#i managed to kill gut in one turn cause the second she called allies we were dead | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dancingamongstdust · 3 years ago

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

132 notes · View notes

aprxl-showers · 4 years ago

Text

klance x pirates of the caribbean

bc apparently when i'm upset i listen to newsies live and think up weird klance aus

in my head this could go one of two ways:

keith and lance as will and elizabeth

keith and lance as jack and will (i'll explain later)

a lot more under the cut bc i got a bit carried away...

if it follows the canon love story i picture lance as will and keith as elizabeth. (i could see it the other way around bc keith could be the orphan pirate boy but i’ve written too much to go back now).

when they were young, keith was on a ship with his father and he spots lance on a piece of driftwood. they save him ofc and keith spots a jewel necklace around lance's neck. he takes it and later has it fused in the hilt of his mother's knife that is now his.

keith hates being the governor's son with a passion. he hates the formality of it and how restrictive it is. lance is the weaponsmaster's apprentice (that's how he gets good with a gun) and he is always under appreciated! give this guy some recignition!

anyway, he has been silently pining for keith for ages. little does he know, keith kind of likes him too. a lot of mutual pining has been going on for longer than either can recall.

anyhoo, pirates invade the town and kidnap keith. he puts up a fight but in the end he's outnumbered and taken aboard the ship as leverage. he says his surname is mcclain bc it's on his mind. wink wonk. captain of the evil pirates is zarkon and when the pirates who kidnapped keith hand him the knife he realises it is the jewel that can break their spell. since keith uses lance's surname, he also thinks it is keith's blood they need to finish the ritual since lance's family are the one's who sent the jewel away with lance. but it's not. obvs.

lance, after saving a baby, watches keith get taken in horror and tries to call out but is knocked out before he can act. once he's awake he hears that there's a pirate who was caught in the dungeon. that's allura. yes, eccentric captain allura is a choice i am making.

lance manages to break her out of jail, thinking she is one of the evil pirates and he can persuade her to help him. she is not but decides to help him anyway in an attempt to retrieve her ship 'the voltron' from zarkon. the two of them go off on a quest to save keith.

meanwhile, hunk and pidge are guarding keith. they are new recruits to zarkon's crew after their other crew threw pidge out when they discovered she was a girl (silly pirate superstitions). hunk went with her. they are easily persuaded to help keith bc zarkon's a meanie and promise that they'll help him out when they make it to land.

lance and allura arrive on an island and find coran who is allura's closest friend and ally. shiro is also there. he has a peg arm (is that a thing? idk it's a weird mechanism but it does the trick). coran explains that the ship keith is on is cursed and they will be going to the mysterious isle of daibazaal to break the curse.

they get there and watch zarkon attempt to break the curse using the jewel (which he pried out of the blade) and keith's blood. nah, it don't work. they still turn into creepy looking skeletons in the moonlight. damn. he threatens keith and then all hell breaks loose bc lance shoots him. it would have definitely killed zarkon but he can't die bc... the whole undead thing, and in doing so all lance does is reveal their position. they fight a bit, as you do. keith gets hold of a sword and kills three evil pirates in about five seconds. lance falls a little bit in love with him.

in the midst of the battle, lance makes a deal with zarkon that he will stay if keith and the others can go (this now includes hunk and pidge bc they helped keith get free). lance is stripped of visible weapons and zarkon agrees to break the curse immediately. lance cuts his hand and drops the jewel into the chest.

then he grabs keith's jewel-less knife from where it lies beside the chest. zarkon, distracted, doesn't notice until the blade is buried in his gut. he dies. keith and the rest act immediately and kill any other pirates who don't surrender. keith kills an evil pirate about to shoot lance.

they return keith in exchange for allura, coran, shiro, pidge, hunk and lance's pardon. keith expresses his wish not to be governor in the future and allura invites them on 'the voltron' ship with her since she reclaimed it from zarkon. keith and lance then have a moment where they thank each other for saving each other's life. keith thanks lance for coming after him and lance confesses. it's all very sappy and they kiss for ages.

lance is still will. i stand by everything i said about him in the previous version. his parents caused the curse to endure and sent him off. but instead of keith finding him, it's allura. she's the governor's (in this case, alfor's) daughter. she takes the jewel and keeps it as a necklace. lance and allura are more like besties but they're not really allowed to see each other because of their differing classes.

keith arrives and escapes the navy. hides in weaponsmaster’s shop. lance tries to fight him but he’s not as good with a sword as he is with a gun. lots of sassy banter where lance is tryna be noble and keith doesn’t care for it.

anyway, we sort of know what happens. allura gets kidnapped and uses lance's surname bc they had a conversation beforehand. lance stresses, hears about a pirate they captured, assumes it's one of the evil ones he can persuade to help him.

but instead he gets keith who he met earlier. in the time they’ve been apart he’s got himself landed in the dungeon. and he’s notoriously one of the most stubborn, grumy pirate captains in all the seven seas.

he's overall unimpressed with lance as a person and with his plan, only agreeing when he realises he might be able to get his ship, this time called 'the red lion', back. lance decides he's going to prove himself to keith. he doesn't know why he's so offended by a pirate's opinion but he just is. hmmm...

they pick up shiro and coran, pidge and hunk promise to help allura out yada yada yada and they start making their way towards the island.

they run into lotor and his crew (acxa, ezor, zethrid etc) who are unrelated to zarkon and that whole... thing but they're your typical pirates and they want their stuff. which is annoying af bc allura is missing and they have somewhere to be thank you very much.

they put up a good fight. lance has plenty of opportunities to impress keith with his pistol skills. consider keith very impressed and mildly enamoured. but he doesn't do feelings so he stuffs them down inside him as you do. they win and move on. afterwards keith asks lance where he learned those moves and lance tells him stories of his time in the weaponsmaster's workshop. they bond.

they get to the island and find allura. they fight and keith and lance save each other's backs too many times to count. lance has a revelation (inconveniently mid battle) that he actually really likes this. this is fun. this is exciting.

then keith fucks up. he says that he'll hand lance over if zarkon gives him his ship back. lance is fucking fuming and feeling very betrayed and hurt bc he actually felt like he was getting somewhere with keith. keith gets what he deserves though bc zarkon dumps him and allura on an island and takes lance away.

while they're on the island allura knocks some sense into him regarding his life generally and lance specifically. she tells him loads of cute lance-as-a-teenager stories and keith feels awful. he helps her light a signal fire using some rum he has on his person.

they spot the ship alfor sent to find allura. they persuade them to go to where lance and the rest of the crew is. keith tries to act like he's on zarkon's side when they get back to the cave and then he takes one of the cursed jewels so he's now immortal. aha! while this is happening allura has infiltrated zarkon's ship, 'the red lion', so shiro, coran, pidge and hunk can be freed.

allura then frees lance from where they were keeping him in the hull. lance runs to where keith is. they share a look. keith cuts his hand and throws the jewel to lance who does the same and drops it into the water. the curse is broken. keith goes to grab zarkon's sword so he can kill him but zarkon grabs him by the throat. lance shoots zarkon in the side before keith can pass out. he runs to keith who has collapsed. keith apologises and thanks him and promises not to betray him again. lance laughs, says he better not and helps him up.

they return allura safely in exchange for their pardon. keith asks lance to join the crew of 'the red lion' and gives him loads of reasons that are really just disguised compliments. safe to say lance kisses him senseless and they run away together, sailing off into the sunset. bc. klance. there's got to be a sunset somewhere.

hope you liked my what-were-meant-to-be-headcanons-but-just-became-plot-summaries!! i promise i’ll post some general pirate voltron headcanons unrelated to this au at some point. i wrote a pirate au piece for klance au month on my ao3 so some might be related to that?

if you want to send asks or whatever that would be cool - even if they're just random ideas for the au or changes/additions to the plot. i also might write little snippets for this at some point (i’ll tag them under ‘kl potc au’ like this post) bc i'm suddenly crazy invested so if you have any scenes from this you want (from version 1 or 2 or any scene in the plethora of potc movies) send a message and i'll probably get around to it :))

31 notes · View notes

lost-eternity · 5 years ago

Text

Matchup requests: CLOSED

Matchup request for: anonymous

Okie dokie. I match you with...

Undertaker!

You are absolutely fine, dear. My form is about thrice as long so I totally get it. Besides, This way I have more to go on. Anyways, I can already tell that we would get along so well, pffft.

It honestly took me all of 5 seconds of reading this to decide your ship, I hope you enjoy it.

Power couple right here

I mean, seriously

There is no hell you wouldn't raise

I hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty, though

But my goodness, no one is safe from the two of you

Your humour, dark and inappropriate as it may be, is right up Undertaker's ally. You can send him howling with laughter with a single offhand remark or retort.

Most of the time, I would ship someone with chaotic energy with someone who is more calm and level headed but honestly, Undertaker is the exception to this rule

He would genuinely get on the nerves or anyone who can't match his level of chaos

But ooooh boy would he be able to keep pace with you.

The constant playful bickering would be extremely amusing to watch, not that any of you would get any work done

The two of you would be too buzzed on caffeine and laughing until your guts hurt

Every night at his place is more like a sleepover

So many go there more sparingly. You both technically need sleep.

Also pet names!

You two would have the weirdest pet names for each other

"Undie"

"Death goddess" (Undertaker has a cruel sense of irony)

This is the only instance where the pet name "Boo" is acceptable

Undertaker would be able to see right through your dirty, airhead façade, if only because he puts on the same one.

It piques his interests. "What is she hiding?"

The first time you saw one of his "guests", he assumed that you would be off put by her presence as most were.

She was a young female, brutally mugged on the street, her corpse left to rot when the thief accidentally killed her. At least, that is what he thought.

You, on the other hand, did not seem even the slightest fazed.

He actually looked a little disappointed. "What? No screaming? I love the sound of my goddess mewling." Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.

You kinda look at him incredulously. "It's a dead body. What is it going to do, get up and chase me?"

The smirk on his face was slightly alarming. "Maybe..."

Okay that was a little bit... worrisome.

Regardless, Undertaker concluded that she resisted her mugger and he slashed her throat, killing her before running off

Of course, you saw a completely different story and pointed out something that slipped his notice entirely. But of course, you would be grinning from ear to ear and speaking in a light-hearted and airy tone as you loom over a gruesome maimed corpse. "No, no, the multiple lacerations to the jugular could not have been the cause of death. Notice how there is little to no blood-clotting and the edges of the wound appear singed. The injury was cauterized and simultaneously inflicted. And since blood loss, not asphyxiation, is the primary COD on slitting one's throat, this could not have been the killing strike."

A little bit taken aback, an exuberant laugh bubbled from Undertaker's lips. He was impressed.

To use a heated knife meant the killer, whoever it may be, did so on purpose with the intent on keeping her alive long enough to torture her.

Hmm...

You two probably met in the weirdest fashion

You were in the city, heading to get a fitting for your newest corset when you heard someone shrieking.

It took you a few moments to register that it wasn't exactly shrieking that you heard- rather maniacal laughter.

Pausing, you noticed a group of individuals clustering around a shop labeled "undertakers". If their clothes were anything to go by, these people were nobles.

A woman dressed from head to toe in scarlet held a pale, unworked hand to her lips.

Beside her a kid slightly taller than you on the account of the wooden heels he wore on the back of his shoes looked quite ticked off.

It was quite an interesting collection of individuals. Besides. What would nobility be doing WAITING outside an Undertaker shop? They usually had other people waiting on them, rarely was it the other way around.

On second thought, who in the world had the guile and lack of self-preservation skills to make nobility wait?

The door creaked open as a raven haired man stepped outside, looking all too pleased with himself.

While you couldn't ignore the handsome curve of his face, his smug expression told you all you needed to know regarding the sheer levels of impudence and egotism surrounding this individual

Those wine russet eyes opened, directing a firey stare at you, boring into your own gaze.

You held his eye contact for a moment then turned on your heels and continued on your little errand.

The rest of the nobility seemed to finally be allowed in the shop

On your way back from the fitting, you decided to stop by this Undertaker's to try and find out the reason for the things you witnessed. Those nobles seemed to be long gone so you were safe as you stepped inside.

It was black. Pitch black. A peal of deranged laughter echoed from the abyssal chasm within.

You remained unnerved as you folded your arms and gazed across the room with steadfast resolve

Something nudged against your foot looking down, through the shaft of light that shone through the door frame, you were able to spot a literal skeleton hand on your foot

You quickly kicked it off and appeared even more incredulous

Whoever had been trying to scare you appeared to give up

The candles flickered back to life and you spotted a grey-haired man, swathed in a black coat, lackadaisically stretched across an examination table. His silver mane tapered into a thick fringe which completely obscured his features save for the cheshire grin that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. "My. It's not often that I get two customers in one day..." he purred ominously

"Yeah. About that. What was with those nobles earlier?"

He chuckled and pressed a clawed finger to his lips. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."

You just kinda looked at him like ???

It really wasn't your business what this Undertaker and that butler were doing in here alone as everyone else waited outside but wasn't that a bit-

The thunderous laughter that burst from Undertaker's chest told you that he was joking

How he managed to do so with a straight face was beyond comprehension. But perhaps he found your genuine consideration of his sentence to be amusing.

You two end up striking a deal. And it was a weird one. Undertaker would tell you what the nobles were doing and in return you would have to get a fitting for a coffin.

He lamented that it was not his usual payment but "The little Earl is being so stubborn, he refuses to let me fit him. You are just as tiny. I think you will do wonderfully."

Like "uhhh? Thank you?"

It's not every day you get a chance to be fitted for your future coffin.

So you allow him to take measurements

His fingers ghosting against your skin as he does so, sending goose-flesh pricking across your arm

Once he is finished, he divulges all he can, which only seems to confuse you more.

Nobles who solve murders? Isn't that the Yard's job. What are nobles doing getting involved. Half of them have never cleaned a single dish in their life, how can anyone expect them to catch a killer.

The Undertaker watched you with a smirk equal parts knowing and amused. He just loves seeing you think things through and figure them out.

Meanwhile, you caught on to his mannerisms. He knew more than he was letting on. But you doubted he would tell you more.

Thanking him for his service, you headed out.

You barely made it a block when you were jumped by someone.

A shadow

Strong arms pinned you to a wall, you tried to call for help but the soft leather of a gloved hand clamped over your mouth. You were left to stare into those same burning russet eyes for the second time that day.

The boy from earlier, taking a step out from behind his attack butler crossed his arms. You noticed the eyepatch he wore, but did not have the mind to question it. You were currently pinned to a wall, your mind was a bit preoccupied

"Why are you following us?" The kid demanded

You rolled your eyes and looked back at him before angrily gesturing to the mildly irritating hand over your mouth.

The kid looked just as irritated. "Sebastian."

The butler needed no further command. He removed his hand but kept you constrained in place.

You appraised the pair warily. 'So, the butler's name is Sebastian... heh. More like Sebastard'

You were also smart enough to know that if they were investigating such a high profile case like Jack the Ripper, they were probably into some pretty shady stuff. If they were speaking with Undertaker, then they had connections to the Underworld. After all, every dead body killed in the underworld usually makes its way to the Undertaker at some point or another. It was quite brilliant, actually.

The boy looked impatient so you answered truthfully. Albeit carefully. You were wondering what a bunch of nobles would be waiting for and wanted to meet the person who had the nerve to keep them waiting.

The kid seemed somewhat satisfied with your answer, if not entirely indignant towards it. You had a feeling that you chose your words well because he appeared to agree with what you were saying. He obviously did not like the Undertaker.

Sebastian- sorry, Sebastard, on the other hand, did not appear all too convinced. But he seemed to have gauged that you were not a threat and decided not to voice his concerns.

You were let off with a stern lecture about meddling in "Phantomhive" affairs.

Dodged a bullet on that one

Still. The revealment of his surname only brought more confusion upon you. Phantomhive was a KID'S toy company. Why is the head of a kid's brand investment murder?

The more you looked into it, the less it started making sense

And that sent you down a spiraling trail that eventually lead you back to the Undertaker

Whether or not you return to him as a friend or one of his "guests" is completely up to you and how careful you walk this dangerous tightrope

Oooh, ominous. Thank you for request, dear.

18 notes · View notes

the-irish-mayhem · 6 years ago

Text

Ragnarok AU. Despite his hunt for the Infinity Stones taking him far beyond Jane’s galaxy, Thor had always managed to get word to her that he was safe. When months pass without any word from him, Lady Sif arrives with a dire message: Thor has gone missing, Heimdall has been removed from his post as Gatekeeper, and the Warriors Three wonder if their king is truly Odin.

rebuild all your ruins.

Read on AO3

I. Prologue / II. Theren

“Thor is missing, and the realms are in grave danger, and you are the only person who can help me.”

Jane’s shock at seeing Sif made the worry that had been gnawing at her gut solidify into a heavy brick.

“Is he alive?” she asked, suddenly hyperaware of how warm she was. Her fingers tightened on the door knob. She thought of Thor how she’d last seen him, so broad and warm and seemingly indestructible--

Sif sighed. “We don’t know.”

“Okay,” Jane breathed, determinedly telling the brick in her stomach to kindly fuck off. “Okay. Do you--just come in,” she said and stepped away from the door, allowing Sif into their hotel room and closing the door behind her.

There was a not insignificant part of Jane that suddenly felt self conscious, like when she first got up in front of her upper division Experimental Physics Methods class to answer a question, and she felt the odd urge to straighten the rumpled covers on the beds, stow her and Darcy’s food containers, make their space somehow more than a mid-budget hotel room. This part of her, though, was not strong enough to overtake the fear, shock, and confusion thrumming through her.

Darcy was standing now, looking between Jane and Sif, and Jane said, “Sif, this is my assistant Darcy. Darcy, Sif.”

Sif stepped forward, and reached a hand out. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Darcy met Jane’s eyes before she reached out and took Sif’s hand. Darcy had heard plenty about Jane’s feelings regarding Sif--which were not disparaging thoughts, exactly, but rather more on the self-deprecating side. Jane liked to think she was past that, but old jealousy can be hard to shake completely. Especially when the object of her jealousy was standing right here, looking like she’d stepped off the catwalk and could walk on the battlefield in a blink.

“You too,” Darcy answered with an easy smile. “I didn’t think Asgardians knew how to shake hands.”

Sif smiled back, fondness in her tone when she said, “I have some friends on Midgard who helped me apprehend a criminal not terribly long ago. I’ve made a habit to visit when I can, and they’ve been kind enough to impart me with a great amount of knowledge of your customs. Perhaps you know them? SHIELD?”

Both Darcy and Jane shared a yikes look between them.

“When was the last time you were here?” Jane asked.

Sif replied, “Do not worry, I am aware of the fallout that Hydra caused. My friends were fortunately on the right side. They continue their fight against Hydra even now.”

Jane didn’t really want to get into it with Sif about associating with anyone who even brushed shoulders with a bunch of Nazis, but she figured now wasn’t the time to throw that opinion out there. (Not even remotely brushing all the news about SHIELD functioning as a shadow agency with no government oversight or accountability, and all the panic over rogue agents and Inhumans--)

“They helped me locate you,” Sif continued.

“Oh boy,” Darcy said under her breath when Jane started to think maybe it was a good time after all to talk about the Not-Nazis--

“Jane’s not super fond on SHIELD,” Darcy explained quickly. “Stealing research and whatnot. Neither of us are, especially after the Nazi stuff. Long story. Now’s probably not the time to rehash all of that.” Darcy shot a look at Jane that said maybe now isn’t the time to go into that Jewish cultural scar.

Jane knew Darcy was right, and pushed past her reluctance and asked, “Right, so when was the last time you saw Thor?”

Sif sat heavily at the foot of one of the beds. “He returned to Asgard briefly after Midgard’s war with Ultron.”

“It was more like a long weekend,” Darcy said. “But go on.”

“He seemed--” she paused, searching. “Uneasy.”

“He told me he thought something was wrong with his dad,” Jane said, “and that he hadn’t been himself since Frigga was killed.” It had taken Jane a long time to be able to share that thought without automatically completing it as was killed protecting me.

“He hasn’t been,” Sif agreed. “It’s hard to explain precisely, but I know Odin better than I knew my own father. Fandral and Volstagg weren’t entirely convinced, but Hogun agreed that not all was normal.”

Jane nodded. “Thor said that he couldn’t speak freely there.”

Sif looked at Jane quizzically. “How did Thor tell you this?”

“With this,” Jane said and produced the stone from her pocket.

Sif’s eyes widened, and she drew forward off the bed with a start. “A communication stone,” she breathed. “Thor gave you this?”

Jane nodded. “Just before he left.”

“Have you attempted to communicate with him since he went missing?”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “I thought this was only one way?”

Sif shook her head. “Communication stones can function across the known universe.”

Jane’s jaw dropped.

“That--” Her mouth worked for a few seconds but no sound came out. They can function across the known universe. “That bastard.”

Sif seemed confused for a moment before realization set in. “He said you could not contact him.”

“I cannot believe he would lie to me about this!” Jane said, suddenly steaming. “Oh my god, we could’ve been talking this whole time and yet he decided to just cut me out of his adventure like an absolute asshole. When I find him I am going to murder him.” She held up the stone. “You said this could work across the known universe, right?” Sif nodded, if a bit reluctantly. Jane laughed. “This is a quantum entangled communication device, I bet. Physicists have theorized about it for years, but-- I thought it might be, but I haven’t had the time to sit down and study it and I thought that with the restriction of one way communication ruled out the possibility but oh my god, I cannot believe this. That asshole, he is going to be in so much trouble. Oh my god.”

She turns to Darcy. “Call Tony right now. I’m going to need his help if we’re going to find Thor.”

