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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years ago

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Avatar Zuko Rewrite

Pairings: Zukka (pre-romantic, unrequited)

Word Count: 1687 Words

Summary: Lee somehow manages to win Sokka's heart without even trying aka he feeds him. Sokka doesn't even know how to process how cute Lee is.

Warnings: Injury Mention, Food Mention, Half Blind Character, let me know if I should tag something else.

Chapter 7

When they finally consoled Aang, they led him back to where Lee was in the Avatar Chamber still. It seemed they’d all left him there to continue with his intrigued study of the statues.

Finding him collapsed in front of the Roku statue was definitely not something they’d anticipated. It looked like some debris had flown here too from Aang’s emotional breakdown. None of it looked to have hit Lee but they all guessed it had somehow hit him in the head and made him collapse with a concussion.

“Hey, Lee. Lee, wake up.” Sokka shook the raven’s shoulder.

He gave a groan, waking up and he held his left hip, apparently that had hit the ground first and taken the most of the brunt of the fall. Lee pushed himself to sit up, other hand holding his head, eyes shut still and refusing to look at them. Finally, his gold eyes opened and he gazed up at them.

“What happened? I’m so sorry if I hurt you, Lee!” Aang hugged him.

“No, it wasn’t you. The spiritual pressure is just really strong in here.” He rubbed his left scalp with soreness from the fall, but thankfully, he didn’t seem too injured.

“Well you are right. It does feel like the pressure is stronger here. Maybe it’s the statues.” Aang told him, helping him up on his left side while Sokka helped his right. Sokka felt protective of the airbender, he was obviously weak and a bit hurt, he needed someone to look after him.

He helped him from the chamber, all four leaving it to let Lee recover. The airbender seemed to be getting better, all but his hip, however. But that just seemed sore too, and was obviously better the more he moved it and used it and wasn’t overstressing the muscle he’d hurt. Aang and Katara played air ball this time, Lee and Sokka sitting on the grass, watching.

“Do you think they’d mind if I looked around?” Lee asked.

“Why?” He asked the airbender.

“Food. You’ve been complaining nonstop, I figure shut your mouth with some food.” Lee told him, smiling broadly but also nervously. He was getting comfortable around people but he wasn't sure how to act.

“Nah, they wouldn’t mind. Just don’t get lost. Come back here after or I'm sure Aang might freak out that I lost you.” The raven nodded and set off the path on the left, slowly retraining the sore but thankfully healthy muscle in his left hip. An hour later, Lee came back with several things in his arms. He threw something round at him and he immediately caught it out of instinct.

“Found the kitchens and the gardens. That’s a pomelo by the way. They grew firebender fruit here. Who would have thought Air Nomads could simulate different climates?” He was smiling.

“What the hell’s a pomelo?” Sokka asked, peeling it curiously.

“A fruit. It’s like an orange but better. Don’t complain. I could have made you eat the durian fruit.” He showed him a large yellow fruit as Sokka took a curious bite of the fruit in his hands.

“Hey, I’m not a quitter. Let me try the other one.”

“Don’t complain to me then, water-boy.” He tossed the yellowy fruit at him. Sokka caught it easily. He used his dagger to cut open the durian fruit to come face to face with the yellow flesh.

“What? Scared?” Lee smirked, eyes smiling and Sokka, to all that knew him, was absolutely not one to back down from a challenge.

If anything, a cute boy staring him down to eat a fruit that intimidated him, yeah that was a challenge. He cut the piece sunk his teeth into the yellow flesh and was met with a bitter, sour taste in his mouth and immediately spit it out, spitting saliva in hopes the taste would go away. Lee took one of the unbitten pieces and bit into it easily.

“I told you. Water Tribe Boys can’t eat durian.” Lee teased.

“Well, Fire Nation Boys can’t eat sudachi.”

“I’m Air Nomad. But just the same. I don’t like Water Tribe food.” Lee finished his demon fruit.

“Smartass.” Sokka mumbled.

“Takes one to know one.” Lee sat back on the grass watching the game going back and forth until Katara and Aang finally both tied in a stalemate.

“Lee found the kitchens and gardens while you two were on your supervised date.” Sokka told them.

“Where are they?” Katara asked, blatantly mad. And then Lee did the unexpected again. He pushed upward with his hands and landed on his feet with only mild difficulty from his hip.

For a second, Sokka was sure that he was becoming a true demon like the fruit Lee had eaten with the way he’d been moving until he realized he was just a showoff. Katara rolled her eyes at the display and Aang snorted laughter at Sokka’s terrified yet shocked expression.

Lee made a small chuckle at his shocked expression too, already him and Aang leading each other to the kitchens and gardens, leaving Katara and Sokka to run to catch up again.

“Oh Gods, the kitchens smell heavenly.” Sokka drooled.

“I figured we’d all be tired and hungry after all that’s happened today. I started dinner before I left. It should be done in a few minutes.”

“Cooking’s a girl thing! You can’t cook!” Sokka protested.

“Eat dinner or go try to make something yourself. The gardens are out the door, to the left, down a bit.” Lee walked away from him into the kitchens from where they were in the mess hall.

Sokka was impressed with how easy he seemed to act naturally around him and the others, like the three years on a Fire Navy ship had never changed his personality to the meek and scared boy he’d seen him the day prior. Though, it occurred to him that Lee could just be scared of his bending being destructive.

“He needs to get a handle on that talk of his!” Katara raged.

“He’s fine. I think he’s just getting comfortable around us.” Sokka told her as much. She growled at him to be quiet.

“I made extra.” And the two big bowls of first pasta then a black and lumpy mix got set on the table. Sokka poked it with his spoon.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Zhajiangmian. Fire nation food. Thankfully the not hot kind. Made vegetarian for our airbender.”

“Waterbenders need meat, Lee.” Sokka complained. Lee raised an eyebrow. He bit his tongue, Spirits dammit, why was that cute!? “But it smells good. I’m eating.” He put some of the noodles into his bowl. He looked at the dark saucey substance oddly as to what he should do with it.

“You put the zhajiang overtop of the noodles and mix them.” Lee spooned the mix over his own noodles, mixing it together with his chopsticks. Sokka mimicked what he’d done and brought a the chopsticks to his mouth, tasting the food.

“That’s pretty good actually.” His mouth was full but he felt the need to say it, wanted to see Lee's reaction. Lee laughed at his face that was obviously covered with the sauce. His heart melted a little bit, Lee laughing made his heart skip. Lee sounded happy.

“Wipe your face. You look like a rabid wolfbat.” He laughed, having to stop eating for a minute. Sokka wiped his mouth clean and continued eating, teeth crunching into what he assumed were vegetables.

“Ya know, that’s a good way to get Sokka to eat vegetables, Lee.” Aang told the other airbender.

“It’s better than him wandering off and maybe getting hurt trying to fend for himself.” Sokka was busy spooning the vegetables from his bowl to his mouth, too satisfied with the food to care much about the conversation.

“Katara, why aren’t you eating?” Aang asked. Indeed, Katara hadn't so much as touched her bowl, let alone fill it and eat anything.

“I won’t eat Fire Nation food.” She told them bluntly, eyes shooting daggers at Lee.

“Technically, this is the Earth Kingdom recipe. It’s not spicy like the Fire Nation makes it and there’s no meat added in.” Aang told her. Lee had folded in on himself when she’d made the comment, he was busy quietly eating, refusing to look up from his bowl. He wasn't going to defend himself, he probably felt he deserved it.

“'Tara, you’ve gotta try this. It’s so good.” Sokka urged her.

“I’m not hungry!” She snapped. Lee flinched at the tone but continued eating, seemingly unwilling to look up at her. Sokka could spot his eyes getting glossy with tears that the airbender was obviously forcing down.

“Katara, you’re being too hard on Lee. He’s not even Fire Nation, he’s an Air Nomad. Don’t you think he’s probably struggling through this war too? This war’s been hard on everyone.” Sokka told her. Lee was staring at him, wide eyed and looking a bit scared on his part.

Was he scared of something happening simply because he was defending him from his sister? Maybe it was justified, his sister was scary and it seemed a feasible fear from what he'd heard Lee say about his father. Being around that abuse so long, he probably learned not to defend himself for fear it would lead to him being beaten.

“Fine, I’ll eat. But you better not be pulling anything, Lee.” Katara told him, finally spooning noodles and zhajiang into her bowl and eating.

“Good, Katara?” Aang asked.

She simply grumbled what sounded like a 'yes’ past her food. Sokka smiled at Lee as the raven continued eating, eyes a bit awestruck toward him. It wasn’t a problem convincing his sister to eat, he would have had to make her eat eventually.

Aang went back for a second bowl, commenting that it was just like Xiu-Mei made it. Sokka had ended up having two and a half bowls while Lee only finished one and Katara finished two. Plus Sokka got to sit next to a cute boy he very much wanted to kiss.

Taglist: @darkrainbow333 @magic-but-its-green @the-lemonade-artist @a-chaotic-being @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @lgbtforeverything @brain-deadx0 @everythingisstardust @emoqueerpan @thatoneperson1967

#avatar the last airbender #atla #aang #zuko #sokka #katara #snoweywrites #avatar zuko #avatar zuko au #tw inury mention #tw food mention

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starrysupercell · 4 years ago

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Happy Stu's Day, everyone! (Because.... Tuesday=Stu's Day, it's the law.) It's short, but I got a couple more ideas for this scenario with Stu + the Gamers. ...I just gotta decide WHERE in the park they're gonna head to, lmao.

