didn't fight."

Adaar looked at Vilya and sighed. "I don't want to. But I do want to know what's going on. What happened, Vilya?"

For a moment, Josephine was sure that Vilya would keep quiet—but then she spoke, low and fast, not looking up from the ground. "Trade's been bad. Crops didn't do well this year. Everybody says the war's coming this way, if we don't starve to death first, and when Koster came along, he said he could help us. Get the Inquisition to protect us."

"You knew he was going to lure me here," Adaar said.

"He made it sound so easy! Made it sound like you'd just pay up and be on your way. He said you wouldn't miss it. And the Inquisition wouldn't leave us vulnerable again, after that." Her voice was thick with tears. Josephine felt a pang of sympathy. Here were their desperate folk, driven to desperate things.

"Who else?" Adaar asked.

"Just Cossus and Herbert. I swear."

"They came in one night with those Carvers," Hammond said, "leading the way. No one in town's spoken to them since. They've been sleeping here." He shot a look at Vilya. "Not by my choice."

Adaar rubbed her unbloodied hand over her forehead. "Well, Vilya," she said, "you—and Cossus and Herbert, assuming they were smart enough to surrender—have two options, the way I see it. You can beg your families' forgiveness, work off your guilt here. Or, if you really want the protection of the Inquisition, you can work for it."

Vilya finally looked up. She swiped at her eyes with a fist. "Can we...can we think about it?"

"Think fast. I'm not staying long." Adaar nodded to Cassandra. "See if Bull and Dorian need help. And keep an eye on her and her friends until someone else can."

"Come," Cassandra said to Vilya, pushing at her shoulder.

"Herah," Vilya said, still tearful. Now that she'd looked up, her eyes were fixed on the blood streaking down Adaar's cheek, down her neck. "I'm—"

Adaar waved her off. "Don't say it til you mean it."

Cassandra prodded Vilya along to the door. When it opened, noise poured in: Bull in the midst of a lecture on company ethics; fire crackling beneath the occasional yelp. The door swung shut again, muffling the sound.

Adaar let out another deep, bone-weary sigh. "Sorry about the mess, Hammond."

The barkeep scoffed. "We'll set Vilya and her friends to scrubbing. The blood'll be out in no time, or we'll have them laying a new floor. I'll get you a rag for that bleeding."

"My bag—"

"They took it downstairs. I'll fetch that, too."

Hammond shuffled off behind the bar. Josephine waited until his footsteps had faded, and then she asked, quietly, "Are you all right?"

"Could have been better," Adaar said. "Could have been worse."

"That does not answer my question."

Adaar met her gaze. "I don't think I can leave this place unguarded. There are other Kosters out there." She shook her head. "And other Vilyas. I'm sorry. I know we're stretched thin."

Josephine brought her other hand to cover Adaar's and squeezed. "We will make do."

Adaar's lips quirked up on one side in a tiny, crooked smile. "You know, when you say that, no matter how impossible the task seems, I believe you. Especially after that display." Her eyes danced. "It's a pleasure to watch you work."

"Oh, that man was insufferable," Josephine said darkly. "I could have carried on for another quarter-hour and still found more ego to chip away at!"

Adaar laughed. The sound, bright and joyful, was infectious; Josephine found herself laughing, too, on the verge of hysteria, all her relief pouring out in a flood.

"That business with the little piece of paper," Adaar choked out, between gasps, "can you believe…"

"You didn't see his face," Josephine said, wiping at her eyes. "He was so sure—"

"You showed him."

"No, my dear, I think you showed him, in the end."

Adaar pulled her hand free from Josephine's grasp, but only to reach out, to sweep Josephine fully against her as their laughter died down to chuckles and hiccups. Josephine wound her arms around Adaar in return, pressing close to her welcome, living warmth, savoring it.

"You shouldn't have grabbed the daggers," Adaar admonished.

"You shouldn't have gotten caught!"

Adaar let out another chuckle. The sound rumbled pleasantly beneath Josephine's cheek. "Fine. We're even."

Adaar pulled back, just enough to look down at her. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind Josephine's ear.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Josephine's heart leapt. Gone were her old doubts; she recognized the intent in that look, the affection, and leaned a little closer—

"We can put you all up in some of the rooms, Herah," Hammond said, and they both jumped. He hoisted Adaar's pack up onto the bar counter and brandished a wet rag. "You'd better get that wound seen to."

"Right," Adaar said, and with a rueful smile at Josephine, she gently pulled away and got to her feet. She offered a hand to help Josephine up. "Getting blood everywhere."

"You ought to stay," Hammond continued. "For a few days, at least. People'll be happy to see you. You take your sweet time between visits."

"Yes, I was a little preoccupied with the giant hole in the sky for a while—"

"You been Inquisitor for ten years?" Hammond interrupted.

Adaar stared for a moment, then shook her head. "No, messere," she said, much more meekly.

"I thought not. Now, you get yourself cleaned up, and we'll have a proper homecoming." He made for the front door of the tavern. As the door swung shut, Josephine heard him barking names.

"You hear that old codger?" Adaar asked wonderingly. "I lose a piece of my ear, and he wants to have a party."

Josephine tried very hard not to burst out laughing again. She almost succeeded.

#josephine montilyet #inquisitor adaar #f!adaar x josephine #f!adaar/josephine #dragon age #inquisition #friends to lovers #class differences #mutual pining #developing relationship #universe writes

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miaouerie · 4 years ago

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[coda] a pyrrhic victory/an elpidian daydream

this coda marks my first multichapter fic wrapped up and completed!!! so here’s some more related ramblings as a way for me to commemorate this milestone n___n

with the nonlinear narrative I thought I’d include a linked timeline for the chapters in case anyone (like me lol) wants to read the story in chronological order. then there’s some further explanation of what I’ve dubbed ~the jeron’s death conspiracy~ and notes from characterization I wasn’t able to include directly in the story, but were still important regardless...

furthermore, I want to thank @ninelanterns, @atthelamppost, and @sadieandor for following along with this story, as well as anyone else who came along for the adventure. this is definitely a darkfic as far as rebelcaptain goes but I hope that both endings were satisfying in their own ways !!