“If it makes any difference,” Sif offered, “I don’t believe his lie was malicious.”

“I’m with her,” Darcy said, phone in hand, likely already dialling Tony.

“Why?” Jane gritted out. “Wouldn’t be the first time he left me behind.”

With the phone up to her ear, Darcy gave her a look that said she would be paying for the irrationality of that comment later, but Sif answered for her.

“Jane, he loves you,” she said, with such finality and certainty it made Jane’s temper come up short for a moment. “You are an intelligent woman. You would have to be to understand the things that you do, so think about this for a moment. Thor set off on a potentially very dangerous mission, and now he is missing, likely being held captive by an enemy of Asgard. Communications between stones like those can be traced. Not easily, granted, but they can be with the proper time and motivation.

“I do not know much about the enemies that he pursued, but I am willing to wager that they would not have hesitated to abduct the prince of Asgard’s motal lover if they knew where to find her.”

Jane’s indignation began to fizzle; still there, no doubt, but now tempered with reason, and maybe a little embarrassment. “They could just ask Us Weekly,” she said. “They seem to always have the inside scoop on Thor’s love life.”

Darcy’s murmured voice from the corner of the room signaled that she’d gotten through to Stark. And Jane truly would need his help. As far as she could tell, using the communication stone would be the only way to find Thor. She had three degrees, but none of them in quantum physics. Her specialty was the big stuff. Astrophysics. Celestial movements. Universe origins. Wormholes. She needed someone who was into the small stuff. A certified quantum physicist, and that certainly wasn’t her. (Not that Tony would be either, but she figured in the interest of discretion and ease of access, he was probably her best bet on finding one.)

“So why are you here?” she finally asked Sif. “I mean, not that I’m-- I’m not-- I just feel like Midgard is probably the worst staging area for a rescue mission, right?”

Sif chuckled. “Not the worst, but not the best; you are correct.” She sat back down on the bed, looking down at her hands. “A few weeks ago, I was sent on an intelligence gathering mission to Knowhere.” She shook her head with a soft scoff. “Whatever prompted Odin to send me there, it was based on bad information. I was compromised almost immediately, and barely escaped the planet with my life. I called for my brother, but he did not answer.”

“Heimdall is your brother?” Darcy asked, rejoining the conversation.

Sif nodded. “He always answers if able, which means the Bifrost is no longer under his control.

“So it is my sinking suspicion that Odin sent me on this mission without intending for me to return.”

Jane swallowed. “He wouldn’t do that.” A heavy beat. “Would he?”

Sif looked up, pain on her face when she answered, “Before Knowhere, I would’ve said absolutely not. But once it happened, I couldn’t help but notice all the strange things about the mission. He wouldn’t allow me to take Hogun with me. Hogun is my preferred partner for such endeavors. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did one without him.

“Now I can’t help but wonder if he intended to split us up.” She laughed softly. “Saying such things on Asgard would be considered seditious.”

“I’m not particularly fond of Odin after he called me a goat, so feel free to let loose all the seditious thoughts,” Jane said.

Sif shook her head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I ended up on Midgard because the ship I took from Knowhere wouldn’t get me anywhere else, and of the allies I have the universe, I trusted the ones I had here the most given the circumstances. And thus, here I am.”

“And you need Jane to help you get back to Asgard,” Darcy said, “or somewhere. Am I right?”

Sif nods. “I need to find Thor. No one is looking for him,” she said. “The king doesn’t seem to care, my brother can’t send me to him, and Thor told me that if there was anyone in the universe who would be able to achieve Bifrost travel without a Bifrost, it would be you.”

“Oh,” Jane said. It was exactly the kind of thing Thor would say, and despite her lingering annoyance at him for the unwitting protection he’d forced upon her, a surge of pride welled in her chest. “I have been working on a couple of different things. I’m a long ways off from being able to be as precise as the Bifrost. Like, decades off--” and decades was being optimistic, “--but I have developed a device based off my readings from the Convergence that can sense the natural pathways between realms, and we could hypothetically activate them with enough acceleration and friction.”

“We just haven’t been able to produce enough of either of those things,” Darcy finished.

Sif perked up. “Perhaps we can use the ship I arrived in. It’s not exactly the best of vessels, but perhaps pooling our resources would help solve your problems.”

Jane’s heart began to speed up with the promise of new discovery and innovation because maybe Sif was right--maybe the alien tech in the ship would be just the thing her devices needed to finally function. “It won’t be as effective as the Bifrost,” she warned again.

“But it is more than I had when I escaped Asgard,” Sif assured kindly.

(Jane really was wondering now if she’d imagined the animosity all along.)

“We can continue this discussion on our way to the airport,” Darcy said. “Tony has a jet waiting to take us to New York.”

“What about the conference?” Jane asked, suddenly remembering why she couldn’t just jet off to space to slap Thor again.

Darcy waved a hand, already handing Jane her small suitcase. “I called Dr. Rau since he owed you a favor for all the stuff you did for his last paper.”

“Perfect,” Jane breathed. Anish Rau was a fellow astrophysicist and a good friend, who, in Jane’s opinion, would probably benefit more from this conference than she would, given that he was an active professor at Dartmouth. “Thank you, Darcy.”

“Yes, I’m extraordinary. Now make sure you grab your toothbrush and stuff. I’ve already got an Uber waiting for us.” She turned to Sif. “Ever taken an Uber before?”

Sif looked absolutely confused. “I’m afraid the Allspeak is not working as well as it typically does. A what now?”

Ever since she’d first gone through the Bifrost, since she’d been hurtled through space faster than the speed of light and had seen galaxies and stars and nebulae and the full majesty of space blazing past a rainbow barrier of light, Jane had gained a rather romantic view of what wormhole travel would be like when she finally managed it herself. Realistically, she knew it probably wouldn’t be quite as refined as the Bifrost on her first go round, sure.

But somehow, her imagination had never conjured up this scene of her standing on a dusty alien planet, ship half buried in the sand and quite thoroughly engulfed in flames, standing next to Sif with the scalped remains of the Realm Hopper between them and wondering what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Initially, everything had gone exactly according to plan. Almost too well, even.

With Tony’s help, they’d extracted Sif’s ship from where it had crash landed in northern Canada, and Jane, for the first time, felt like she could relate to Luke Skywalker when he looked at the Millenium Falcon and saw a piece of junk. Because Sif’s ship was, quite frankly, a piece of junk. Leaps and bounds ahead of a lot of NASA’s most cutting edge tech in a lot of ways, but then there were also hundreds of blown fuses, large and small dents scattered across the entirety of the ship’s dull silver body, and one whole section of the fuselage seemed to be held shut with the alien equivalent of duct tape and dear hope. It was a four-occupant skiff, bullet-shaped with a few fins jetting off the body, a bit like a oversized model rocket ship. There were several windows crafted of some element not found on Midgard yet, apparently, that achieved diamond-like hardness and glass-like clarity. According to Sif, it was the only part of the ship that was actually worth much.

With a week of work, approximately sixty gallons of coffee, and less than twelve hours of sleep pooled between the two of them, Jane and Tony, plus a small team of trusted SI engineers, had altered the Realm Hopper 2.0 to function parallel to the ship’s (apparently outdated, Sif informed them, with only minor grumbling about how she “much disliked engineering while in school”) engine, which functioned much like the hypothesized Alcubierre drive (in other words, Jane was basically going to be using a Star Trek warp drive. Sweet.)

While they worked on repairing the ship and conducted experiments to make sure they’d be able to actually do this without dying, Darcy worked with Hope van Dyne on the quantum entangled communication stone. She couldn’t come out of hiding with the Sokovia Accords situation, but was sent data and teleconferenced enough for SI engineers to churn out a rudimentary tracking device in less than a week.

Which brought them to a massive crevasse in the Greenland ice sheet. Working off of the information they’d gleaned from the communication stone and Sif’s memory, they’d mapped a basic plan for how they would realm-hop back to Asgard. Jane would have to calculate new entry points on each planet based on where Thor’s transmissions had come from, but it seemed… doable. Actually, not just doable. Possible. Probable. Likely, even.

It didn’t quite feel real until Tony radioed from the site set up a quarter mile west of them. The crevasse, which plunged at least a mile down into the ice sheet, measured about fifty yards across at the mouth, and narrowed down to a few feet within less than 300 yards.

They’d really have to burn it in order to create a wormhole before they smashed into the sides of the crevasse. And with the speeds they’d likely be seeing, Jane knew her chances of survival would be pretty slim, unless there were some magical alien safety features Sif neglected to tell them about in her rundown about the ship and it’s parts.

The ship’s engine hummed as they hovered over the crevasse about three quarters of a mile up from the surface of the ice sheet. If she and Tony had gotten their math right, they needed to reach adequate velocity to open a rift when they were between 240 and 250 yards, so their margin for error was vanishingly small. (There were a lot of Back to the Future jokes tossed around at that particular point in their sleep deprived calculations--late night laughs about getting their Delorean to hit 88 miles per hour at the exact right time.)

Their radio, a shoddy little shortwave thing that would only serve a purpose for their initial preparations, crackled to life with the sound of Tony Stark saying, “Jane, everything is set to specifications. We’ll be getting a shit ton of data for you to look at when you get back.”

She huffed out a little laugh. “When I get back,” she repeated, almost to herself. She depressed the transmitter button. “Darcy, make sure he doesn’t steal any of my data,” she said.

When she released the button, Tony replied, “What, was one Nobel prize not enough for you?”

Darcy’s voice came over the radio then, sharp and vehement. “Stop bantering about data and just don’t die please. And since I know you’re gonna worry about it low key in the back of your brain, yes, we have several backup drives and another at a secondary location. You’ll be able to play back every minute of this absolutely terrifying experience if you so desire it when you get back.” The last four words were said as an absolute threat.

Jane softened. Her one-time intern, now assistant and arguably best friend was one of the few reasons her journey was even possible in the practical sense. Jane was hardly a renegade scientist chasing down fringe theories anymore, she was a highly sought after lecturer and collaborator in the science world. Darcy would be managing the gap her absence left, which was no mean feat.

And on the other, less rational hand… it was nice to be cared about. With Thor being gone, Darcy had effectively become her support system, and the affection that bloomed in her chest at her friend’s worry stole her breath.

“I’ll be fine,” Jane replied back. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Hate to break up the party,” Tony said, “but we have readings showing that molecular destabilization is at optimal. It’s time for you ladies to hit it.”

Jane looked over at Sif, who held the main control yoke. She wasn’t wearing her armor, but was still clothed in her Earth garb, her chestplate and bracers stowed in a leather-looking bag strapped to the back of her seat. Sif gave a resolute nod and reached for the main ignition switches. The ship’s engine began to hum louder, the deep bass of it pulsing through Jane’s neck and chest.

Sharp excitement welled within Jane. Deep down, every scientist who studied space kind of wanted to be an astronaut.

“Engine initializing,” Jane said. “Activating Realm Hopper in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” Jane did not have a steering yoke in front of her, but a panel of various switches and dials that would control the wormhole-portion of their engine. She flicked two of the primary startup switches. A sharp, high pitched whir joined the sound of the Alcubierre engine.

Jane felt a smile stretch across her face. It was the sound of the universe at her feet, beckoning her forward. The danger and potential hazards fell away, leaving only pure thrill.

She was about to create her own wormhole, and she was going to cross it.

“I’m the next Neil fucking Armstrong,” she whispered.

Sif maneuvered them into position, tilting the nose of the craft downwards. Gravity pulled Jane forward against her harness. It was a clear day with perfect visibility, so when they were pointed downwards at the crevasse, not a cloud stood between them and the surface but open air.

“Ready?” Sif asked.

Jane could only nod, all of her internal organs having relocated to her throat.

“Engine engaged,” Sif said, and with a flick of one last control panel switch, she pushed the control yoke forward and they literally blasted downwards.

Jane was launched straight backwards into her seat, and though her internal organs may have felt as though they were in her throat, now they felt like they were pressed all the way back against her spine. Her hands dug into the arms of her seat as though her life depended it. The engine began to pulse in a steady one-two rhythm as they approached the terminal velocity. The Realm Hopper’s whine began to get distinctively louder.

The ice sheet was already upon them, and they plunged headlong into the darkness of the crevasse in the blink of an eye.

Jane didn’t even have time to pray to whoever was listening before the familiar streaks of rainbow light began to flash sporadically out the windows and suddenly their craft was bursting through the rift.

Light from the planet’s sun blinded her shocked retinas only for a moment before she adjusted and saw a vast expanse of desert sand, sulfuric yellow with streaks of dark brown across it. Sharp black pillars that looked like thin, tall mountains made the horizon jagged. Jane didn’t have much more time to ogle the world she’d brought them to; Sif cursed as their craft took a sudden dive, the Alcubierre drive whining in a way that did not sound great.

“Try to cycle down the hyperdrive!” Jane shouted over the din of the engine.

Sif grunted a response, and began flicking switches across the dash. The engine did become decidedly quieter, but it still sounded ill and they were still losing altitude. The planetary rift they’d crossed only spit them out about 20 meters off the ground, so there wasn’t much more altitude they could lose before they would crash.

Sif was hauling the control yoke backwards, desperately trying to pull up and decelerate at the same time, and neither was going particularly well.

“Hold on!” Sif shouted before the bottom of the ship made contact with the sand, bouncing harshly and causing the ship to rattle around them. The nose tipped down on the second bounce into the planet surface, harsh vibrations causing Jane’s teeth to clack together as the ship swiftly decelerated. The craft sheared into the yellow sand, the cloud of blowback obscuring their view until the ship finally ground to a halt.

The main viewport was almost completely covered in dust, but there was enough of a gap towards the top of the craft that Jane could look out.

(Crash landing? Unplanned, but Jane was sitting on a literal alien planet! And her tech had gotten them there!)

The sun was shrouded in clouds that had a pink cast, and the ground itself, aside from the yellow tinge, looked a lot like the salt flats seen on Earth. Across the horizon, sharp spires rose up into the sky, black and blurry with distance.

She looked over at Sif in the captain’s seat; she was breathing hard, one hand poised at the steering yoke as the other flicked across various dials and switches across the dashboard. Jane felt the vibration of the ship’s engine finally cycle down and give one last pathetic sputter, and Sif met her eye once the ship had fallen still and silent.

“We made it,” Sif said, at the same time Jane laughed out, “We didn’t die!”

Sif’s eyes widened. “What?”

“There was like… a definitely nonzero chance that we would literally explode as soon as we hit terminal velocity, but it’s fine. Because we didn’t!”

Sif stared for a moment, mouth slightly agape, but then dissolved into laughter and tipped her forehead against the steering yoke.

“Oh, Jane Foster, we will get along splendidly,” she said. Sif sat back, and squinted out the window, taking in the landscape as Jane had done a moment before.

Jane had just hurried through unlatching her harness and reached under her seat for her bag, which had thankfully remained secure as well through their less than stellar landing when she registered the smell of smoke.

She stood like a shot and turned towards the back of the ship where the engine was located. In their slapdash haste, they hadn’t bothered to make the ship habitable for the four people it was meant to hold.

Apparently, a skiff like this would host a gravity generator and the engine side-by-side beneath the floor. The gravity generator had been shot to hell and she and Tony had scrapped it for parts to build the Realm Hopper addition. The engine itself had required a few bulky Midgard repairs, and thus about two-thirds of the floor behind the captain and co-pilot seats had been removed to make room, much like a supercharged engine that protruded above the hood of a vintage car.

So Jane did not have any real obstruction when she looked back to see smoke pouring out of the Alcubierre drive.

“Shit, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire--” Jane said, and began looking around for-- “Do we have a fire extinguisher?”

Sif looked confused. “A what?”

Jane kept spinning, looking for the red canister she knew would absolutely not be anywhere because why would an alien ship have a fire extinguisher--

“We need to get outside,” Jane said.

Sif noticed their predicament and uttered a word she’d heard Thor say numerous times and the Allspeak apparently didn’t have a translation for.

“Come on,” Sif urged. She untied her own bag from where it was lashed behind her, stood from her seat, and headed to the door. Without much fanfare, Sif kicked through it, the metal screeching as it tore open.

Jane hitched her bag across her shoulders and followed Sif outside.

She didn’t have much time to marvel at the majesty of the planet (!!!) they’d landed on, as she jogged a ways away and dropped her bag and then headed back for the ship.

“Jane, what are--”

“We need the Realm Hopper,” she threw back over her shoulder. The smoke was fairly billowing out of the fuselage, dark gray and ominous, and Jane thought she saw the light of full flames beginning to flicker through the open doorway. She swore loudly and ran her hands through her hair.

Her mind whirled through ideas--she didn’t have anything big enough to throw over the whole engine to starve it of oxygen, but it was a spaceship, if they just closed the door, maybe that could--

She groaned when upon closer inspection, she saw one of the body fins had been ripped away, exposing the inside of the ship and allowing more oxygen in. Who knew how many other gaps in the body had been created in their less than graceful landing?

That’s when her attention turned to the yellowed sand beneath her feet.

She dropped to a knee and scooped up a handful of the loose solid.

“So I have kind of a dumb plan,” she called over to Sif, “but it’s the only one I’ve got right now.”

Sif appeared next to her, kneeling as well. “Tell me.”

Jane sniffed hesitantly at the small pile of sand in her hand. While not overtly offensive, she did smell a faint undercurrent of rotten egg. A chemist she was certainly not, but she’d taken enough classes to know a bit more than the basics.

“I’m pretty sure this is a sulfur compound,” she said. “And sulfur is highly flammable.”

Sif gave her a confused look but said nothing.

“I don’t know how much is in this, so my plan I guess is kind of two-fold. Either it’s a low enough content that it doesn’t burn and we smother the fire. Or, it’s a high enough content, it burns for a bit and replaces all the oxygen on the ship with sulfur dioxide gas, which should smother the flames anyway.” Jane paused, thinking of everything she knew about sulfur. “It might explode after that at some point because sulfur dust is really, really easily ignitable, but we should have time to get the Realm Hopper out, in whatever condition it’s in.”

“You’re right, this is a dumb plan,” Sif said, but not in dismissal.

Jane shrugged. “I don’t have any other ideas, and starting from scratch on the Realm Hopper is going to be a huge delay that I don’t think we can afford.”

Sif shook her head, and then laughed lightly. “Okay, Jane Foster. Tell me what I need to do.”

Jane outlined her plan, and they set to work.

Sif used her shield as a shovel (which, by the way, she just reached into her very normal sized bag and just took out like she was goddamn Hermione or something), and Jane the broken off fuselage fin to heap piles of sand in the door and over the source of the flames. At first, it looked like basic smothering might work, until Jane saw a blue cast flame emerging at the edges of their sand covering.

“Sif!” Jane shouted, “It’s time!”

Sif tossed her shield back towards the safety zone of their bags, and lifted the door back into place. Sif turned to that her back was against the door, and with a determined plant of her feet, she pushed the door fully back into the frame.

Jane retreated to the safety zone a few dozen feet away. They couldn’t afford for Jane to injure her lungs with the fumes from the sulfur dioxide, so she would stay a safe distance, and watch for the smoke still pouring out of the hole where the fin used to be to die off. Jane felt like it shouldn’t take too long, right? The sulfur would probably burn pretty quickly and all the oxygen would be gone, replaced with sulfur dioxide long enough for Sif to make a mad dash inside, rip the engine out, and bring it out to Jane so that she could extract the Realm Hopper from it.

The smoke began to taper, and then ceased all together.

“Go!” shouted Jane, and Sif pulled the door open once more and she leapt into the craft. There was the sound of shrieking metal and an aggravated groan from Sif, but she appeared no more than ten seconds later, bearing the main driver of the engine upon her back.

Jane began to feel a little shock that her dumbass idea had worked, but they still weren’t out of the woods yet. “We should move back a bit further.”

It was a good thing they did, because not thirty seconds later, the ship ignited in a concussive explosion that knocked Jane forward a few steps.

Sif dropped the engine between them with a huff as they turned back toward the ship. There wasn’t much to properly burn, but the panels that made up the fuselage were bent and singed beyond repair. The door had been blown off of one hinge, and several electrical fires seemed to be working their way through the rest of the ship’s systems. The glass windows seemed perfectly intact, but otherwise, it seemed like a lost cause. They stood in silence for a moment while they looked upon the remains of their craft.

Sif was the one to break it. “Not even a day into our journey and we’ve already caused an explosion.”

“To hear Thor tell it, this is usually how all journeys including you go.” The joke slipped out of Jane without her thinking about it, and a flash of nervous anxiety fled down her spine before Sif’s laughter made Jane look over at her.

Sif responded, “Perhaps if I stopped carousing with the both of you, I might not find myself in such predicaments.”

Her words struck a chord, and Jane looked back at their destroyed ship. “I’m sorry for this,” she said. This was not how she’d imagined her first self-made wormhole trip across the universe, and she’d given them a whole set of problems that were all worst case scenarios.

“This is through no fault of your own,” replied Sif. “I knew this ship wouldn’t last us much longer. Admittedly, I hadn’t planned on the explosion, but I have been in worse straights. We will see this through.”

The steadfastness and surety reminded Jane of Thor in the best way, and calmed her rapidly spiraling thought process.

“You’re right. Yeah, we got this,” Jane said, almost to herself.

Don’t try to fix the whole thing in one go, she thought. Break it down and go one step at a time.

She dipped down to her bag, where she had, amongst other things, a set of tools that would allow her to remove the Realm Hopper from the engine. She withdrew those, neatly packed together in rolls of fabric, and handed the bag over to Sif. “Can you take out the tablet in there? It should still be interfaced with your map.”