Face Value 3

~~~

"Okay, there we go." Brock closed the arcade cabinet's door (a regular arcade machine, not 8-Bit. That's an important distinction.) and stood up. "The ground wire was the problem." Brock said proudly, "It wasn't actually connected to..." He trailed off after he looked over at his friends. His very lazy friends.

Rico was sprawled back on a beanbag chair, messing with a paddle ball. 8-Bit sat on the ground, his screen showcasing the latest video game he was playing.

Brock frowned, "Slackers!" Rico glanced over at that accusation. "What?" He asked.

"You're on the clock! So get to work, the both of you! Wipe down the machines, or start up this one up that I just fixed. Do something!" Brock scolded.

"Nobody's even walked in today." Rico groaned. Brock wasn't impressed. Rico shrugged and flung his paddle ball aside. "Fine." He looked over at 8-Bit.

The stocky machine continued to focus on his gameplay, relying on the unspoken excuse of not being able to hear Brock's demand over electronic beeps. He just needed a few more seconds. He almost had this level's high score beaten....!

Clonk, clonk.

Rico chose that moment to pound a fist twice on his head, surprising him long enough to jump straight into an enemy, losing a life and ruining his streak.

There was a pause of disbelief after the dying animation played, then 8-Bit's face slowly rolled up into view, frowning at Rico. "Why."

"Ha-ha." The taller robot said, standing up. "You heard him."

8-Bit grumbled, standing up and thinking of a way to somehow get back at the bot.

Brock laughed, his irritation easily melting away. "Okay, just at least look busy. You know we'll get in trouble if we're 'loafing.'" He used air quotes on the last word.

Before the three could go about their ways to make up three new chores however, there was loud screeching that came from outside.

All three looked toward the dark glass entrance of the arcade in confusion before heading to it. They didn't really think about the order they would go through, so they sort of squeezed by each other. Once the gamers were out on the sidewalk, they looked around to find the source of the sound.

Brock was squinting until he pushed his glasses down over his eyes. A robot veered wildly around the corner of their building. The bot noticed them and one thought went through his processor. Impress them.

"Oh, there--" Brock pointed blankly before Rico grabbed his arm to pull him back from the danger zone. He then placed a hand flat against 8-Bit's screen to push him away too. Fittingly, Rico was great at calculations, a fact he took great pride in for battles. Of course he would look out for his friends in times like these. He was so busy patting himself on the back mentally, he forgot to step back out of the danger zone himself.

The robot, which by now the three saw and recognized as Stu, was delighted to see the easy-to-see obstacle in the form of them. What better way to make his entrance complete than a dazzling trick?

Stu weaved in between Brock and Rico, (giving Rico a quick tap on his face), before dashing in between Rico and 8-Bit, streaking blue flames behind him. He kicked off the curb and used the stocky machine to propel himself forward.

With a screech of his wheel, Stu completed his final spin in front of his audience of three, his hands thrown up to showcase the flashy fireworks.

8-Bit was clapping in a surprisingly non-sarcastic way-- he had such an awe for performers. Stu was far from an exception, and in fact, he had been looking forward to another chance to visit the Stuntbot's show.

Brock was grinning. "Very impressive!"

Ricochet was more annoyed than anything, flicking the spot on his face where Stu had poked him. In the first place, 8-Bit always threw a hissy fit when Rico would use him as a momentum booster. Second, Brock sounded genuinely impressed. Like, he's never seen someone weave a couple of traffic cones and spin!? "I think you missed a few spots. There isn't fire or skidmarks everywhere on the road." He said flatly.

"Thank you, th-thank you!" Stu bowed with a smile. "I'm here today to greet my b-b-biggest fan!"

Me? 8-Bit wondered in surprise.

Stu rolled forward and threw an arm around Rico's shoulders. "Give it up, f-for Rico!!"

Rico looked at him with total confusion. "What."

"I don't me-ean to emb-b-arrass you in front of your f-friends, pal!" Stu leaned over to Brock, placing a hand over the bottom half of his face as if to whisper, though it was made redundant for the facts that he didn't have a mouth, nor did he lower the volume of his voice. "I c-c-couldn't say no to him. How can I refuse someone who w-w-went backstage and begged me to make a person-a-al appearance?" He asked.

"That's...not what happened." Rico said.

Brock laughed, "Oh, yeah. No, we got it. He's nonstop going on about you, you know?"

8-Bit was frowning and was very offended. He was the true fan here! Rico nonstop complained down to the very model Stu was-- afraid of being outdated no doubt. And when exactly did he go backstage!? The arcade machine was about to speak up and rant as much, but Stu gave a laugh.

"J-j-just as I expected! A shy fa-an. No matter, y-you don't have to worry a-about telling me how m-much you ad-do-dore me! Spectacular Stu is here to sp-spend the day with y-you!"

"Is that what you got from our talk?" Rico asked.

Stu was about to respond when Brock hummed. "Sorry, Stu. We can't really close for the day, even if it is dead--"

"O-oh." The ghost of the thought of this being a wasted trip began to rise, because clearly nobody wanted him here. Imposing now would just be desperation--

"--but we can take an early lunch. I'll close up, and then we can all head somewhere. If you don't mind us tagging along with you and your biggest fan's outing." Brock finished suggesting, with a wink that nobody could even see.

"Oh!" Stu brightened up again as he let go of Rico and gave a few short hops to stand in front of the Trio again. "The more the m-m-merrier is what I always say! It'd be sp-splendid!"

"Gotcha!" Brock said, patting his pockets. Oh, where were the keys-? he turned to head inside to grab them. "Be right back!" He called out.

Stu waved, and addressed Rico "S-so, my biggest fan! W-w-what do you want to do today f-first?" He asked joyously.

Rico was speechless. He could also feel 8-Bit's looming glare on him. Everyone in the park knew how much of a grudge the machine could hold. Today was going to be one of those days, wasn't it?

Well, he'll play along. After all, despite his initial reaction to Stu, how could he remain lukewarm to his positive reception? As for 8-Bit, well, he'll deal with his pettiness later. He thought about where he wanted to go. "How about...?"

#Brawl Stars #Stu #Stusday #:)#I did research on arcade machines just for that opening scene #also i cant decide whether rico should be amazing at paddle ball or a disgrace lmao

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oikawasass · 5 years ago

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bakugo’s girlfriend getting kidnapped by some nasty villains , either the league or like overhaul or someone and after nearly a week of her being missing , she finally gets found and brought back to the dorms ? please!!

you’re safe now.

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : bakugo’s girlfriend is brought safely back to the 1-A dorms after being missing for nearly two weeks.

‣ wordcount : 1.8k+

‣ warnings : swearing, angst, potentially triggering themes, graphic mentions.

Things were horrible after she had been abducted.

There seemed to be a nonstop weight over the entire classroom for days, people were beyond worried for her. All her friends, classmates, peers, teachers, everyone missed the sweet girl who graced class 1-A 5 days a week and could always light up a room when in the dorms.

Y/n had been missing for over a week now, coming up on two weeks in a few days. Some had even begun to accept the fact that she may not be coming back.

God forbid a certain crimson eyed blonde came across those people.

He had taken the worst of it when it was announced she went missing.

He just…broke. He didn’t have the energy to be his normal energetic or hotheaded self. He didn’t have the energy to train as hard as he normally does, his grades had even begun to slip. He hadn’t insulted anyone or told anyone off, he hardly spoke. Only muttering small answers when it was necessary.

Everything had been going downhill from the minute she was taken away from him.

He wanted to curse out and scream at every damn police officer and pro hero that was on this case. They were taking so fucking long to find his her, god only knows where y/n could be or what had happened to her by now.

Bakugo constantly replayed his own fears and worries over and over again in his mind, on an endless loop. He even began to blame himself for what had happened to Y/n. Why wasn’t he there to protect her? To do his most important job as her boyfriend, to keep her safe?

And when he found out she was taken by the fucking league? It made things even worse. Bakugo knew the shit he sat through and had to listen to while he was there for hardly a day, and in that short time, even he had become scared at what might happen to him.

He was terrified of what they might be doing to his angel of a girlfriend.

Bakugo was a wreck. An absolute mess of emotions he couldn’t even identify since he’s never felt like this before.

He missed her surprise nose kisses that embarrassed him in front of his friends, her small hand entangled in his own as they walked down the halls, he missed her smaller figure draped atop his own with her head buried in the crook of his neck, their calm breathing in sync being the only sound to fill whoever’s dorm room they occupied for their afterschool cuddle sessions. He missed it so god damn much he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to any of that yet, hell he was sure wouldn’t ever be ready to say goodbye to those things. To say goodbye to her.

Yet here he was, alone. Without her. Totally helpless and unable to go save her when she needed him the most.

Bakugo walked back into the dorms with the rest of his classmates once their afterschool training was finished, ready to go right back up to his room and blankly stare at his ceiling, mind racing with thoughts of nothing but Y/n.

His plans were interrupted by Aizawa bursting through the front doors.

“Okay, I have two minutes, so everyone listen, and listen well.” he said sternly, dressed in his hero gear. “We found y/n”

Bakugo hadn’t tuned into what Aizawa was blabbering about until he heard those three words leave his mouth. Then he was immediately at the front of the group, ears open and ready to hear every word that came out of his mouth.

“The pros, the police and I are going to get her right now. You all are to stay. here. no matter what. Understand me?”

Bakugo was the only one to interrupt. He’d been sitting here, a depressed wreck for fucking days now, and he was just supposed to keep sitting here twiddling his thumbs?

“What? No! You can’t just make me fucking sit here while you all go get her!”

A few people were shocked at the way Katsuki had spoken to their teacher, and normally Aizawa would be aswell, but Shouta understood his frustrations, and he’d seen first hand the way the boy had been acting the past two weeks.

Going against his own better judgment, he stepped forward and placed a hand onto the shoulder of the blonde.

“We’ll bring her back, Bakugo.” He said, making direct eye contact with his student. He honestly wasn’t one hundred percent sure they would be able to bring her back, but the last thing he needed was Bakugo showing up and ruining their chances even more.

Bakugo swallowed thickly, deciding to bite his tongue on this one as to not keep Y/n waiting any longer. He nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and backing away from Aizawa as he left. Now he had to wait. Wait in complete helplessness that she would come back, just like he’d been doing all week.

✧༺⋆⋆༻✧

Three hours.

Three unbearably long hours since Aizawa had come and announced that they had finally found y/n’s location.

Three excruciatingly painful hours that Bakugo paced the common room, refusing to leave until he heard some kind of news about the h/c haired girl.

His friends didn’t dare try to get him to sit down, or focus on something else, they knew he would blow up at the slightest disturbance.

Bakugo was tired. He was worried, scared, and the pain in his chest only grew as each second passed. It was late, it was cold, and she was out there. She could be anywhere, and who knows what could be happening around her right now.

Then it happened, Aizawa walked through the doors. A small, tired and pale looking girl under his arm with a small blanket wrapped around her, the type ambulances hand out to victims.

There she was. Holy fuck she was okay. And alive, and walking, and breathing.

Bakugo froze. His whole body went numb. God, he wanted to run up to her and tackle her to the fucking ground, hugging her so tight she wouldn’t be able to breathe. But she looked so… so fragile, so beaten down, it pained him to see her like this, almost just as much as when she was gone.

The couple made eye contact, immediately becoming teary-eyed. Y/n’s tired, scared eyes meeting her boyfriend’s dull and lifeless ones. All the beautiful colors slowly began to flood back into their iris’s. Bakugo didn’t give a shit who was around, all that mattered in that moment was her.

Y/n dropped the blanket from her shoulders, bolting over to her boyfriend as fast as her tired legs could push her. Bakugo did the same, immediately running to his girlfriend and meeting her in the center of the room.

Y/n’s arms instantly wrapped around Bakugo’s neck, while the blonde male picked her up by her waist and held her tighter than he’s ever held anyone. The small girl’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Sobs filled the room, the frail girl finally breaking down once being back in her boyfriend’s arms. She cried into the crook of his neck, gripping his shirt so hard her knuckles began to turn white. The two seemed terrified to let each other go, as if they would be taken away from one another again if they did. Bakugo was crying too, unable to keep his tears from falling. He didn’t care one bit. The only thing occupying his attention right now was Y/n, breaking down in his arms.

The rest of the people surrounding them slowly took their leave, letting them have their privacy.

“ I-I… I thought- thought i was n-never gonna see you again. “ Y/n choked out through her dry throat and borderline violent sobs. “ o-oh my god they said- I thought that- “ The poor girl couldn’t even finish her sentence, hugging Katsuki tighter and tighter.

He shushed her softly, cradling her head and holding her close, inhaling her scent which he’d longed so much to smell in these past two weeks.

“Y-you’re,” He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as to keep himself from sobbing. “You’re okay. I’m here, you’re here with me. I’ll always be here.”

He spoke quietly, his own voice too shaky and unstable to speak any louder. Katsuki slowly brought them over to the common room couch, sitting down and allowing Y/n to lay between his legs as she cuddled up to him, gently running his fingers through her hair, hoping to help calm her sobbing. A calm Y/n meant a calm Bakugo.

She was still crying into the crook of his neck, refusing to let go. All she wanted was to be close to him, she finally felt safe again.

“they- they told me that they- that they killed you… they made f-fake news reports and altered p-papers and news recordings…” Bakugo’s jaw clenched. “they described e-every horrible th-thing they’d done to you in d-detail for hours… I th-thought I was gonna go insane…” Y/n spilled, her tight grip on Bakugos shirt not faltering at all.

“they tried to m-make me into o-one of them… they threatened to kill m-my family, all our classmates, and th-they said they were gonna make me watch! They s-said if I didn’t list-listen that they’d force me t-to watch them kill you and everyone else o-over and over until they killed me!” Y/n explained through her uneasy, dry and pained throat. Her voice was almost trembling more than her body.

The male slowly cupped her cheeks and gently lifted her head up to meet their teary eyes together. It was just now he was noticing all the bruises and small cuts that covered her face, it was almost as if he could feel the pain of them on his own skin.

“Oi, stop that. Just look at me. I’m okay, and you’re okay. And we’re together again, y-yeah? everyone else is fine, no one else is. . is gonna get hurt anymore.” His voice was still a bit unstable, but he tried his best to be strong for both of them.

Bakugo pulled Y/n into a soft, yet starved and desperate kiss. One the couple had been craving since the moment they were split apart. The kiss held so much passion, so much desire, yet was so delicate and pure as their lips moved in sync.

“I’ll never let some shitty villains come near you ever again, y’understand?” Bakugo said, running a thumb gently over her cheek as Y/n nodded her head, wiping her eyes and laying her head back onto his chest, Bakugo’s hand cradling it and holding her tightly against him.

“No one is ever taking you away from me ever again.”

LOOOL okay so i accidentally wrote this with the time being nearly two weeks cause i’m borderline dislexic but i still hope this was enjoyable !!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bakugo oneshot #bakugo x reader angst #angst fic #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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Shackles pt8: Everything

Part 7 <-

Black, pitch black. That’s all Blake could see around her as her body writhed on the coarse ground. What happened? Where was she? Those were the only major questions coming to the forefront of her pounding head until suddenly, her entire body jerked forward. Blake’s eyes opened as she gasped for air as if she was drowning. It was only at the sight of black smoke and blistering flames around her did the haze become clear. A bomb went off. A bomb near Yang and Jacquelyn.

Blake stumbled to her feet, dizzy from the blast. Somehow that was the only major impact. “Yang!!!?” She yelled painfully. “Jac- cough couch. Jacquelyn!!!?” Blake tried to take a step but her legs weren’t having it. They gave out immediately; it was only by the grace of familiar shrine garb that Black didn’t fall back to the ground. “Jacquelyn!?” Blake groaned. The maiden’s eyes glowed purple with magical power as she breathed heavily. She looked a little less worse than Blake. “How….”

“I...shot flames around us and the blast.” Jacquelyn huffed. Her body finally fell onto her knees with Blake leaning on her back. “It diverted the flames, but the impact was far too much. Especially how I am now.” Jacquelyn rubbed her stomach with concern. Hopefully the baby was just fine. Blake rolled off of her back and to the ground. If Jacquelyn hadn’t tried to protect her, Blake was positive that would’ve been the end. Yang however, she wasn’t near them. That alone made Blake feel dead inside.

She found the strength to get back on her hands and knees. The house was completely blown apart with rubble everywhere, but no sign of the blonde bruiser. “Yang…?” Blake said, her voice quivering in fear. That fear gave way when nobody responded. “YANG!!!!! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

The ground started to rumble before a pile of debris shot into the air. “Right...here!” Yang growled, climbing out of hole with Adam’s sword. Her hair blazed like an intense bonfire while her eyes raged red. She saw Blake struggling on the ground with Jacquelyn trying to stand. Yang stormed over to her and yanked her collar tightly. If it wasn’t for the smoke, Yang would’ve screamed until her lungs collapsed. “Care to explain why the fuck a bomb was in your house?”The anger came clearly through her teeth. Her grip immediately began to loosen by the pain of electricity. Yang wasn’t the only one in a fowl mood.