1. an actual chronological table of contents

Before Cassian is reaped:

day 15

Cassian’s time in the Games:

days 2, 9, 5, 18

What came after that:

days 6, 7, 11, 13, 14, 22, 26◆

Jeron dies:

days 20, 8, 25

Jyn is reaped and Cassian mentors her:

days 1, 3, 4, 12, 10, 16, 17◆, 19◆, 21, 23, 24, 27, 28, 29, 30

After Jyn wins her Games:

bonus chapter, day 31

◆ = chapters that are about trauma concurrent to most of the story, and loosely placed chronologically

2. the Jeron conspiracy

I decided to do a summary for this because I changed my plan slightly after posting day 8: “don’t say goodbye”/abandoned due to some inspiration from @ninelanterns; originally I was going to have snow have cassian brainwashed into genuinely believing that irga and his father were killed by someone with a grudge against them and the capitol (aka someone closely related to a tribute who died under their mentorship) in order to use him as a mouthpiece against those plotting against the capitol; the angst would’ve been from him finding out the truth and hating that his dad’s suicide was used for the capitol’s means. but then I got the idea to have snow brainwash cassian into believing that the “accident” his father and irga died in was actually his fault, because he told jeron the truth of what snow was doing to him in the capitol:

Snow sells Cassian “under the table” until he turns 19, which is when he has Cassian adopt a new persona that can be better capitalized on. Jeron realizes that Cassian’s faking it, suspects that Cassian has been hiding his victimhood this entire time, and when he confirms it realizes there’s no other way to get Cassian out of it; Snow certainly won’t let him sub in to mentor. Suicide is his solution to both Cassian’s problem and his guilt over not being able to protect his son.

Snow has Irga killed in the same way that Jeron kills himself to let Cassian and Lila know that Snow knows it was a suicide. Suicide is the ultimate refutation of Snow’s power—as well as the complete antithesis to any victor’s innate clinging to survival—so Snow has it covered up: Cassian, as one of two people to know the truth about Jeron’s suicide and Irga’s death, is tortured and brainwashed into believing that Jeron and Irga were killed in a power plant explosion as retribution for him disobeying Snow. Doing so serves two purposes: installing the cover-up and guarantees Cassian’s submission.

Before his death Jeron wrote a suicide note, knowing that he couldn’t kill himself and leave Cassian without an explanation. He knows that Snow will have their house stripped and searched, so he hides the note in what was designated to be Cassian’s house. He couldn’t have known it would be the one thing that would break through the brainwashing; if Cassian hadn’t found it, he would have continued to believe that it was all his fault.

Draven does his own investigation into Jeron and Irga’s deaths after witnessing the whiplash that was Cassian’s first three years as an unwilling victor whore, his outrageous personality flip after turning ninteen, and how his demeanor changed after undergoing “therapy” to cope with Jeron’s death. He finds out that Jeron’s death was a suicide, Irga’s death was retribution, and that Snow has an entire program to monetize and exploit victors after their Games.

3. getting from day 1 to 31?!

when I originally thought of this AU it was more about the angst that growing up in the limelight of the capitol as the son of a victor would be like, with constant camera crews as cassian was growing up, betting pools on when he was going to be reaped, etc. and more of an emphasis on the issues that cassian (as part of the pseudo-celebrity class that victors occupy in the capitol) would have trying to promote this fake relationship with jyn during the games to save her. there was also going to be a straight downer ending, with the closing scene being cassian telling jyn that they have to fake a relationship now in front of the cameras and jyn having a “what have you done?” moment

I deliberately did not go in depth with what jeron’s life as a victor was like, partly because plotting both jyn and cassian’s hunger games was already a Lot (I found out pretty quickly that you have to start with planning the arena first, in order to plan tribute deaths and sponsor gifts...) but jeron was an underdog winner, as are most of the victors from non-career districts. lila was pregnant around the time that jeron was reaped and esperanza, their first child, was born some time before jeron’s victory tour. snow had their daughter killed because of something jeron did/didn’t do on the tour; even though jeron and lila are shaken from the loss they agree to be open to having another child, provided that jeron doesn’t do anything to put the child at risk ever again.... but cassian would’ve gotten reaped regardless because there is no way snow wouldn’t have exploited the family drama!!! but cassian’s reaping creates a rift that is referenced in day 15: accidents. and even though jeron is successful in saving cassian that isn’t the end of it; while lila isn’t privy to what cassian is going through she can feel a marked difference each year he comes back in the way that mothers do, as well as the tension between father and son (cassian’s fear of jeron finding out as he’s dragged deeper and deeper vs. jeron’s suspicion that something wrong is happening that has to do with cassian), which all culminates in the year that cassian turns nineteen with jeron’s death. when her husband arrived in district 5 before cassian did he didn’t tell lila about their son being a horndog in the capitol, but lila seeing cassian after he finally gets back five weeks later confirms her worst fears. then she’s the one that discovers jeron’s body and is present when the peacekeepers come to take cassian back to the capitol. her son is gone for a month....... then when he comes back he’s spouting lies about jeron’s death even though both of them saw the body??? yeah, that’s why she nopes on out of victors’ village. after jeron’s death her and cassian don’t see each other for four years until cassian brings jyn home from the games

jyn’s backstory came together quickly but I had considered having bodhi be one of the tributes who died under cassian’s mentorship. bodhi and jyn would’ve been close friends so jyn would have already had that vendetta against cassian; it would’ve made hitting that original ending easier but having jyn be against cassian from the very start would’ve made it less plausible that they could earn each other’s trust before the start of jyn’s games............. while I wanted this story to be dark and depressing I still wanted it to have a reciprocated rebelcaptain end game, so :’)

it wasn’t until day 28 (the cassian/finnick noncon) that I got an idea for a not-so-horrible ending, and I blame the completely depressingly hopeless whump in that chapter for making me think “hmm maybe this shouldn’t end terribly” :’D btw, if anyone noticed I forgot annie cresta is in canon the 70th hunger games victor. for someone who’s neurotic about looking up details I have no idea how this fact escaped me because I didn’t notice until at least halfway through whumptober, so we’ll just say in this AU she’s the 71st victor. this weaves in nicely with my headcanon that after snow saw how easily cassian was manipulated when someone he loved was on the line, he had annie reaped to exert more control over finnick (which happens to be my favorite kind of odesta fic tbh). anyway after writing 3k of depressing andair (andor/odair ship name? ok i’m shutting up) cassian/finnick I had a lovely mental image of cassian and jyn cuddling on the train back home to district 5, relieved and alive, and thought that would be a more uplifting note to end on. then I remembered that I was writing this for whumptober, and decided to write the terrible ending too :’)

4. some chapter commentary because why not

[ETA later!]