Interfacing a modified Stark Industries tablet with a holographic data crystal from another world was essentially like trying to take Ada Lovelace’s Analytical Engine of 1822 and sync it with a modern AI. Thankfully, the data crystal was able to fill most of the operational gaps the tablet left, and it functioned more or less in cooperation so that Jane could calculate each of their jumps.

Jane took to her knees next to the main driver of the engine and set to work extracting the Realm Hopper.

“Our first jump was supposed to take us to Theren,” Jane said as she began the semi-arduous process of extracting her device. It was built a bit like a spider that wrapped its legs around the main body of the engine. Since it sat on top of everything, the damage from the flames was minimal, but Jane needed to be careful if she wanted to avoid any further harm.

Sif held the tablet with one hand and placed the data crystal on the ground with the other. With practiced movements, tapped the crystal to bring up a portion of the planetary map. The hologram was three dimensional and glowed a soft bluish white. The planets, stars, and moons glowed, their positions latticed with a criss-crossing network of navigational lines that resembled longitude and latitude on a map. One of the planets on the map was particularly bright, and Sif reached into the hologram and used two fingers to enlarge it. The hologram magnified the planet, bringing detail of the surface into focus and displaying a small information box that was written in a language Jane didn’t recognize.

“We’re certainly here. I’ve been here a few times,” Sif confirmed. “Admittedly, not to the Flatlands,” she said, gesturing around them, “but if my crystal is properly calibrated, then I believe that is Renos--” she pointed to the horizon, where the black spires Jane had noticed upon entry were starting to look distinctly civilization-like, with small dots whizzing around the spires and up towards the sky that were most certainly ships, “--and that’s where we’re going to get our next ship.” Sif spared another look and a scoff at the flaming remains of theirs. “I promise it will be much, much nicer.”

Jane nodded, glad that it seemed like Sif had some semblance of a plan, and gestured towards the tablet. “Can you run the program to calculate the next jump point?”

“Of course.”

Silence settled over them as Jane worked on detaching each of the “legs” of the Realm Hopper from the matching components on the engine. Jane’s mind has been relatively in the present for the duration of their time on Theren--what with all the unplanned excitement, she didn’t really have the time or capacity to worry about what would happen a few hours from now.

But now, as she settled into engineering mode and her hands moved over the device like it was second nature, her mind regained the latitude to wander.

“I don’t suppose we have money to buy a ship?” Jane asked.

Sif sighed. “Some. I didn’t start with much in the first place in Knowhere. I’ll have to look around and see what dealers there may be in the city.” She looked contemplatively over at the ship. “It may be worthwhile to salvage the windows and sell them. Geodin glass fetches a good price.”

Jane nodded absently. “Thor’s transmission from this planet is old. One of the first ones he sent. So I’m not sure what information we’ll be able to find about what he was doing or where he was going, but it puts us in a good position jump-wise to get to more recent stuff.” Jane glanced back at their burning ship, the smoke from the blaze drifting high into the air in a pillar of dark gray. “Is anyone from the city going to come investigate that? I don’t want us getting arrested by the alien version of SHIELD or local police or something.”

Sif shook her head. “Flatlands fires are common, and as for a police force, this is an outpost planet. Planetary security is outsourced by the corporations who do business through the space ports. They usually don’t bother with anything besides theft in city limits.”

Jane was wholly fascinated by the entirety of Sif’s explanation because by the sound of it, alien capitalism was also a thing, but she was struck by her first statement a bit harder than anything else. Flatlands fires.

Her hands paused in their work, and she looked back down at the ground, at the sulfurous compound she’d recently used to blow up their ship. It was literally everywhere.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news again,” Jane said, “but we should probably move. And then probably keep moving until we get somewhere that we’re not standing on flammable sand.”

Sif’s eyes traveled the same path that Jane’s did--to their burning ship, down to the yellow sand beneath their feet, and then up at Jane. She let out a half-hearted chuckle, “I do think you and Thor may be cut from the same cloth in terms of bad plans poorly executed.”

Jane smiled a little bit. “How about a bad plan well executed with unintended consequences?”

“I suppose I can’t deny that.”

While their movements around each other weren’t exactly practiced, but they managed to get themselves set to move with minimal difficulty. After harvesting the fancy glass from the burning ship while Jane called out numerous warnings to please be careful, Sif dragged them back over to where Jane had begun to pack her tools away and check on the progress of the jump calculations (they were still quite a few hours away yet from having new coordinates.) The Realm Hopper legs were fully detached and she lifted the device off of the ruined Alcubierre drive.

There were three Geodin windows, unscathed from the crash and explosion, if a little foggy from the smoke residue--the main viewport, which was about seven feet by three feet and gently curved, and the two smaller windows from the sides, smaller ovals which both fit well within the confines of the main viewport with room to spare. Sif had them tied together and created a basic harness for herself with what looked like ratchet tie-down straps, procured from the magical bag of hers, so that she could drag the large plates of glass behind her.

Jane adjusted the Realm Hopper in her arms so that she could carry it like a bag of groceries--a thirty-one pound bag of groceries, anyway.

“Ready?” Sif asked. Jane nodded. “Good. It looks like it will be about a day’s walk, so let’s get moving.”

And so they began their trek to Renos. Thankfully, the sand was somewhat firm, so Jane didn’t have to slog like she was going over Saharan sand dunes, but it was not nearly as easy to traverse as the familiar, hard-packed sands of New Mexico surrounding Puente Antiguo. Despite the day being partially cloudy, the sun was harsh and the sand radiated heat, and after about 20 minutes of walking, Jane started to regret all those skipped gym days.

The Realm Hopper hadn’t felt like too terrible a burden, initially. She had some heavy equipment, and was well used to lugging it from place to place. However, “place to place” usually meant “lab to van, van to research site.” This sustained carrying was definitely not agreeing with her arms, and with the heat making her palms sweat, she kept having to readjust her grip on the device, which seemed at least ten pounds heavier than when they’d started walking.

She was starting to regret her clothing choice as well. She had several sets of clothing packed away, and her typical boots-jeans-tee-flannel research combo had seemed a perfectly reasonable choice when she’d been preparing for this journey, but now Jane would kill to have a tank top and shorts on. Not that it’d help for very long, and she’d open herself up to sunburn (which, she realized with a start, she hadn’t even thought about. She didn’t bring sunscreen, or even a hat. Oh god, she was going to be beet red by the end of this day.) The shirt under her flannel was thoroughly soaked through with sweat, her flannel not far behind. She didn’t even want to consider her jeans.

The worst part was, Sif was definitely starting to notice. Jane tried her best to keep up with Sif’s steady clip, but she was, without a doubt, starting to fall behind.

After about twenty or so minutes of silent slogging, Jane’s breathing becoming progressively labored, Sif stopped.

It took Jane a few steps to notice, wrapped up as she was in putting one foot in front of the other, and when she did she turned. “What are you doing?”

Sif answered, “Put the engine on the glass.”

“What?”

Sif’s answering sigh was frustrated. “I appreciate your fortitude, but please set your pride aside and let me help.”

“My… pride?” Jane should probably drink some of the water she’d brought with, because her mind felt sluggish.

Sif’s ire seemed to grow. “Midgardians are not as physically capable as Asgardians. That is simply a statement of fact. Refusing to utilize this is not only stupid, but actively counterproductive. You’re more likely to drop dead of exhaustion than you are to reach Renos as you currently are. Now put the damned engine on the glass.”

Jane felt a bit like a chastened child, which wasn’t particularly pleasant, and she clutched the Realm Hopper closer to her chest. She replied after a few beats of heavy silence with Sif’s impatient gaze upon her, “It’s not pride, you know.”

Sif didn’t say anything, but cocked her head slightly.

Jane bit the inside of her cheek, trying to scrounge up the courage and the words to explain herself. It all ended up coming out in a bit of a rush--“I still feel like I should be apologizing for ruining our only mode of transportation. And I always thought you hated me, and now I get you stranded on some remote outpost planet without a way to get off it. I know science doesn’t go perfectly the first time, engineering even more so, but I still feel like a bit of a failure because I’ve seen what Asgardian tech is like compared to what we have on Earth. Let’s just say I have a complex about it. And what with the whole Odin calling me a goat and everything--”

“Jane,” Sif gently interrupted, “I never hated you.” That certainly drew Jane up short. “Resented you? Perhaps a bit, when I first heard about Thor’s mortal, and then when he brought you to Asgard�� It was more what you represented than who you were.”

“And what--what did I represent?”

Sif smiled, a soft, sad thing that spoke of times long gone. “I was never supposed to be a warrior. I decided to enter the military academy instead of pursuing a traditional education when I was young. I met Thor there. After the Valkyrie massacre, women were a rare sight in the army, but Thor accepted me right away. I spent most of my formative years running around with him and Loki, and once we grew older, it was assumed that we would marry.”

There it was, the thing that Jane had always assumed but had never confirmed. She’d never pressed Thor on it, had never wanted to be the naggy girlfriend who worries about her significant other’s exes. Her insecurity welled up against her will.

Sif must have noticed her expression. “I cannot say I never loved him. I’m still not sure if I can say I don’t love him now.” She laughed a little bit. “But I am quite certain that he’s never thought of me as more than the sister he never had. I was trying to come to terms with that since long before he met you.

“But please understand, the only thing that stood between us was my feelings for Thor. I have truly never thought less of you because of you being mortal, or being of Midgard. In fact, I admire you. It takes great fortitude to walk straight up to Loki and slap him,” she chuckled here, and Jane felt a smile tugging at her lips as well. “You carried an Infinity Stone within yourself, you helped Thor defeat an ancient enemy that threatened the entire universe. You’ve managed to create Bifrost-like travel with the most rudimentary technologies. It would be the height of churlishness for me to refuse friendship with a woman of such caliber simply because I felt some jealousy for her romantic ties.”

“Well, that--” Jane cast about for more words, coming up woefully short. “Okay,” she settled on. She moved forward, gingerly placing the Realm Hopper on Sif’s glass sled.

“The satchel too,” Sif insisted, and Jane complied without complaint, laying her bag next to the Realm Hopper. “I would suggest you get on as well, but I’m not about to push my luck,” Sif quipped.

That pulled a laugh from Jane’s chest, a little breathless yet, but genuine. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Sif stepped toward her and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. “You are more than welcome.” With a tip of her head and a determined step, Sif set off again, and Jane followed, significantly less burdened, both physically and mentally.

“If I may offer you some advice,” Sif added, “don’t listen to what Odin said. I--I care for him as though he were my own father,” this said with a grimace and Jane remembers Sif’s suspicions about Odin’s motive in sending her to Knowhere, “but he is not without fault or without mistakes in judgement.”

Jane scoffed. “Oh, I know that. But then I think, ‘How much easier would it be for both of us if we just didn’t do this?’ I know that’s what his dad wants.” The thoughts almost felt traitorous spilling out of her mouth. When she and Thor were together, it was easy to push those thoughts to the back of her mind. But in the last months without him, they’d become louder. This was the first she’d spoken them aloud, but certainly not the first time they’d been felt.

Sif exhaled, her profile against the sky thoughtful. “My brother has said that destinies are shaped of their own accord by those walking the path, not by the outside observer. It was one point upon which Odin and he disagreed often. In the time I’ve spent with you, the more I realize how true his sentiment is. You’ve traveled across galaxies to find Thor, Jane Foster. You’ll be traveling across several more. Odin cannot stop you, and I can say based upon years of experience that he certainly cannot stop Thor either,” she finished with a chuckle.

A silence fell between them again, but Jane made it a brief one. She made sure to catch Sif’s eye so that she could hold her gaze as she said, “Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear that from you.”

Sif smiled. “I find it’s best to begin long endeavors with a partner with the air between them clear. So if you’ve any further grievances, air them now,” she said, a touch of mirth to her words.

Jane replied, “Not anymore, really. The, um, jealousy thing. I mean, you’re literally perfect so I was intimidated by you.”

Sif let out a cackle. “Hardly perfect, but the sentiment is appreciated.”

“I do have one grievance left, though,” Jane said. “Or, I guess more of a worry. How are we going to get another ship? Are three nice windows really going to be enough to buy us something that won’t break down after a single jump?”

“I suppose if that’s your only worry so far, we are in far better circumstances than I imagined.”

“Well, for all the other problems, we at least have something of a path to a solution. The ship is the one thing I’m stuck on.”

Sif sighed, “You are right, these will fetch us a good deal of money, but not enough to buy a ship in fair enough condition to complete our journey. Which is why I’ve had to come up with another plan.”

Jane nodded. “So what’s the new plan?”

Sif turned and grinned. “How do you feel about thievery?”

#fosterson #actually there is basically no fosterson in this #just jane x sif #jane foster #thor #fosterson fic #my fic

20 notes · View notes

hotforhandman · 6 years ago

Text

Burning Bridges

Hey look it’s my first actual fic length fic in the redemption AU! Still a oneshot, but like... a coherent plot point.

Also, warnings for violence and mild gore. He is a villain, after all.

Toshinori was having a conversation with Shigaraki when the call came in, just a lazy complaint of how hard it was to keep a class of twenty sixteen year old wannabe heroes in line, complete with Shigaraki confirming that keeping a bunch of half-crazy sociopaths in line was just as bad, if not worse. It was getting easier and easier to just talk, as though they had never tried to kill each other. The call snapped him sharply back to reality. “A villain has been spotted near the school.” Aizawa’s tone was rough. “Attacked a group of students. This better not be anything to do with your pet project, Toshinori.” Toshinori looked over at Shigaraki, tapping away at his PSP, and murmured, “I don’t think so. He’s right here, has been all morning.” There was a grunt on the other line, and then Aizawa spoke again. “It’s the fire-user. The one with the burns. The one who took Bakugou.” Toshinori frowned. That one was dangerous. “Your job is to keep Shigaraki there. There are pros on their way.” “Mm. Okay.” Toshinori was hit with another wave of sadness that he could no longer fight, but didn’t protest. “I’ll keep in touch.” Aizawa finished, and then hung up. Toshinori held the phone to his ear a little longer, and then lowered it. “What was that about?” Shigaraki asked without raising his eyes from his screen. “Problems at work. A kid lost control of her quirk.” He lied. Shigaraki just hummed in vague interest. Little did Toshinori know, he’d been listening intently. He didn’t know the details, but he knew enough. He was considering doing something about it, but hadn’t quite made up his mind until his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and there was a single line of text from Deku, along with a location. Dabi’s here.

He saved his game and got up, stretching. “I should probably get dressed.” Toshinori nodded, humming his agreement, and Shigaraki left, shutting the door to his room behind him. Almost as soon as Shigaraki disappeared from his line of sight, Toshinori realised he may have made a mistake.He blinked, and stared at the door. Should he interrupt? No, he was probably being overprotective. Shigaraki would get upset if he invaded. Still, he’d promised Aizawa, and there was no way he knew what was going on, was there? Besides, Shigaraki would have to come out here to leave. After a minute or two of deliberation, he decided to put his mind at ease and knocked on Shigaraki’s door. There was no answer, so he called out his name. Still nothing. Swearing, he opened the door just in time to see Shigaraki perched on the railing of the little balcony outside the ex-office windows. Dressed head to toe in black, coat on… Father’s hand on his face. He just caught a red, scarred eye as it glanced back at him, and then Shigaraki jumped. “No-!” Toshinori ran to the railing, and looked down. It was a fall that should have shattered the ankle of anyone who didn’t have a quirk to deal with it, but Shigaraki was already on his feet, running down the street. Toshinori stared after him for a moment, and then ran to tug his shoes on and follow. Screw his wrecked body, if he needed to stop the boy from going back he would.

-+-

Shigaraki could move fast. He knew that, All For One had praised him for it many times. It wasn’t in his quirk, but somehow he could move like it was. He sprinted to Deku’s location, insides burning with excitement at the chance to actually do something again. Maybe it would come to a fight, maybe it wouldn’t, either way this kind of thing excited him.

He arrived to find that damage had already been done. The pavement and wall lining the street were scorched, the few trees present had leaves that still smouldered with blue flame. There were a handful of kids in uniform, one crying and clutching a burnt arm. Between them and the danger was a small group that Shigaraki recognised. Deku, a girl with short brown hair and a tall, broad-shouldered boy with glasses. All three were panting, poised to attack. And across from them, stitched-up face in a wide grin, was his ex-ally. Dabi. So the pros aren’t here yet. Good. Shigaraki strode forward, ignoring the frightened shriek of the injured student as he saw who had arrived, and rested one hand on Deku’s shoulder, finger up. Deku started, and looked up at him, and his two friends’ eyes widened as they trained their attentions on him. “Midoriya-!” The tall one cried out, shifting his foot back- readying a kick. Shigaraki smirked, levelling amused eyes on him. “Relax. I’ve got this.” “Shig, we-” Shigaraki motioned for Deku to shut up, and stepped forwards. Dabi tilted his head to one side, regarding him with interest. “Well. Hey, boss. Is this where you’ve been all this time? Making friends with heroes? Gotta say, I didn’t think that was your type. I’m disappointed.” “I got sick of corralling your ugly mugs. I’m sure you’d rather be following Stain anyway.” “Is that what this is about?” Dabi asked, laughing a little. “You’re throwing a tantrum because of Stain?” “Think whatever you want to think.” He stepped forward. “Go home, Dabi.” “You threatening me, boss?” “That’s up to you.” “Tch.” Dabi scoffed. “I should have known following a random nutjob off the street was a bad idea. Kurogiri wants you home, boss. You don’t belong with these naive fucks.” “No.” Shigaraki stuck his hands in his pockets. “No?” Dabi tutted. “What would Sensei think?” Shigaraki’s gut twisted, and he pushed down the guilt that surfaced, narrowing his eyes. “Sensei lost.” “And your loyalty is to the winning side?” “My loyalty is to me.” Dabi sighed, and changed his stance. “Don’t make me drag your unconscious ass back to Kurogiri in chains.” Shigaraki’s head tilted. His hands never left his pockets. “You can fucking try.” Dabi was the first to attack, blue flames wreathing his wrists and palms as he rushed forward. Shigaraki easily dodged his first swing and the wave of flame that came off it, feeling a rush of heat against the side of his face. He raised his leg and planted a kick against Dabi’s torso, but it was slightly misplaced and only caused him to stumble, turning to face him again. He lashed out over and over, columns of fire singeing Shigaraki here and there where they just missed, but Shigaraki was much faster than him, almost unnaturally so, waiting for his chance. When he saw it he rushed forward, hand outstretched, and Dabi was forced to throw up a wall of flame to stop him from getting close enough to touch. He swore and danced back, shaking his hand. It would no doubt blister later. Their fight continued for a while, and it seemed like Dabi was starting to struggle, the heat licking over his skin, making the parts that edged the stitched scars look red and angry. Shigaraki knew that if Dabi overused his quirk he ended up burning himself, and with his superior speed all he had to do was wait for him to exhaust himself. Dabi knew it too, his smirk having changed to an annoyed glare some time ago. There was a brief lull, and Shigaraki darted forward again. Something was wrong though, as Dabi didn’t throw up his palm in Shigaraki’s direction this time. Instead, he grinned at Shigaraki and pointed straight at Deku. Deku, who had been watching in rapt attention, muttering under his breath. Deku, who didn’t have time to react. In a split second, Shigaraki switched direction, not caring that the boy could almost certainly take the hit. He wouldn’t see him hurt. He heard Deku’s friends yell his name, but he was already on the floor. Broken out of his reverie by the shock of his back hitting pavement, he looked up and saw a red eye between stiff, dead fingers. The look in that eye was not the Shig he’d gotten to know over the past few weeks, nor was it the unstable monster who had led the USJ attack. It was something new, and dangerous. He only got to see that look for half a second before a hand looped around Shigaraki’s throat, pulling him up and back against Dabi’s chest. He made a choked sound and raised his hands to touch the scarred, rough arm holding him in place, but that hand tightened and he felt sharp, angry pain on his neck and jaw as flames licked over his skin. “Ah-ah. No touching.” Dabi hissed. “You’ve gone soft, boss. And because of that, you lost.” He leaned in, and Shigaraki could feel his breath on his ear. “You’d better come to your senses, or else you’re ash, Chapstick.” Shigaraki didn’t respond, still except for the heaving of his chest. The eye that was visible behind the hand on his face was fixed on Deku, who was staring at him in horror. He scrambled to his feet, and Dabi jerked Shigaraki back and away. “Nope, don’t even think about it, Hero Boy. Make one wrong move and your new friend is toast.” “Fuck off, Midoriya.” Shigaraki spat, that eye narrowed, and Deku took a step back, looking hurt. Dabi chuckled, and one finger traced Shigaraki’s jawline. “I guess no villain changes their colours that quickly. He might have saved you but he doesn’t care. People are pawns to him. We real villains know that.” For a moment, Shigaraki thought it was going to work for a moment, seeing the genuine hurt in Deku’s eyes, but then those eyes flicked to one side and his expression changed almost imperceptibly. That was enough to alert Dabi, and he spun around to face the girl, who had been slowly approaching from behind, forgotten. As soon as his attention turned to her she leapt towards him, and the hand that was around Shigaraki’s throat loosened and threw up flames to defend himself instinctively. She shrieked in pain but still managed to wrap a hand around his wrist. Immediately, he was thrown off balance, and Shigaraki took the opportunity to break completely free of his hold. He seemed to be floating, feet trying to find purchase on the ground and failing, and Shigaraki hooked two fingers into the back of his shirt and swung him to the ground, the girl’s zero-gravity quirk making it as though he weighed nothing. She released it just as he was about to hit the pavement and he gave a grunt of pain as he landed firmly on the stone. Before he could react, Shigaraki was on top of him, his whole weight on Dabi’s legs and one hand on the back of his neck, pinning him down. He leaned down, grinning behind Father’s palm, putting his weight on Dabi’s neck. “You lose.” “So what now?” Dabi asked in a breathless, strained voice. Cheek against the pavement, he couldn’t look up at Shigaraki. “You gonna kill me, boss?” Shigaraki glanced up at Deku without moving. The young hero shook his head, eyes pleading. “If I kill you, you can’t deliver my message.” He purred instead. “Go back to the League, and tell them I’m done being on the losing side.” Dabi laughed. “Coward. You talked a good game but you’re just a lost kid in over his head. Without daddy here to save you, you went crawling to All Might.” Shigaraki felt rage build in his chest, but instead of lashing out, he carefully moved the tail of Dabi’s jacket aside, free hand sliding up the back of his shirt in a move that might have been mistaken for something almost sexual in nature, if the onlooker didn’t know his quirk. The skin of Dabi’s lower back was still whole and unburned, still able to feel. Shigaraki’s grin widened. “Say I’ve gone soft again.” He dared him, his voice carrying an uneven quality to it in his excitement. Dabi grunted, and squirmed under his hold, hands lighting up again as he reached for Shigaraki’s wrist. His movement was just the excuse Shigaraki was looking for to place his little finger firmly against Dabi’s hip. Dabi stiffened, the flames going out, and Shigaraki heard the aborted sound of pain he made, jerking a little underneath him. He felt skin blister and flake away, felt hot wetness well up around his fingers as skin gave way to raw flesh and muscle, and then that decayed too, unpleasantly soft under his fingers. “Go home, Dabi.” He hissed into his ear as the man writhed, his quirk taking only seconds to eat away at him. The girl watching covered her mouth with her hands, and it wasn’t until Dabi gave in and screamed in pain that Deku ran forward, pulling him off. “Shig, stop!” He cried out as Shigaraki, wide eyed and feverish, tugged his arm out of his grip to put his hand back on Dabi’s skin, but Deku wouldn’t let him. He was stronger, and with his arms wrapped firmly around Shigaraki’s waist he pulled him off, letting Dabi scramble to his feet and move away. He was pressing his hand to the side that now had a sizeable chunk taken out of it, blood spreading on the fabric, and he stared at Shigaraki, eyes wide, chest heaving. “You’re insane! You’re never going to be a hero, Shigaraki! The sooner you realise that, the better!” He spat, stepping back, and then turned and ran. Shigaraki pulled forward, struggling against Deku’s hold on him as he watched him run away. “Midoriya-kun, get away from him!” The tall boy yelled, but Deku didn’t let go, holding onto him so tightly it almost hurt, forehead resting between his shoulder blades. “Shig, please.” He said in a soft, trembling voice. Shigaraki stopped moving as soon as he heard Deku’s plea, breathing hard. He looked down at his bloody, shaking hand and blinked. The other students were staring at him in fear, expecting him to attack at any moment. For a few seconds there was silence, except for Shigaraki’s heavy breathing and Deku’s muffled sobs. Eventually, he calmed down, and tapped Deku’s wrist gently with his clean hand. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, and Deku’s breath hitched a bit, grip loosening. “Go home.” He told Shigaraki softly but firmly. “The pros will be here any second.” With that, he let go. “Deku, no!” The girl cried out, but Shigaraki didn’t make any move to hurt them. He just turned and walked away.