Jacquelyn grabbed the women’s wrist with charged hands. “If you’re delusional enough to still think this is some kinda trick then you got another thing-is...where did you get the sword?”

“Inside your house. Where else!?” Jacquelyn’s grip finally gave way and Yang backed off. “It’s the whole reason you don’t have a home now! It was sticking out behind a bed frame. I went to grab it and it had fucking trip wire on it! Didn’t you check his room!?”

A tint of red came over Jacquelyn. “That’s not his room. It was just a spare. We...we don’t sleep separately.” The look of judgement on her wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. Divulging that information didn’t exactly help her case in trying to be an unbiased member of this group. Jacquelyn reached for the blade but Yang pulled it away. “Ugh, listen, do you really think if I knew something about this then I’d willing be in the explosion and let someone else trip the bomb? Blake’s friends-” both frustrated women turned to look at the girl in question. They had been so busy being angry that they ignored the fact Blake was still trying to recover. Jacquelyn tried making the first move but Yang stepped ahead and carefully hit Blake on her feet, supporting her weight.

“You hurt?”

“Just winded. Jacquelyn bailed me out.” Blake was quick to add. No need for the situation to get any worse. “Like it or not, she’s with us Yang. As for who rigged that bomb, Adam didn’t do it.” Her claim was met with skepticism from her partner and shock from Jacquelyn. Blake grabbed Adam’s sword and held it close. Despite the smoke and ashes, a scent is a scent; nothing changed that. Especially one reeking of dust and blood, lots of blood. “This sword, the entire house itself smelled different from how it looked.”

“And….what would that be?” Jacquelyn asked. She watched Blake’s hand tremble as her claws dug a little the sheath.

“A slaughter house…” The explosion did more damage than Blake realized. Her body betrayed her will to go. As much as she wanted to continue, the only place she was going right now was back on the ground; the sound of her friends calling her name became muffled until silence. Blake felt all tension in her fade away, blacking out on the on the spot.

xxxx

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The continuous sound of faunus falling to ground as their wrecked bodies gave into fatigue echoed through the cavern walls. The only thing louder was the guards frustration towards Adam’s reluctance to break. Jasmine hobbled down below, her eyes fixated on the man gritting his teeth as a whip cracked against his back and a blade glided along the flesh of his abdomen. Even from here, Jasmine could see Adam’s nails scratch his chains to stave off the urge to lash out.

They’re still at it…” Her brother lightly pushed her to keep moving. Too much slacking wouldn’t be good for them, yet she still couldn’t help but watch as she walked. “He’s really something else huh?”

“Yeah, a real fool.” Rajah said, his tone bitter and angry. “Maybe if he yelled then we’d get shown a little mercy.”

“Why would you want him to yell?”

“He’s the reason we’re here in the first place. If he didn’t fill mom and dad’s head with fighting then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Jasmine slowed her walking. Her ears folded down and thought about her brother’s words. “Yeah...I guess you’re right.” Her gaze went back to Adam, the source of everything. It was a strange thing, her feelings. Anytime Jasmine looked at the guards, the tired prisoners, her frightened brother, the bodies; anger swelled deep inside her like an inferno. Not with Adam though. Despite the blame being on him, she just sorta felt...indifferent. Was it their conversation, or the fact Sobek personally hated him that made Jasmine like him on some surface level? She couldn’t tell the difference. All she could tell was the man named Adam Taurus was being beaten like the rest. Like herself. What good did that do?

Adam coughed up blood and wheezed heavily. How long was his session this time? Maybe an hour? Counting stopped numbing the pain at least three sessions ago. The guards finally gave him some space again. “Break time already?” He groaned with his head held down. A piece of him wanted to thank his past for giving him the experience to endure this. Then again, it was the same past that put him in the predicament. That’s what he wanted to believe anyways. Jackie would hit him on the head and go off on a tangent about choosing your actions. A tiny smile snook onto his face. He liked her over the top speeches.

A hand slowly appeared under his chin and lifted his head. “What are you so happy about?” Said Sobek.

The feel of his calloused hands against normal skin unnerved Adam, and that’s saying something. Ripping off scales couldn’t be healthy in any way, but nothing Sobek did suggested a healthy state of being. “If you think this is a smile then you’re sicker than I thought.” Adam retorted.

“Predictable response.”

“And yet you still asked. Cut to the chase already. Is this another attempt at a speech or a display of power?”

Sobek smirked, “nothing so repetitive. I just thought the monster would like to know the den we found you in is gone. Our spring trap was sprung. How unfortunate for you.”

Adam couldn’t hide his look of concern. Sobek paced around. “Care to tell me who in their right mind would be in that house? They must’ve showed up looking for you.”

“Your dead family.” Adam didn’t even get the chance to blink before Sobek backhanded him for that answer.

“I should just cut you into pieces and be done with it!” Sobek’s grip on Adam’s lower jaw tightened.

The taste of iron became heavier in his mouth. A look at bloodshot eyes and a nasty snarl proved that Sobek was still a faunus no matter his delusional claims. “Tsk, and I’m the monster?”

“Like you have any ground to stand on. You and I are not the same.”

“Oh I know, and so do they.” Adam nudged his head toward the people below. There wasn’t an eye that wasn’t on the vicious doctor and terrorist. Those who looked at Adam weren’t thinking of the man himself, but staring at the injuries. The same couldn’t be said for Sobek. Looks of fear, anger, shock, judgement; it was aimed right at him. Even his men were put off a little.

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT!?” Snarled, not helping his case. “Do you feel sympathy towards this...thing; this good for nothing animal!? He is nothing to shed pity over and certainly nothing close to anything that resembles a leader that you all so blindly followed!!!” Sobek huffed. He couldn’t believe how stubborn Adam was to break. It had been days since he'd arrived. Nonstop torture, day in and day out. It was beginning to be a problem. If Adam stayed stubborn, then they all might. It was for that reason why Sobek had a backup plan.

The crocodile man slicked back his hair, regaining composure, then walked off the platform and up to awning shielded by class. It was where old SDC guards watched over the miners. It was still plenty sturdy, and fully equipped. Minutes went by before Sobek descended from it with a devious smirk. For the first time since arriving, Adam actually felt his blood run cold. In Sobek’s right hand...was a branding iron. The infamous three letters glowing red hot.

“Remember this?” Sobek asked sarcastically. He slowly started to approach Adam, enjoying the sight of him attempting to break his shackles by tugging and jerking the chain link. “Come now, you know that won’t work. You know I think I’ll test a new experiment today. What will hurt more? Branding your good eye, or placing this perfectly over the first scar? Only one way to find out!” Sobek laughed.

Terror and pent up wrath filled Adam to the point guards tried to hold him down, but were met with horns bashing their faces and screams. “I swear, I fucking swear Sobek, death will be the only thing you want after this! P-Monsters like us, we get what we deserve a hundred times over! You and your crew-” a guard finally grabbed him by the hair and slammed his to the ground and held it there.

Was this irony, karma? It had to be. The excessive breathing, crowd, the complete lack of compassion as Adam found himself screaming while men held him down in order to make an example. How could so many years pass by and he still be in the exact same situation? Once again, Adam felt powerless. Deep down a feeling tugged inside of him that was different from last time. Jacquelyn, a person who was no doubt worrying about him. A person he wanted to see. A person he wanted to call out for. However, he did not. Under no circumstances was he gonna give Sobek any information about her. This was his problem, and yet…

“H-elp…” he said, barely above a whisper. Sobek’s boots stopped right in front of him. Adam’s good eye can only see the man towering above him with the brand at the ready. And just like those many years ago, Adam shed tears of fear while letting out a plea into a frightened crowd.

“Somebody, anybody, HEEEEELLLLLP!”

For the first time...a cry was shouted back.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” Cried the voice of the only one who would dare move, Jasmine. Nobody realized she had climbed the platform. She wasted no time ramming all the strength she could muster into Sobek’s stomach. Her claws dug into his flesh, teeth clamped down. Two things were made clear in that moment to Jasmine. Her animal intensity was a gift, not a disease like Sobek tried to brainwash into people. The other thing she already knew from the start. There’s no way any justice could exist in a place like this. Only one thing makes a place like this. Hate, and she had plenty of that to give. Her claws slashed at Sobek’s fleshy arms and made him drop the branding iron down below to the crowd.

People stepped back as the tool made a loud bang against the ground. Several guards scrambled to retrieve it, but so did one prisoner. Rajah, armed with his pickaxe. His legs had moved on their own and fear ran deep into his heart as he saw his little sister get slammed to the ground. He told her to behave. To keep her calm. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t he stop running? Had she inspired him to act? No. Deep down he knew exactly why he moved. If that thing reached Sobek again, Adam wouldn’t be the only one branded. His sister, everyone might be. Rajah raised his pickaxe for all to see, then smashed the weapon of their torture.

A deathly echo resonated from the impact into utter silence. Rajah looked up to see the soulless eyes of his captor burrow into his very being, paralyzing his body from pure terror. Not even the force of guards pinning him to the ground snapped him back to reality. What had he done?

Sobek’s teeth snarled like a pure beast. He wrapped his hand around Jasmine’s neck and squeezed. “Clearly I’ve been far too lenient with you. I thought I told you what to expect if you couldn’t behave like a good little girl.” He looked at his men. “Get the boy ready for his correction.”

Rajah felt his heart stop. He frantically tried to escape the grasps of the guards but to know gain. “Hellllp! Let me go!”

“Raja-ahh!” Jasmine could barely cough let alone speak. Her eyes glared immensely at Sobek’s in fury that refused to die.

“This time, I’ll make sure you stay broken.” He slammed her against the ground, knocking her out briefly. He wasted no time dragging her through the doors back to the torture rooms.

Adam pulled at his chains. He had shown fear and it cost him. “Sobek! Leave them out of this!”

“Beat him within an inch of death!” Sobek demanded. “Just an inch.” Sobek’s men didn’t hesitate to start kicking and beating Adam’s body like a drum while their master went to make an example of defiant animals.He looked at the bleeding child in his hand💀 “All you had to do was learn. Now pain will be your teacher.

Adam could only grunt as the mysterious door closed once again.“SOBEK!!!!”

xxxx

Black. Once again, Blake found herself waking up to blinding light. Thankfully, it wasn’t the scorching sun. It was her lamp. Blake laid in her bed, bandaged up. “I��m home? How did-” the door opened and it was Ilia who entered, surprised by her friend’s state.

“You’re awake!”

“And you’re here?” What is- agh!” The side of her ribs ached as Blake tried to sit up. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I didn’t. Blake you’ve been asleep for a little over a day.” Ilia sat at the edge of the bed. “Sun and I have been here for a couple hours now. Had to make a few stops.”

“Stops? Wait, how are Yang and Jacquelyn!?” Blake’s voice trembled. “Did any grimm attack on the way back? How-”

Ilia covered the girl’s mouth. “Take a breath, they’re okay.” She watched how Blake slowly lost tension in her body from her words. Ilia regretted covering her face though. Blake looked down at her red stained fingers. Knowing Blake, she probably could smell her too. Ilia removed her hand quickly. To know shock, Blake looked concerned.

“Ilia…”

“It’s fine okay? You told me what was happening and I had the means to get answers.” She justified, mainly to herself. “Those thugs were gonna kill me or worse anyways. I won’t lose sleep over it, much.”

Blake took Ilia’s hands and held them close.“Did Sun see?”

Ilia shook her head. “No, not entirely. I kept him out of the room but at the end I… well, disposing them was too much for me alone. His team did it without my input. I’d feel worse about it if I didn’t gain anything of value from it all.” Ilia got off the bed and walked towards a wall. A heavy and irritated sigh came from deep down. “Given what I’ve learned from you and Jacquelyn was it? If our incidents are related, then Adam is actually in Vacou. Underground, in a very old, very unsafe abandoned dust mine.”

Blake hung on every word said. Her gut twisted into knots from this new information and what she had smelled in Jacquelyn’s home. “How many White Fang members are in there?”

Ilia tossed her scroll at Blake. She watched as her face turned pale by what was on it. Dozens of pictures and videos in inferred signatures rising, then falling. Some got added, while others went dark fast. “Sun and I stopped to confirm the location we were told. It took everything I had not run into that place immediately. Blake, they’re just killing us. Regardless of if Adam’s alive or not, we need to-”

“Does Jacquelyn know?” Blake said, finding her voice again. Guilt spread across Ilia’s face. Suddenly, Blake feared the worst. “Where is she?”

“I couldn’t stop her.”

“You let her go!?”

Ilia threw her arms up, equally upset. “Like I had a choice!? You haven’t exactly told me important things, like knowing the winter maiden; Adam being alive and then being connected is another thing! Of all people not to tell, me? You watched me bury an empty casket out of respect for that guy. That shit gets to me!” Ilia began to pace around the room. “You fully know Adam is not this exclusive entity that’s only shaped your life. I had a right to know!”

“I know! I know…” Blake felt her blood rush and nails dig into her sheets. “You do have a right. I just… it was so confusing and I didn’t know things would… ugh, I’m not trying to make excuses okay? Listen, I swear I’ll come clean with everything but now is not the time. We need to catch up to Jacquelyn.”

“Stop deflecting! You’re in no shape to move anyways. Why would a maiden need help, and why does she care about-”

“Damnit Ilia, she’s pregnant with his kid!” Blake shouted. Her words had frozen Ilia in her tracks. Time was a thing Blake refused to waste. Even if the worst had already come to pass, Blake could at least save two lives; as well as any others that still suffered. Blake forced herself out of bed and passed Ilia, heading down stairs.

Her sense of urgency only got her as far as the living room before she saw Yang and Sun standing up, both alarmed by her swift actions. Yang quickly took hold of her by the wrist. “Let me go!”

“Hold on a second! Where are you going?”

Blake locked eyes with Yang. “Where did you think?” her arm tensed and tugged but couldn’t escape. “Did you even try to stop her, Jacquelyn?”

“You know damn well nothing I could say would’ve helped. Not like it matters. I doubt A-”

“SHUT UP!” Blake screamed as loud as she could. Anger and anxiety manifested as tears that threatened to run down her face. “As if you cared about what actually happened to him.”

Yang felt her hand trembling. Blake’s judgements gaze turned her own gaze to scarlet. Was coming here a mistake? Did this one man’s existence truly mean the death of one of Yang’s greatest relationships? The one she wanted to restore so badly? “You’re right… there hasn’t been a day I didn’t wish that stab killed him instantly, but what does that have to do with what’s right here, right now? You know as well as I do Blake that running off now means nothing without a plan or rest. You’re racing to a dead man.”

The tears finally fell, and they fell full with a silent wrath that Blake had never felt, or has been seen. “So what? Then I’ll save the body.” A burst of strength freed her arm and Blake didn’t look back. She ran, ran far and fast. Disappearances, murders, torture, how could this have all swept by her? Blake promised them peace. Blake hoped for peace, believed things were changing. Nothing had changed. Nothing, but the one person she never believed could. Blake was no High Leader of peace. Merely a leader of the blind.

Yang could only watch her partner race of, her final words still echoing clear. Saving the body, Jacquelyn had said the same thing. Yang looked at the hand that failed to reach her friend. “Why…” she clenched her fist tightly and began to cry. “Why can’t I hold onto you?”

Ilia had finally come down the stairs to see the end result of further friction. Sun pointed in Blake’s direction and Ilia took off running. “I’ll keep her safe. Call Ghira and Kali!” She didn’t stop to get a confirmation. She didn’t need it. “I’ll keep her safe Sun. For everyone’s sake.”

Ilia might not have been looking back but Sun nodded anyways. “Good luck.”

“Good luck? How could you say that right now?” Yang said trembling. “I’ll keep her safe?” Yang had reached her limit. Her head snapped towards him and grabbed his shirt. “HOW COULD THE BOTH OF YOU SAY THAT SO CASUALLY!?” She cried, shaking him. “HOW CAN YOU KEEP UP WITH HER WHEN I...I” Yang fell to her knees in defeat. It’s always been this way. Even from the very start. No matter how close Blake had gotten, Yang always felt like she was out of reach; while others, while Sun never failed to keep his stride. All that Yang was, could never take all who Blake is. It’s why their love broke down. It’s why Yang broke down. “How are you okay with this?”

Sun wasn’t sure what to think of all of this. He’s seen Yang upset, but never so...in pain. He knelt down and reached slowly for her hand, until she actively grabbed him tightly. “Yang, who says I’m okay?” Her body jolted. Yang’s head rose up to look at him. Sun could only offer a small smile and a hand to wipe her tears. “I’m scared out of mind. There’s so much I didn’t know like Ilia and things I wanted to say to Blake before she left, but didn’t. Not right now anyways. Ilia is the same, I'm sure.”

“Yet you stay here without question and Ilia follows her into a living nightmare without question!? How could-”

“Because at the end of it all, agreeing or not, comprehending or confused, I’ll stand by Blake to help anyway I can. You know as well as I do Blake follows the beat of her own drum, and she doesn’t know how it’ll turn out. People like you, Ilia, and I, we’re encouraged to, well, free to join in and add to the crazy beat. What we can’t do, is stop it. Blake will do it anyways. It’s why I love her so much. Easily her best, and most dangerous quality. That’s why she’s always telling people they’re free to leave. Blake’s never gonna ask someone to take part in her risks. Yeah, this situation is nuts; I’m definitely gonna chew her ear off by the end of whatever happens. Until then, nothing matters but making sure the end isn’t the worst it could be.”