5. is there no escape?

yes!!! yes they do escape:

in a pyrrhic victory, post-day 31, draven succeeds in absconding with cassian and meeting up with jyn, saw, lyra, and the rest of their resistance cell (an underground, pan-panem organization fittingly called.... the alliance). draven has to cut out cassian’s implant before they rendezvous with the group, which he ropes a medical professional into doing (he may or may not kill them afterwards); it’s the only mark cassian bears on his body until he starts getting freckles from being in the sun again. similar to mockingjay in how peeta’s hijacking was treated with therapy in district 13, cassian undergoes actual, legitimate therapy after he and draven settle in with the alliance HQ. draven hovers anxiously for the first several sessions because “therapy” in the capitol has a stigma, even before he read the term “extensive in-patient therapy” in cassian’s intendance records, and it does take a good while before they make any remarkable progress. but unlike katniss and peeta cassian is alright in jyn’s presence, and in fact prefers it. they’re almost always seen together, and while jyn has a good amount of guilt for leaving him behind the first time her motivation for staying with him is out of a genuine desire to help him get better so they can be with each other the same way they were in an elpidian daydream again.

in happily ever after!an elpidian daydream, cassian and jyn are able to escape together in between arriving home in district 5 and what was supposed to be jyn’s victory tour. jyn was never aware of what snow did with desirable victors because it’s really only the top 1% of panem and the victors who know about it; she and cassian escape after he tells her that he wants to leave with her, but he doesn’t tell her the real reason why he wants to escape until much later and jyn never sees the recording of cassian and finnick (but he does tell her it exists when he’s explaining the details of how snow exerts his control over the victors). their relationship progresses steadily, but the secret doesn’t come out until jyn points out that cassian is extremely passive in bed and only mirrors her desires. there’s varying attitudes towards sex in the districts vs. the libertine views in the capitol but cassian’s shame stems from his powerlessness in what he had to do Before. he receives therapy for it but jyn is patient and firm with reminding him that he had absolutely zero choice in the matter, and that she could never hate or be disgusted with him for it. there’s a lot to work through there as a result of cassian having to lie to himself about it for the first couple of years of it happening and then willingly choosing to engage with it when he was trying to save jyn, but their relationship comes out all the more stronger for it. as for what happens to draven?.... because this is the happily ever after ending I like to think he’s able to stay in the capitol and work as an agent codenamed fulcrum 🤪🤙 and that after his extraction when things get too dangerous for him in the capitol he and cassian are able to reunite again as part of the alliance/rebellion !!

#sacchi writes #i still cannot believe i did it #not only finished a multichapter but wrote 35k+ in seven weeks #and it was a 31 day challenge to boot!!!#anyway we'll be back to sacchi's regularly scheduled fluffy modern AU rebelcaptain in a bit o/#sacchi says #i'll add to this later but gotta upload these last two first!

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 4 years ago

Note

9, 12, 14, 25, 28, 30, 31, 34, 37, 40, 41, 42 and 50 for the Diabolik Lovers Ask Game please! By the way, I love your blog SO MUCH. ♡♡♡

From this ask game.

Thank you for the ask anon, I’m really glad you like my blog :)

This got kind of long so I’ve put my answers below the cut.

9. Do you hate anyone in DL?

Hate is a very strong word, but if you saw my recent post on Shuu’s CL route then you’ll know that I am not the biggest Karlheinz fan. Richter and Cordelia are also fairly awful but I can’t help but feel some sort of pity for Richter as it seems he had a pretty miserable life and while some of the things Cordelia did are just horrible, my negative feelings towards her have somewhat lessened since we got a bit more of a glimpse at her backstory in DF. Menae must have died before Cordelia could really remember her, and we have to remember that she was heavily manipulated by Karl. Like yes, Cordelia is dreadful, but I still think Karl is the big bad of the series. He does so so many awful things and no matter which game you look at, I can’t help but feel that his reasoning is always pretty bleh (even if that probably is just due to not great writing).

Also after that Subaru LE ending Seiji Komori can eat dirt.

12. What do you think of the fandom?

Hmm... While I know some people hold negative views of the DL fandom at large, I don’t think any fandom is entirely unproblematic. My personal experience has generally been pretty good but I will admit I have seen some fairly terrible behavior in the 3 and a half years I’ve been seriously into DL. Then again I also haven’t been this deep in any other fandom and, sadly, I think that is just the nature of the internet.

Still, there are some amazing and very talented people in this fandom, and I feel extraordinarily lucky to have been able to interact with them, so I prefer to focus on that over anything else.

14. Sub or dub?

Sub all the way. When I first started watching anime, I initially just watched dubs, but after I started learning Japanese, I switched to subs to try and pick up some more vocab and now I can’t go back. Also I really like a lot of the Japanese voice actors in DL ^^

25. What do you think of DL haters?

I generally hold the attitude of “live and let live”. If someone doesn’t like DL because of the triggering content (and the way it deals with it) or the sometimes questionable plot then fair enough, it’s not like I think the series is without its problems. The only time I will have any issue at all is if they actively attack fans of the show. If someone is just minding their own business and not hurting anyone then under no circumstances is it okay to blindly attack them over a work of fiction. So yeah, you do you as long as you’re not being a twit about it.

28. Would you ever show your parents DL why/why not?

For anyone who remembers some of the random stuff I post, you’ll know that my mother is indeed aware of Shin’s existence (and Carla’s) which perhaps would have been difficult to avoid given that he’s plastered all over my bedroom wall and I talk about him A LOT (I am just as bad irl folks), but I’ve never gone into the details of the series with her as I feel like she’d be fairly disturbed at some of the content (and it’s for this reason that I would never show her the anime).

You will understand then, why I was slightly horrified when she told me she’d read the wiki because she wanted to know more about the characters I loved so much (like bless her, but also O.o). Apparently Carla is “a baddie” but she thinks Shin is okay.

My parents are also aware of the existence of this blog but, fortunately for me, have no interest in reading it.