What he didn’t know was that Toshinori had been holding the heroes off. He’d seen what was going on and cut them off before they could arrive on the scene, telling them that Deku, Uravity and Ingenium had dealt with it. By the time they arrived to check on the three young heroes, Shigaraki was gone. They gave their reports, that Dabi had escaped alive but injured, and were thoroughly reprimanded for attempting to take on a villain, despite the fact that they had had All Might’s permission. Toshinori vouched for them and they were sent home. Deku went with him, staring at his feet the whole way back has he explained what had really happened. Back at Toshinori’s apartment, Shigaraki had cleaned the blood from his hands and was on the sofa, back in his hoodie, Father put away safely. He stared at the burns on his hands as they came in, not even looking up. Toshinori sat next to him, the first to speak. “I saw you defend those students.” He told him, and Shigaraki glanced up. “I’m proud of you. I was afraid you’d go back.” Shigaraki’s expression twisted in disbelief and anger. “Don’t lie to me.” He sighed, and put a hand on Shigaraki’s shoulder. “I can’t expect you to change all at once. You didn’t kill him, and you stayed here. That’s more than a lot of people would have expected.” Shigaraki’s frown deepened. “Why are you not mad at me? I lost control. I used my quirk to hurt him.” “He used his to hurt you.” Toshinori gestured to his hands, and his face. Shigaraki touched the burn on his jaw gently, wincing a little when his fingers came away damp with clear fluid. “Shigaraki-shōnen, I am not happy with what you did, and I’m in a lot of trouble for what I said to cover for you, but I’m proud of you because it could have been so much worse, and because you’re recognising what you did wrong.” “Don’t patronise me.” Shigaraki snapped, but it was halfhearted and had no real venom behind it. He just wasn’t sure how to react to something that wasn’t criticism or punishment. Toshinori seemed to pick up on this, and smiled a little. “Midoriya-shōnen, go help Shigaraki clean up his wounds. They look sore. I need to go and rest.” He clapped Shigaraki on the shoulder again and stood up. His coughing could be heard even as his bedroom door shut, leaving the two of them alone. Deku was quiet for a few seconds in the silence that followed.

“You scared me today.” He said eventually, voice quiet. “A lot.” “I’m sorry.” Shigaraki said again, and was surprised to find that he meant it. “Would you have killed him? If I hadn’t pulled you off?” Shigaraki took too long to answer. “I don’t know.” Deku looked at him, sadness in his eyes. Not fear, sadness. It made Shigaraki want to look away. “I want to believe Dabi was wrong.” “About what?” Shigaraki asked bitterly. “That you’re too bad to be a hero.” “What do you think I am?” Deku paused for a moment, then rested his head on Shigaraki’s shoulder. “My friend.” Shigaraki sighed, and then rested his own head on Deku’s. “So I haven’t fucked it up?” Deku laughed a little. “No. I don’t think so.” “Hm.” There was another long moment, and then Shigaraki spoke again. “My face hurts.” That earned him another laugh, and Deku got up. “Come on then. All Might did say to fix that up.” Shigaraki smiled softly and followed, glad he hadn’t burned this bridge, at least.

#shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #toshinori yagi #bnha #redemption au #jay writes

36 notes · View notes

lostinsantacarla · 6 years ago

Text

A Visitor from SoCal

Note: Thought I might share a snippet of what we’ve been writing. This story takes place shortly before Mae is introduced to the rest of the Lost Boys gang inside the old hotel. The parts for Mae and Veronica were written by @thesparklingpariah /Marko and David are all mine. ;-)

Mae kept no set schedule, preferring to come and go as she pleased, since the whims of the paying public were extremely fickle. What that meant in English was that she took random days off, depending on how busy things were the day before. Yesterday had been a good day for sales, so she’d decided to treat herself to a day of being lazy, which had culminated in a walk along the pier all the way to the end, just because she felt like it. The breeze was cool this far along the water, and she stood by the railing, her eyes closed as she took it all in. Mae was the only person at the edge; most of the tourists were either heading home or still on the rides. The end of summer meant fewer guests and space was no longer at a premium.

The relative silence was broken by the tide…and the click of heels along the wooden boards. If it weren’t for the wind blowing in just the right direction at just the right time, Mae would have ignored whoever was heading her way, but the scent on the wind made her heart sink to her feet: the sickly sweet smell of decay and the heady florals of Marc Jacobs perfume. Shit. Mae whipped around, coming face to face with a woman she hoped to never see again: Veronica, “daughter” of Miguel, third-in-command of the Los Angeles coven. Her ex-girlfriend.

“Hello, sweetie.” Veronica purred, her deep, rich voice curling around Mae’s ears like a cat. She’d never trusted cats.

“Veronica. I assume this isn’t a friendly visit?” Mae growled, sticking her hands in her pockets. She wrapped her hand around her switchblade.

“Just here to see how you’re doing.” Veronica shrugged, her own hands in her Armani jacket. Despite the strong breeze, she looked perfectly unruffled.

“You mean you’re here to see if I’m still alive.”

“Precisely.”

Marko had just punched out for the night, his jacket hanging haphazardly over one shoulder as he slipped out the back doors and into the narrow, makeshift alley behind the Seabreeze.

His pockets were full of dough, tips from the many patrons he’d served, and the dollars kept falling out, even after he’d secured the colorful garment over both shoulders. It put a smile on his face as he bent down to pick them up one by one, chasing after a couple as the breeze from the ocean tried to sweep them away.

One foot stepped out of the shadows and his keen ears caught the echo of voices in the opposite direction. One was familiar, and he straightened, sniffing the air.

He’d only scented Mae once, but he never forgot it, and knew right away that one of the figures was her. The second, another female, was not human at all, but it was not one of theirs. This was cause for concern. It seemed that even with all of Dwayne’s efforts, their borders kept getting breached.

He growled, shaking his head as he turned and made haste, cursing his beloved town for always stirring things up when all he wanted to do was smoke a joint with Paul, get some fresh blood in his gut, and then head on over to Cassidy’s.

He slowed as he neared the two, getting a good eyeful of the other female, just to make sure he knew what he was up against. Then with a smile that could melt the panties off a human woman, he sauntered up. “Evenin,'” he greeted, taking a firm stance in front of them, while managing to keep it somewhat congenial by sticking his hands in his loaded pockets.

Veronica’s gaze could seduce both men and women, regardless of their preferences, and then stab them in the alley and take all their money. A hint of malice lay behind her eyes; Mae was sure that Veronica expected her to be the same weak-hearted girl she was when Veronica dumped her. Mae refused to be cowed. Those days were over.

“Well, here I am. ALIVE.” Mae looked down her nose at Veronica, her posture rigid. Túlio had spent weeks trying to teach her poise and elegance so she could fit in with the “posh” sides of vampire society, and that included how to stare down an enemy when you couldn’t kill them. She wasn’t sure it was working.

“That you are, sweetie.” Veronica laughed, the sound deceptively gentle.

“So what are you going to do now?” Mae raised an eyebrow, mentally back again in the trenches of the L.A. vampire world.

Before Veronica could speak, Marko appeared out of nowhere, seemingly. Mae felt a bit of relief; they’d only met once, but he was one of David’s men, and that meant protection, or at least, someone to keep an eye on Veronica. The woman in question turned to face him, sniffing haughtily at him.

“And who are you?” Her voice dripped with disdain. “Who do you serve?”

One of Marko’s eyebrows shot straight up at the nerve of this vampire in his town, asking HIM who he was and who he served, so naturally, he turned cheeky and his grin went from ear to ear.

“Satan. Hell… but mostly, I serve myself.” It didn’t seem like his grin could get any bigger, but it did, taking on that Cheshire cat presence before he spoke again. “Oh, and uh, sometimes when I’m feelin’ nice, the newbie’s like Mae, who might need a hand. ‘Cuz you just never know when some stray mutt is gonna come wandering into town, ya know?”

He shrugged, but even in that smile his expression changed. It challenged the newcomer, the intruder, and he changed his position, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.

Mae wasn’t sure if Veronica would put up a fight, but if she did, and Marko won, that could mean trouble for Santa Carla. Miguel, like all the older vampires she knew, was a vindictive son of a bitch. She projected her thoughts towards Marko as best as she could, hoping that Veronica was too caught up in herself to pick up on what Mae was doing.

Don’t kill her! It’ll just cause trouble. Her father’s the leader of the Los Angeles coven, and there’s hundreds of them!’ Mae hoped it would come across clearly. She did her best to look calm, but she was barely keeping herself from shaking in rage and panic. Being confronted with a visual and verbal reminder that she’d been sent away to die (with her best friend in the world seemingly kept in the dark about it) destroying what little calm she ever had around Veronica before this.

“Very funny, little man. Are all you backwater vampires like this, or are you just a special case. Who. Do. You. Serve?” Veronica repeated haughtily.

“They don’t play that game out here, Veronica.” Mae tried to stop her ex from further antagonizing Marko, but she knew it was no use.

Marko shrugged carelessly, making it obvious that he was hearing something coming out of Mae’s mind. He had no intention of killing anybody in front of him, but he damn well wasn’t going to put up with the prissy, higher than thou attitude.

He kept quiet for a little while longer, starring down Veronica to see how pissed off she could get, all the while sending out a mental alert to David.

“Actually, I think we should turn this around. You can start by telling me who YOU serve and why the hell you’re running around my town acting like the Queen of fucking Egypt.”

“Veronica, daughter of Miguel, ruler of the Los Angeles coven and son of Dracula.” Veronica grinned, acting as if she’d drawn four aces in the world’s most unfair poker match. Mae wanted to smack her ex upside the head, but she DID recall that she was kind of like that too when she’d first met Marko. Still, that had been about survival, not showing someone up.

“I told you, V, they don’t play that game here. Names don’t mean anything.” Mae sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Look, you’ve gotten what you came for, okay? I’m still alive, I plan on staying alive, and if Miguel wants me dead, he better come up with a better way of doing it than this. Túlio will find out about all of this sooner or later, you know that, right? I know Miguel likes to make things into a telenovela, but this is getting old. Take your bitch ass home and leave me alone!” She snarled, her anger finally winning out over her good sense.

SMACK!

A loud slap rang across the pier as Veronica’s open palm connected with Mae’s cheek. “How DARE you speak of my father so poorly? And what is that you called me, Mae? A bitch? Sweetie, you think that’s an insult to me?” She sneered. “Remember your place.”

Marko didn’t get a chance to react. All he saw was a glimpse of something moving fast out of the corner of his eye and a savage roar, and he knew it was David.

The leader of the Santa Carla pack snarled and grabbed hold of the outsider, throwing her with ease down the length of the pier without care.

It was late enough now that no one would notice the scuffle, at least no human would.

He said nothing, but pulled Mae up behind him and took a hard stance, ready for anything this Veronica was willing to throw at him.

“You’re out of line.” His voice was deep and heavy and louder than usual. “You have no place here, and your filthy hands don’t belong anywhere on something that belongs to me now. You got a problem with that, crawl back to the one who sent her here to die.”

Now it was on, and Marko put on his game face. He didn’t change into the monster that he was, but he stood his ground beside David and Mae, looking down the pier to where the fallen lay.

He chuckled in spite of himself, eyeing Mae behind David and winked at her.

Veronica had no time to brace for the blow or dodge it, something the vampire wasn’t used to. She landed in a heap at the end of the pier, her face and any bare skin scraped from the force of the impact. Despite being dazed, she leapt to her feet, reeling from the blow. Her forte was speed and cunning; she stood no chance against a vampire that was this strong… and this angry, especially when he had an ally with him. Veronica considered drawing her knife, but she was above all else a survivor. Tonight wasn’t her night to die.

“So… I assume YOU’RE the one he serves. David, wasn’t it? We heard about you. Had a little trouble a few decades ago, right? You’ve recovered nicely. Congratulations.” She spat the blood out from her mouth where she’d bit into her cheek during her fall.

Mae placed her hand on David’s lower back, the gesture out of sight of Veronica, but she was sure Marko saw it. She was silently asking him to hold back. She nodded at Marko, then stepped to the left so she could see Veronica better. Her cheek was bright red.

“Go home, Veronica.” She growled, keeping her head held high despite the pain. “Tell Miguel to leave me alone. Túlio’s a good man; if Miguel wants to make him a psycho like you, he’ll never succeed. Tell him I’m staying here, in Santa Carla. He can have L.A.”

“… Got yourself a new boyfriend, huh?” Veronica sneered, deciding to throw in one last dig at Mae. “Or is this just an arrangement, huh? You always were a little slut.” She laughed, turning her attention to David. “You can keep her…for as long as it lasts. Miguel wants her dead, and Father always gets what he wants.”

Marko felt the air lighten around them as soon as Veronica departed and he blew air through his lips while running a hand through his messy curls. “Just another night, huh boss?”

David turned to Mae and cupped both her cheeks in his gloved hands, gently brushing over the red spot with his thumb. “You could say that,” he said to Marko. “We need better security around here.”

“Dwayne’s messing up? He’s gotten busy, what with a kid on the way.”

“Nah. I can’t expect him to keep his eyes on every single foot of ground we have here. It’s too vast. We’ll need to think of something else from now on. There’s too many coming through.” For a second he looked out to sea and then down at Mae. “You all right?”

“I will be.” Mae nodded, her voice shaky, just like the rest of her. She was doing her best to fight of the urge to cry, but her eyes were watering and her body was shivering. The adrenaline from the hit and the potential fight was beginning to wear off, and she finally felt the sting from the slap. She wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, but anger was definitely warring for the top spot, followed closely by an utter breakdown. She hoped anger won.

She took a deep breath, then turned to face Marko. “Thank you. For helping me.” Mae didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Marko hadn’t come by.

“Yeah you owe me.” He jerked his head up and grinned. Of course he was teasing, but she was still new, and he couldn’t let her get off that easy. Besides, breaking the tension was the name of the game. He pulled a small bottle of rum from the inside of his jacket and offered it to her. “It’ll help take the edge off. Trust me. Still cold too, if ya just wanna hold it against your cheek.”

“Marko,” David warned, but he was only half serious. He wanted to brush it off as a victory, but there were too many things weighing on him now, even if the threat of a war with the vampires in LA was minimal compared to the angels ready to reign in hell and unleash it on Santa Carla.

Mae laughed it off. “Sure thing. Come by the booth. I’ll give you the friends and family discount.” She winked, taking the rum and drinking a mouthful before putting it on her face. “Damn, that feels good.”

After a few moments, she handed it back to Marko. “Don’t want it getting too warm.” She really wanted to lean into David and take a moment to collect herself, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome it in front of one of his men. Instead, she scrubbed at her eyes and glared at the empty end of the pier.

“You can see why we broke up.”

“She’s full of herself,” was all David had to say about that.

Marko nodded and took the bottle back before giving Mae a ‘see you later’ salute and headed on his way. He could tell by the look on David’s face that he needed a few moments alone with Mae.

After Marko was out of sight, he turned to Mae and examined her cheek a little closer. Considering the hit was from another vampire, the impact was a little more damaging than just a mortal’s slap. “You should put some ice on that. Or I could fix it for you right now. I just want you to know that I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe here, and now. I’d like to take you to our home tonight. If you’re willing to come.”

“THAT is an understatement.” Mae huffed, rubbing at her cheek.

She waved at Marko, watching him go until David faced her once again. Her first instinct was to blurt out something mushy, like ‘I’d go anywhere with you’, but luckily she saved herself from looking like an idiot. Still, she blushed a little, resting her hands on his waist. She was still fighting off tears, but she ignored them for now.

“Could you fix it, please?” She asked, smiling softly. “And yes. I’ll come home with you.” Then, she remembered something, and her grin became a strange mix of teasing and adoring.

“So… I belong to you now?”

David simply pierced the pad of his thumb with the extension of one of his claws and when a bead of his blood pooled there, he gently smeared it across her cheekbone, making sure it absorbed thoroughly before answering her. The effects of its healing ability would be instant and the pain would disappear.

He had noted her smile, acting as if it was nothing, something that important, even though it was. Getting a rise out of her was fun, and he pushed the moment to the point of no return, when there was no other choice but to answer. It was just like sex, letting the pleasure build until all there was left was an explosion that took you above the clouds and to the stars.

“Would it be a problem if I said you did?” He pulled his hand away from her cheek to admire his handy work. “I press the point of taking this slow, but you’re here now, and I just threatened another pack member’s existence, all for you.” Now he looked her directly in the eyes, his expression complete business. Yet behind that crystal blue there was an undenying look of need. “You are mine now, aren’t you?” Would he let her go even if she said no? Probably not.

Mae met his gaze, her own softening when she saw the deeply hidden need. He wanted her, and she wanted him. She’d wanted him since she met him, not just because she was lonely, but because he was so enchanting. Dark and brooding, like many of his kind, but also secretly gentle and caring, if you’d earned it. He’d nearly killed for her. He didn’t care what her connections were or where she came from, but who she was. She wanted him forever.

She’d be damned if she let him go.

“I was yours the moment I followed you out of the bar. You earned me when you didn’t care about who I knew, but who I am.” She smiled, the gesture no longer burdened by pain or fear.

“I’m yours, David. And you’re mine, aren’t you?”

There was a little hesitation on his end, only because sentimental words weren’t his forte and he was still afraid to make a mistake, yet as the notary he’d already signed and closed the deal.

He offered her his hand, palm side up, like an old fashioned gentlemen. “Down to the last detail,” he said with an earnest grin.

Mae laughed in delight, all the turmoil of the day forgotten as she took his hand.

“Good.”

#the lost boys #lost boys #writing #role play #one shot #fan fic #David #Marko #Mae #Veronica #OC's

11 notes · View notes

limey-blue-arty-do · 7 years ago

Text

Going Through The Stages

a lil ficlet inspired by my Angor Rot shitpost of how he deals with humans (in turn inspired by my OC and Angor interactions)

this is very heavily a canon divergence AU, features OCs, and is an Angor angst-free zone. enjoy~

Stage 1: Do not fucking touch me

“Angor Rot, this is your new assistant.”

The young woman that Strickler gestured to bristled furiously, as she muttered, “We’ve already met.” Angor was very much content to glare and bare a slight growl in her direction.