Was that really his entire reasoning? She’ll do it anyways so might as well help. It was so reckless, dangerously simple, it was..Sun. It was Sun, and it used to be her too. Yang couldn’t count how many times she did something and Blake ran with it, or at least stuck around in case she needed help. Has that attitude changed? Yang didn’t think so. This situation though, it was… “You can willingly help Adam without a second thought?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I can help Blake without a second thought. If that leads to Adam, then fine. I’ll take him if I have to and be glad if there’s no need. Though, I know why that’s harder for you to do than me.” He squeezed her prosthetic. “Blake actually called me about you visiting. She was so happy to finally see you again. Even if things fell apart, Blake liked that you wanted to try. I’m pretty sure it’s the same with Adam. All Blake wants is a chance to have everything she dreams about. Pretty greedy, I think I’m a bad influence hehe.” He stood up and faced the open door. The light of the sunset had finally begun to fade. “Yang, is Blake in your dream ending?”

“What kind of question is that?” Yang held her head down. “You know she is. Honestly, Blake’s the last piece. I even have my mom back for crying out loud.”

“Ha, if that’s the case…” Sun reached for hand again and got Yang on her feet. “Dance to the end.”

A fire inside Yang felt ready to burn her up. It felt terrifying, yet nostalgic. How long had it been since she felt so exhilarated? Still Yang knew the price to pay for wanting everything. If she were to do this, she’d risk the future Jaune and her were going to have. Yang’s hand rubbed her stomach. No one would judge her for stopping now. Sun might’ve spoken differently if he knew, or maybe not? He’d probably tell her ‘everything’ would mean not losing Blake and the baby. Weirdly enough, there was beauty in that mindset.

“Sun?”

“Yeah?”

Yang smiled at him,then ran out the door. “I’ll keep those idiots safe!”

Sun could only cuff his hands around his mouth and scream with all of his heart.

“GOOD LUCK!” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it to rub a ring inside. “Good luck...”

#rwby #rwby au #yang xiao long #rwby shackles #blake belladonna #sun wukong #rwby blacksun #ilia amitola #adam taurus #jacquelyn frost

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enchantedlokii · 4 years ago

Text

Ringing

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language, implied/referenced terrorism

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Mentioned: James Rhodes, Bruce Banner

This is loosely based on a dream I had recently where my brother and I were apparently Tony’s children. Anyway, the house blew up and my brother was hurt similar to how Peter is hurt in this. My mom and I were inside and didn’t get hurt too bad. It was strange, I know.

When Peter first started to hang out with Mr. Stark, he did have worries about being caught in the crossfire of something that didn’t involve him. He knew that there were dangers of being around the man. He was old enough to remember the attack on his Malibu penthouse years ago, and he didn’t doubt that there were still people who hated his mentor enough to do something similar in the future.

His worries started fading after a few months, however. He had his Spider-Sense. He knew when he was in danger. He never felt like he was in danger around Mr. Stark except when they were in the middle of a battle.

After the Battle of Earth, that fear was completely gone. The man had retired. He wasn’t a threat to anyone; villains or business tycoons. Peter didn’t think that anyone would target him now. They had no reason to. So when he felt the tingling in the back of his neck, he brushed it off. He thought it must be something small. He didn’t think he needed to warn Tony. They would be fine.

“Morgan found some new videos and has been talking about you nonstop all week. Fair warning, she’s probably going to ask half a million questions within the next hour.”

Peter grinned. He loved the little girl. “I can handle it,” he chuckled, jumping up the porch steps ahead of him. “I—”

Peter flinched as the tingling grew stronger. He started to tell Tony when he saw the worried look he gave him, but that’s when it happened. There was a loud noise, a flash of light. He vaguely noticed Tony running towards him before his vision went white.

That’s when the ringing started. Peter groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut at the light. He was numb at first, the pain coming slowly. He gasped as a shooting pain shot through his right arm. He blinked his eyes open and turned his head slowly, seeing that there was something pinning him to the ground.

“Pete!”

Peter blinked. That was Tony. He sounded panicked, and Peter guessed he must have been calling for him before his hearing returned. There was pain there too, but for the moment he was just glad he was alive. He could handle injuries. As long as he was awake and talking, he would be okay. “Mr. Stark?”

Peter winced at the shakiness in his voice. It sounded weak, he realized. It hurt, too. It hurt to speak. It hurt to breathe, actually, but he tried not to focus on that. Panicking would only make things worse.

“Thank God,” he heard Tony mutter. He probably wasn’t supposed to hear it, but now that his senses were back they were dialed up more than ever. “Are you hurt, Kid?”

“I’m okay,” Peter lied. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve had worse.” Peter heard shuffling. As the man got closer, he could hear his fast heartbeat. He peeked through the mess of rubble and caught sight of him. “Okay. Okay. Talk to me, Pete. Help me find you.”

“I’m right here,” he told him. He let himself close his eyes and focus on his hearing. He could hear other voices a bit farther away. Pepper and Morgan. They were okay. They were alive. “G-go check on them.”

“Let me get this off of you first,” Tony countered. “The house is mostly fine, okay? They may be a bit scratched up, but I’m confident that they’re not trapped under a pile of wood.”

“I hear them,” Peter mumbled. “Around the back, I think.”

“Good, that’s good. They’re okay, Kid.” The wood started to shift around him a bit. He hated thinking it, but he was surprised that the man had the strength to move it. Especially if he was hurt. He guessed it must be adrenaline. “Tell me if anything hurts you.”

It did hurt. Everything hurt, but he didn’t complain. Finally, he saw light and let himself smile when he saw Tony in front of him. He was beaten up, bleeding from a cut on his cheek, but overall okay. He had been a bit farther back, and Peter guessed he was the one who took the brunt of the explosion. He was glad, too. “H-hey.”

“Hey, Pete,” Tony murmured, reaching down and combing through his dirty hair as he looked over him. He noticed his pinned arm and immediately moved to try to lift the beam off of it. “Sh*t.”

“It’s broken, isn’t it?” Peter groaned. The pain in his arm was growing every second, and it took all his will to not cry. He had been in a lot of pain before, but this had to be near the top of his list. On top of everything, it was still getting harder to breathe and he was struggling to keep his panic at bay.

“I think so, Kiddo,” Tony sighed. “Are you hurt anywhere else? I know you said you weren’t before, but I can see the pain in your eyes, Pete. So tell me if anything else hurts, alright?” He paused, looking over his shoulders. “Pep! Over here!”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut again. He could hear two sets of footprints. Morgan was running, he noticed, and collided with Tony. She was crying and he hoped it was out of fear rather than pain.

“Peter? Hey, look at me.” Peter blinked up and saw Pepper was over him now. Her face was dirty and a she was a bit scratched up, but her eyes were clear. She wasn’t hurt. “Where are you hurt, Kid?”

Peter ignored her question, looking over at where Tony was stroking Morgan’s hair, whispering to her that it was okay. He looked back at Pepper after a moment. “Mo?”

“She’s just scared, Peter,” Pepper assured her. “She was upstairs in her room. She wasn’t hurt at all. I promise. So let me know where you’re hurt, okay?”

Peter raised his left arm, the one that wasn’t injured, and held his chest. He didn’t want to say. Not when Morgan was right there. He saw Pepper’s eyes widen and she looked over at Tony. He followed her gaze and saw that he saw too. “Morgan, let’s go wait on Uncle Rhodey, okay?”

Morgan looked up at Pepper. She looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded. She squeezed Tony one more time before walking over to her mom and taking her hand. As soon as they were out of earshot, Tony moved closer and put a hand on Peter’s chest. “You’re going to be okay,” he promised. “Just keep breathing.”

“It hurts,” Peter admitted.

“I know. I know it does,” Tony murmured. “Just. . . Just don’t panic, alright? I know it’s hard right now, but you need to keep your breathing steady right now. Don’t push yourself.”

Peter nodded, but in reality he could feel his heart pounding even harder now. He could tell that Tony was struggling not to panic right now himself. His own heart had started pounding faster again now that he realized Peter was hurt. It was easy to tell he knew something was wrong. “You’re hurt too,” he found himself mumbling. Because he knew that he would push himself to his limits if anyone else was hurt and ignore his own injuries.

“I know, Pete. It’s not that bad, I promise,” he replied, putting a hand in his hair again. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Always do,” Peter grunted, closing his eyes again. His body wanted him to sleep, but he knew he shouldn’t. He had to wait for Rhodey to get there with help. Then he could rest.

He huffed and tried to push himself up, hissing at the pain in his chest. He was sure he felt his ribs shifting as he was gently pushed back to the ground. “No, stop,” Tony said sternly. “The last thing you need to do is puncture a lung. I’m already afraid one’s collapsed, Kiddo. You have to stay still.”

“I can’t go to the hospital,” Peter told him, opening his eyes again. He knew he needed to, but he also knew that his identity would be in jeopardy. “I-I gotta just deal with it.”

“You are not going to just deal with it. You’re going to the compound. It’s not finished yet, but Rhodey said the medbay was finished,” he explained. “You trust Bruce, yeah?”

Peter nodded weakly. He liked Dr. Banner, and knew that he would never do anything to hurt anyone if he could help it. They weren’t exactly close, but they had talked a few times since the battle. He knew he could trust him.

“Good.” Tony smiled at him and then looked up. Peter heard a new wave of noises and realized that help had finally made it. “Hold on just a bit longer, Kiddo.”

Peter wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke up later. He was a bit confused at first, missing details of what had happened and how he had gotten to the medbay. He could hear a steady beeping noise that lined up with his heartbeat. Then he felt the cannula under his nose helping him breathe and the IV in his arm. His other arm was wrapped up close to his side. It hurt, but not as bad as it had before.

“Hey, Pete.” Peter felt a hand squeeze his. He smiled a bit and turned his head, finally opening his eyes. He was a bit surprised that Tony was with him, but he could tell that he had been looked over too. His face was cleaned up and one knee was wrapped up similar to how his arm was. He looked tired, but the pain had cleared from his expression. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter murmured. “Like I’ve been drugged.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” he replied, pointing a finger at the needle in Peter’s arm. “Super soldier painkiller. Not a very high dose, but you’ll be groggy for awhile.”

Peter just hummed in reply. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. He remembered Morgan has been crying. Where was Morgan. “Mo?”

“She’s okay,” Tony promised him. “She’s sleeping now, but I’m sure she’ll be in here when she wakes up. She was worried about you. We all were there for a bit.”

“‘M ‘kay,” Peter told him. He didn’t want to worry anyone. Especially not when he wasn’t the only one hurt. “Jus’ tired.”

“I know, Kiddo. I know,” he replied. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll be right here.”

“You rest too,” Peter countered, glaring at him. He was sure that Tony hadn’t slept any since they got there, and he wasn’t sure how many hours that had been. He had to be exhausted.

“I will,” Tony promised, raising a hand and combing it through Peter’s hair. “I’ll sleep here on the couch, okay? I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Peter smiled and closed his eyes again. “Mmkay,” he hummed. The strokes were killing him to sleep more than the drugs in his bloodstream. He felt safe.

“Love you, Kiddo,” he heard Tony murmur as he started to drift off. He thought he felt something on his forehead; a kiss, but he couldn’t be sure. Either way, he smiled. He was too far away to respond in any other way, but he knew that he would understand.

Love you too.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #irondad #spiderson #tw terrorism #peter parker #tony stark #pepper potts #morgan stark #spider man #iron man #rescue #post endgame

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writingfordayz · 5 years ago

Text

See You There, -K

Ever since Lance almost died on a mission, Keith's been on edge and more rash in his decision making. When he doesn't know who to turn to to help sort out his feelings, he starts sending messages to a dead Shiro in hopes of finding peace; however, Lotor attempts to turn the team against him by manipulating the messages into a sign of betrayal.

“That’s it. I’ve let this go on long enough. You cannot continue making reckless, unauthorized decisions,” Allura scolded Keith as he peeled off his helmet. He was barely even listening while the team gathered around him, his mind constantly replaying the explosion he’d just nearly escaped.

“Keith?! Do you have anything to say for yourself?”She pushed as Lotor took a fortifying place by her side.

“I did what I had to do.”

“What you had to do? You broke formation to fly headfirst into their battleship! The plan was to board and secure, not destroy!” Although Allura was the only one yelling, it was evident by the team’s worn out faces that they were tired of his bullshit.

It’s hard to notice little things in the heat of battle when your heart is beating in time with the blasts and your brain is on autopilot, merely trying to finish the job alive and with little recollection of the destruction, you leave behind. Keith’s usually good at tuning everything out, but this time, the formula was off.

Keith’s heart had completely stopped and he became agonizingly aware of the fact that Lance was stuck in a tractor beam with a canon about to sign his life away. Lance never radioed for help, never informed the team of the cannon for fear that he’d ruin the whole plan, and he must have struggled in the beam’s grasp for a good two minutes before the weapon was fully charged, but it only took Keith a second register what he was about to lose and decide to plow his lion into the metal mid-blast. Screw the plan. If Lance wasn’t here, then what’s the point of anything?

Even now, Keith could read the guilty expression on Lance’s face as he tried to sink to the back of the crowd and go unnoticed. Just three weeks ago, he’d confided about his uselessness to Keith, in his ability to fuck up missions. Through tears and bloodied fists beaten desperately against the wall, he begged to be worth anything, even if it were just for a moment. Keith felt helpless then, not good with words and definitely not good with knowing how to handle someone crying, so he settled on a hug that lasted several hours and a humming that brought sleep. They hadn’t talked about that night since, but Keith vowed to never let Lance blame himself for anything again.

Looking Allura straight in the eyes, Keith confidently explained, “I thought the cannon was going to destroy the castle. I had to stop it. As for unauthorized decisions, last time I checked, I was the black paladin. I’m the leader here, so I call the shots.”

Lotor sighed loudly, feigning regret. “I really didn’t want to disrupt your family, but I think it’s best you know the so-called ‘black paladin’ has been lying to you all for months now.”

That comment struck a new fear in Keith, one he never imagined he’d have to face with his closest friends in earshot. He’s lied to all of them at some point, but always because it was better than the alternative. On top of that, he knew how easily Lotor could poison them with doubt; he chose his words carefully and only attempted it if he had evidence. It had worked on Keith before, but he felt the deception internally was worth the alliances they gained throughout the galaxy. A war can be fought with six soldiers, but it can’t be won.

Allura’s loyalty to Lotor was unwavering as she gripped his arm and picked up the accusation where he’d left off: “It’s true, he’s a danger to Voltron… a danger to the whole universe. We can’t let this go unnoticed.”

Keith was beyond irritated and beginning to panic now that Allura had verified his words, but he also knew that Shiro would tell him to be patient and focus. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What exactly are you implying?”

“We’ve seen the messages. Every few nights you fly off to do ‘perimeter checks’, but really you’re sending encrypted updates on our progress to the Galra.”

The room was now a rainbow of statues, and Keith realized for the first time that black is unnatural in a rainbow; he sticks out in a way that diminishes the liveliness of the rest. He knew exactly what they were talking about, the alleged messages, but if they really saw all of the messages… His eyes met Lance’s for the first time tonight, but oddly enough they didn’t seem confused or upset. Those blue eyes had been stuck at high tide for weeks now, threatening to spill over, but now they were a raging storm.

“I’m not sure what it is you think you read, but Keith would never betray us,” Lance declared.

Lotor shrugged and said, “Well, fortunately, we have all of them, including the ones detailing your shortcomings.”

Lance shifted in place and crossed his arms to keep himself from looking anxious. The one thing that would completely break him would be Keith admitting what Lance had feared all along.

“As I said, Keith would never betray us,” Lance repeated.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I read a few of these out loud,” Lotor said while pulling up a holograph of the messages:

Today we liberated some hostages and were able to provide them medical treatment. In doing so, we also gained a cargo ship full of weapons to arm the resistance. Be careful approaching the castle. Next, we’ll be heading to Arus. See you there. -K

“That’s enough,” Keith insisted.

“Why stop there when there’s so many more that detail your grim outlook of the team?” Lotor questioned.

Another political alliance was made, bringing the total number of planets supporting Voltron to 13. They are all significantly smaller than the Galra Empire, and even together they probably won’t be strong enough to win the war. Making a pit stop at Balmara to rest. See you there. -K

The team has been arguing nonstop and this makes us vulnerable. We’ve lost four battles in a row, and the yellow lion is out of commission. Stuck in the Javeeno Star System. See you there. -K

“I said that’s enough! These are personal.” Keith practically begged, activating his sword.

“If you’re as loyal as you claim, then you wouldn’t have anything to hide!” Lotor declared.

Lance was assigned a search and rescue mission, but in the process, both the hostage and his partner from the Blade died. He can’t perform basic tasks and is starting to drag the team down. Not sure if I’ll be able to find someone else to pilot red before the assassination attempt on the witch. We wouldn’t make it with him. Stopping for supplies on Pollux. See you there. -K