30. What do you think of Yui?

I like Yui (I mean what is there to dislike?), she’s a lovely character and has a really good impact on the boys. I’m not as invested in her as perhaps some of the fandom but that’s because I am unapologetically here for the dumpster fire that is the boys.

I prefer writing reader inserts over Yui x diaboy fanfics, simply because it’s fun to see the boys in a slightly different relationship dynamic to that we get in the games (like if you look at my most recent Shin drabble, Yui would never tease Shin like that but I would so reader insert it is).

31. What is your favourite Dialover song and why?

What do you mean I have to pick just one??? Gahhh I love love love Kessen no Dies irae, because it features the Tsukinami bros and it’s just my sort of music but I think my favorite might actually be I.M.I.T.A.T.I.O.N.G.A.M.E. I’m not the biggest Kino fan but Maeno’s singing voice is phenomenal and it also brings back happy memories of when I finished Shin’s LE route for the first time.

34. Tell us your top three routes! Why are they your favourites?

Hooo boy, this is a tricky one because we all know my bias at this point ^^;; I’ve limited myself to one Shin route because otherwise this list would just be me waxing on about Shin and goodness knows I do that enough already.

1) Shin’s Lost Eden Route

While I like his DF route, I love that Shin’s LE route pays a bit more attention to his feelings towards Yui than his complicated relationship with Carla. I love that it really stretches him as a character and we get to see him relying on Yui, like I don’t know who came up with that plot but BLESS. I think the pacing is very good and the bad endings are just so tragic (and I love really angsty bad endings). And some of the scenario chapters from this route just make me melt.

I also love this route for personal reasons. I’d only just fallen into Shinhell when LE was released and I remember seeing the CGs for his route but there was no information on the plot in the English speaking side of the fandom and it was driving me nuts because I just wanted to know that he was okay. It was at this same time that I had a bit of spare money so I... bought a PSVita and a copy of Lost Eden so I could find out what happened (I was planning on getting a Vita anyway just maybe not THAT soon). I’d only been learning Japanese for 6 months (I am nothing if not horribly ambitious) but I didn’t let that stop me and played through the route. And I loved it (even if I struggled a little with the language) and I was so happy to find out what happened to him. So yeah, I just have warm memories of it.

2) Carla’s Dark Fate Route

While I like Carla’s LE route, I think the pacing and plot of his DF is just a bit better. I love that it gives us the best glimpse at the backstory of the founders (I will take any and all Krone and Giesbach tidbits I can) and I think the progression of Carla and Yui’s relationship is really well handled (even if he is dreadful towards her at times). Also I like Carla, I think of all of the diaboys, he’s one of the ones I’m most similar to so I find it easy to empathize with him.

3) Subaru’s Dark Fate Route

It’s been a while since I played this route but I remember having a really good time when I did. The Vampire Ending is incredibly sweet, as are some of the scenario chapters and I thought the plot was fairly well structured. Plus Carla and Shin are in it so bonus points there.

37. If you could change one thing in your favourite Diaboy what would it be?

I never want to answer questions like this because I love Shin as he is, I don’t want to change him.

I mean I would like for him to see more value in who he is than just his bloodline and get it into his skull that he is not inferior to Carla but only as gradual changes based on environment (or just idk talking to Carla but goodness only knows that won’t happen unless Carla’s on his deathbed again).

40. Your thoughts on Karlheinz?

See above. But yeah, not a fan, would not be sad if he became the victim of a bizarre fishing accident and never again appeared in the DL franchise but I think that’s a bit too much to hope for. Sorry Karl fans but I can’t get over the stuff he’s done (and also I have had enough of “and it was Karl’s fault all along” coming up in the games).

41. Would you buy the games if they were released in English?

I’m a little torn on this one because I love supporting Rejet and otome game localisations but I own all of the games aside from VC already so there wouldn’t really be any point. I think if I had a LOT of money to spare then I would, but as my finances stand at the moment then it’s a no.

42. If you got to design the 14th Diaboy what would he be like?

Oh this is a difficult one, ideally I’d like to see someone who was a member of one of the other demon races but I don’t think you can really have a diaboy without the blood-sucking, so I guess I’d make them half vampire half adler (as I think they’re the race we know the least about). As for personality... It’s tricky because I feel like the diaboys already cover a pretty wide spectrum. I’d probably make him a cocky jerk because I love cocky jerks and I’d make him fairly witty too but more logic than feelings orientated. I’d have him kidnap Yui because he wants to use her as a pawn against the diaboys in some nefarious plot (that I’m not going to think too much about because this post is not meant to be an OC planning session) and not because he has any interest in her or plans for her himself. I guess he’d sort of be a cross between Kino and Carla?

I’d give him a vendetta against Karlheinz too because I can :D

I had to cut this short because I started coming up with a backstory an everything but I think that’s too much ^^;;

50. Do you think Richter should have a route of his own?

Honestly? No. It’s not that I wouldn’t be interested to see the story of Richter with someone who is not Cordelia (even if he is not my favorite dude from the franchise) but more that I can’t see Rejet dropping Yui as a heroine and RichterxYui? No thank you. After all the stuff he’s done in the games and his obsession with Cordelia? I just don’t feel comfortable with that pairing, sorry.

#reply #ask game #I'm always super happy/surprised when people say they like my blog #because I feel like it's kind of chaotic but if you guys like it then I must be doing something right #character hate #?#I feel like I've been relatively polite but just to be safe #I have half tried to proofread this but it's so long #bless you if you made it to the end

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not-the-cleavers · 5 years ago

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Target II - Chapter 6

HOLY SHIT sorry for the delay but I seriously got into a rut of ‘I don’t wanna” then Queen happened but now Chapter 6 is here!!! Now I’m not going to lie I did channel Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds for a small section of this. Now Four comes across as a fuck boy in this chapter cause ya girl was dealing with some shit while writing this. Also I never thought that I would ever google “how to clean a gun” and “how to care for throwing knives” BUT HERE WE ARE!!!