Strickler felt a sinking sensation in his gut as he recalled the state that the Order’s new witch had been found in – bruised and exhausted in the care of the Trollhunter.

“So, you might have gotten off on the wrong foot”, he started, an attempt to placate the two. Twin glares suggested placating would not work. “But remember that you are here under the watch of the Order-” The witch scowled, something horribly bitter and yet sad in her eyes. “-and you are under my strict orders.” Another of Angor’s slight warning growls was uttered, this time in Strickler’s direction. Strickler held up the ring, and the gentle hum of golden power silenced Angor’s snarling.

“You two will be working together to stop the Trollhunter”, Strickler told them. “And as such any inconveniences-“

“That’s one way to describe murder”, the witch mumbled.

“…Any inconveniences will not be allowed. I’m sure the two of you will manage to figure out a working plan.” Satisfied, Strickler gave them both temperamental smile. The witch responded with a roll of the eyes and a heavy sigh, before glancing at Angor.

“At least you’re not allowed to try and kill me now”, she commented, reaching out a hand to the troll. He recoiled, his knife still in grip from his usual golem carving, spitting at her, “I’m sure I could manage to maim you, witchling!”

Strickler’s sinking sensation did not abate.

Stage 2: Gestures of comfort are going get snapped at

There was something about having one’s soul used against oneself that left a painful ache even stronger than emptiness.

Angor watched Strickler’s back as the changeling walked away from the night scattered woodland clearing, feeling the urge to leap at his unprotected back and sink a stone dagger into the softness. But his limbs would not obey. Not now. Not until that ring was in his hands.

“Not gonna lie, that guy is kinda an asshole”, the witch commented. She was sitting nearby. Almost casual, but her shoulders rose when Angor glared at her as if she too would pounce.

As Angor rumbled a foul phrase in Trollish, the witch stood, unwrapping each leg with a wince and brushing off whatever foliage stuck to her coat.

“I uh….I feel you though”, she muttered. “I get that this sucks, having something taken, and-”

“Do not presume to know my thoughts!”, Angor snapped at her, his voice edging on a brutal roar.

“And don’t you try to judge me in return!” Silence. Inhale, exhale. A shaking breath. Soft fleshing movements. Such weakness.

Stage 3: You can steady yourself if needed but I will push you away if touch lingers for more than 1 second

They’d been traversing these tunnels for about an hour. Angor had been expecting the young witch to make some complaints or tire, but she’d been keeping reasonably good pace to his hidden surprise. Sure she’d attempted to make some conversation, but seeing as Angor was either short or reluctant on responses, she’d eventually lapsed into silence.

Well, for long enough periods of time.

“Do you know other kinds of magic?”, she asked. “Apart from tracking and stasis and projection? Granted that’s a strange combination to have on hand..” Again she trailed off. Angor glanced back over his shoulder, checking again she had not fallen behind. The human face was vaguely illuminated by the grey-white orb of light she had summoned to her hand, face pinched in that common manner that suggested she was thinking about something, or otherwise not in the moment.

“Keep your wits around you”, Angor rumbled, and her eyes snapped back up to him. “We will not be alone for much longer.”

“Right”, the witch said, and she took two steps into a hidden crack or crevice. Stumbling, she muffled a sound of distress, her path sending her falling against Angor. He braced himself not to step back, an arm adjusting to keep her upright.

A second passed, and he shoved her back onto solid ground.

“…Thanks”, she said.

“Watch your step, next time I may not assist”, Angor replied, continuing to lead the way.

Stage 4: If you hit me during a fight I’m going be a little bit proud

The woodlands surrounding Arcadia were widespread, with trunks and leaves that could swallow sound like a hole.

It was a suitable hiding place and training ground.

Shadows warped and coalesced across the dappled grass, forming a solid object that the witch plucked from the ground. Her hands forced the shape into a spear that turned and blocked Angor’s downward swing, stone and shadow hitting together with a muted metallic noise. Leaping back, Angor tossed the dagger to his other hand and came running in again. The witch turned the spear to the incoming attack and didn’t see the claw stretched toward her unprotected side. Sure the dagger was blocked again, but she was still bodily flung across the clearing. Turning in the air, she landed, rolled with the continuing motion, and came to a halt in a crouching position.

“When facing a greater opponent, they can always flank you”, Angor called across at her. “Maintain awareness of all your surroundings, and you may withstand a chance of survival.”

“I get it, I’m small, I’m more likely to die”, the witch said, standing with a sigh and slack posture.

Unguarded.

Angor kicked off from the ground, dagger in one hand and a spell manifesting in the other. Something to stun, to sting, to drive the lesson in-

Wait.

Her posture shifted even as he moved, the spear splintering into a dozen shards of black magic, her eyes watching him and prepared, she’d planned this and she was ready.

He struck low, moving to avoid the shards, as she leapt high and planted her foot into his face.

A small explosion of black cloud pushed the witch forward and Angor backward, hitting the ground and rolling uncontrolled, coming to rest on his side with a growing pain across his jaw. The witch didn’t fare much better, launched across the clearing by her own magic and falling in a cacophony of limbs and smoke. For a brief while, the two opponents lay dazed.

Angor let out a laugh, distant and grating as he slowly pushed himself back to his feet. The witch eyed him with an expression of nervousness.

“You are learning”, Angor said. “There may be some worth in you yet.”

“….Did you just compliment me?”

“I stated the facts.”

“You complimented me. Wow.”

Angor nudged the witch in the ribs with his foot and she wheezed.

“Up. This lesson is not yet complete.”

They took position once more.

Stage 5: Tapping my arm to get my attention is allowed but causes irritated glaring

The Trollhunter and his allies were wary now. They’d encountered Angor enough times to keep an eye out and to travel in groups. Now Angor no longer held the Shadowstaff, this led to some slight difficulties in keep track of the group. No major issues at least.

From the thicket (annoying brambles jabbed uselessly against stone), Angor watched the fleshling children walk together down a lit street and talk amongst themselves.

No Triumbric stone, but a magical implement gained. What to do now? How long until Angor Rot returned from wherever the portal had sent him? How to retrieve the stone? Where to find the next?

Angor listened. To know the plans of your enemy was to be able to fool him. To know where the prey would flee would be to set the trap in his path. He followed the three, moving silently from the thicket to thicket, another shadow in the darkness.

He felt a hand tap his arm and it was only the fact that the gesture brought no threat that stopped him from immediately turning his dagger on the person. Even so, he still brought up in a threatening movement, an annoyed snarl curling across his face. Tapping a finger to her lips, the witch pointed behind them. Angor turned his head too, and heard bushes move, the thud of heavy stone feet and limbs as one ungainly troll and one large troll moved towards the group.

Time to disappear somewhere else.

Angor pushed the witch ahead of him, and she in turn moved the shadows around them, the night enveloping the two and turning them into dappled shapes against moonlight and street lamps.

Stage 6: Comfort gestures are met with grumbling as opposed to violence

“Do you miss your home?”

Angor cracked an eye open. The witch was sitting across from where he’d taken up his own seat, floating wisps of black magic above her open palms.

She’d spoken enough of her own home in the same pained longing that Angor had felt when he’d been tired enough to recall his past, when Strickler had described Angor’s rise to the Pale Lady’s champion.

He felt the wisps of golden magic in his hands flutter, glowing in strength. Was it at the thought of the Pale Lady? Or was it at the thought of his home, long left to dust and ruin?

“There is nothing to miss”, Angor eventually responded, and he spoke truth and it seemed to ache even more than his emptiness.

Damn this witch for making him remember what had been taken. So much had been taken.

It took a moment for Angor to realise the witch had just said that.

“It’s not fair for you to loose so much”, she continued, almost muttering to herself.

“Do not loose focus. Empty your mind to concentrate on the power”, Angor warned her. He didn’t say she was wrong.

The black wisps curled, fluctuated and then dissipated. Letting out a sigh, Angor went back to focus on his own magic, only to see nothing but the fading glow on his hands. So much for a successful lesson.

The witch watched him, eyes narrowed. Angor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen her wariness, her spite. He couldn’t recall when he’d last felt that sickly hate, like when he sensed the presence of a witch and thought of what had been stolen from him.

She stood up, walked across to him (even with him sat down she only stood higher than his head from the torso up), and asked him, “You said once that trolls comfort each other by pressing foreheads together, right?”

Angor could tell where this was going. He curled his lip, let out a dull, “You should not bother to care”, followed it with a, “I could still try to kill you.” But still he felt contact against his forehead and he closed his eyes.

“The Impure will not know about this.”

“My lips are sealed if yours are too.”

Stage 7: You are fucking small get on my shoulder to get a better view

He needed that ring.

He was going to get that ring.

And damned by any that got between him and his soul.

The rooftops of Arcadia had become second-nature, much like the sewers, and Angor travelled across them quickly in the dim light of nighttime. Behind him, blurring shadow in footsteps and muffling sound, the witch kept well enough pace.

As they neared the museum, somewhere Angor knew Strickler frequented, Angor swung and clambered his way across a gap between the buildings, vaulting up the side of a billboard before leaping across the next gap. An easy path.

For a troll at least.

Looking behind him, Angor saw the witch try to peer between the billboard and metal vents, muttering angry words before trying to clamber up the billboard. Angor watched her progress for maybe a minute before deciding it simply wasn’t going to cut it. Back across he leapt, dropping down beside her.

“Stay still”, he said, and picked her off the ground. The witch wriggled briefly, as she usually did when carried. Reaching around, Angor held her up to the aging branches that grew across his spine and shoulder.

“Hold on”, he ordered and she did, he felt her weight across his back and a foot accidentally kick his side.

Up the wall, digging claws into the metal structure and up to the top of the billboard, Angor crept across before leaping the gap across the buildings again. He heard the witch inhale sharply, felt another accidental kick before that foot shoved into a nook somewhere in his back.

Landing gracefully, Angor shook himself and the witch dislodged herself without much other word, clambering down his arm to terra firma.

“Keep going”, Angor said.

“Of course”, the witch replied, following his lead.

Stage 8: Comfort gestures don’t cause grumbling

Angor Rot felt like his cracked core of a heart had been squeezed in a clamp. One moment that ring, his soul, had been in the clutches of the Trollhunter. The next, the witch was holding it and looking like it was a death sentence.

“Please, give it to me!”, the Trollhunter shouted from beneath Angor’s clutches.

“Do not”, Angor growled, and lo there was the spite, the bile, again a traitorous witch had taken his soul and how dare she, how dare she-

“Angor”, she said, her voice shaking and he couldn’t understand, he’d watched her change from bitter to capable at his side. “Please, come here.”

He moved. Close until she was right before him.

“Angor Rot, I return to you your soul.”

Reaching up, the witch placed the ring into his hand. There was a brief moment of stillness, and suddenly warmth flooded into him. Joy, freedom, a weight lifted with the removal of manacles. Angor exhaled for the first time.

He was free.

“You did not have to do this”, he said to the witch. “You shouldn’t have. I could kill you now, kill you and the Impure and the Trollhunter.”

“I…I trust you not to”, the witch replied, confidence leaking back into her voice and posture. “Do you really want to? Now that you have the choice.”

Angor looked at the witch and saw his village.

“No. No, I do not.”

The smile of relief on the witch was shaking but genuine. Reaching up, she placed a cold hand on his arm, and he leaned down in response to press his forehead against hers.

“Does someone want to explain what’s going on?” Ah, he’d almost forgotten the fleshbag Trollhunter. Stepping aside to face the confused young boy, Angor gave him a menacing grin.

“My leash has been removed”, he replied. “The Impure and his Order, nor the Pale Lady, no longer have a grasp on my actions. Angor Rot is loose, Trollhunter. And next to be broken is the leash of my ally.”

Gesturing to the witch, he was gladdened to see a look of surprised glee on her face. Both were especially surprised though by the Trollhunter’s next words:

“So, where do we start?”

Stage 9: I’ve gotten so used to you starting to climb up me now because you’re small that we have a damn code-word during fights

Given a month ago Angor had been raised from his chains to a world changed and marred, leashed by an Impure and forced to work alongside a witch fleshbag, he would not have expected to come to this. Standing in the shadows of a building alongside a dock of hulking steel and crates, and not being forced to work, not any more.

“It is clear”, he rumbled, and the witch ran ahead of him, taking shelter behind the first set of huge metallic crates. She crept ahead under she reached another opening, then gestured. Angor ran and leapt up onto the crate, flowing across the top to leap to the next before motioning for the witch for follow him. Turn by turn, they navigated the space between the line of buildings and the ship before them.

Angor heard them first. A sour chittering, and claws across metal. He dropped down to the witch’s level, motioned for her to stop. She stepped up to his side, hands instinctively drawing a weapon from the dark shadows around them.

The first goblin was taken out by a simple punch. The next fell to a spear. More and more, about a couple dozen, they swarmed the pair and it was a good fight. Sure, not a difficult one for Angor Rot and his witch, but a good one nonetheless.

Several goblins came in from behind them, from atop the crates, and Angor just about managed to turn and cut them apart into green ooze as they jumped at them.

“Midnight”, the witch called over and she grabbed for the now outstretched arm, clambering up and settling into place with a hand on those aching fossilised branches and a swinging glaive knocking back any other goblin that dared to try and claw at Angor’s back.

When the last goblin turned away with a frightened howl, there was a pause to breath. To take in the scene once again.

Again, the skittering of claws on concrete and metal. But this time something else was breathing, heavier and larger than a goblin.

“It’s them, it’s the Order”, the witch murmured, and to hear fear for the first time in a long time made Angor snarl at the oncoming foes.

“They will not stop us this time”, he growled, as the shapes of humanoid (but not, stone skin and claws and hooves and spines) figures came into view from around.

They would not stop him.

Damned be the Pale Lady, she would not take his village from him again.

#writing stuff #trollhunters #angor rot #OC #self insert #I mean the OC is based offa my personality so idk

50 notes · View notes

littlestshelby · 7 years ago

Text

Michaels girl.

Part 2 here.

(2,103) words.

Warnings: Rape themes, violence and death.

(Trigger warning.)

Fucking Tommy had done it again, started a mess that got everyone in danger but himself. He had managed to royally fuck up another deal, All he had to do was sign the contract with the Italians and the war would be fucking over. But that’s not what he did, Tommy being Tommy sat with Luca Changretta for all of 20 minutes before putting a bullet threw his head, along with the two cousins sat either side of him. Never thinking about the consequences until it was to late. But this time it was Tommy who would pay, the youngest Changretta brother was on his way and he knew where to hit Tommy Shelby where it hurt the most, some where that no one dared to go. He was going to take out the women and children of the Shelby family.. one by one. Starting with Michael Gray’s fiancé. Then Esme Shelby, picking off each of Johns children before starting on Linda and the baby. Before finally Polly gray and Charlie Shelby. Theo Changretta’s plan was going to topple not just the peaky blinders but the whole of Birmingham.

Tommy hadn’t told any of the family about the existence of Theo Changretta. Thinking the young 21 year old would know better than sticking his nose into family business. So it was a Saturday night in the late summer when Michael and (y/n) had been for a few drinks with the family in the garrison, Arthur announcing the news that Linda was pregnant. Causing everyone to drink late into the night. “I’m feeling tired michael” (y/n) whispered into his ear as she lent against his chest, she was sat in his lap as he smoked. Polly and Finn either side of them, Michaels hand dropped down to the small swell at the bottom of her stomach. “Want me to walk you home?” He asked thumbing over it gently, being discreet. They had both decided to announce the pregnancy when (y/n) was later along.

“I’m okay love, I’ll just go right home and get the bed warm for when you get home.” She grinned and his mouth quirked into a small smirk kissing her gently. “Okay (y/n) I won’t be long, I’ll just drink up and grab the keys from the office for the morning and I’ll be home.” Nodding her head (y/n) stood and kissed everyone’s cheeks saying goodnight. Hugging Linda and Arthur once again congratulating them before kissing Michael once more on her way out the door. Waving to Harry who was serving at the bar she slipped on her coat and headed out the door.

As soon as she stepped outside the cold air hit her, stinging her lungs as she breathed. Looking up she noticed the full moon and the bright clear stars shining brightly in the sky. With a smile on her lips she made her way slowly up watery lane towards her home. It was quiet out for a Saturday but it wasn’t anywhere near kicking out time so it wasn’t that unusual. (Y/n) nodded her head at Finn and Isaiah as they walked past her with two girls on their arms. This made (y/n) chuckle. She had just turned down the lane when someone touched her arm.

An elderly man, (y/n) stopped and smiled sweetly. “Everything okay?” She asked. Before she knew what was happening she was being dragged down the ally by the elderly man and a younger man. “Filthy Shelby.” The man spat in her face shoving her against the wall, Italian, he was Italian she recognised the accent. “You’ve got the wrong girl, ‘m no Shelby. ‘M just (y/full/n)” She was shaking looking at the two men but they clearly knew who she was. She was cursing herself for not just staying at the garrison a little while longer.

“Gonna have some fun with you before we gut ‘ya and leave you on Thomas Shelbys door step.” The younger man smirked pulling out a pen knife. (Y/n) had a small pistol on her hip in a holder under her dress Just she had no way of getting to it without him doing at least a little damage with the knife first. Her heart was beating a million miles an hour. “Please I just want to go home, I have nothing to do with the shelbys, if I did I wouldn’t be alone this late would I?” She begged looking at the men with wide eyes.

“Your fiancé Michael Shelby, he drew up the contracts my brother came to sign. We don’t know who pulled the trigger that killed our kin. But it was a dirty Shelby and now we’re her to take from them what they took from us.” The younger man stepped closer pressing the cold blade to (y/n)s cheek. The elder man chuckled “Family.”

It happened so quickly that (y/n) didn’t have chance to react before her face was slammed into the wall and she was pressed against it her dress bunches up in the small of her back. Theo used the knife to cut her underwear off while the elderly man held (y/n) still.

Beginning to sob as she felt the man touch her her body went numb. She felt sick but she knew once he was done she would have a chance to grab her gun. The scream she let out as he entered her was muffled by the dirty mans hand. It stunk of tobacco and filth. It went on for a few moments (y/n) just crying and trying to get away as he slammed into her sending her forcefully into the wall with each thrust.

Slowly she managed to slip her hand down her front, she knew Theo had a knife but she hadn’t seen the old man with a weapon. She used her free hand to grab the small pistol and looked down at her feet seeing Theo’s feet behind hers.

With a quick ‘please god’ she fired hitting him in the foot forcing him backward as soon as the grip on her loosened she span around and put a bullet between Theo’s eyes and another in he pleading old mans chest. Sobbing and covered in the men’s blood she dropped the gun stumbling backwards. Her face was scraped and bloody from being hit off the wall along with her arms and hands. Her cream dress and coat soaking with blood spatter.

She needed Michael and she needed him now. Limping out of the ally she looked up at the moon and cursed the stars. Just as she got to the doors of the garrison she heard the bell ring for last orders. She pushed open the door feeling numb now, everyone turned to look at her, they froze. Everyone knew who she was, Michaels girl. A Shelby.

Harry ran to the back room as soon as he caught sight of the poor girl. “Mr Gray! Mr Shelby, quickly it’s (y/n)” he shouted threw the hatch. “Everyone Out!” Harry called loudly.

The door to the back room opened the men running out Michael in front, each of them freezing as they saw her. “Michael.” She hiccuped her knees giving out, he caught her just in time. Sitting with her. The brothers stood around looking distraught. Polly came out Next and gasped pushing threw them to drop down Next to her son and soon to be daughter in law.

“What happened love? What fucking happened?!” Michael asked checking her over ripping at her clothes checking the blood wasn’t hers. Relaxing when he saw it wasn’t. “The Italians.” She cried into his chest clawing at his shirt to get closer to him. “Tommy” Michale growled ready to kill. “Theo Changretta, he’s after the Shelby women and children.” They All looked at each other before grabbing their guns.

(Y/n) shook her head. “I killed them. Both in the ally o-on watery lane.” The three brothers were out the door in a second off to clean up the mess. “Mum she’s pregnant the baby.” Michael panicked. Before (y/n) could hear Polly respond. She blacked out.

Michael carried his fiancé to the family home, Polly helped him get her changed, Michael had to leave a couple of times seeing the marks and bruised left on her body. He had to go and breath before he went and put a bullet in the head of every Italian on this side of Birmingham. Once she was cleaned up Michael lay her in their bed sitting next to her.

She didn’t wake until the next morning. “Michael?” She whispered wincing as she tried to move. Everything that had happened the night before came crashing back to her, her breathing picked up and she began to panic. Michael jumped awake at the sound of her voice and was holding her face whispering sweet nothings in seconds. “Okay sweetheart I’m here, we’re home look. You’re safe. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him and climbed down into his lap. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall holding her while they both cried.

“I will never leave your side again.” He whispered kissing the top of her head. He was soft with her, gentle touches soft movements, telling her whenever he was going to move his hands. Michael had never seen (y/n) this fragile, it broke him but he knew he had to be strong.

And that’s what he was. Never letting his anger boil over, never letting anyone even raise their voice in the house while she was there. He treated her like a china doll that would break any moment. And that’s just want (y/n) needed for a while. She needed Michael and he gave her all he had.

2K notes · View notes

sweetbyte · 7 years ago

Text

This turned out longer than I expected. I’m like sure send me a prompt and I’ll write a little something, ends up writing a 3k fic. I kinda rushed through the end, ngl, I was desperate to finish this… I hope you enjoy the read @purpletiger15, I did tweak it quite a bit, or a lot but sort of wanted to make it my own in a way? I guess I got carried away. I know Envy was the shape shifter, but Toga didn’t strike me as envious so I swapped with Lust. I also played around with the idea of Nomu being sloth, but then he wouldn’t have really fit into my story anyway so instead he was those soldier things… My bad. Also, many things were left sort of vauge, or else this would have been a multi-chap with an actual plot line….but for the purpose and focus of todomomo/royai….