If Keith had known that’s what was going to be read to Lance, he would’ve stabbed Lotor the moment he landed in the castle, but he didn’t and now Lance looked like a mirror shattered in its frame, trying desperately to keep himself together. All the injuries Keith had gotten in space don’t compare to the pain he feels seeing Lance become void of all life, in fact, this moment ranks in the top three worst moments of his life including when his dad died and when Shiro died.

“Lance, I swear to you that I didn’t write that.”

For a moment it seemed like he couldn’t speak, eyes trained on the ground, until Lance quietly asked, “So you didn’t write any of those messages?”

“No- well yes. The first two, yes I did. But that last one I didn’t. I would never.”

“Whether you claim to have written them or not, you are sending messages to a hidden address. You’re explaining our weaknesses...disclosing our location!” Allura yelled.

“To Shiro!” Keith couldn’t take the accusations, the prying eyes, Lance's mindset.

“I write messages to Shiro hoping one day he’ll respond! That he’ll tell me what to do because I keep failing you, and I don’t know how to be a leader! That he’ll tell me not to worry. That he’ll tell me we’ll survive this. That he’ll show up while we’re collecting supplies and everything can just go back to normal!”

For the first time since he lost Shiro, tears poured out of Keith’s eyes as he tried desperately to hold back a sob to not look as weak as he felt, but it was that vulnerability that proved he was telling the truth. Just as quick as Keith had attempted to sacrifice himself for Lance, everyone surrounded Lotor with their bayards drawn. Even Allura, as conflicted as she was, joined them as Lance took the lead.

“Hunk, Pidge, take Lotor to the holding cell,” Lance commanded while his gun burned an invisible line through Lotor’s head. Lotor narrowed his eyes at Lance, challenging him.

“You will be the one to die before the war ends. I’ll see to it,” Lotor threatened.

Fuck patience.

“Over my dead body!” Keith yelled and threw his sword directly through the center of Lotor’s back. It clanged against the ground, dust particles dissipating and floating towards the ceiling.

“Where’d he go-”

That’s what Keith last asked. That’s all he keeps muttering as the ringing in his ears intensifies, and the smoke from the explosion clouds his vision. There’s someone yelling, but it seems distant and indecipherable. His eyes focus on a drop of blood that runs down his nose and falls to the ground, joining the small pool of red that had already formed. A lot of red is usually an indication of an injury or anticipated death, but it’s also a representation of Lance: passionate, fierce, and inspiring. Lance who stood up for him when no one else did. Lance who never questions his decisions. Lance who loves his family with every ounce of his being. Lance who can see the hope in all of the despair. Lance who has the most uplifting smile. Lance who currently doesn’t have a smile.

Keith was pulled back to reality as pain split through his head. Hands gripped him roughly in an attempt to stop the bleeding, and his eyes had shifted from the pool of blood to the red of Lance’s suit to the black behind his eyelids.

Several hours later after the fires were put out and the castle had been put on lockdown, Keith sat on his bed going through the messages he had actually sent to Shiro. Lance sat across from him quietly; he hadn’t talked since the explosion, but he wasn’t about to let Mr. I’mFineIDon’tNeedAHealingPod with a slight case of traumatic brain injury go unmonitored. Keith peered at Lance over his screen and finally spoke, “You know, you can probably put your bayard away now.”

Lance didn’t look up, tightening his grip on the gun; “I thought you were gonna die. Not gonna let that happen again.”

Keith frowned, knowing the feeling all too well. “I thought you were gonna die when boarding that ship earlier.”

“So you did crash into that cannon because of me!” Lance snapped, finally glaring at him, “And what was that ‘over my dead body’ bullshit? You can’t just die for me!”

“I can, and I will if I have to.”

“Why?! I get hostages killed. I get partners killed. I can’t perform basic tasks-” Lance was getting so worked up, his knuckles were turning white around his bayard.

“I told you I didn’t write that.”

“Then what did you write?” Keith could see how desperate Lance was to know for certain it wasn’t true, and he knew right then that whatever happens after he reads it is worth it if Lance can believe in himself. He slowly reached across the bed and slid his hand on to Lance’s. Rubbing his thumb lightly over his knuckles, he whispered, “Please put the gun down first.”

Lance stared at their hands for a moment, and considered not listening to him; it would mean this could continue, and oh boy did he want Keith to hold his hand forever. Reluctantly, he leaned the gun against the wall, but as he brought his hands back to his lap, Keith reclaimed one and held it tightly in an attempt to steady his voice before he spoke:

“Lance was assigned a search and rescue mission, but in the process, both the hostage and his partner from the Blade died. I assigned him this mission because I believed he was the only one who could successfully complete it, but after those losses, I never want to assign him a rescue mission again. I never want to assign him any mission. I’m so terrified of losing him. He’s my right-hand man, and I wouldn’t even be able to attempt to lead this team without him. He’s the only person who’s made me smile in years... I know this job is dangerous, and we all run the risk of getting hurt or killed, but I’ve already lost two of the three people I love, and I don’t think I could handle losing him too. That’s so selfish of me. I know it is, and that’s why I need your help. He’s hurting Shiro, and I don’t know how to fix it. You know I’ve never been good at this. Please help me...We’re still near Olkarion. See you there. -K”

Keith let out a nervous breath and looked back to their hands locked between them, trying to decide if he was unnaturally cold due to nerves or if Lance was always this warm.

“There’s more, a lot more, about you. I promise they’re all good, and you’re more than welcome to read them,” Keith said through a slight smile as he held the screen up for Lance to take, but as soon as it was in reach, Lance shoved it away. He leaned up to rest on his knees in front of Keith and carefully wound his arms around his neck.”I don’t want to hurt you more than have been...but I also never want to let go again,” Lance whispered.

#klance #voltron #klangst #keith and lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #lotor #allura x lotor #klance fic #sad lance #friends to lovers #voltron fic

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haberdashing · 5 years ago

Text

and if that was me, then who am i?

Stranger Martin AU. A young Martin runs away to the Circus.

on AO3

Martin Blackwood was nine years old, and his mother’s health was getting worse by the day, and his father was gone never to return, and his world was crumbling around him. Things he’d taken for granted, responsibilities that he’d figured the adults around him would attend to for him for years to come if not for the rest of his life, were suddenly falling on his shoulders, left undone if he didn’t step up to the plate. He wasn’t working, as it wasn’t exactly an option at his age, but he did just about everything else he could to keep the house up and running. Even then, it seemed like it was never enough, like the perpetual frown on his mother’s face grew deeper by the day.

For all he did, though, Martin was still nine years old, still just a child, still prone to youthful flights of fancy. Perhaps it was little surprise that he spent every minute he wasn’t busy with schoolwork or housework with his nose stuck in a book, desperately longing to escape his reality by delving into another, at least for a little while.

Martin knew well enough, when news got around that a circus was coming to town, that he wouldn’t be able to go. There was too much to do at home, too little money to spare for such luxuries. He still asked his mother, though, despite knowing her answer before he voiced the question. He did want to go, after all, did want to enjoy himself in an evening of pure escapism, and this way it was her word forbidding it, not just simple logic that he could try to weasel his way out of. And it burned, knowing that all the other children would doubtlessly be talking nonstop for weeks about something he would never see, would never be a part of.

As the circus’ performance neared, Martin yearned to find some way to attend the circus, despite all logic, despite his mother’s refusal, despite everything... and something occurred to him.

He’d read more than one story involving children who, when stuck in a living situation they couldn’t tolerate anymore, ran off to join the circus. And technically, his mother had told him not to attend the circus, not to not join it.

It wasn’t fair to his mother, of course, but she seemed unhappy enough regardless, and Martin could swear just the sight of his face made her frown all the greater for some reason, so maybe she’d be better off without him. And then he could start a new life with the circus, one less mundane and brutal than the one he had to face on a daily basis. A win-win situation.

Three days before the circus was set to open, Martin grabbed a handful of his dearest belongings, shoved them into a bag, and sneaked into the circus grounds with them in hand, a mix of anxiety and sheer desperation pushing him onward, fueling every step he took deeper into the heart of the circus.

Opening a random door exposed Martin unexpectedly to a view of the stage, albeit a skewed one, far from the sort of angle an audience would normally get. Even though the circus wasn’t open for business yet, a performance of some sort--a rehearsal, perhaps?--was going on just the same, and Martin was lucky enough to be its only audience member.

Colors and lights and music and movement intermingled until it was hard to say where one part of the action ended and another began. It was a dizzying, dazzling, overwhelming performance, and it was impossible and it was illogical and it was beautiful, and as Martin looked on he knew that he’d made the right move, that somewhere this wonderful must be where he was meant to be.

Martin let out a soft gasp at one point that caught him especially off-guard--something to do with knives, or a tightrope, or maybe both, it all blended together into one strange jumbled blur in his brain--and seconds after, a cold hand pressed against his shoulder.

“Here for a sneak preview?”

Martin turned around. The outlandish and blindingly colorful outfit of the man in front of him marked him as a member of the circus troupe, though Martin couldn’t remember if he’d seen the man before, either when making his way through the circus or when watching the stage.

Did... did he think Martin was just there to get out of paying? Or out of impatience, too eager to see a performance that was just days away anyhow? Because that wasn’t right at all, and he didn’t want that to be the first impression any of the circus members got of him.

“No, no, not like that--I mean, I watched some, I guess, and it was great and all, but--I came here because I want to join you.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You want to join the Circus?”

Martin nodded, desperately, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking, how his vision was blurring with half-stifled tears, how what this strange man decided in the next minute or two might change the course of Martin’s life forever. “I do. I want to be a part of- of all of this. I did before I saw it in action, but even more now. It’s- it’s wonderful, and I want to help make it happen again.”

“Hmm.” The man tapped his fingers against the nearby wall, and Martin flinched a little as the man’s arm drew awkwardly close to him in the process. “That’s a new one.”

Martin hadn’t thought it would be a “new one.” This happened all the time in stories, didn’t it? Were the stories all lies, then?

“Tell you what, how about we go see Nikola.” The words suggested that there was a question involved, that Martin was being given a choice, but between the circus member’s flat tone of voice and the way his fingers curled around Martin’s wrist, Martin was left very sure that he was going to see this Nikola whether he wanted to or not. “Rehearsal’s wrapping up, so she should be free soon, and if anyone’s going to decide if you can stay with us it’s her.”

“A-alright. Sure.” Maybe the choice being offered was a false one, but Martin wanted to make it clear that he was willing to go along with it all, that he wasn’t going to put up a fuss or disobey at the first sign of trouble.

The walk between where Martin had been spying on the stage and where Nikola stood in front of a crowd of circus performers wasn’t long, but it was dizzying just the same. It wasn’t quite like the performance, but just walking through the circus was enough to fill Martin’s head with colors and lights and sounds the likes of which he had never imagined, let alone experienced, before that night.

Martin wasn’t sure whether he’d know which of the people around him were “Nikola” at first, but he figured it out pretty fast. Most of the circus performers seemed normal enough, at least by circus performer standards; sure, they were all strangers, and something about those surrounding him gave Martin a pit in his stomach, but they could easily have been pulled out of one of the storybooks Martin enjoyed so much, the sort of stock characters one would expect to see around a circus. Nikola, on the other hand... well.

She wasn’t actually a mannequin, was she?

No, of course not, that didn’t make sense. Living mannequins were only a thing in stories, and Martin had already learned that stories couldn’t be trusted as guides to reality that easily. It had to be some sort of elaborate make-up that made her look more doll than human. Though why Nikola then had clown make-up over the mannequin make-up was a little confusing... it seemed like one or the other would make more sense than combining the two... but it wasn’t his call to make, of course.

Besides, Martin had already gathered that making sense wasn’t the be-all and end-all here, and that was part of the attraction. Staying home and caring for his ill mother would make sense, but that wasn’t the life Martin wanted to live. The circus promised him so much more.

“Nikola?”

Without warning, the man that had led Martin to Nikola gripped Martin’s wrist hard and used it to hold him up.

“Hey!” Martin did his best to wriggle his way out of the circus member’s grip, but to no avail.

“I found this boy intruding on our property, watching the rehearsal. He says he wants to join the Circus.”

“Oh? How fascinating!” Nikola’s voice was high and energetic, and the bright red lips drawn onto her face didn’t move when she spoke. “Come here, boy.”

The grip on Martin’s wrist loosened as abruptly as it had tightened, and Martin half-walked half-stumbled over to Nikola, shaking out his hand to try and reduce the ache lingering in his wrist from where he’d been held.

“Let me get a closer look...” Nikola’s hand shot out and cupped Martin’s chin, tilting his face so that it was staring up at hers, and her hand felt cold and plastic and lifeless and the feeling of it pressed against his chin made the hairs on Martin’s back stand up straight.

“Do you have any special talents, boy?”

“Um... not really, honestly, but-” Martin could feel his face growing hot. “But I’m a quick learner, and I can do a lot when I put my mind to it, so I’m sure I can help you out somehow!”

“Oh, that’s fine, I’m sure we can find a place for you somewhere.” Nikola withdrew her hand, though Martin still looked up at her, hoping to see some sign in her facial expression that’d give away whether she’d allow him to stay. (No such luck, unfortunately, as her face was utterly still, acting less like make-up over a regular face and more like paint atop a doll.) “I’m Nikola, by the way. I run the Circus these days.”

Martin considered saying that he’d already gathered as much, but decided to stay silent instead.

“And who might you be?”

“I’m...”

Martin hesitated, considering his options. If he just gave his real name out, would they report him to the authorities, send him back to his mother? Even if they didn’t, he was hoping to start a new life here, and did he really want that life to be tied to the same name as his old one? If he was going to reinvent himself, why not go all the way?

If he wasn’t Martin, though, who was he?

Martin’s mind wandered back to all the books he’d read over the years, remembered an old, beaten-up library book about mythology that he’d come back to time and time again, and settled on an answer.

“...Loki. I’m Loki.”

“Wonderful, wonderful! It is a pleasure to meet you, dear Loki!”

He’d realized that he was being tested, before, but hadn’t realized that being asked for his name was part of the test until looking around and seeing the broad smiles on the faces of all the circus performers.

When was the last time he’d seen a sea of smiles like that?

When was the last time he’d seen even a single smile like that, wide and genuine and mirthful?

“I think you’ll fit in just fine here, Loki. Welcome to the Circus!”

Nikola extended her hand, and he took it, and her hand was cold and inhuman but he was surrounded by smiling faces and unnatural beauty and if a cold handshake was the price he had to pay to fit in here, that was a price well worth paying.

Loki looked out at the crowd and gave a smile of his own, weak but passionate.

He’d found a place in the world, now, and he was never looking back.

#martin blackwood #tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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venactricisfics · 5 years ago

Text

It’s Just Beneath The Skin

t@negans-network @neganmorgan@mypapawinchesterjeffreynegan @ask-kakashihatake @haleyea@collette04

Negan X OC, Smut, Negan-like language.

Masterlist

One day had faded into five. They all started to blur together. I wasn’t as nauseated as I thought I’d be. I’d have to get a Carson to check me over if… when I finally got to go home.

“You feeling alright?” Alden asked. He’d become my shadow since we left the Sanctuary. And I guess being threatened to be beaten to death offers encouragement to handle a task.

“I’m ok. You got those fences fixed? We can fill the gap between them with the dead. Make an undead moat. We don’t have as many fighters here as back home, ” I sighed, “so we need the added security so they don’t catch us with our asses hanging out again."

"I got ‘em fixed. Jared and a couple other guys from Gavin’s group are out looking for bodies to fill your moat, ” he stares out into the woods, “you’re starting to sound like him."

"What do you mean?” I quirk a brow.

“Ordering folks around. When you first arrived you kept to yourself, ” Alden said, “Not a bad thing just different.”

“I don’t sound like him, ” I respond, “I don’t use 'fuck’ nearly as much as he does."

"You’re right about that, ” he smiled, “you should eat. I’ve still got to fix the roofing on the east side. It’s leaking."

"Can’t, ” I look at the pile of materials, “there’s too much work to be done."

"It’s all heavy work, can’t have you swinging a heavy hammer or hauling wood, ” he told me. “Go inside out of the heat and get something to drink."

"Fine, get a couple guys to cover the yard, ” I said, “I know it looks safe, ” I glance out to the trees beyond the fences, “looks can be deceiving.” Alden gives me a nod.

“Walkie charged up?” I ask as I head back inside.

“Yeah it is, ” he gives a knowing look, “should be getting close to dinner time at the Sanctuary. You should be able to catch him alone."