Tags; @adrenaline-roulette and @amy-brooklyn99 - if you would like to be tagged just let me know

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, angst, mentions of trafficking again (sorry), violence against fellow ghosts and smoking Word count; 1.9k (total so far 9.8k)

Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

A week has passed since my last interaction with Billy, was he avoiding me? I was able to keep my mind off the blonde for a while by concentrating on the hard drive and working out who John Dough interacted with most so we could hopefully take down his whole operation. Unfortunately, I made quick work of that task as Dough was meticulously organised. He had folders for business associates, shell companies, calendars and meetings with audio logs, he even had a folder for completed deals, and all were named as such. Normally organised hard drives were sought after, but all I wanted was a massive mess to have to dive into, search for what I need and take my mind off that stupidly beautiful blonde. So I started to make notes, prolonging my work and making the next brief easier, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. I decided a timeline was the best way to figure this guy out, so that’s exactly what I did. I hit play on a random playlist on my iPod to have play in the background while I focused. According to every system I had access to; John Dough did not exist before 2001 when he was 29. There are no birth or death certificates, no school, prison or medical records, no properties or loans under his name. He was effectively like us, a ghost. No real name or family, nothing tying him to anything before his crimes. Which began when he made a name for himself as a hitman. Starting slow, killing random strangers for other random strangers to make money, but without a conscious, it appeared he had no rules when it came to his murder for hire business. Three had previously mentioned almost all hitmen refuse to kill children, a few less refuse to kill women, but this guy had no cut off point. His youngest victim was just 6 months old when the car he was in with his mother exploded, as per the deal with the scumbag husband and father who paid him $500,000 for the hit. In 2008 he left the hitman business and became a human trafficker, more money and more risk involved with that particular lifestyle. And in that position he was able to create all sorts of partnerships with all types of psychopaths and lowlifes, so in 2011 when he decided that he wanted more money and more power, he became an arms dealer. His biggest earning clients were the terrorist cells he supplied with guns and chemical weapons. And that’s what he’s been doing for the past nine years, and that’s what caught One’s eye. One had a sneaking suspicion that Dough has supplied Rovach with the Sarin gas for the attack that he bore witness to all those years ago. Granted One had no idea I knew he was there during that attack, but I gather intelligence, of course I knew he was there.

Eight: Call a brief. One: You sure you’re ready, or do you still need your beauty sleep? Eight: Fuck off cunt. One: This better be fucking good. Hanger, 1 hour.

I busied myself, making seven copies of my notes and timeline and filed one copy into one folder for everyone, shoved another cigarette into my mouth and lit it, pocketed the pack and made my way over to the hanger with the files and my laptop. I had to set up to make this brief go smoothly, because unlike the rest of the ghosts, I have been legally dead for the past 3 years, well before One had recruited me. If One decided that he no longer needed me, I wasn’t stuck for options, he didn’t have to actually kill me and I could make do on my own, and he knew that.

I wirelessly connected my laptop to the multiple screens around the room, giving everyone a decent view of what I’ve found, and just as I was placing the folders around our table, One entered the room, making a scene and complaining that I was making the room smell worse with my cigarettes. “I prefer cigarette smoke over the smell of dried blood that normally floods this room” I sneered in his direction. He just rolled his eyes in response. Slowly everyone filtered in and took their seats, Billy was last in and refused to make eye contact with you. Fuck him; he doesn’t know what he’s missing! With a slight shake of my head I steadied my breath and started going over everything I know. “Alrighty squirrel friends, I have delved deep into this monsters hard drive and this is what I’ve learnt…” I started my monologue, going over the time line I created with all his victims in the early days, moving onto his trafficking days with the photos found a week ago inside their own manila folder for only the brave to look at. Four pushed that folder as far away from him as possible as soon as I mention what was inside. Finishing with his latest weapons deals that were leading to innocent deaths in the hundreds of thousands to possible millions. “Prior to 2001, there is nothing on him. I have no idea what this man was doing before he turned 29 so just in case it wasn’t obvious; John Dough is not his birth name.” this caused a small chuckle from the ghosts. “But what I do know, he travels to meet this man” I flashed a picture of a fat, white and balding man up on the screens for the team to see “twice a month, to eat expensive meals, drink ridiculously old and pricey scotch, smoke Cuban cigars and fuck high end prostitutes. Not to mention secure guns and chemical weapons for the people Dough sells to. His name is Stanislav Zakirov, a high level member of the Russian Mob. Now we could go after this piece of shit as well, but that would be more of a shit show than Hong Kong was. I would recommend hitting Dough after one of these meetings, after Zakirov leaves. This minimises the risk to us, keeps us away from the Russians, and means we can take this fucker down.” The room fell quiet as soon as I finished my speech; I was done talking so I just waited for someone to say something, a glance up at One revealed he was avoiding looking at me after his last words to me in person. After a few minutes with not a single word I decided I was done sitting around, I picked up my laptop once more, I walked past One and said loudly “Was that fucking good enough for you? Prick” lit another cigarette and walked out the hanger.

Now with nothing to do to take my mind off everything that had happened over the past weeks I felt lost and unable to get rid of my anger, so a ritualistic activity was needed. Cleaning my guns and sharpening my knives. I walked to a rusted airplane fuselage across the lot that was upcycled into the armoury for the team, and over to my gear and started to lay out the items needed. I started with my knives, unsheathing the blades and placing them on the metal bench, and one by one sharpening them with my trusty bastard file, quickly washing away any shavings that might be left on the knife-edge and rubbing them down with lubricant, thankfully gun lubricant works for this as that’s all I had left. As I was sharpening the last blade I noticed it was slightly bent, possibly from the last mission, so I made quick work of straightening it out, placing it slightly offset from a piece of the fuselage and using my body weight. Not the best way to do it but after years I found it was the quickest. After all my knives were sharpened I started the formulaic process of cleaning my guns. Rolling out a towel and placing the brushes, lubricant, cleaning solvent and cotton swabs down and disassembling my guns one at a time. I found myself falling into rhythm, the clicks and smells of the cleaning solution taking my mind off the joke that was this teams current state of being. As I was working on my last gun my heightened instincts told me that someone was coming towards the armoury. I grabbed one of my knives and used my shirt to wipe away any remaining lubricant, and with one swift move I turned on the stool I was on and threw the blade. The knife pierced the plastic on the side of the planes body right by the door, a warning throw, not intended to harm but to scare away whoever was coming. “Fuck me dead Eight! You have to stop doing that to me” One’s voice, dripping with frustration and anger broke the silence of the room. “Maybe you should’ve learnt your lesson from last time and avoid sneaking up on me when I’m pissed off” I sneered, my attention was back to my gun, with one final click the barrel was back in place. “The fuck do you want, can’t you see I’m busy?” “Well we all wanted to know if you were coming back to the briefing or if you were gonna wallow here in self-pity” One snorted. That does it. I let loose another blade, this time aiming for his thigh, but he saw it coming and quickly dodged it. “See I did learn from last time” “Leave me alone One, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now. Last I checked, we were the ones working our asses off on your vendetta missions while you hang around out of danger and piss us all off.” I was yelling at this point. I was never one to hide my anger and One had hit just the right buttons, that and Four who was being the exact definition of a fuck boy right now, was enough to make me explode. “Now unless you’re here to apologise I suggest you get lost” my voice was almost a snarl at this point.