Pair: Todoroki Shouto | Yaoyorozu Momo

Rated : T

There a light knock on the door, causing Colonel Todoroki to stir. He lets out a heavy sigh, and mumbles a ‘come in’ while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He knows who is at the door, and he knows they heard him.

The door opens to reveal his Lieutenant, who has a stern look of disapproval etched on her face and she walks in and softly shuts the door behind her.

“Sir, please tell me you didn’t spend the night here again.”

“Alright, then I won’t tell you.” He manages to reply before a yawn escapes him. He won’t tell her that, yes he did spend the night here in his office again, in effort to avoid his power hungry father. He doesn’t have to, she’s the sharpest mind in the division, she probably had come to her own correctly conclusion the moment she walked into the barrack. Not to mention she’s known him the longest.

She lets out a ‘tsk’ and begins to make coffee. She doesn’t drink coffee, she prefers tea. She is, however, the only one that can make his coffee the way he likes it.

“Sir, you can’t keep doing this. You’re not sleeping well, and stress and fatigue are bound to take its toll on you.” She’s lecturing him, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed, she always means well, and she’s usually always correct too. “Additionally, if I have to hear Aoyama whine one more time about your attitude, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up shooting him.”

He raises his eyebrow in amusement as she turns, makes her way across his office and sets his coffee on his desk. “Or maybe it’s you I should shoot, being the root of the problem.”

“Now, lieutenant, do I have to lecture you about violence in the workplace?” He teases and takes a drink of his hot beverage.

Before she can reply, the phone rings and there’s a tip about an extraordinary alchemist up north and they’re off.

The tip ends up being a dud, but on the way back he does stumble across a brilliant and rather quirky alchemist by the name of Izuku Midoriya. At first glance, he would have only pegged him a scholar. But the guy is his age, has a boyish charm and a will and passion to be the best, he’s the type of guys who sees the glass as half filled and innocent until proven guilty and Todoroki is almost guilty for recruiting him. Almost. From what he can tell, he’s just short of being a genius, and he needs that kind of almost-genius on his squad.

Midoriya doesn’t accept immediately, but Todoroki isn’t too worried about it. He knows sooner or later Midoriya’s own hunger for knowledge will lead him to the valuable resources only he with the military can provided and fund. He has Yaoyorozu leave his contact information, thinking the trip wasn’t a total bust.

He gets a call about a month later and they set up an skill evaluation.

Several months later, Midoriya stumbles upon the theory of immortality and the Philosopher’s Stone. This information is kept on the hush, being the perfect thing to use as leverage to pave his path up the ranks.

Days after that, they stumble across the Homunculi. Or rather, the Homunculi stumble across them, and they are given a rather vicious warning to not meddle into the subject anymore.

Bakugou ends up in the hospital, sending the message of the difference in their powers.

The Homunculi have different abilities, they’ve come to find out, and aren’t human. They work for a figure they call father, which leaves a particularly bad taste for Todoroki. They also find out the secret of Philosopher’s Stone,the stone made from human souls, and there’s a new objective.

Find this Father, defeat him.

It’s a wild ride from then on out. There’s betrayals, new allies made, and some lost. It all leads up to the promised day, where this all ends and he wouldn’t have it any other way, he thinks, as his squad gathers for the fight.

His squad is proficient, and specialized in different areas. From his sharp shooters to his strategist, to his mechanic, he has all his faith in them when they all separated to better assist with their skills in this war. His lieutenant, however, stays faithfully by his side watching his back.

Todoroki can wield both fire and ice at his control, so her protection isn’t really needed. She’s his pillar though, keeping him going down the right path, willing to shoot him shall he stray. She’s his queen.

They run into the Homunculus who introduces herself as lust on their search for the Father. She’s wild and unstable and manages to separate them in seconds by having the ceiling crash down between them.

Shouto curses and wipes the blood coming out of a small scratch from his cheek with the back of his glove.

“Lieutenant! Yaoyorozu!” He calls, and calls again and when he receives no answer, he uses his left hand to let out a calculated burst of flame that creates an opening through the rubble.

When he sees nothing on the other side, he continues to call her name, while he starts to run down the corridor in search for her.

After the ceiling crashes down, Momo feels the ground disappear beneath her feet and then she’s falling into a different level. She manages to land, somewhat gracefully, on her feet with both guns loaded and alert.

She’s stands still and quiet for a moment and glances up to notice the ceiling she fell though has been sealed. She frowns. They purposely separated them. But they haven’t attacked her yet. This means they were after her Colonel. She curses, and cautiously starts to walk down the path she fell on, keeping her guard up and one gun out and ready.

Her Colonel is strong, the strongest she’s known, and smart. But the enemy is stronger and she’s had a hunch for a while now, that the enemy needed him. This scares her. She can’t let him fall, he has a vision for the future that’s worth fighting for, he has a heart worth dying for.

From when they were young and reckless, and he had accepted apprenticeship with her father in hopes to learn the art of creation, in efforts to neglect the flame alchemy passed down by his father. From when she had shared the alchemy of creation on her back with him after her fathers passing. From when she asked him to burn it, to use his flames for good, for the alchemy of creation was dangerous, the world didn’t need another weapon like her. From when he chose her as his lieutenant and requested she shoot him, shall he stray from his vision like his own father had.

He’s always been the one worth dying for to her. And if she has to die today, she thinks as she rounds the corner, tightening feeling in her gut she’s gained in experiences of war, she will for him.

Momo comes face to face with her Colonel, who has his left hand raised ready to let loose flames, if he must.

She lets out a short sigh of relief, and relaxes her hold on her gun.

The Colonel lowers his hand, and nods at her. “Lieutenant, that was risky. Make sure to stay close to me. We can’t afford to get separated here again. It’s too dangerous, follow me. ”

She replies with a “Yes, sir.” but her gut tightens again. Something’s not right. Now that she thinks about it, he was ready to attack with his left hand, and she knows he’ll avoid using the flames when he can and favors the ice alchemy he learned in a book left from his mother…

She brings her gun up to the Colonels head and there’s a click.

He stops in front of her, and lets a minute pass by before saying anything. “Lieutenant, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Lieutenant? When we’re alone the Colonel calls me by my name, Momo” It’s a risky bluff, but it works.

The imposter lets out a giggle, and the form of her Colonel melts into Lust, or Toga as she insisted to be called, it was cuter.

“So you two are like that?” Toga moves to turn around and is still giggling “huh, how cute, never killed a pair of lovers yet”

Momo is ready though, both guns out and lets out a simple “I lied” catching Toga off guard before she proceeds to unload all their bullets she has in the Homunculus.

It’s all fun and games for Toga, until one of Momo’s bullets catch the side of her bun and her cute hairstyle is ruined. Momo seems to run out of bullets and Toga just laughs, her bullets haven’t done any damage to her save for her hair, which she’s going to be paying for right now.

She charges at the weaponless lieutenant, and is taken off guard, as she witnesses her transmute a shotgun from a thick steel belt lined around her abdomen.

The bullets graze her cheek and arm, and they sting. So Toga pulls back to inspect the damage while the interesting lieutenant reloads her weapon. Her wounds aren’t healing, in fact she’s bleeding, or as close as she gets to bleeding. It’s oozing red velvet, but it has the wrong consistency. It might be the Philosopher’s Stone, she doesn’t care.

At the sight of her own ‘blood’, Toga laughs. “You’re special, lieutenant, Momo was it? Very special, Momo-chan. Makes me excited! I can’t wait to tell father.” She wipes her ‘blood’ and licks it, there’s no metallic taste that she’s come to crave and it fuels her hunger to see the lieutenant covered in red. “But first lets continue playing! It’s my turn to see your blood, it’s only fair! Ne, Momo-chan!”

The Homunculus is quick, and even more crazed than before. She has Momo disarmed and on her back in seconds. Toga has Momo straddled and subdued and is laughing over her in delight as the look of fear quickly flashes over it.

“That’s it Momo-chan? I wanna see that trick again” She leans down and she’s so close to Momo, she’s practically whispering on her skin. “Momo-chan you look so lovely with your hair loose, a shame I have to kill you. You’re boring me now…” Toga’s grip is stronger than expected, even more so when she goes to pull out her knife and is holding her down singlehanded. This doesn’t stop Momo from fighting, and Toga’s smile widens even more. “Don’t be scared, I’ll make it quick. How about I kill you like this” She takes the form of her Colonel again, causing Momo to freeze in shock. “That’s right, once I get your blood, I’ll enjoy killing him as you!”

One second the blade is plunging towards her heart, and the next Toga is being blasted off her as she feels heat just barely lick the skin of her wrists where she was being held.

She quickly sits up and sees her Colonel, the real one, with the coldest look she’s ever seen in his eyes. He glances at her, and then returns his attention to the burning Toga.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing to my lieutenant.” Toga’s body regenerates, minus the two wounds from Momo’s bullets. Toga laughs and stands. “Colonel, we were having some girl time, stop trying to butt in!”

Momo watches as he burns Toga, again and again without mercy. She notices Togas body isn’t regenerating quick enough, and tries not to let the girls screams of agony shake her. The cold look is still on Todoroki’s eyes as he sends another wave of flame and in that moment, it’s not her Colonel, it’s not the man she shared her secrets with, not the man she looks up to, rather the man she knows he doesn’t want to be, the man she knows he has nightmares about.

She watches Togas form go limp and fall to the ground, her body the shade of charcoal. She’s wheezing and Momo knows the Homunculus is done.

Todoroki is about to release the finishing blow, when he hears the familiar click of a gun behind him.

“Lieutenant, what are you doing?” His voice is gruff and monotone, and this strengthens her resolve.

“Sir, I can handle it from her-”

“Stand down, she’s as good as done” He aggressively cuts her off and she can’t back down, not now.

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir.” She replied, tone calm and collected, betraying the emotions raging inside her.

“Are you defying a direct order?” She shows no reaction at him pulling rank immediately responds.

“Yes”

“Lieutena-” His tone rises and she’s had enough.

“I cannot let you do this Todoroki. Just look at yourself, look at her, look at the damage you’ve done. For what, for my sake?” He doesn’t say anything and she curses because she’s shaking now.

“Is this the future of our nation? A man who can’t controls his emotions scorching someone to death with no remorse. A man following the footsteps of his father.”

It’s a low blow, she knows this, and regrets it as soon as she says it. He’s still and quiet and when he finally speaks, her heart drops.

“Then shoot me.” His voice is quiet, and raspy and she almost stutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Is your gun raised just for show? Shoot me if you’re going to.” He hasn’t turned to face her, and she’s grateful. Her hand is shaking and she doesn’t want to believe it’s come to her holding a gun to to his back….

“What are you going to do?” He asks. “What are you going to do after you’ve shot me?” She doesn’t have to think.

“I have no intention of living….”

He finally turns around, and the unforgiving look is gone, instead there’s nothing but regret and sadness.

Her hand is still shaking and she only notices when his hands come up to hers. He lowers her hand and eases her to drop the gun.

“I can’t.”

He doesn’t have to say more, because she understands him.

“You humans really are pathetic” Toga manages to rasp out, still on the ground immobile. She tries to laugh but comes out as a wheezing fit instead. “Lets see how far mercy will get you.” Her arm suddenly lifts and the two are alert, but she instantly brings her knife down onto her own chest crushing her Philosopher’s Stone. Her body starts to degrade into ash, and all is left is her ominous wheezing slowly fading away.

The pair barely have time to compose themselves, before Midoriya and a Bakugou round the corner. No one says a thing and they all continue down the path in search of the Father, none paying attention to the Homunculus on the wall, slipping back into his portal keeping the what he witness from the female in mind.

They’re fighting. Again.

And they’re losing.

Everything is happening so fast, Momo only focuses on the back of her Colonel.

The things they’re fighting are experiments, they’re jack up mutated immortal monsters, and they only listen to the gangly man compulsively scratching his neck in the center of the room. It’s sudden, but Midoriya suddenly vanishes and she can barely hear the man mutter about gathering the sacrifices with Bakugou’s loud cursing.

In a matter of minutes they’re all captured by the creatures the man gleefully calls Nomu. The man is giving a speech and Momo could care less, she’s scanning the surroundings and trying to find some way out of this mess. She doesn’t notice when the man points at her until all eyes are on her.

“And you. A little birdie told me you were special.” He drawls out. Her eyes widen and she goes to look at Todoroki, who’s mirroring her expression. “You almost slid under our radar…. but it’s time to see what you can do shall we?”

She sees blood first.

She sees her Colonels body fall second.

Her head is pounding, and she can’t tell if she’s screaming. A Nomu drags his body to where the man is standing over a transmutation circle. A human transmutation circle. She knows what this man wants, from her conversations with Midoriya she can only conclude he wants her to open the gate via human transmutation.

Her mind is racing, and she sees the blood gathering around her Colonels body.

“YOU SICK FUCKS, WHAT TH-” Bakugou is silenced by a Nomu punching him in the gut.

“Calm down, you wait your turn.” The man turns to her again and smiles. “You know what we want. I heard your brilliant. We did just put a potential sacrifice in danger. We can’t let go to waste…. Don’t tell me you’re going to wait until your precious Colonel is dead. That’d still work, but then we’d have to hunt down another sacrifice to replace him..” He looks around the room “which can be arranged.”

“Why would you risk a potential sacrifice then. What if she can’t do anything!” Iida speaks up

“Because she will. She is willing to die for this man, that much I know, isn’t that right? Oh. Did you wait too long. I don’t think he’s breathing…”

It’s too much for her to handle. Too much. She’s panicking she doesn’t know…

“Yaoyorozu, don’t.”

She snaps her head up and Todoroki is glaring.

The man frowns. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you, if you make it, you’ll be opening the gate next.”

“No. Lieutenant. It’s an order”

“This is hardly the time to be pulling rank, when your life-”

“Yes, sir. I won’t. ” The man stares incredulously and begins to furiously scratch at his neck. “I don’t think you all realize the position you’re truly in! Unfortunately for you, I don’t have the time to-”

It happens so fast that no one reacts. The man is gone. And they take advantage of the distracted Nomus to free themselves.

It’s chaos. Their backup consists of chimeras and old faces, but she has no time to pay attention to any of that. She’s rushing to Todoroki and pulls at the fabric of her shirt. She knows what she needs. She needs, gauze pads, medicine she needs to stop the bleeding. She needs. She needs. A Philosopher’s Stone! That man was playing with one in his pocket, she was sure of it.

“Breathe”

She looks down in shock and Todoroki’s cold hand is over hers trying to calm her down. “Just breathe and take things one step at a time.” She wants too yell at him, that he’s probably dying, but he’s right. It’s disgraceful, the way she’s acting.

She manages to seal up his wound, having an understanding in medical alkehestry. She then rips some fabric off of her shirt, being the perfect combination of soft yet sturdy, and wraps it around his neck just in case. When she’s done, he’s staring up at her with something she can’t name, so she takes it as gratitude. She’s just relieved and still not aware of the what’s going on around them. More back up starts to show, including Enji, Colonel Todoroki’s.

She decides that it’s a good time to move, and she helps Todoroki up. She’s careful with him, and he huffs that he’s alright, it’s only a minor injury….. As if to prove his point, he encases a Nomu in ice, being easier to deal with, now that their leader was out of the picture.

Bakugou is going on a rampage, demanding to be told where this Father was, because “he’s done with this shit”.

The tables turn from there.

Father is strong, but All Might, is stronger.

With his Homunculi defeated, he’s the only obstacle left.

In the end, they’re victorious and it’s all thanks to the combined effort of All Might, Midoriya and a Bakugou who wasn’t going to be shoved to the side lines. Todoroki, chipped in where he could with his walls of fire and ice, but ultimately decided not to get in their way with his injury, something he can feel his father judging him for.

The moment the rush of the victory starts to die down, His lieutenant is dragging him to a proper medic, to get treated despite his protests that she’s treated him effectively. He lets her drag him though. She once said, she’d follow him into hell, if he wished. He’ll tell her one day that, its most likely him who will be doing the following…. one day.

A/N - Also there’s no way I couldn’t make Momo an alchemist. She’s basically one on BNHA and I like the idea of her having so much knowledge that it ties into her equivalent exchange, if she knows how things work and the composition. She’s basically an multi purpose alchemist, thus transmuting a gun from her belt, which she purposefully carries around a heavy ass steel basically brace/belt in cases of emergencies because her Colonel has a tendency to get into trouble. She’s always been smart, so shes researched and understands basic alkehestry. No one else knows she can preform alchemy and she refuses to be an alchemist. Despite her requests, Shouto doesn’t burn her skin/ tattoo he smudges the top other than that the tattoo of her secrets are still intact. He sets her straight that creation is beautiful and she’s more than a “weapon”. thanks to her he was able to learn the alchemy of two elements instead of the one he’s been forced to learn. with the tatoo in tact she doesn’t need to draw out transmutation circles when’s she has one on her back. But she has a theory of better safe than sorry so she predraws her cricles on anything she sees she might need to transmute to keep her colonel alive.

#todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #fmab au #royai au #bnha #me writes #my fics #purpletiger15 #todomomo #jots

114 notes · View notes

survivor-iceland · 5 years ago

Text

Ep. 1 - “How does one socialize again?” - Dylan C

Maynor

The game has finally started. Let’s see how i do in my last game before I take a long break from playing.

Sierra

As soon as the cast was revealed, it was so exciting! I started looking around, and I really feel like I have a strong tribe. I can't wait to get to know people, hear how they think about the game... and I also hope that I'm able to build some strong bonds, too! My greatest fear in this game is probably getting voted out first. So as long as it isn't me...

Zoe Malzone

Before the challenge I was added into an alliance group with sierra, cormac, and john later entitled "oh, worm?" i also spoke a bit to stephen who congratulated me on not being silent and still being a newbie. I volunteered for the bamboo chopping challenge and got too sweaty and the cup slipped off my finger at eight minutes. However, I did make a little bond with the people I participated with, and the host *didn't* say we could potentially make an alliance with each other, which I then hinted at. Nobody said anything about it, but it's not... not a possibility.

Raffy

Alright, let's get into it. I am getting good vibes from Joseph right off the bat. I feel like him and I are going to get along swimmingly throughout the competition. I think Ellie believes that we have an alliance straight off that bat, but I won't forget how she tried to snake me out. So, I will be cautious of her at best. Other than that, Dylan C. is pretty cool and I am excited to play with them again which is wild. That's like back to my ORG origins right there. I think our tribe is going to kill the challenge, but I had to give up what I wanted to do because someone can't read apparently. But, c'est la vie. I'll try my best with winterbells but I cannot guarantee I'll do well

Keith John

Well I joined the group later, wasnt able to chat due to the time difference. No one approached me with a private chat except for cormac, So atleast I know one person made the effort.

I spoke to Stephen, since we were teamed up for the same portion of the challenge. seemed like I would have connected with him. But I dont know why, he doesnt seem very chatty with me. Since he is the only other one with a big time difference, Im hoping he aint gona use that to try and make me boot number one.

I am gona try and see if I can touch base with jack, he was nice and accommodating towards me for the challenge. Hopefully il be able to connect with him

John

Ok, so i think i made an alliance last night? I figured having an alliance of at least half the tribe would be a safe move. I’m honestly fearful it’s just gonna blow up in my face somehow but that’s just the anxiety talking hahahaha. TimmyMy arms hurt!! That challenge was a lot, but I’m shocked I lasted for 2 hours. I knew I couldn’t beat Maynor because he’s amazing at endurance comps. I know I’m good at them but i am able to recognize when someone is better than me at something. During the challenge Zoe proposed a cross tribal alliance between me, her, Dylan C, and Maynor and honestly I’m here for it.

Obviously I’m going to work with Maynor, so being able to be in an alliance with him that i didn’t have to make is so convenient. Today I’ll spend time talking to people and making connections, but I hope for now I showed that I can be helpful in challenges even though I didn’t win.

Kieran

Right now, I'm a little worried. I didn't get a chance to make the same first impressions and relationships like everyone else did, so I need to play catch-up.

Kieran

When speaking to Raffy, immediately this person is not someone I think I can trust. I just have a gut feeling about it.

Raffy

I spent my morning playing Winterbells which is not the most fun experience. However, I do feel confident that I'll carry this for the tribe! Besides that, I've reached out to Keith and Sierra from the other tribe. Keith sort of gives me weird vibes and he isn't the most entertaining to talk to. I have to manage somehow though. Luckily, I'm not on his tribe for the time being. Sierra seems really sweet. I want to see if I can work with her since she also seems nice and active. Those are good ally traits. Also Kieran messaged me today. And his second message to me was asking me if any alliances were made yet. I mean wig. But don't be a crackhead! It's only day 2 with no tribe calls. That's kind of crackhead behavior. I'm obsessed, but I do hope that means that he doesn't shoot himself in the foot. I'll keep my distance for the time being

Raffy

Keith is telling me that people on his tribe are not messaging him which is not a good sign. So, I don't want him as an ally if he's already going to be the social pariah of his tribe

Raffy

And now Keith just told me that he wants to isntantly work together come a merge or swap. It's day 2!!!!! I don't know you!!!!

Kieran

I've been assigned the task of making a cross-alliance with someone from my tribe and two people from the other tribe. I could not be feeling more #blessed right now, because something like this is right up my alley!