"I know, ” I give him a smile and head inside. The walkie was on the table in the center of the room I shared with Alden. He thought that would be the best way to keep me safe. I kick my boots off and step behind the privacy curtain and plop down on my cot. “Big Daddy, come in Big Daddy."

"Da-yamn, baby, ” Negan says back over the crackling of the walkie, “you calling me Daddy just made my pants get right. I’m gonna have to rub one out real soon."

"I missed you too, Negan, ” I lean back on the bed, “everything going good at home?"

"Right as fucking rain, though I got no one here to bust my balls, ” I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Or suck my dick until I see fucking stars."

"I’ll make sure to take real good care of you when I get back, ” I smile back at him, “how much longer?”

“Gotta big fucking meeting set for tomorrow, ” he tells me, “after that, I plan to end the day with you riding my dick.”

“Is that your plan? I was hoping for a big bowl of gelato, ” I replied.

“Fuck, you can eat your fancy fucking ice cream while you’re riding my dick, ” he chuckles. Though I know he’s semi-serious.

“I might give that a try, ” I yawn, tucking my hand under my head.

“Get some fucking rest, baby, ” he says.

“Good night, ” I say back, not ready to end but knowing I was too tired to talk much longer, “I love you.”

“Don’t I fucking know it, ” he tells me. “Talk to you tomorrow.” I drop the walkie on the bed beside me and doze off.

“Hey, ” I feel a handshake me, “you need to eat something.” I rub my eyes and Alden comes into view. “My sister would get light headed if she didn’t get enough to eat when she was pregnant.”

“OK, ” I stand and the room spins a little.

“Just sit. I brought you a sandwich, ” he sets it on the little folding table beside my bed with a cool glass of lemonade.

I sit up and take a long drink from my glass, “How long was I out for?”

“Just a couple hours, ” he said. “You’ve been running nonstop since we got here. You needed it."

"Everyone has, ” I take a bite, hungrier than I thought, “I’m not special. You, ” I wipe the crumbs from my shirt, “have been building fences, fixing roofs and taking care of me. I appreciate your looking out for me. I know it’s because Negan ordered you to, but still thank you."

"I’d look out for you anyway. You remind me of my sister, ” he said. I motion toward the chair and he takes a seat.

“The light-headed pregnant one?” I ask. He never mentioned her. I wondered if she was still alive. The ones we lost before most of us didn’t talk about. So I wasn’t gonna pry.

He nods, “She moved to LA before everything. I don’t know what happened to her.”

That was the story for most of the Saviors. Guess that’s true for anyone still upright. They had people and then they didn’t. Not saying the asshole tendency wasn’t there before. But we all have done what had to, to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

If we did anything else, what kind of monsters would we be?

____

I woke from a dreamless sleep to a waking nightmare. Bullets ricocheted off the wall over my head. I drop down to the floor quickly shoving my feet in my boots.

“Get up!” I hear Alden shout. The sounds of our people shooting and gunfire echoed through the halls of our outpost.

Gun in hand I follow behind Alden. I step over the bodies of our people. Not again. I suck in a breath. Now was not the time to break down. I didn’t have the luxury of weakness.

“The storage building out back, ” I tell him as we walk along the wall. “It’ll give us a little cover until we figure out what the fuck to do.” We weren’t the only ones with that idea. “Stay down and quiet, ” I say as we duck inside and pull the door closed. “Hopefully they’ll move on and we can contact the Sanctuary for help.” I kick myself internally remembering the walkie I’d left beside my pillow. Guess bullets flying overhead are distracting.

My hopes all crashed around me at the sound of voices outside the rolling door. “If we’re outnumbered, surrender, ” I say, “that’s our only chance.” It seemed like a long fucking shot but it was a shot. I cast my eyes at Alden, “Open the door, ” my fingers tighten around the butt of my pistol.

“Drop your weapons,” the intruder says. His gun fixed on Alden’s face.

“Living sounds good to me,” Alden says as he lowers his gun to the ground. My eyes scan the line of invaders as I step up beside him. There were too damn many of them. I place my weapon on the floor beside his. I raise my hands, then glance back at the others, “We’re surrounded. Don’t try anything stupid."

I feel the ice-cold stare from the girl ponytail. If given half the chance, she’d mow every single one of us down. I couldn’t let her have half a chance.

“Shit I know you,” Jared speaks to one of the intruders. “You get transferred too?” The man’s eyes show with a hateful recognition. He sure as fuck knew Jared. And it wasn’t a pleasant meeting. The man’s gun was aimed at Jared’s face.

“Morgan,” the first man told him, “drop your gun, they surrendered.”

“We came here to kill ‘em,” Morgan responded, “We’re supposed to.”

“It’s not what we do,” the first man replied.

I felt the stares of disdain from each of our captors as they tied our hands together, linking us one behind the other.

“Stay behind me,” Alden whispered.

“Despite what you all may think,” I told him, “I am not helpless.”

“Good,” the ponytail girl exclaimed pushing me with the barrel of her gun, “then move.”

#the walking dead #TWD #twd negan #negan smut #negan x oc #negan x reader

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thewondersofsmut · 6 years ago

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Let’s Pretend – Part Three

Summary: A story based on To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before.

Pairings: AU!Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, fake bf Dean, angst

Author’s Note: Posting this since it’s my birthday! Hurt feelings are never good! Feedback is appreciated!

Part One Part Two Part Four

Dean’s POV

“That was your chance to get back with her.” (Y/n) said. “And what? Humiliate you? I didn’t like what she said about you and I don’t want you to get hurt.” I replied. “Why, none of this real.” I stopped my tracks and let go of her hand.

“You’re right.”

What (y/n) said stung. I walked towards my car. “Dean.” She called for me. I turned to look at her. “What’s wrong? That was our plan.” She said. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “Get in.” I said, motioning to my car. I drove in silence and I watched her. It wasn’t hard to like her, let alone fall for her. And after seeing the how she was hurt by Gabriel and how Lisa treats her, I think I’m making a better choice.

I parked and we headed inside the diner. “Why did you and Gabriel break up?” I asked. She sighed. “I think I deserve to know.” I added. “He cheated on me.” She flatly said. “I’m sorry.” I kind of regret asking now. She chuckled. “I was stupid to think that someone like him would actually like someone like me.” She said. “I do.” I said, truthfully. She smiled. “Spare me the pity.” She said, about to stand up.

“(Y/n).” I said, holding her hand. “What you said awhile ago.” She looked at me. I sighed, it was now or never. “Hurt so much more than when Lisa broke up with me.” Her eyes softened. “And this –whatever we have, didn’t feel fake at all.” I said. “You don’t mean that.” She silently said. I held her hand, chuckling. “But I do.” “I don’t want to get hurt anymore, not like this, Dean, I’m done joking around.” She said. “And I will never.” I replied. “Give me a chance to show you that what I’m feeling, isn’t fake.” She looked at me. “Please?” I almost begged. She sighed and nodded.

I’ve been in intense training for two weeks now and the day finally came and I know (y/n)’s on the same boat too, being a cheerleader and all. As I was training, I looked over towards the other field. (Y/n) was with Jo and I can clearly see the glares that Lisa threw her way. She’s got to stop it and I will do something about it. Ever since I got with (y/n), she has texted me nonstop. I was about to make my way to talk to Lisa to formally end this our ‘relationship’ when I heard gasps.

I looked up and saw (y/n) on the ground. I ran for it but was beat by Gabriel. I furrowed my eyebrows, frowning. “Please, let me go and stop touching me.” I heard (y/n) say. “I’m trying to help you.” Gabriel replied. I then looked at Lisa, who was smirking. “Hey, let go of my girlfriend.” I roared. Lisa’s smirk went away.

“Like you ever cared for her.” Gabriel said and I clenched my fist. “I do.” I said through gritted teeth. Gabriel swatted my arm away, pushing me across my chest. I took a swing and a collection of gasps were heard. I punched him on his face and he punched me back. “Stop! Dean, please!” I heard (y/n) say. “You hurt her and you never deserve anyone, especially (y/n).” I said. I then felt someone pull me off of him and I looked over at Archie, our captain. “Enough.” He said. “Arch, get your boys away from my girls.” Cheryl said. “Oh, and Lisa, you’re out of team, I saw you sabotage (y/n)’s routine.” Cheryl said, glaring at Lisa who’s eyes widened.

I saw Jo and some others help (y/n) and I looked at her, meeting her gaze. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve beaten Gabriel up.

I came home with a bruise around my face. It would be so hard to explain this to my dad. I then heard knocks on the door. I sighed and stood up to open it. (Y/n) had a small smile, lifting up some pie. I opened the door wider and we went to the kitchen. “Where’s Sam?” She asked. “In his room.” I replied. “How are you?” She asked. “In pain.” She grabbed the ice pack and slowly brought it to my cheek. I hissed at the pain and she flinched. “Sorry.” I mumbled.

“Why did you do it?” She asked. “Because of you.” I replied and I could faintly see her cheeks heat up. “Dean, you could’ve ruined your chances to play.” She added. “I don’t care. I wanted to make sure you’re okay and I want to make it was clear to him that he needs to get lost.” I said, cupping her cheek. “And Lisa, she was the reason you almost got injured and I’m glad she got punished for it.” I added, scoffing.

I leaned up to her face, she closed her eyes as our lips touched. Every time we kissed felt different, first it was just a peck, then I felt something, and now, it was as if it should’ve been like this all along. We played with our own feelings. I cupped her cheek, pulling her closer. I rested my forehead against her as we pulled away. “(Y/n), let’s end this fake relationship, and will you finally be my girlfriend?” I whispered, looking deeply into her eyes.

She smiled, the corners of her eyes watering. “Yes, Dean Winchester. I will.”

I leaned up again, pecking her lips. We then heard someone clear their throat. I pulled away fast and dad stood there. (Y/n) hoped off the counter and dusted herself. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester.” She said. He raised his eyebrows but mostly to me, I knew he was looking right at my black eye. She cleared her throat. “It was because me, I apologize. Gabriel did not want to let go of me.” She started. He gave a concerned look. “It all okay sir,” “Call me John.” Dad said. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asked her and she nodded.

“Year end Ski Trip!” I chuckled as Benny was all up about it. “You are going right, babe?” I asked (y/n). She looked at me, puzzled. “Uh, I don’t ski and I’m not that good in the cold.” She said, chuckling as she shook her head. “The ski trip is where all couples are mandatory to go.” Jo said. “But that’s not for me.” She said and I rolled my eyes. “Come on, (y/n), it’ll be fun, I promise, I’ll teach you how to ski?” I offered. “Pretty please.” Jo begged. If Jo was going and I knew (y/n) would go. “Ugh, alright then!” She answered, giving up on our antics.

Lisa passed by our table and stopped in front of me. “You’re going to the ski trip right, it was our thing.” She said. I looked at (y/n) then to her. “There’s no us, Lisa, and there will never be.” I said, pulling (y/n) towards my side. She scoffed. “(Y/n) will never please you like I did.” She said. (Y/n) raised her eyebrows. “You honestly think you’re better than me?” (Y/n) said. “Oh, please, watch me, Braeden, you’ll hear my name across the resort.” She added, leaning up to whisper-yell at her, receiving cheers from my friends and Jo who giggled. (Y/n) can be feisty when she wants to. Lisa huffed and left.

I leaned closer to her. “Is that a promise or a threat?” I whispered, feeling her shudder against me. She looked at me with pure determination on her face. “Oh, babe. You gotta wait and see.”

Taglist:

@miss-kristendior @andkatiethings @kpoplover1306xdepressedgirl315 @sallyp-53 @ilovefanfic86 @deviljoonie @incorrect-quoted @malindacath @aunty-peggy @adoptdontshoppets @brindz30 @myloveofdean @tftumblin @super-megstiel @curlyhairedblueeyedangel

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #au!dean #au!dean x reader #au!dean winchester #au!dean winchester x reader #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #au!dean fanfic #au!dean fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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its-jwang2017 · 5 years ago

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Part 2: Wherein Jackson is the Damsel Trying His Best Not to be in Distress

A/N: I should probably not write so much so I can space out the chapters... whatever. Heed the additional tags and, as always, LMK of any spelling mistakes. Pic is of the Adler Planetarium, for your imagery needs.

More notes @ the end

TW: Panic attacks and moderately vague descriptions of violence

The first thing Jackson sensed upon waking up in a dark, circular area was the throbbing pain in his skull and matted blood sticking to the right side of his neck. A fluorescent light shone down the front of Jackson’s face, forcing him to squint his eyes in a vain effort to decrease his oncoming migraine. Tucking his chin into his chest forces his half closed eyes to focus on the frayed ropes wrapped around him, keeping him pinned to a cold, metal chair. With is hands tied to the arms of the chair and his legs wrapped together in front of him, Jackson was barely able to move any part of his body. The white of his fencing uniform was stained with a mixture of blood and dust, creating a Pollock-like design on the once pristine suit. I am literally never getting that out...

For a split second, Jackson forgot the connotation to this wonderful awakening in a mysterious location. As his brain slowly filled in the gaps to his memory, his body began to ache as it remembered the force at which it was flung into the solid ground of the gym. As the pain made itself known, Jackson winced as his ribs protested against the tight rope that wound around his chest. Realizing there was no comfortable position while being stuck to a metal chair, Jackson forced his head up and eyes open to try to survey his surroundings.

“Hello? Any bad guys in the area?” Jackson tentatively called out in what proved to be a regrettable move. The volume of his own voice seemed to be the last straw for his concussion, starting a percussive symphony of pulsing heat inside his head. The pounding in his brain combined with the bruises on his body forced a pained groan out of Jackson, shutting his eyes tightly as possible while he tried to ride out the waves of suffering.

Loud, thudding footsteps came from Jackson’s left, attacking his already frayed senses. The fencer whimpered in pain and tried to bring his shoulders up to cover his ears from the invasive sounds, not caring it made him look vulnerable to his captor. Soon enough, the footsteps came to a standstill in front of the fencer, a shadow blocking the light that permeated Jackson’s eyelids while gloved fingers gently lifted his chin up.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” A gruff voice whispered. Jackson tried to shy away from the other’s touch, not willing to open his eyes for fear that the light would attack his retinas and further wreck his concussed brain. Even the low voice of the other grated his nerves, as if the other was shouting directly into his ears instead of whispering. However, the chair wouldn’t let him move far and the other’s fingers firmly held contact with Jackson’s face. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a familiar sight; his reflection in the visor of Dark Souls protective helmet.

Jackson used the chance to examine his mirror image as Dark Soul gently used his fingers to turn Jackson’s face in different positions, seeming to inspect the damage. The kidnappee noticed that he was pretty beaten up, with small cuts on his left cheek and a bruise stretching across the right side of his face.

“You must’ve really fucked something up, Dark Soul. Usually I come to this Villains Club relatively unscathed. Now my face is all messed up and my body feels like crap. Do I get compensated for property damage? I may need reconstructive surgery to restore my face to its former glory after this encounter.” Jacksons rambles out quietly, but his whispered retorts fall on deaf ears as Dark Soul ignores him in favor of continuing his assessment.

After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Jackson let himself relax a bit as Dark Soul released his face from his firm grip. Taking a single step back, Dark Soul tapped his forefinger twice against his armored thigh and began slowly rising into the air. Jackson watched, enraptured as Dark Soul began gliding backwards, his sluggish brain forgetting that a light was aimed directly at him.

The pain comes back full force once Jackson’s eyes accidentally meet the rays of light, the absence of Dark Soul’s body allowing the bulb to direct its attention back on the captive once more. He shies away from the bulb, spots dancing in front of his quickly shut eyes, and he grits his teeth in an effort to keep the agonized sounds forming in his throat at bay.

Suddenly, the shadow returns, this time without the pounding footsteps to indicate movement. “Open your mouth.” Dark Soul commands lowly, grabbing Jackson’s chin once more. Jackson clamps his mouth shut, much to Dark Souls annoyance, and slowly shakes his head no. An annoyed sigh escapes the criminal in front of him and, before he can do anything to try and stop it, his nose is covered with gloved hands. Unable to breath or move, Jackson struggles briefly before gasping in pain as his ribs shift awkwardly.

With ease, two pills are inserted into Jackson’s mouth. Before the Hong Kong native can even try to spit them out, Dark Soul forces his mouth to close. With his nose still covered, Jackson continues to struggle and uncomfortably swallows the pills down dry, almost choking as the unknown drugs catch in his throat. Immediately, Dark Soul lets go of him and backs away.

Jackson glares as his usual kidnapper stands in front of him, “What the hell did you give me?!”

For a few seconds, the latter doesn’t respond. Then, he starts clapping.

Jackson stares back at the other in shock, thinking It’s finally happening. This person has gone insane. Dark Soul seems to look at the tied fencer inquisitively, tilting his head to one side.

“I can’t remember, are you actually this slow or are the pills not doing anything for your concussion?” the villain drawls out, resuming speaking at normal volume.

Jackson scoffs, opening his eyes fully and staring the other down. “What the hell are you rambling… about…?” Jackson recoiled a bit in shock, realizing that the pain he was feeling earlier had decreased significantly. The migraine ebbed to a dull irritance and his body was no longer voicing concern over his encounter with the floor. How did it work so fast??

“For the record, I wanted you to suffer just a tiny bit more…” Jackson snapped his head to the right where he could clearly see Project J, back facing him as the villain typed away at some monitors that Jackson swore were not there before.

“Those pills should make his life a bit easier. Dark Soul, we’re almost ready for broadcast, will you stop staring at Wang and come over here?” Project J called over his shoulder again, keeping his focus on the computer screens before him.