That’s when I noticed that the rest of the ghosts were also in the room with us, all but Two seemed surprised by my outburst, and even more so at my complete disregard to if I hit One or not. She had what almost looked like a smile on her lips. One pushed past them all in a huff, a string of profanities leaving his lips, all focused towards me. After a few awkward moments Two broke the silence. “Well I’m no pussy so I’ll speak. We agree with your plan, it’s smart and the easiest way to take him out. Also One is a dick. He wants to apologise but his ego is getting in the way” her French accent bringing an air of class to her words. The rest of the ghosts nodded along with her words.

“Right well he knows where to find me if he decides to pull his head out of his ass and apologise” I told her, standing from my position and making my way out of the room “excuse me, I need to be alone right now” I made my way past my team mates and out into the thick humidity of the Californian desert, unsure where I was going, but knowing I didn’t want to be around anyone.

#ben hardy fic #ben hardy #ben jones #6 underground #6 underground fic #four x eight #four x reader #billy/four #FOUR FIC

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

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I Am You: Chapter 10

Pairing: OC x Bang Chan x Jisung x Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: Romantic Fantasy

Warnings: Smut at the end

Previous Chapters: (chapter 1), (chapter 2), (chapter 3), (chapter 4), (chapter 5), (chapter 6), (chapter 7), (chapter 8), (chapter 9)

Note: This series is rapidly coming to a close! I have two more chapters and an epilogue planned.

When I was still in high school, a group of jealous omega girls started openly targeting me as the primary recipient of their endless bullying. Apparently, the idea of having three alpha mates was incredibly taboo in our pack, especially given how young we were. Sure, there were plenty of instances of omegas mating with one or two alphas in other packs, but three? And it was impossible to forget how rare my situation was when our classmates enjoyed reminding me.

In actuality, I should have known that they were hurting me out of jealousy as opposed to some sort of personal vendetta against an omega who had already mated three alphas. For example, the leader of this group of petty female nuances happened to be the same girl Changbin abandoned the night he mated me. And two of her friends had previously spent their heats with Jisung before I was even in the picture. But whatever the reason, I was always deeply offended when they would taunt me in the hallways or leave behind some sort of reminder that they despised my circumstances.

Like those horrible notes they left in my locker

I carefully unfolded the pristine white square, smoothing out the creases. “The school’s biggest slut,” I read aloud while trying to ignore the way my wolf bristled at the insinuation.

“At least you’ve acknowledged it,” a reckless female voice mocked from next to me. I glanced up wearily as she joined her friends at the lockers behind mine.

I looked back down at the note despite the fact that the words had started swimming together in front of me. It was difficult to make out the letters and I felt absolutely horrible as I picked up their whispered insults. It was all too much for me to handle because I had never faced this level of derision before, especially from those who were supposedly my pack members.

“Angel.”

I quickly folded the note and stuffed it inside of a textbook before Changbin could see the harsh words. I turned around, hoping I looked more put together than I felt, unresisting when Changbin pulled me closer by the hips. “You smell good,” he remarked, leaning in closer.

From over his shoulder, I spotted the young group of girls frowning in our direction. “I thought you were busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” he purred cheesily. “You shouldn’t be at school this close to your heat, angel. How can we take care of you here?”

I could hear their giggles in the background. “You never want to help,” I said bitterly, ignoring the way Changbin’s expression fell.

“Angel,” Changbin continued delicately, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered. “I can’t be late for class.”

“But if you aren’t feeling well...”

“I promise I’m okay,” I dismissed his concerns.

“Let me take you to class.”

“I can walk by myself,” I retorted, reaching back to slam my locker door shut.

I knew I had hurt Changbin, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those filthy notes or the taunting insults and dirty looks my classmates gave me in the hallways. Those omega girls had no idea how wrong they were in turning everyone against me. They only cared about getting a reaction, and I wasn’t strong enough to deny them.

“Angel,” Changbin tried again, but I was already walking in the opposite direction.

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I ate lunch alone because I was tired of dealing with the rest of my classmates, and I knew that nobody wanted to deal with me. It had become a tentative arrangement, an unspoken agreement that they would leave me alone if I sat as far away from civilization as possible. Normally, I would refuse to sit alone, but I didn’t have the desire to continue fighting when I was the only enemy.

I glanced out the window, watching the way the rain fell against the glass. My wolf longed to escape the oppressive atmosphere of our school life, and I had never wanted the shift more. I could practically feel my muscles aching, desiring nothing more than to let my wolf take control and run us back home where I felt safe.

I suddenly raised my head when I detected a familiar scent. It was graciously soothing...

“Hello, princess!”

Jisung’s voice was charming as he sat next to me. “I switched lunch periods. Changbin said you weren’t feeling well.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s exaggerating.”

“Well,” Jisung started, tossing down his tray, “I still worry.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” I said, sighing as I slowly started the process of dividing my vegetables into the remaining compartments of my lunch tray.

Jisung watched me carefully. “How was class?”

“Boring,” I told him honestly, wincing when my spoon scratched against the metal underside.

“I thought you liked your art class?”

“The teacher put on a film today,” I explained. “I was seconds away from falling asleep.”

“Is that why you look so down?” Jisung asked, shuffling in closer to me.

I could feel his familiar warmth.

Jisung grabbed my spoon, filling it with the school’s flimsy excuse for nutrition. “Princess,” Jisung continued, holding out a spoonful of vegetables.