Raffy

According to Ellie, she got herself in a 4 person cross tribal alliance with Cormac, Sierra, and Joseph. My threat alert is already on high. An alliance that I'm not a part of is an alliance that is a threat. She says that it was Cormac's idea and that he is being "overly strategic." I'm instantly getting bad vibes from him. He has got to go before he can cause any more damage. My connection with Ellie is already proving fruitful. I hope I can harvest at some point

Raffy

I finally did it. I've messaged everyone in this game. I blame Jay that I have to talk to all these people. It's too much for my small brain. I do not get good vibes from Cormac at all. I think he's a threat to my game for sure. Hopefully, the other tribe sees his bad vibes and take him out. Otherwise, I'll have to do it myself

Dylan C

How does one socialize again? I keep starting a lot of convos with the standard "Hi! How are you?" because I don't want to come off too strong. But on the flip side, I don't want to seem like I'm boring and can't hold a conversation, either. Video confessional with more to come soon.

Dylan C

https://youtu.be/MeQwz9yEPuM

Sierra

I'm feeling pretty good about where I am in the game right now. I have a few different alliances, which puts me in a pretty good spot in terms of navigating the game at this point in time. I feel closest right now to John and Cormac -- both of whom are in two of my alliances and both of whom have approached me for a final two. I've taken a page from Rob Cesternino and Stephen Fishbach's book and said yes to anyone who approaches me with an alliance. However, right now I'm definitely sticking with my first one over anyone else -- Cormac, Zoe, John and myself. We added Keith as a fifth to have a majority, too... but the four is where it's at for me!

Dylan C

me: I'm just being pessimistic but we're probably going to tribal us: [lost the challenge]

I love jinxing shit

Cormac Marek

My frail body shivers in utter delight. A romance brews between the tips of my eyebrows. Who goes into the strange night without protection? Only the few with their shields split between the castor iron. I crackle through the frozen tundra on my broom stick. Powers have ceased to scoot me over the ground. This is not a real broom stick. Yet I run with the branch between my thighs through the snow, cackling like a wild beast. A foot I go. Smoke wanders through the dried leaves above my glowing head. Moonlight reflects upon my smooth skin like a shining river stone. Joyous delight I cannot barely contain! I peek my eyes through the thick of the trees to see the shadowy outlines of Maynor and Stephen. I recognize them by their ignorance. Most say bliss can be found in this state of delusion but I chose a different path. Not one of foolish misdeeds, careless endeavors. My wet tongue grazes my lips in anticipation. Watching them like an owl to a mouse. Snow has turned black beneath my toe nails. Is this a sign from the Gods above? Those retched beings who guide me? Yes, must be. My eyes widen. They must be struck down like sandpaper to wood. Dice are in my pocket. I am ready to roll my numbers. Two fours roll out into the snow pile. I do not know these numbers. Unfamiliar to my mind. My third eye quivers. Oh! I will take the risk even if the dice deceive me. These two figures will be the next to go. Drug limp through the snow as I whack them and go.

Cormac Marek (code 23)

I am stranded in Iceland marooned on a tundra. This bloody tribe has only built a flimsy shack in the past twenty-four hours. Utter blasphemy. They should all have letters sown into their clothes for this offence. I need comfort. Howling winds ripen my cheeks right up like a banana placed atop a raw lime. Tears roll down my rigid face at the thought of sleeping another night out here. Last moon cycle I huddled up next to Zoe and Jonathan. Our body heat kept us warm. Sierra was wonderful to listen to as the stars shone above. Telling jokes, laughing at our very human humor together as a group. All except Jack. That man of firm muscles. He has been off outside the shack in the middle of the night humming like a mad man. Ridiculous behavior unfit for the royalty that lied within the shack’s walls heaped up like a pile of ash. His mouth uttering obscene things. Jack often rambles about the craziest affairs. How his mother was born in Russia. Her heritage in Romania. How his cousin once cut a piece of his ankle off in a mud fight. Jack was insane. Zoe and I often spoke of this in the shack. Ah! Too simpleton of a name. Shack. Makes me want to puke. I stood in the center of the shelter, spun around ten times in a row, shouted for joyous applause and then sat back down. They all watched me as I deliberated the name of the shack. “It shall be heard on this wicked day of the 16th calendar year that this shack in which we sit in shall be hereby dubbed, ‘Cranklins Buzzom.’ Oh yes! How they all whooped, cheered and hollered. John gave me a necklace made out of rabbit bones for the courage it took me to come up with a name. Zoe threw dead leaves on my bald head to make the occasion sweet like candy. I danced in the middle while we all touched fingers together. We spent the next hour swaying back and forth. Moving our bodies like the dandelions in spring. All but Jack. Wild men do wild things to their own wild needs. He was out once more humming to himself. I could see him through the glorious arms of my tribemates. “Mm Vonderful Everyone!” My voice was cracked now from rampant speeches, shouting on till sunrise about squash soup and the what it means to die. Where do we go when we wake up? What do dreams mean? Zoe has given me supple answers to satisfy my philosophical exuberance. Cormac Marek (code wow)Golden crowns are placed gently over our graceful heads. I sit atop a throne of melting gold. It oozes between my grasp. Silver stretches through my veins like rapids. Those who whisper pleasurable things in my ears bring me great news! I lay back in a beach of three alliances. White sand soft to the touch. Ellie and Joseph have taken me in as their own. Raffy presents me with platters of succulent grapes. My teeth crush the flesh of the fruit for sacred matrimony. Sierra has a seat beside me on the throne made of feathers. Her words float with mine like a bird that takes flight. Zoe is equal in measure, following accordance to the laws I have sown. A core three to dominate the world among us. My strong hands rattle at a steel chain. Links that draw down from my throne all the way to a pit that holds the unclean. Within this dirt pit lies four individuals. They are imprisoned for the time being. Jack’s chain collar around his neck holds him in a firm foundation. Maynor has given up trying to dig his way out of the pit in recent days. From time to time the royalty of the palace gawk over the pit in giggles. Our laughter and pointed fingers at those who do not wish to play. They won’t engage in the grand game! How dare they! Stephen is our jester. Hopping around on two feet. I hold Kieran in my lap, petting like I would a new puppy. Our dinner parties are the most jubilant! My closest allies sit at the front of the long table with me. We throw food at Jack on occasion. “Oh, ha. Ha. Yes! Why my darling do you speak of me?” Justin started to fall of his chair. “I did not say a thing Cormac! Please don’t throw the gorgeous rotten tomato at my body again!” I am furious! Purple faced! “How dare you! You are from Spain! Timmy is hiding there and you refuse to tell me! Take him away!” Spit drools down my chin. John grabs Justin by the ribcage and drags him out of the marble hall. “My week is ruined now you insulant foolish people! All except you my dears.” I turn to Zoe and Sierra to compete in our secret handshake. After which I stand a top the long table to proclaim my frustrations. “Find Timmy! Bring him to me in one piece! Go now! Hurry! My belly can’t wait much longer!” God am I full. Stuffing was thick this morning. Raffy must have put extra butter in the food again.

Ellie

So, Bitch is a little scared. I didn’t preform well but I was at a debate tournament. Also if we’ve learned anything from my last game it’s that I’m good with persuasion so I’m asking around to get names and Kieran hasn’t really been social or a help in challenges so I’m leaning towards that choice but we shall see

Ellie

I have nothing against Kieran personally, he just seems like the Gigi of this season. Although I hope to god that my tribe is not a mea repeat

Ellie

We’re trying to play calmly this time, I’m letting the names come to me. I’m throwing names out there without actually saying the names and I’m proud of myself, fuck you marie lmaooo

Ellie

I just realized that I’m the only girl on my tribe wtf, I don’t like that. We’ll live tho

Maynor

Its been two days since cup challenge and my arms are still kinda sore. Unloading the truck yesterday was not fun at all. But im glad that my hard effort helped us win immunity. Everyone else dod amazing in their parts. I really like my tribe. Im currently talking to Zoe, Cormac (think i misspelled it, im sorry) and Stephen. Hopefully im good socially that im not an easy out. I need to continue on my idol search

Raffy

I got chosen to participate in Joseph's and Ellie's idol hunts. I am very grateful for the position because it means, out of everyone, they got the best vibes from me. This is a good sign that my social game is carrying me. Hopefully that means I can trust them later. I gave Ellie the advantage path because I plan on working with her in the future, so it'd be best if I had an advantage on my side. Since I do not really talk to Joseph but like him, I gave him a dead end. Better than getting a disadvantage in my opinion. I cannot believe we lost the challenge, but I guess I should believe considering that people didn't seem to try or care. It frustrates me that Ellie and Kieran did not even try on the challenge. That is just so ugly. My vote will probably go to Kieran because he's barely active whereas Ellie is. Plus, I want to use Ellie as my ally for the future. Let's see how that goes. I think the group consensus will be Kieran as Ellie and Justin both have told me so.

John

oh my god my plan worked. not only did we win, but i didn’t get the clue. i DEFINITELY did not want that target on my back, especially this early. but the downside of all of this is that i seriously don’t know who we would go after if we lose the next challenge, so that’s great. love that.

Cormac Marek (code fisa)

Frivolous swirls of insanity encompass my legs. They run where I tell them not to go, they climb where I dare not go. Storms are a brew in the far horizon. Delightful beckons to the ship’s quarters. Out on this dangerous sea lies two heartfelt apologies. Maynor has come to me in rags. Sweat, mucky, like a swine before dinner time. Slop to the finest hour. I have just caught word that Sierra may have former allegiances to the British crown. Here on our swamp ship of misfits we do not find the posh so delectable. Timmy is still beyond the narrow ocean hiding with his mystical forces. My greatest foe, my closest lover. Two woven in with the other. My chair is plastered with the skulls of those come to perish. Eye sockets whirling with squirming worms. “I thought you knew what I wanted Maynor! I want Timmy’s head on a platter! Get out of my sight before I have to bring Keith into my bedchambers to whip you again! Ten lashes for each word spoken against me!” Maynor retreats off into the underbelly of my ship. “Come here my love, my sweet seashell.” Zoe draws herself behind my shoulder and rolls out a scroll of activity. “Sierra was Timmy’s long-lost lover. I have seen it in my prophesies at sunrise. She knows Maynor from a past life and both of the Dylan folk!” Zoe gasps at the pure horror of her own revelation. I spit out my roast mutton in agony. A bone is stuck in my throat. “I’m choking on my own dispositions!”

Salt spreads through my open mouth as I stare gaping at the dark sea. Where will this lead our ship? Will a betrayal bubble from below the surface? Will Davy Jones come to imprison me in his locker? Only blood, time, and friction will show the path ahead.

cormy marek

Gameplay analysis:

From day one I made sure to message every single person. This would make sure I was in on that first batch of important alliances.

By doing so Joseph contacted me and brought Ellie + Sierra into a cross-tribal alliance.

The Worms Alliance consisted of a solid four with myself, Zoe, John, and Sierra.

This made sure I was inside the vote decisions.

Then I made sure to solidify my alliances with Sierra and Zoe to be made stronger.

The Frozen Five happened without my knowing. I believe Zoe invited me. This only added Keith to the equation who we need for a majority.

Then I caught word Sierra already knew Maynor, Timmy, and Dylan from past games. This meant that I had to now connect with Maynor more so he could recommend me to Sierra. He said he had not spoken to her yet but that could be a lie.

Raffy seems like someone I could drag into our numbers at a swap. Our cross-tribal alliance makes things sweeter.

I’m trying to pull a Noura so I can be drug into the merge but at the same time engaging in forward game chat with Zoe, Sierra, and John as to not seem like a drifter.

Right now I am trying to pull Keith closer to me. Jack is in outer space. We don’t know where he is.

So in Melrakki I am in on the majority, core, and inner workings.

Jack is on the outs. Maynor might be in cahoots with Sierra. Stephen has not made strong connections yet.

Kieran, Dylan R, and Timmy are not speaking with me yet. Odd considering we could swap at any time. I need their numbers on my side.

I shared the clue in One World to put the target off my back and give everyone equal opportunity. I do not want the idol so it works in my favor. We shall see how the next challenge goes.

Ellie

Seeing as I’m the youngest (well, I assume I am) and the only girl on my tribe I feel like the little sister, and I will definitely use that to my advantage

Timmy

Ellie literally messaged me hi and the next message was my thoughts on tribal. Like i don’t know you nor would I give you all my thoughts thus far for a name after one hi. Also, I’m about to lose my vote because these slide puzzles are extra.

Dylan C

https://youtu.be/zPAsozK6pqY

Ellie

THERES THREE GIRLS IN THIS GAME WE NEED TO STAY STRONG

Joseph (survivor Iceland Winner)

I made a nice cross-streams alliance with Elle, cormac, and Sierra. I didn’t get to the idol. Poopy. But I have some ideas in the works. But we need to win at least one immunity before I try to get any threats out. Kieran is almost definitely going home. Tonight at tribal, I plan on voting for raffy, because nobody else will. And I don’t want him to feel too safe. Throw some paranoia at him and then I might convince him to join an alliance with me. We shall see.

Raffy

Ellie is telling me how she's bonding with Zoe over being the only two girls on this tribe. I told her that she should include me in their little alliance that will no doubt be formed between them. Ellie is looking to be more and more of a social threat. I need to keep her close, otherwise I might find myself on the other side of a majority alliance following her.

Justin

So, my tribe is pretty chill. I don't really have anything negative to say about anyone thus far. Besides Raffy kinda gives me annoying vibes. Not sure why, but something about him just annoys me. Other than that, Timmy and I get along pretty well, and I can see myself aligning with him in the future. Ellie as well I vibe with pretty good. Everyone else is pretty meh as of now. As of now, I'm only building connects and feeling the vibes of the others. With that, I want to take out the people I'm least connected to, so that I know what's up with everyone. This might be because I find him kinda annoying, but I want Raffy out soon. He definitely is a talker, and I feel like he will try to take my niche in game of being connected with everyone. However, I think it is too early to go at him since I don't want to call the shots too early, and I'm sure people will object to that as the first vote. So for the first tribal, I want to vote out a person who is least connected to everyone to make the tribe more unified, and make sure I'm not the first one out. That person being Kieran. Everyone I have talked to has said his name, so I'm going along cuz that is not my name. Plus, he barely talks to me too so I don't care.

Raffy

It seems that everyone is good with voting Kieran, unless I am getting blindsided which would not be cute. However, I believe that this tribe won't be messy the very first tribal council.

Keith is so desperate to pry information from Ellie and I about tribal council. Like you do not have to know nor do you have to care. He needs to be careful because his prying nature can give off bad vibes to certain people. Though he did tell Ellie that Stephen seems to be on the outs with his tribe.

cormac marek

Justin just came to me thinking I was in his tribe when in fact we are on different tribes. His tribe is going to council tonight but I'm safe. He thinks we are voting together when I don't even have his vote! Said as long as we stuck together tonight we should be ok. He is going to gasp when he realizes I am not on his tribe! So they are voting for Kieran! Insider knowledge is great. Poor kid. "We should be good, I think we're safe as long as Kieran goes home. Who are you voting for." I told him I was going to vote for Kieran. ZoeCormac and I got really close this morning, and confirmed each other as trusted partners. We have an order for if things go wrong and we have to vote somebody off, but we're also both feeling confident that our alliance is a strong one. I'm not so sure about Maynor, because I feel like he doesn't talk very much. I can't get a read on whether or not he has aligned with other people, and if he ends up getting an idol clue I'm not sure whether or not I'd be able to pull him in, based on a super short conversation we had during the bamboo chopping challenge about aligning after merge.

Stephen

So guess who didnt make a confessional yet? This guy. Oops. So Maynors in my tribe, yay, love that guy, but also eek, good player. Coin toss on whether I try and work with him this game. Cormac or whoever really weirds me out. Sierra seems really cool though I like them. Also this idol hunt system being full of jigsaw puzzles? Iconic.

Jack

I bonded with all gays, so that was fun. Thinking of starting something with Raffy and Ellie after merge, but Cormac and Sierra and I seem to be good.

0 notes

darktyrannomon · 7 years ago

Text

i will be the fall

Confusion cluttered his ears like an Infestation, and with every step he felt he was either lost, or coming close to something big. Back, what seemed like eons ago, but was perhaps just a week, Kaleb had first, really felt, just how "other" he was from the rest of the group.

He remembered their interrogation, knowing that he mixed up his words more often than most, so that their meaning became increasingly unclear, so settled for being an imposing body with a Mankey wrapped up in his Thorn Whip. They questioned the bandit, and he pulled the strings to emphasise the threats Cactus made, working with the Sandshrew in the only way he really knew how. When they had finished, the Mankey a bumbling mess in the vines' embrace, they started to argue. The argument itself was fuzzy, and unclear, and his nose screwed up at suggestions to let the pig-goblin run free, but the gist of it was; "How do we dispose of him?" Well, Kaleb didn't see what the cause of debate was there: the Mankey was one who destroyed lives, and trees sacred to the Gods, and the First World, he should die on the spot. But he hadn't spoke. The curl of his lip bared teeth, longer than the City Eevee these town-livers knew of, and the barely healed scars across his eye crinkled with the furrowing of his brow. Why did the Nidoran defend the monster? Why could Sassafras not see what was right in front of her eyes? Why did Cactus, with all his words, woven along the fine line between truth, and lie, not find the right ones for the situation? Nina was silent. The Dryad was distressed. The Mankey bawled. With a swift movement, he settled the argument at the peak of it's volume, and took an arrow from his quiver. "It is done." He had said, and the vines unravelled to the pig-monkey falling face-flat on the floor. Kaleb cleaned the arrow, and placed it with the others. This act of decisiveness was the thing that earned him the lingering confusion, like flies around a walking corpse; their looks of utter horror bothered him. "Why did you do that?!" A chorus of voices chimed at him. Kaleb remembered his blood turning cold, and his expression followed. "You were discussing how to dispose of him. I took the initiative." Was his simple response, and the small party, unsure as they was disturbed, mumbled away, shooting looks at him when they thought he couldn't see. Very well, Kaleb thought, his paws gripping tight on his staff, I'll be your scapegoat; I'll take the tough calls, as long as it makes you feel better about yourselves. I can play "scary wild man". Easy. Everything about these people was so alien to him, and he did not understand why killing the Mankey was a bad thing - it was what they had been planning to do, all along... wasn't it? Tenzekil too... pardon the pun, but were they not out to kill him, too? From the start they were working to find and "deal" with Tenzekil, for he had attempted a hit on the life of the Earl's son (an important person, apparently, but Kaleb didn't exactly see why... but his partner in love was a very good sport), disrupted a congregational celebration to which many may have been hurt, and disrupted the nature of the land itself by allying himself with this Rhoswin character. Kaleb half expected her to jump out from a rock wherever they walked from the mismatched stories they heard about her. Tenzekil's army defiled trees sacred to the Gods and the first world, killing and burning dryad after dryad, until all but one's sisters had gone. The trees seemed to be inflicted with the same sickness that the Bulbasaur carried - but that was when the buzzing started, the confusion, clouding his head like walking into a gnat-storm. Apparently Kaleb was by now desensitised to the whole thing, because frown lines were settling in for a comfortable ride. "You'll never find them." Kaleb had scoffed when Cactus asked if he wanted to send a message, like he had with every stranger they had met on this journey. After, he regretted not putting his pride aside to ask Sassafras to write a note for him, telling them his progress and to watch the borders closely, and that he was travelling to the First World - everything the planar guardians should know. He did not want these City Slickers to know he couldn't write Common, and later, in the First World, he regretted those words like a knife in the gut. He was constantly on guard for anything that might be following them, lest they stumbled on a hidden army, or that theory of Rhoswin hiding under a rock, and following into the Fell Night Realm was no different. They were in enemy territory - but still, Sassafras felt the need to implant a semi permanent flower to the arch they came through; one bright star in the black landscape. Though his expression seemed permanently grim, he still lived in that gnat storm. There was no way to tell direction, save the Pidgey's natural compass for North, and the landscape was as alien as the group he travelled with. Kaleb knew he was lost, but he was far too proud to admit it out loud. Still, his senses were sharp, and he noticed the trap as soon as his eyes laid on the shadow, and his bolt planted skilfully in front of it's feet. It was foolish to trust these monsters, but for some buzzing, annoying, gut feeling reason, he trusted Cactus' words - and he trusted his weapons. The naivety Sassafras displayed in front of these creatures perhaps helped out the play, but it frustrated Kaleb to no end. He sought comfort at the back of the group, with Nina. He trusted in Nina's fire, and she had watched him sprint to keep pace with three unicorns for half an hour solid - somehow, Kaleb felt that that was an activity you couldn't help but "bond" over, even if its just for the purely bizarre experience that it was. He wanted to ask her opinion of the trip, of their goal, and why she chimed in with Sassafras over not killing the Bulbasaur, with Tenzekil being rather the antagonist in her life as they knew it; but he could not form the words. He must have still been feeling fuzzy, because the mould situation was something else entirely. Suddenly he forgot all his training, and everything was so.... wrong here. Wrong like the shadow following that no one else could see. He remembered gripping the handle of his crossbow, waiting for the inevitable trap to be sprung. He told Nina about the one following, but he told Cactus everything he could without others listening in. He dared not tell Sassafras a thing, lest she blundered into conversation about it. He still didn't believe the goblin about that dark entity they fought. ...Maybe he didn't want to believe. "What will you do with Tenzekil?" The Fairies had asked, the first-worlders asked, the second-worlders asked. "We plan to dispose of him." "We plan to talk to him!" "We plan to take him out of the Fell Night Realm, and help him with his sickness." "We plan to kill him." Cactus had given him a strange, eyeballing look. Kaleb was confused. This is what they had signed up for, after all? Well maybe not Sass, but Tenzekil had also attacked her at the waterfalls... What was the point in covering it up with pretty words? Nevertheless, Cactus and his silver tongue came in to assure Sassafras and Nina that they would try talking to him first. Oh how Kaleb would "try". He had just wanted the arrow, he assured himself as he mended Cactus' hat, as he pieced together what the Sandshrew was not telling them, and plopped it back on his head. He only just managed to mask his own, satisfied smile as the Sandshrew beamed at him. He just wanted the arrow. The wild shape flickered through his muscles as he morphed into a lean canine, familiar in markings to the dead and shrivelled Aspen that corroded beneath one of Devarre's traps, but bigger, meaner, faster. He felt fire in his gut and lunged for the leg of the assailant, unflinching to the sap and gore that trickled down his maw and neck. He felt flame flicker behind his teeth, ready to set this lech alight, but he disappeared. Each time he got the Bulbasaur, his plan to douse him in fire failed, and he scrambled out of the way just in time to be spared from the firey mouth of the Wild Growlithe. It came to Kaleb's mind, that in that moment, he could have morphed into something badder, bigger, if he chose the path of the Druid. He new a few paltry Druid spells, and like the rest of his clan, fluid in basic Wild Shape. But, there were others, like his mother, like the Queen, who chose to study the Circle of The Moon, and could turn into huge, simply monstrous things, and still ignite spells at their paw tips enough to split craters in the mountain side. Then there were the Rangers who walked the planes, keeping tabs on the gates and making sure that minimal traffic came through. As of now, he was just a warrior. A warrior who taught skills to the current Princess, but still, a warrior. His maw gnashed at the multiple Bulbasaur, grabbing the real one by a hair's width, so that his form shook into the kaleidoscope that was the old man's spell. The Princess... Caught up in this matter of the planes, of the Fey and of the mortal world, he had forgotten his quest. The Growlithe's eyes rolled as his teeth sank into more sap infused flesh, doggedly pursuing the man. This old, decrepit soul was a drop in the river next to finding his kin. He would do whatever needed to be done, go wherever he needed to go... and be... be whoever this group needed him to be to find his Princess. Whether that person be Judge, Jury, or Executioner. He saw Cactus stumble in the brambles next to him, and immediately, he shot up. Brambles raked across his Growlithe form, opening up old wounds and nicking the cut across his eye, forcing him out of form before he landed nimbly on three points, just outside the ring of thorns, back to his Eevee self. The healing scars across his eye were still bleeding, but he was relatively unharmed, for the wild shape took most of the damage. He did not look at Nina, though he could feel her heat; nor Sassafras, though he heard her song; or Cactus, extracting himself from the Wall Of Thorns; but simply drew the staff from his back, a grim expression latching the edge of his maw, eyes cold as he calculated what needed to be done. He would take the blow for the others... free them from the monstrous responsibility they were facing. He cast Thunderwave. He remembered the decisive stamp of the staff against the floor, the force resonating like a thundercrack from his unflinching body, waiting for the noise, or lack thereof, to tell him he had succeeded. Sure enough, through the hole, the body of the Bulbasaur man was strewn, crucified, across his own Wall Of Thorns, hitting Kaleb with a gritted smile of grim satisfaction. The women of the group, strong, bold, and bardic warriors that they were, were not the ones to make the finishing blow, which filled Kaleb with relief. They had wanted to talk the Bulbasaur down, which was the only reason he wished for either himself or Cactus to make it - he had a feeling that the Sandshrew was hiding secrets of his own, that he had done similar types of jobs before. Like Kaleb, Cactus knew what needed to be done. Maybe Sassafras and Nina knew in their hearts there was nothing they could do - but they were still filled that that.... hope, that optimism. The realist in Kaleb reeled, sending that gnat storm running rampant in his ears again... But, he was glad. As unattached as he was to this group, the feeling that any one of them felt responsible for the old man's demise sat on Kaleb like... well, a Wall Of Thorns. It made him uncomfortable to see them look sadly on at Tenzekil's body, but it was sure as the Torn World better than how this scene would have sat if either of them were the ones to end it. Kaleb chose to leave the thing Cactus was hiding for a later discussion, his focus on Nina as her paws began to spark. Something in his gut urged to comfort her, but he did not know how to, and was loathe to ask, so he kept his face stony as Tenzekil's body turned to ash. Sassafras saved any awkward words that got stuck around his jowls, filling the air with music, and Nina joined her. It was poignant in a way that Kaleb did not understand. At least, he thought, they seem somewhat at peace. May the Gods watch your path over the Astral Sea, Tenzekil, and may they give you the chance they think you deserve. Kaleb scooped up the ashes of Tenzekil into a vial, leaving no trace behind, as the Fey King bequeathed of them.