Rubbing the back of his neck in what looked like an embarrassing gesture, Dark Soul snapped his gaze away from the captive and quickly walked over to his partner, mumbling under his breath “Why do I put up with this sass, all the time, nonstop?”

With the duo distracted by whatever was thrown up on the screen before them, Jackson took this opportunity to continue to survey the room. He now noticed that he was in the center of what appeared to be a makeshift lab, with gadgets haphazardly strewn about over various tables, papers gathered around with notes and equations, pictures of what appeared to be random places pinned to the walls and a huge, covered opening on a dome shaped ceiling. Are we in some kind of observatory?

Before Jackson could answer his own question, a whine of static popped up on the monitors that the duo was gathered around. Curiously, Jackson tried to look over their shoulders to see what the ruckus was about, but the broad back of Dark Soul covered most of the monitors. The static stopped abruptly and what sounded like the news took its place.

After a couple more keyboard clicks, Project J pushed his seat back a bit and turned away from the controls. “I have control of the news station and the projector-bots are finally in position. You should be able to power them up once it’s showtime. Are we ready to broadcast?”

Dark Soul contemplated his partner’s words for a brief moment, before nodding his head. “I think we have all we need. Red Dragon should be up and desperately searching for Wang over here and I can power the bots right away. Make sure you have the Ray warmed up and ready to fire.”

Project J nodded his assent and soon, the two began gearing up for their showdown with Chicago’s native superhero. Jackson watched the scene unfold, helpless and unable to assist with Mark’s soon to happen takedown of the villains. He looked up towards the ceiling, hoping beyond hope that Mark would be ok dealing with whatever scheme his enemies had for the week and desperately trying to think of a plan. That’s when he noticed the large telescope hovering a couple feet above his head. Blinking rapidly to make sure he was seeing things correctly, Jackson felt an embarrassing heat rising up his face.

If anyone asks, I’ll say I noticed we were in the observatory immediately instead of accidentally discovering the seven foot long telescope that happened to be above my head...

And with that, Jackson pieced together an idea.

______________________________________________________________________________

Mark’s eyes sprung open, sitting up suddenly and violently coughing up water out of his lungs. The sudden move stirred up the bruises on his body, the soreness forcing Mark into a fetal position on the sandy beach, his legs still getting splashed by the waves from the lake. The coughing fit slowly lessened with the possibility of choking on lakewater becoming less imminent. Mark began moving different parts of his body to see how critical his injuries were. Once he determined that he had only minor cuts, bruises, and cracked ribs from Project J’s assault, Mark allowed himself a brief moment of reprieve as his coughing stopped. Relaxing his muscles and letting out an aggravated sigh at the fact that he let the villain get the better of him, the hero noticed the feeling of his body working to repair the damages. At least my cells repaired most of my injuries. It would have been hell to wake up with a broken back again....

After lying back for a few moments to try and regain his bearings, Mark began the slow process of convincing himself to stand back up. His lungs and throat were sore from the near drowning experience and he wondered how he was able to wash back up onto the beach as he maneuvered himself into a squatting position. Blinking his eyes rapidly to get the sand out of his face, Mark tried standing up while his legs almost gave way to the sudden weight they had to support. Once he was confident in his ability to walk and move, Mark started dusting himself off, dimly noticing a small crowd of students starting to gather to his left, all staring and pointing at our disheveled superhero. Hearing the click of cameras as the posse began taking pictures, Mark ruffled out the sand in his hair and slowly rose into the sky. Once he was satisfied that he got most of the sand off, Mark turned to face towards the gym and began flying in that direction. Not knowing how long he had been out, Mark hoped that this would be the one time that the villains let Jackson be.

Red Dragon’s dreams were crushed as he hears the police sirens coming from the direction of the sports facility. As he jets around the corner, the first thing he spots is the yellow caution tape blocking the general public from the collapsed wreckage of the Loyola facility. EMT’s, firefighters, and policemen all rushed around as they inspected the injured civilians afflicted by the collapse while trying to prevent the gawking public from entering the wreckage. Horrified, Mark gently lands on the roof of the CPD’s chief’s car in an effort to avoid getting in the way of the official’s work. His red suit quickly catches the police chief’s attention, who snaps her head around to face the hero.

“What’s the situation, chief?”

Waving her hand in a semblance of a greeting, policewoman Donna Winters stiffly replies, “Well, your battle knocked out the college’s facility, injuring around 50 people in the process. We have one missing person unaccounted for, you probably already know who, and we barely have enough people here to handle the whole situation. Additionally, we have a couple othered injured by the beach from your second battle with Project J, which stretches us even thinner. Luckily, somebody was able to pull a lot of the unconscious out of the building, so at least we do not have any casualties this time around.”

Mark’s stomach drops as his brain processes new information. Guilt settles in as Mark tries to figure out the best way to assist the public without injuring any more civilians, his eyes unable to meet the accusatory glare of the police chief below him. His thoughts were soon cut short as static bursts from the car’s radio, surprising both the chief and the hero.

“Chief! We got …situation… there’s damage…evacuation needed!” A panicked voice yelled, their voice getting cut off intermittently. Yanking her car door open, jostling Red Dragon with the force of it, the police chief quickly dropped into her seat and grabbed the comm.

“Repeat! Where are you, what’s the damage?” The chief listened, but her question was met with radio silence. “I need you to report back immediately, what is your current location officer?”

As the radio continued it’s silent reply, the police chief frustratedly threw her comm down onto the seat next to her, hitting her steering wheel with the other hand. Gritting her teeth and screwing her eyes shut, the chief tried to calm herself down by focusing on the ache in her hand. She felt the car shift above her, opening her eyes to see the hero’s red hair appear in the entryway of the still open car door. He held onto the roof of the car and looked at her upside down inquisitively. The childish gesture sparked sympathy within the chief, who thought to herself, He’s probably just a kid, and he’s got to save the city again?

Pushing aside her anger over the helplessness of the situation, Chief Winters took a deep breath and let it out, regaining her thoughts and organizing them accordingly. In her most authoritative voice, she finally turned to address Red Dragon. “Since I don’t know the location of the other team, I would like to ask you to fly out and scan the city. If there’s trouble, I’m confident in your ability to prevent as much building damage and pedestrian casualties as possible. We have this area covered.”

Red Dragon flips over onto the ground beside her open door, sending a thumbs up her way, declaring, “I’ll take care of it, Chief Winters. I’ll stop them before any more civilians get hurt. ”

Once he sees Winters’ nod of assent, Mark turns around and blasts off in search of the two villains. Chief Winters watches as the city’s only hero gracefully arcs through the sky and over the highrises. As she exits her vehicle, Chief Winters begins barking out orders at her team with the image of Red Dragon’s quirky thumb’s up still lingering in her thoughts. An uneasy feeling settled in her heart as she begins organizing the team around her. Whoever you are, Red Dragon, I hope to god I didn’t just send you into a war zone…

______________________________________________________________________________

“The fake call was sent to the chief’s radio. Our super should be in position soon.” Project J idly commented, turning off the power to his self-made transmitter.

With a silent nod of acknowledgement, Dark Soul begins gathering his power together, washing the room in a bright white light through the seams of his suit as electricity crackles around him. Jackson, still unable to move in his chair, feels the static rising inside the room as hair stands up underneath his uniform in response. Unable to stop the upcoming event, Jackson can only watch as Dark Soul took up a stance in front of the covered slit in the dome in front of him. After a quick press of a button from one of Project J’s monitors, the covering starts sliding away with a groan, gradually revealing the outside world. From around the silhouette of Dark Soul, Jackson can see the huge lake shimmering in the light outside the observatory. With no buildings on the horizon, Jackson deduced that they were facing the eastward side of the Adler planetarium. With his position confirmed, Jackson watches as the TV monitors turn on one by one while Dark Soul raises his hand towards the heavens, the screens simultaneously starting to fill with images of various places around Chicago. With a jolt, Jackson realizes they’re broadcasting a live feed of the city, with one monitor capturing his tied form from a birds eye view. Glancing upwards, he can barely make out a shape behind the bright bulb still shining in his face. Must be one of the bots Project J mentioned before.

“Hey, I am all about video recordings, but I’m pretty sure you need my consent before you start projecting this lovely bondage scenario to everyone in the city.”

For a split second, the tv monitors glitch out. Surprised, Jackson turns his attention towards the supervillain in front of him, noticing the barely perceptible twitch his comment seems to insight. Quickly recovering Dark Soul coughs out an embarrassed huff before regaining control of the video bots.

Curiously, Jackson opens his mouth to inquire about the sudden glitch. His words die in his throat, however, as he catches a glimpse of a familiar red suit flying past one of the bots.

Project J clears his throat, turning towards Dark Soul, “We have eyes on Red Dragon. Bot C31 caught him going south down the magnificent mile…”

Apparently hearing his partner’s update, Dark Soul begins flexing his hand in certain patterns, looking like he’s playing one handed piano. On the monitors, the bots began banding together, synchronized by the commands from the technopath to search for the flying hero. In the monitor, Jackson can see that the robots are silver in design, with their pointed nose and long, angled wings making them look like a flock of silver chimney swifts.

Soon enough, all of the robots except the one inside the observatory with the trio, were following Red Dragon’s tail at a swift pace.

“Lead him towards millenium park so we can throw up the feed of Jackson.” commanded Project J, who moved towards the monitors in order to study the feed better.

With a flick of his wrist, Dark Soul sent the robots flying forwards, making their presence known to the airborn super. Jackson watched in stunned fascination as his best friend finally realized the swarm of silver stalking him in the sky, the robots shoving into Mark in pairs. Veering away from the incoming attack, Mark tries to escape the robots attack, unknowingly flying right towards the pavilion that the villains are targeting. The robots are so close to Mark that Jackson can clearly hear the muffled curses and labored breathing stemming from his friend and he feels the anger rising in his chest at his own inability to warn Mark.

Soon enough, Mark can be seen flying over the Bean in Millennium Park, the robots circling around him, rising up to create a barrier to push him back against the concert Pavilion. In the observatory, Dark Soul raises his other hand and Jackson sees the giant screen behind Mark light up with the live recording of himself thrown up onto the screen.

Jackson knows that he looks terrible, but he didn’t realize how bad it was until he watches as Mark’s face falls as the hero takes in the fencer’s trapped form. The guilt is evident in the downturned corners of Red Dragon’s lips before his face smoothes out and he gets into a battle stance.

“Let go of him.” Red Dragon commands lowly, raising his fists threateningly as fire begins to wrap around his fingers.

Jackson hears a scoff to his left as Project J saunters over towards the center of the room, effectively putting himself in full view behind Jackson. He puts his hands on the back of the metal chair, leaning against it with his body towering over Jackson. “You know we can’t do that, Red Dragon. The princess, here, is our safeguard against one of your merciless attacks. You don’t want us to “accidentally” rough him up more than we already have, do you?”

The fire spreads up Red Dragon’s arm in response to the villains threat, “Touch a hair on his head and you’ll be in for the beating of a lifetime!” The hero snarls menacingly, his burning anger turning his fire blue for a split second.

The villain scoffs at the hero’s display, rolling his eyes before replying, “No need to get your spandex in a bunch, hot stuff. All we ask is that you turn over this city to us and disappear of the face of the earth. Is that too much to ask?”

“And leave Chicago at the mercy of you two goons? I think not.”

Project J sighed, resting his chin on top of Jackson’s head. When Jackson tried to squirm away from the other’s touch, Project J brought both of his hands up against the sides of the athlete’s face, forcing Jackson to look directly into the monitors and act as Project J’s headrest.

“Then I guess you’ll never see this pretty face again, won’t you?” Project J stroked the sides of Jackson’s cheeks with his forefinger, the fencer’s skin crawling at the touch.

“Hey, man, consent is sexy and mandatory!” Jackson shouted through clenched teeth, still trying to squirm his head away from the villains touch. His eyes darted to the side to watch Mark’s reaction play out on the screen, getting worried at the blue color of his flames.

“Jackson, don’t panic! I’ll find you!” The hero shouts, attempting to rise up in search of wherever the villains were keeping his friend. The silver robots closed their ranks above the hero, preventing Mark from getting very far off the ground.

Deciding now was as good of a time as any, Jackson hurridley yelled out, “ADLERPLANETARIUM!” before Project J quickly clamped one of his hands over the fencer’s mouth.

“What? No! Don’t listen to Jacks, he’s concussed, he has no idea what he’s blabbing on about!”

But that was all Mark needed to hear. Jackson watched with wide eyes as his friend’s body was encompassed with a blue fire and he sped upwards. The robots were no match for the heat generated by the Hero, and Red Dragon blasted through the barrier with ease. The feed turned to static as the robots were annihilated and Jackson smirked under Project J’s gloved hand, feeling a little victorious as he watched Dark Soul lower his arms.

Project J quickly let go of Jackson, as if burnt, and took a huge stride away from the captive as Dark Soul turned around. Raising his hands in a submissive gesture, Project J walked towards his partner and joined him at the edge of the opening with an apology on his lips. “You told me to make him mad, so I did what I had to!”

Dark Soul clenched his hands into fists, turning his back on Project J. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. The powerful glow that surrounded the villain slowly disappeared along with the static in the room, indicating his powers were leveling off. A loud beep caught everyone’s attention, and the villains turn in unison towards the sound as one of the buttons on their console blinks red. Jackson has been kidnapped enough times to know that that particular display meant, a relieved laugh escaping from Jackson’s mouth and slowly becoming more hysterical until tears are coming out of his eyes.

“Oh man, you guys are about to get your asses handed to you! Red Dragon is coming, powered up and completely enraged!” Jackson manages to get out, laughing all the while at the absurdity of the villains plans. How could they think that I wouldn’t figure out where we were?

His laughter dies out as the two villains look at each other, fully turning to face Jackson and standing with their arms crossed. Under their heavy stares, Jackson begins to feel uneasy at their silence and lack of fear for their lives.

“Power off, please.” Project J finally voices, his command causing the entire room to go dark with the only light stemming from the sun’s rays outside. Jackson, officially confused, assumes that the power goes off in preparation for Red Dragon’s entrance through the ceiling. Bracing himself in his seat, Jackson tries his best to fold in on himself to protect his body from Mark’s usual hole-in-the-wall arrival…

But looks up as the sound of Red Dragon’s entrance appears to his … left?

Jerking his head to his side, Jackson watches in horror as a single monitor records his friend encapsulated in a similar circular dome that was not the one he was in. His jaw drops as screen-Mark looks around before reaching the same realization as Jackson.

Laughing at his stunned expression, Dark Souls hands start lighting up as he calls out to Jackson,“What, you really thought you were at the Planetarium?”

______________________________________________________________________________

Dark Soul was more than pleased; he was positively elated that his plan went off without a hitch. It all relied on Jackson falling for their ruse, hook, line and sinker. With the fencer taking the bait, he unwittingly sent the hero into the premade trap located on the Museum Campus while their lair was set safely on the southern side of Chicago.

Ignoring their captives shouts of anger, Dark Soul began on concentrating on the electric hum of their satellite cast out into space. Feeling it powering on, Dark Soul sent a thumb’s up in his partner’s direction.

With a smug smirk on his face, Project J activated the two way communications between the lair and the trap. Watching Red Dragon’s face, Project J activated the robot already set in the real Adler Planetarium. Once he confirmed that the system was working, he sauntered back over into the picture. “Hello, old friend! If you haven’t noticed, you’ve fallen right into our trap. Lovely, isn’t it?”

Screen-Mark glared back through the projection, “Really? You went through all this work to send me to the planetarium and created a fake one in a separate location? What were the tickets were too expensive for you?”

“Excuse you, if we could afford this quality replica in order to trick Wang over here, then we could DEFINITELY afford to buy the entirety of the Adler Planetarium. This place is worth a hundred times more than your dollar store dye job on that ragged looking mop of yours! ”

“Wow, I know you’re not talking about MY HAIR. Do you even have hair under that tacky helmet, or do you wear it because you’re ashamed of your bald spot? Oh, wait, wearing that helmet all the time probably GAVE you a bald spot!”

“I do NOT have ANY sort of hair loss ANYWHERE, for your information! Your head would explode with jealousy if you saw my perfectly coiffed locks!”

“Who the hell refers to their hair as ‘coiffed locks’?! GET WITH THE TIMES, OLD MAN!”