A nearby duo of alphas had started observing our exchanges. The look in their eyes was one of silent judgment. “I’m not hungry,” I insisted, ignoring his offering.

Jisung frowned, lowering the food. “What’s wrong, princess?”

“I have a lot to do,” I said. “I need to talk to my teachers since I’ll be out for my heat.”

“That’s right,” Jisung said, eyes brightening. “When do you want me to come over?”

“I’ll let you know,” I said, suddenly feeling the desire to escape the dining room before the two of us attracted more attention. Yet, while attempting to stand up from the table, I was unprepared for the sudden headrush, stumbling to the side.

An unfortunate side effect of my impending heat hormones.

But Jisung was there to hold me close, scenting me gently while my vision slowly stabilized. Nevertheless, I still heard the whispers from the surrounding tables. Why was everyone being so infuriating?

“Jisung,” I hissed, stepping out of his embrace. The alphas sitting next to our table snickered as they watched the two of us.

“Did I hurt you, princess?” Jisung fretted, hands anxiously wandering down my arms.

“No,” I fidgeted, taking another step back. “I just don’t feel good.”

“Are you cramping?” Jisung questioned and my face heated because he had said it so loudly. It felt like every pair of eyes in the dining room were looking in our direction.

“Don’t say that,” I urged him.

“Is it that bad?” Jisung asked, voice quieter. “Do you want me to take you home, princess?”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted, reaching down for my textbook.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” I said quickly, perhaps with more spite than I intended. Jisung was so easily breakable and I knew my words would hurt him. Which is why I didn’t stick around to make things worse than they already were.

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Since our bond was still relatively fresh, I usually sought after Chan at various points throughout the day. Even if it was for just a brief moment, the two of us would scent one another between classes to appease our demanding wolves. Usually, it was me who often cornered Chan and sought his attention. Today, however, it was Chan who found me, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside an empty classroom.

Chan studied me for a brief moment, blue eyes searching. Then, he cautiously bared his neck, and I took the time to ensure that we were truly alone before I scented him enough to feel the bond settle back down into place. But that wasn’t enough for Chan.

“Something’s wrong,” Chan said, an observation as opposed to a question. “Changbin and Jisung said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I told them I was fine,” I snapped.

Chan raised one brow in question. “I don’t think you are.”

“It’s just my heat,” I insisted, jerking back when he attempted to fit his palm against my forehead.

Chan frowned. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not usually close to heat.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” Chan reasoned and I cursed his intuitiveness. The alpha knew me better than most after a lifetime of close friendship.

“Don’t make me tell you,” I begged and Chan startled at the raw vulnerability I allowed in my tone.

“Now I’m worried,” Chan said, reaching out for my hand which I allowed him to take.

“I’ll figure it out,” I offered vaguely. “There’s nothing you can to do help.”

“Not if you don’t ask,” Chan countered, resting his forehead against mine.

“I can’t this time,” I said. “I have to be the one to fix this.”

“You know I don’t like that, Myah,” he said. “If I can’t help you as a mate, then I’m breaking my promise.”

“You can’t know,” I trembled.

“Why?”

“Because you’d be furious and irrational,” I said, startling when Chan abruptly pulled away.

“This sounds bad.”

“It really isn’t the worst thing that could happen,” I said. “You should focus on building the new pack. The four of us graduate soon.”

“Will you be out for your heat tomorrow?” Chan asked. “Your scent is spiking.”

“I’ll come to school one more day.”

“Can it be fixed before your heat?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “But I promise I’ll be okay. Please just worry about the new pack.”

“You’re my first priority,” Chan reminded me gently, thumbing across my lips.

“Not this time,” I said, brushing my fingers across his cheek. “Let me handle this problem.”

I held the alpha’s demanding gaze, but it was always difficult to convince Chan to submit.

“Okay,” Chan reluctantly agreed. “But if you keep acting like this, then you have to tell me.”

“I promise,” I said even as the lie weighed heavily over my heart.

The next morning, I arrived at school early feeling absolutely horrible. It was a terrible mistake to come to school that day. I was feverish and sickly, sweat dotting my forehead in an unappealing way, and I knew my heat was right on the precipice. I could barely sleep, bombarded by vivid dreams of my three mates, salivating at the image of their thick knots.

I shook myself from my headspace, hurrying to my locker to exchange textbooks. I was quickly growing more and more assured that I had made a bad decision about leaving my house. Thankfully, I knew that I could likely convince Jisung to take me home after lunch since we shared a class.

Reassured by this development, I opened my locker door, immediately noticing the folded note waiting on top of my math textbook. I let out a sigh as I opened the paper, reading the sentences carefully. And each subsequent line slowly broke my resolve the more I read my classmates’ spiteful comments.

“There you are!”

I ignored him at first, too swept away by the note. My wolf howled in outrage, demanding she take control and show those girls why they should mind their own business. But I couldn’t let her go because I would lose complete independence so close to my heat.

I grimaced at the note’s message, ignoring the way Jisung lingered, confusion evident in his expression. “Princess?”

I took off down the hallway without another word.

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If you want to do something about it, meet us during lunch in the gym.

I was shaking, rage overcoming every action as I stormed down the hallway. My fever was out of control and my entire body felt overheated. Yet, I didn’t hesitate at the opportunity to confront those omega girls. I had promised Chan I’d try to take care of the problem and this was my chance.

I easily spotted the five omega girls waiting inside the gym. My vision was narrowed, focusing only on the girls who had made my life so unbearable recently. But I didn’t want to be miserable anymore, I would end things once and for all.

“You came,” one of the girls remarked as if she was genuinely shocked to see me.

I held up the note to remind her. “You invited me.”

“We didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show up,” the leader teased, starting slowly in my direction. “Where are your little guards?”

“Maybe she let them off their leashes,” the first girl giggled.

“What a slut,” the leader smirked. “Do you just spread your legs so that they can take their turn with you?”

“Or maybe she has a preference,” another added. “I know Changbin likes it rough.”

My chest heaved as I took a deep breath. “How are you gonna keep them satisfied?”

“Eventually, they’ll get tired of sharing,” the first omega said. “You’ll be left alone and nobody will want a slut.”

For some reason, now that I was here, my entire demeanor had shifted. I no longer felt angry, my wolf was unusually quiet, and my heat symptoms had settled. But I had also lost my fire, my drive to control the five girls and now I couldn’t find the right words. Instead, I was silent, allowing them to insult me while I no longer felt the urge to do anything about it.