#my writing #kaleb things #dnd #dungeons and dragon types #dndt #dungeons and dragons #we have a pokemon dnd session going #kaleb is an eevee from a nomadic group protecting the planes #he doesnt often visit cities #he's v lawful neutral

2 notes · View notes

heroineimages · 8 years ago

Text

Another Bree story

So since several readers liked my earlier story about Bree, the mercenary pikewoman, I went ahead and wrote a story about one of her battles. It turns out that while apprehensive over matters regarding her father in the first story, Bree is kind of freaking savage in battle.

In retrospect, I’m really glad I made Bree a pikewoman. I feel like pikes are an underrated and underappreciated battle formation and I enjoyed getting to explore their use in battle. While mounted knights, heavy infantry, and longbowmen get all the attention in storytelling, pike walls and schiltrons were highly effective battle formations when deployed properly. Historically, the pike-combat that helped make Alexander the Great so successful saw a revival during the late Middle Ages and stayed in use well into the age of musketry.

The story probably happens before Bree’s meeting with her dad, but could just as easily happen after. I’m not super happy with some of the dialogue toward the end, so any feedback is welcome. Also, quick thanks to @lipsiesteatime and @masterpaladin for their feedback on the previous story.

“What in the nine hells are they doing?” Bree scowled at the high-elf pike formation further up the mountain pass. “Are they seriously bracing their pikes against the ground?” she asked, turning to Lieutenant Jarl. “We don’t even have cavalry to charge them with; what could bracing their pikes possibly gain them against another pike formation?”

The dwarf lieutenant tugged his beard, also scowling. “No idea, lass,” he shook his head. “Unless it gains them nothing, and they only know how to use pikes as a counter to goblin worg-rider charges.”

Bree continued to study their formation as she adjusted her kettle helm. Bracing the butt of a pike against the ground was effective against a cavalry charge, sure enough, and worked reasonably well against ogres and other small giant-kin. But against infantry that only succeeded in making the formation immobile and the pikes less maneuverable. Plus the angle of the spearhead wasn’t good for penetrating even light armor.

Plus, no rational officer would let their cavalry anywhere near the front of a pike phalanx; and no rational horse would agree to charge a bristling wall of pikes.

Three of the company’s enchantment wizards cast Protection from Arrows and Extended Mass Bear’s Endurance on the front ranks of pikes as Sergeant Berl called the formation to attention. Lieutenant Jarl’s pike cohort consisted of three-hundred and twelve heavy pikers in chainmail hauberks and padded surcoats. Steel mail was standard-issue, though some soldiers owned mail of mithral or dark-steel. Similarly, those who wanted extra protection bought breastplates or spaulders of metal or hard leather.

In addition to their pikes, their cohort carried side arms and wore kite shields across their backs that could be unslung for close-quarters fighting. Most carried broadswords or short swords as side arms, but maces and hand-axes were also common. And everyone carried an extra dagger or two, just in case.

Their cohort was supported by three wizards, five healers, and a squad of fifty-eight heavy crossbows. The crossbows wore armor similar to the pikes and carried heavy mechanical arbalests that almost qualified as siege engines, as well as quick-reloading light crossbows for backup. Each archer also carried a sidearm and a tower shield with spikes on the bottom that could be driven into the ground and used as a portable barricade.

Ahead the high-elf besiegers stood ready in that stoic, self-important temperament common among soldiers from the elf kingdoms. Their armor was that ornate, leafy-looking leather, scale, or partial-plate that looked impressive but wasn’t actually any more effective than what the mercenaries wore.

The crossbows jogged a short distance ahead and off the pikes’ left flank as Sergeant Berl ordered phalanx forward. The elves had corked up a bottleneck a few-hundred yards further up the pass, in effort to prevent relief from reaching the beleaguered city of Ferul. Lady Theodora’s mercenary company had been commissioned by one of Ferul’s allies to uncork the passes to allow relief and reinforcements to reach the city.

Bree didn’t know or care why the high-elf kingdom of Ellené had declared war on Ferul and besieged its lands. But she’d seen the hungry and terrified refugees that had fled to neighboring kingdoms. One band of refugees found themselves driven into gnoll territory and killed or enslaved, with only a few escaping to tell the tale. These bloody high-elves considered themselves culturally and intellectually superior to other races, but tended to be real shitheads when it came to politics and treatment of their enemies—particularly those of non-elf races.

Just ahead, the crossbows raised their shields as elf longbows let fly from behind the pike formation. Bree estimated perhaps four-dozen arrows arching overhead, most of which stuck into the raised tower shields. Only two archers took hits from the elf arrows. One was clearly injured while the other’s armor absorbed most of the hit. A healer rushed to help the wounded archer, propping up his tower shield as cover while she readied her spells and bandages.

Once in range, the crossbows propped up their shields and let fly against the elf pikes. Bolts and metal shot shattered into the front ranks of elves, killing or injuring regardless of armor strength. After each shot, the archers crouched back behind their shields to reload while the pikes continued to advance.

Arrows started to land amid the pikes as the phalanx neared the elves’ bottleneck, marching ten abreast. Most hit among the front ranks, bouncing harmlessly off their arrow-resistant magic. Bree heard a half-orc yell as he took a hit, somewhere behind her.

Once within a few pike-lengths, Sergeant Berl ordered the front three ranks to lower pikes. As ordered, Bree leveled her pike at the enemy, aiming it at a particularly smug-looking elf in the enemy’s front row. Sergeant Berl waited a three-count, then bellowed a charge order. With the others, Bree belted out Lady Theodora’s battle cry and started at a jog toward the enemy formation.

Admittedly, pike charges required a lot of training to pull off, and even then couldn’t be any faster than a moderate jog. It certainly wasn’t something the average underpaid militia phalanx should attempt. For some reason even a lot of fairly experienced officers thought of a pike wall as a static formation that the enemy was supposed to be stupid enough to get themselves killed running into, or—at best—a means of pinning an enemy in place while whittling at their flanks with cavalry or more flexible infantry.

But in truth, pikes were excellent for shoving against and disrupting enemy formations. An experienced piker kept her weapon constantly in motion, shoving back against the enemy, knocking his weapons around, knocking his shield away for a teammate to take advantage of, gut-checking him with the spearhead, stabbing at his face or weak points in his armor. And those enemies who managed to get between the front row of pikes had a second row to deal with, and then a third.

Shouts and the clattering of pikes drowned out all other sounds as the two phalanxes clashed together. Bree thrust her pike at the face of her target elf as she charged in, the extra momentum shoving the spearhead deep into his cheek. The elf screamed and fell back, dropping his pike and clutching his face. Wrenching her weapon back, Bree shoved again, catching another elf in his segmented cuirass hard enough to stumble him into his teammate. As he fell back, Bree took a half-step forward, angling the pike to penetrate between two armor segments. The spearhead wedged deep enough to cause injury, but not much else. Bree yanked it back out to keep the pike from getting stuck.

Around her the rest of the phalanx fared about the same. These high elves clearly weren’t real pikemen and had definitely never faced real pikemen before. Likely they were just regular spear-infantry given pikes, someone apparently assuming the two weapons worked the same.

Advancing in steps and half-steps, Bree and her comrades drove the enemy back. Dropping his pike, one elf drew his saber and charged between two pikes further down the formation. A Tiefling pikewoman in the second rank thrust her pike forward to catch him in the side, her spearhead snagging his chainmail and twisting him sideways. As the elf stumbled to recover, the Tiefling stabbed again catching him in the eye.

Stepping over the first line of enemy dead, Bree got in another good thrust to an elf’s armpit, catching her between leather breastplate and spaulder. The elf woman dropped her pike, clutching her arm and retreating back through the formation.

The half-elf fighting beside Bree hollered suddenly, dropping his pike. Bree glanced down to see a wounded elf wrench a dagger from the half-elf’s left leg. Thinking quickly, Bree lifted her pike upright to slam the spiked counterweight down on the elf’s temple, killing her. The wounded half-elf limped his way back through the formation.

An elf pike caught Sergeant Berl in the side, a few elves apparently deciding to emulate the mercenaries’ movements and tactics. Berl grunted but his mail held. Stepping forward and using his elbow to pin the elf’s pike in place, the sergeant slammed his spear forward to catch the elf in the teeth.

Their front lines collapsing or driven backward, the high-elves began dropping their pikes in panic. A few at a time, they disengaged from the mercenaries and fled back toward their encampment.

“Drop pikes and pursue!” Lieutenant Jarl bellowed to the formation.

Cheering, the mercenaries dropped their pikes at their feet, drawing their side arms and unslinging their shields. Bree charged forward, drawing her broadsword as they chased the fleeing elves.

The bottleneck widened back out after a few dozen feet, the elf camp’s outer palisades visible further up the pass. This left the attacking mercenaries exposed for vital yards before the edge of the camp.

Caught up in her pursuit, Bree was caught off guard when Lieutenant Jarl bellowed, “Shield wall!” On reflex, Bree dropped to one knee behind her kite shield, her fellow mercs falling in around her, staggering their shields high and low.

Elf arrows hit their shields barely a second later, several arrows also deflected by protection spells. Only a few injuries resulted from the barrage.

Rising, the mercenaries gave a defiant cry and surged forward again. Pockets of elves grouped together in fighting withdrawals as they gave ground back toward their camp. Here in the open, the elves got a number of their advantages back, including higher ground, a clear field of view for their archers, and better maneuvering for their lighter infantry. Bree saw Henna, a dwarf-lass friend of hers, take an elf arrow to the eye, but—thankfully—Henna kept swinging. Another arrow pierced the chainmail of a wood-elf mercenary.

Reinforced by their teammates from the camp, many of the retreating elves formed up into defensive clusters outside the palisade. A particularly nimble elf officer with short swords and mithral chainmail ducked a swing from Sergeant Berl’s flanged mace. Stepping to Berl’s right and spinning, the elf slashed one sword deep into the half-orc sergeant’s leg, dropping Berl to one knee. Keeping his dancing momentum, the elf slipped around to stab Berl in the face.

Twirling again, the elf slashed another pikeman in the sword arm, cutting deep enough to disable. Vulnerable, the pikeman took another elf’s glaive across the face before he could retreat.

Bree stepped in to cover the man’s retreat, blocking the glaive elf’s next swing with her shield. She stepped back to evade another series of slashes from the dancer elf.

Corporal Grom, a dwarf veteran who’d originally recruited Bree, rushed in to engage the slippery elf. The elf took a hit from Grom’s kite shield, but managed to keep his feet as he danced back to recover. The elf feinted to Grom’s right, then spun to his left to get around the shield and at the dwarf’s broad back. Anticipating this, Grom spun to the right, leading with his big dwarven war-axe.

Not expecting the burly dwarf to move so fast, the elf caught the blow in his right side. The mithral mail held, but the blow itself crushed ribs and probably collapsed his lung. The elf let out a screaming gasp as he toppled to the dirt. Grom stomped on his neck to shut him up for good.

Bree blocked a glaive-stroke from her opponent while parrying another elf’s saber. Stepping in, she risked a hit from the glaive-wielder to slash the saber-elf across the neck. Though her gamble was successful, the glaive-owner managed a solid hit to Bree’s left side before she could dodge away. Her chainmail held, but she felt the blow break skin despite her padded arming coat. Wrenching her sword from the first elf, Bree stepped inside the glaive’s reach to stab her opponent in the gut. The elf’s leather armor held as well, leaving a gouge that barely broke skin, if at all.

The flow of the battle seemed to change as the fresh reinforcements from the elf camp and the fresh mercenaries from the back of the phalanx engaged out in the open. Bolts and bullets joined the elf arrows as the crossbowmen set up their barricades and began targeting the elf longbowmen behind the palisades. The company’s wizards joined the fray moments later, casting protection spells on their allies to shift the balance of combat. The healers, meanwhile, scurried behind their lines stabilizing any wounded they found.

Bree felt her weapons and armor get lighter as their moon-elf enchantress cast Mass Bull’s Strength on Bree and several teammates. Her next stroke hewed her opponent’s glaive in half, leaving him open for another stab to the guts. This stab struck true, slicing inward and upward with seeming ease. Bracing her shield against the dying elf, she wrenched her sword away and turned to her next opponent.

The high-elf defenders gave way once again against the mercenaries’ superior training, heavier armor, and magic support. A few dozen clustered around to defend the outer palisade even as groups of defenders trapped in the open started to surrender.

“Clear the way!” Lieutenant Jarl bellowed to the mercenaries.

The elf defenders braced themselves, expecting a charge against the gate, only to be surprised when the attackers broke to the left and right flanks, opening a clear field of fire for the crossbows. The arbalests let fly on the clustered defenders, steel-tipped bolts and steel bullets shattering shields and punching through armor.

With the gate defenders devastated, the mercenaries not guarding prisoners rushed the gateway. Starting in twos and threes, the remaining defenders either surrendered or fled. Bowmen abandoned the palisades, though a few of them occasionally turned back to take shots of opportunity at the attackers. Leaving their shields and arbalests, the crossbowmen drew their light crossbows and charged in to aid the pursuit, taking shots of opportunity and crouching behind cover to reload.

Remembering she still had protection from arrows, Bree opted to lead the way. A good half-dozen arrows deflected harmlessly away as she deliberately made herself a target to draw the longbowmen’s attention. The bowmen either fled or surrendered as the mercenaries approached.

The chase carried her past their inner palisade and amid the elves’ tents and supplies. She wasn’t sure when the Bear’s Endurance wore off, but she could feel her fatigue starting to set in. A group of elf healers cast aside their weapons and surrendered to Corporal Grom and two others. Bree saw the elf command tent ahead, just past another few rows of tents.

The sight when she reached the command tent angered and horrified Bree. Eleven half-elves in servants’ clothes lay beheaded while another six begged for their lives. An executioner and elven commander stood over them.

“Stop this!” she shouted, knowing she wouldn’t make it in time as the elf executioner raised his axe again.

A crossbow bolt hummed past Bree to take the executioner in the throat. The executioner pitched backward, dropping his axe into the dirt. Bree glanced back briefly as Elira, a wood-elf corporal, lowered her crossbow.

“And I supposed this was completely fucking necessary,” Bree demanded, sheathing her broadsword before punching the elf officer in the jaw.

“Of course it was,” the commander said, rubbing his jaw. He wore an ornate breastplate that had never seen combat, with fancy hose and doublet. ��Corporal, if I’m not mistaken?” he asked, sizing her up. “I was merely weeding out a traitor; surely a non-commissioned officer such as yourself can understand the need for such measures.”

“Wait… are you saying you think one of these half-elves sold you out to us?” Elira scowled, kneeling to cut the bindings on one of the captive servants. Several other mercs knelt to help free other half-elves. One brought a water-skin to offer them a drink.

“Of course one of them did, it’s just how half-breeds are,” the commander raised a brow, as if it was a common-sense deduction. “We let a few nobles bring their half-elf servants along, and, sure enough, one of the mongrels sells our defensive plans to the enemy. How else could you have beaten us? It’s why half-elves are never allowed in the military and shouldn’t even be allowed as camp-followers.”

“Wow, and you sum-bitches have the gall to call my people ‘monsters’,” Draxa, a surface-Drow pikewoman, commented, helping up one of the half-elf prisoners.

“Don’t Dark Elves usually put their half-Drow on the front lines as arrow-bait?” another pikeman asked.

“I meant that as an insult,” Draxa shook her head.

“Ah, the infamous Drow dark-humored wit,” the elf commander rolled his eyes. “Or half of it,” he added. “Say what you want, you’re not going to convince me that a dusty collection of ragtag mercenaries bested a numerically superior force of her majesty’s elves without inside knowledge of our tactics and defenses.”

“So, your incompetent pike-work and obvious lack of a backup plan had nothing to do with your defeat?” Elira asked, placing a gloved hand next to her chin.

“No, no, I understand his position entirely,” Bree said before the commander could reply. “I mean, everyone knows how these damned half-elves are,” she continued, shouldering her kite shield. She saw Elira move her hand to cover a smirk, as if guessing where this was going.

“Corporal?” one of the human pikemen frowned, sounding confused—probably remembering that Bree was married to a half-elf.

“In fact, I can even help his predicament,” Bree added, placing her left hand on the commander’s shoulder.

“In what way?” the elf commander asked, looking up to eye her suspiciously.

The elf screamed as Bree drew her dagger and stabbed him in the testicles.

“There, now you’ll never have to worry about fathering some damnable half-breed,” she told him casually. “What, aren’t you going to thank me?” she asked, making him scream louder as she twisted the dagger a quarter turn before withdrawing it.

“Ingrate,” she accused as the elf toppled to his knees and forehead, screaming and clutching himself.

Stupefied, the others just stared at Bree as she strode away to report to Lieutenant Jarl. Behind her, she heard one of the freed half-elves start laughing with relief.

#my writing #my stories #medieval fantasy #Bree #mercenaries #infantrywomen #pikewomen #medium armor #chainmail #pikes #broadswords #kite shields

6 notes · View notes