I allowed the five of them to corner me against the wall, wedged between hard concrete and an angry aggregation of omega females. The leader took a step closer, eyeing the mark on my neck. “Everyone knows Changbin only marked you because he was in a rut.”

Her friends laughed at the comment.

“What should we do, ladies?” the leader continued. “How do we make the little slut pay?”

“I don’t know,” one of the others contributed. “She must have a high tolerance for pain if she can take three knots.”

More snickering. “Should we test it?”

The first slap was jarring, snapping my neck to the side. I could feel the reminder, stinging the raw skin of my right cheek. “Pathetic,” the leader snarled. “How much more can you take?”

“I think you might want to reconsider,” a dangerous voice growled.

The lead omega let go of me so fast that it was almost imperceptible. Suddenly, there were familiar scents overtaking the nasty smell of those horrible girls. I opened my eyes, watching the omega leader whine submissively as Chan bared his teeth.

A warning.

“Do you think you can do this?” Chan continued. “What gives you the right?”

“Chan,” the leader tried, “we didn’t mean anything by it!”

“You tried to hurt my mate,” Chan snapped. “That means you tried to hurt us too.”

“And you put your hands on her?” Changbin added while his eyes darkened considerably.

“You’re the ones who deserve to feel pain,” Jisung inserted, and I was taken aback by the hostility in my mate’s words. I had never heard Jisung sound so confrontational before. His threat was frightening and I could feel its authenticity which prompted me into action.

I carefully reached for Jisung, wrapping my hand around his bicep. His expression shifted, shoulders relaxing. “Just let them go.”

Jisung turned to look at me. “Let them go?”

“Not after what they did,” Changbin insisted, fully prepared to follow through on their words.

Thankfully, Chan seemed more aware of what I wanted. “Get out of here,” he said coldly, watching me even while his dismissive tone was addressed to the five omega girls who hesitated as their leader froze.

But Changbin’s resounding growl sent the girls scampering in the other direction.

Meanwhile, Chan’s hand settled on my shoulder, urging me to come closer. My head thudded hard against Chan’s powerful chest, tears ruining the fabric of his t-shirt. I was shaking, hands clenched together while I swallowed painfully.

I could feel Changbin and Jisung’s presence, anxiously worried as they felt the full force of my frustration. “You should have told me,” Chan said, holding me close. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“Those girls,” Changbin started, voice thick with anger, “they’re the sluts.”

“How long?” Chan inquired, fingers lovely as they sorted through the strands of my hair.

“A while,” I offered vaguely, more concerned with the deliciously familiar scent of my alpha mate as I nosed along his collarbone. I could feel Changbin behind me, hands familiar on my hips.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

Jisung’s lips brushed across my temple. “You can’t keep these things from us.”

However, above everything else, Chan’s voice was distinct and clear, reassuring and familiar.

“We’ll always keep you safe, Myah.”

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Present

I wanted to be brave, but I had never quite felt this helpless before.

It had only been a day since I had abandoned my pack, but I was already miserable. Sadly, there was nobody around to support me this time. I was the outsider here while the other omega girls scampered around their rogue pack members. In fact, two of them were begging for Jaemin’s attention, submitting easily to their desires as he flirted. It was strange to watch the exchange considering the harsh way Jaemin had talked down to me.

I was brought back to reality by Jeno’s unwanted touch.

He traced the outline of Changbin’s mating mark. “These will have to go,” he said dismissively.

I trembled despite the close proximity of the fire.

“Fuck her good, Jeno,” Jaemin sneered, holding his two omegas close.

“She won’t be able to walk when I’m done with her,” Jeno promised, nipping at my ear.

“Do it soon because they might be able to track her,” Rejun suddenly inserted, gaze cautious as he glanced around our unorthodox camp set-up.

“They won’t have a claim when I’m done,” Jeno said. “You don’t need those alphas anyway, omega.”

He was wrong, but I couldn’t say anything. After all, I had willingly compromised with the intimidating alpha for the safety of my pack. And while I still believed in my decision, I also couldn’t help but long for the familiarity of home and my three mates.

“Take her now,” Renjun urged, nodding towards one of the tents. “Do it fast before they become a problem.”

I didn’t wince when Jeno roughly grabbed me, forcing me up while he practically drug me into his tent. I landed roughly on the mattress, whimpering despite my attempts to remain strong against the alpha. He was over me in the next second, baring his teeth to intimidate my wolf. I could feel her inside me, bowing her head shamefully as the fight slowly left my body.

“You’ll just take it,” Jeno growled approvingly, leaning down to mouth at my scent gland. “Like a good little bitch.”

I was forced onto my stomach, whining loudly as the alpha jerked off my pants. “And you can take my knot tonight,” he continued, “and I’ll claim you for myself.”

In moments like this, I wish I could simply pretend that everything was okay. It seemed obvious to try and imagine myself in a better situation, that maybe I could pretend it was Jisung or Changbin or Chan with me instead of Jeno. But I guess I didn't have enough experience with that so I was stuck dealing with the consequences.

“You have good sense,” Jeno said, fingers rough and messy. “You’ll be quiet, won’t you? Just let me do what I want.”

I growled out a warning but didn’t fight back when I heard the sound of his belt. His body was too warm over mine, hands wrong when they touched my hips to adjust my position, and my senses were assaulted with his appalling musky scent. My wolf was bristling, pacing anxiously because she knew what was about to happen but had no idea how we could stop it from happening.

“Jeno,” a tentative voice suddenly interrupted.

I sighed in relief when Jeno pulled back, growling in frustration. “What is it?”

The rogue wolf didn’t even react despite my compromising position with the alpha. “Jeno,” he said, “a patrol spotted wolves not far from the campsite.”

“Is it her pack?” Jeno asked, glaring down at me.

“We think it is.”

Jeno sighed audibly. “Tell Jaemin and Renjun to gather some wolves together to check out the report. The rest of us will stay behind to pack up the camp, we’ll have to leave tonight as a precaution.”

“Yes sir,” the wolf agreed, retreating quietly from the tent.

“You got lucky this time,” Jeno snapped in my ear and I was graciously left alone to deal with the stray tears that had fallen.

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