Just as Project J opened his mouth, ready with another witty clapback, Jackson coughed loudly, catching everyone’s attention.

“LADIES! You’re both pretty! But if you don’t mind getting on with it, I have a project due tomorrow that I really can’t get out of. Can we just skip to the part where Red Dragon escapes and kicks your ass?”

Clamping his mouth shut, Project J rolls out his shoulders and holds his hands behind his back, trying to regain his composure. “Of course. That is, if he is even capable of escaping our trap while being obliterated under the full concentrated power of the sun…!”

Project J’s words seemed to be the command his partner was waiting for. With a quick movement, Dark Soul clenches his hand into a fist, activating the satellite perfectly positioned in the exosphere. The satellite begins emitting a highly concentrated beam of light which streaks across the sky above them, and the villains watch as the robot located within the trap abruptly cuts communication. Not soon after, the sound of an explosion shakes both the lair and the city behind them.

The aftershocks of the blast only last for a few seconds, but for Dark Soul, it feels like an eternity. He cuts off the power to the ray quickly, and rushes over to the monitor along with Project J. Activating the remaining robots that were not melted by Red Dragon, Dark Soul deploys them to the blast zone. The two watch the feed closely as the silver drones encircle the site. Slowly, the dust starts to settle and both villains can see that the Planetarium’s archipelago has been obliterated, swallowed up by the water underneath.

With wide eyes, Dark Soul uses the robots to scan for a sign of life, any sign of life, amidst the ruins. The white letters against the red backdrop on the monitors flash back at the villains, a clear sign that all readings came back negative.

The two partners, who for years had never even gotten close to defeating the acclaimed superhero, slowly turn to each other in shock.

“We did it…”

______________________________________________________________________________

The aftermath of Red Dragon’s defeat goes by in a blur for Jackson. He can’t move, can’t even speak, as he is untied from the chair. Once freed, he puts his head in his hands, his brain still trying to comprehend what happened. For a couple minutes, he just sits there in a state of total shock. After a while, one of the villains gently removes his hands away from his face while the other places a black, polyester bag over his head. He faintly registers the villains helping him stand, throwing his arms around their necks and supporting his weight on either side. They half carry, half walk him out of the lair, Jackson’s legs failing him in the moment. Somehow the duo places Jackson inside a car and the next thing he knows, he’s being led to a park bench near Soldier field. He watches, looking without really seeing, as the car speeds away and he’s left completely alone.

Usually, the area that he’s in is bustling with tourists and city goers, each eager to watch a football game or wander through the many museums nearby. But today, the place is desolate and scattered with random debris all around. Not knowing how long he sat on the bench, Jackson stares out towards the harbor before him his eyes looking but not comprehending the scene before him. Before Jackson can make a conscious decision to begin walking, his feet have already taken him halfway down the street towards the Planetarium.

In a few short minutes, the fencer is standing at the edge of the explosion site, watching as the waves crash against what’s left of the entryway. Jackson sees pieces of the building sticking out of the lake, but most of the property is submerged, the water reclaiming the land it once had.

Jackson feels droplets running down his face, thinking that the weather started to reflect the somber feeling of the moment. The sun was still shining brightly, however, with no rain in sight as Jackson touched shaking fingers to his face. He was crying.

Jackson fell to his knees, an anguished scream bursting from his chest as the denial over the situation was brutally broken down; his best friend was dead. With grief in his heart and an emptiness in his soul, Jackson wrapped his arms around himself to try and hold his body together. The familiar feeling of anxiety and panic took root in his core, his body starting to shake in response. It felt as though he was too big for his skin and his mind lost in the all consuming negative thoughts that continuously berated him. His heart rate sped up and his breathing became ragged as his eyes widened and the tears dried on his face. Curling in on himself, Jackson’s panic attack increased tenfold as he tried to gasp in air that his lungs refused to take, his internal dialogue progressively getting louder and attacking his brain: I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I KILLED him. I KILLEDHIM. I KILLED HIM. IKILLEDHIM. IKILLEDHIM. IKILLEDHIMIKILLEDHIMI KILLEDHIMIKILLEDHIMIKILLEDHIM…

A faraway voice pierced through Jackson’s self deprecating thoughts. Jackson curled in further on himself, vaguely aware that his hands were covering his ears and his eyes were tightly shut. The accusing voice inside his head began to slowly dim as his breathing started to resume at it’s normal pace. The overwhelming feeling of self-hate began to ebb as Jackson registered a hand gently stroking down his back in rhythm with his breathing. Slowly uncovering his ears, Jackson was finally able to hear the voice of his helper alongside him.

“ - doing great, Jacks, that’s it breath with me. Everything will be ok, just focus on your breathing and let me ground you in the present. You’re fine, everything is going to be great. Just relax and let yourself take in air…” The voice continued, Jackson’s body finally beginning to resume its functionality.

Slowly, Jackson opened his eyes and started down at the concrete street in front of him. His knees were covered with soot and he noticed a pair of black vans on his left. The hand never stopped stroking his back and Jackson felt embarrassment well up inside him. He had had panic attacks before, but never in front of a complete stranger.

The hand grounding him stopped it’s motions and instead chose to rest on Jackson’s shoulder. “Do you feel ok to stand up?”

The other’s low voice sounded strangely familiar, but as Jackson sat up, he kept his eyes downcast and pointed away. Sniffling, Jackson wiped at his face in an effort to get rid of the dried tears under his eyes. “M-maybe in a bit… Sorry you had to wit-witness that…” Jackson mumbled, feeling ashamed as his voice wavered and his words stuttered.

The hand that was on his shoulder gently shook him, the other laughing a bit. “I’ve seen you when you were half naked in my apartment with nothing but a black tie, cufflinks, and black boxer briefs in a half-assed attempt to seduce me, Jacks. I learned how to help calm you down after I witnessed your first panic attack right in front of me as I sat like an idiot as you ran out of the room to try and solve it yourself. I gear up everyday to save your sorry ass from the two knumbskulls that always try to get rid of me. There is nothing in this world that could sink this friend-ship, you loser.”

Jackson’s neck almost snapped as he finally turned towards his left. The bright, laughing brown eyes that Jackson thought he would never see again stared back at him, and Jackson launched himself into the waiting arms of his supporter.

“MARK?!”

so... i wrote this...

After a brief, half-assed attempt at revising (because I hate revising even thought it's definitely a necessity) I decided to post this ridiculously long chapter of my story. Why, you ask? Well, I will probably not be updating for the next week and a half due to a long-overdue vacation time :) So please, enjoy this chapter and get ready for the tiny hiatus(to be quite honest, I'll probably cave and continue writing for this, but who really knows).

If you didn't notice, i revised the first official chapter a bit. I wanted to add in some more details that I had in mind but forgot to translate into my writing :p I'll let you know of any more changes. Keep watch on the introduction as more characters are introduced.

Finally, a shameless plug for my wattpad account (@ jwang2017) and soon to be AO3 account, so watch out

Next up: We finally get a glimpse into the student side of Jackson and Mark's lives! At long last YOU, the reader, will get a good look into the school that I completely made up: JYP International Preparatory School. Good lord, I'm gonna have become an architect and building planner to figure out where the city would even build this made-up school. Why did Mark do what he did? How is he alive? What will become of the city now that our "villains" think the hero is dead? All of this, plus the introduction of the rest of the got7 ensemble, coming up to this story near you!

If you know who our villains are, con-drag-ulations you're my fave.

Any Idol you want to see in the future?

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eleeria · 6 years ago

Text

Shadowfang Keep

As many thousand as the Eleventh Legion had on Kalimdor, they seemed to have twice that amount in Silverpine. For every line that Eleeria and the combined archers of the Horde and the Warband’s Fifth Cohort managed to down, another rose to take its place. They seemed to be endless -- and though the Forsaken stationed in their homeland were tireless, the Fifth Cohort were not. The constant barrage of attacks from the Alliance both day and night frayed the nerves of the living combatants. By the second day of nonstop assault, it made even the undead nervous. Eleeria moved through the injured, a Dreadguard Captain handling the allied movement on the walls for the moment to bring the living General a reprieve. And although he would never admit as such, her positive attitude was sorely needed among the injured.

“I know it hurts. Let me fix it, then you can get back to fighting after a few minutes’ rest.” Callused and bloodied hands hovered over an orc’s leg, magic pouring into the injury. Normally, she would not expend so much magic on a single broken leg -- but she needed people back on the wall as soon as possible. Men and women were screaming and flailing around her, breathing their last breaths in a room full of blood and shit. Such was the way of a busy infirmary, with no time to clean between bodies hitting the cots and straw. Seeing bone and muscle mend, she patted the man on the shoulder and stood, moving through the infirmary with haste to head back towards the wall. Though the world was nothing but screaming and death in their makeshift healers’ ward, people still seemed to pause and stare. That’s General Silverwing. She took Northwatch. She was there when we held the Keep the first time. Eleeria could hear the words murmured nearby, and slowed enough to check in on the patients nearby who were conscious.

“How are you feeling?” Golden eyes met those of an undead; the woman grinned with half-missing teeth, offering a thumbs up.

“Right as rain, General! Just was missing a hand, but I got another one fast. Heard tell I’ve got you to thank for the supplies they brought with all the new body parts.”

“That you do.” Eleeria smiled despite herself. Forsaken were always so much easier to speak to than anyone else; perhaps she spent too much time with the Royal Apothecary Society and her wife, but they were more approachable than elves and less obsessed with proving she was an utter failure, like the rest of the races of the Horde. As if being an elf automatically disqualified her age and experience, reduced to nothing but the length of her ears and her choice of clothing. The Forsaken took everything in stride, with the candidness granted to those who had already seen the grave. Eleeria appreciated it. “Put it to good use when the menders clear you, aye?”

“Aye, General!”

Eleeria nodded as the Forsaken woman saluted with her new appendage, and stopped a few more bunks to check on the soldiers before she made her way into the courtyard and up the stairs to the wall. The lieutenant in charge of the archers and apothecaries stationed there offered a salute; Eleeria waved it away, stepping close to wall to survey the ongoing siege. The Eleventh Legion continued to attempt to pick off the archers and alchemists, along with building up siege weaponry to take down the walls. Eleeria glared at the humans running along outside of the Keep.

“Have they been at this all night?” She shifted her head to ask the lieutenant hovering behind her. The elven man seemed eager to show how much he had learned and could show to the small woman; despite the fact that he could easily dwarf her in size, her personality seemed to carry weight and strength of its own, enough that it made even those taller than her seem small when she was in her element.

“Yes, General. They seem to rotate out on shifts, bringing in fresh soldiers when the ones that work during the day tire.” He shakes his head, sighing softly. “Those siege weapons seem almost finished. Probably another hour or so and we’ll need to think about--”

“GET DOWN!” Eleeria’s eyes widened as a volley of fire and arcane shot at the walls, a magic-infused test shot from one of the siege machines. She managed to shove the lieutenant to the ground, the man’s helm hitting the stone with a clang. Eleeria hissed in pain as her armor melted and flesh sizzled from contact with the barrage of magic. She slapped her hand to it and stood, light magic healing what it could in the immediate aftermath as she offered her other hand to the lieutenant. “You alright?”

“Y-yes ma’am, what was--”

But Eleeria was not taking questions at the moment about whatever that blast had been infused with. Her attention was already on the men and women reeling on the wall. “Take down that siege machine!” Her voice rose over the din, Orcish sharp. “NOW!”

“Yes, General!” The call came from the engineers on the wall, as alchemists scrambled to give back what they had received in turn. Eleeria herself ran to help, carrying reagents to the waiting artillery -- some of E’risse’s makes, she noted with slight pride for her friend. Her entire face, shoulder, and neck stung to the hells and back from the heat of the burn -- but she didn’t have time to see to it. Even those medics down below who had been working on patients could be seen running out, streaming for the walls. Anyone but the most critically injured could live for the moment. They needed continued magical support on the walls, quickly.

She couldn’t think about how many would die because they didn’t have enough healers to split the duties. Not right now.

“They haven’t beaten us yet!” Eleeria continued to offer support, even as the walls trembled slightly with new attacks from the Alliance. “We can still hold them! Redouble our efforts to take down those siege engines; we’ll show them who the better engineers are!”

“How long do we fight them?” There-- a tremulous query from down the wall, though Eleeria did not catch the person who uttered it. Silence held for a moment after the terrified statement, as if waiting for Eleeria’s reply. She took a breath, pushing force and as much optimism as she could muster in this desperate hour into her voice as she stood tall. Her eyes met several of the men standing near her; a few glanced away, ashamed. As if Eleeria’s mere presence reminded them that they ought to fight harder, do better.

“We fight them as long as it takes to win. Now go! For the Horde!”

The scream of siege engines did not drown out the roar of support as people rallied to the call.

@blackheart-warband @theirondragon for mentions.))

#writing #wyrmrest accord #Blackheart Warband #the general's journal #azeroth ablaze

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depressed-sock · 6 years ago

Note

I love your 'Steel discovers MC's scars' fic! And now I'm curious what the backstory is... What did the MC do to protect the Rangers, ending up injured themselves? A Steel perspective will be great! :) (Or a sidestep one will work too! I just want more guilty!Steel...)

Alright, so this is more a base idea of what I had in mind for what happened because if I tried to actually write it, it’d end up being way past my personal set word limit. (It’s already slightly past said word limit XD)

Fallen Hero; Steel and n!Mc before scar prompt; 2nd perspective

You honestly couldn’t believe how stupid Ortega was, going in alone against Hollow Ground. What were they thinking? You know the answer to that though, don’t you? They weren’t.

Now you and the other Rangers have to stage a rescue, you hope you can get there in time… you hope you can save them. You look over at Argent who cracks her neck glaring at the building ahead of you all, “You’re sure they’re here?”

“Yes,” she grits out through her teeth, anger radiating off her, “Let’s go save our idiot.” She begins to walk forward, but you stop her with a firm hand on her shoulder. Her glare turns to you, a spike of fear runs through you but you quickly squash it. Now isn’t the time for distrust.

“We need to be sure Argent, If we’re wrong-“

“You mean, if I’m wrong,” she snaps, “I know the risks Steel, I’m not stupid.”

Herald stands awkwardly behind you both, unsure what to really say. He’s probably just as antsy as Argent, both of them are too impatient for your tastes. You should be used to it though, considering you’ve worked with Ortega and Sidestep.

“Are you all just going to stand here awkwardly fighting each other? Because if you are could you take a few steps back?” A growling distorted voice asks, and the response is immediate Argent turns lunging towards Revelation who easily dodges her attack. “Now, now I’m not here to fight you,” they cock their head to the side, “At least, not today anyway.”

“What do you want-” you try to ask only to be cut off by Argent.

“How about we switch it to me kicking your ass today and not later,” her anger has morphed into something else. God damn it, you don’t have time for this. Ortega does not have time for this.

“As fun as that sounds, I think you have a more pressing matter,” they point to the building, “Also, again you may want to take a couple steps back.”

Herald puffs out his chest, anger clear on his face as he steps up to Revelation, “You’re a Villain why shoul-“

Revelation moves fast pushing him behind them, and then moves to grab you, tossing you into Herald as an explosion erupts out of the side of the building. You hurt a grunt of pain as the debris hit Revelation, but they show no other sign of being hurt as they brush off the dust. “See this is why you people need to work on communication,” they give an exasperated sigh, “Now excuse me, I have to go save a dumbass.” They wave as they walk into the explosively made entrance.

Your eyes narrow on their retreating form. It couldn’t be…

“Wait did they just say save?” Herald watches them bewildered.

“I knew it,” Argent growls as she runs past to follow them. You grit your teeth because you don’t know what’s worse; that you might have been right all along and ignored your feelings or that if what you’re thinking is wrong and that you’re putting blame on them without evidence again.

“Come on,” You order Herald and you both rush in trying to catch up.

…..

By the time you find Ortega the whole building is on alert and it’s been a nonstop fight to them. Revelation kicks in the heavily barred door, cracking it in half, revealing a beaten and shaken Ortega to you all.

“What?” they’re eyes are wide looking between Revelation and you. “What the fun-“

“No time,” Revelation growls, turning to face more opponents as they run down the hall towards you all. Their head tilts slightly in your direction, “Get them out of here and then get out of my way.” Then they’re halfway down the hall, their fist planting itself into a guy’s face.

You don’t hesitate to move to lift Ortega as Herald helps, “Wait.. wasn’t that?” They look between the both of you confused.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Argent gives them a look before watching the battle ahead of her carefully. Ortega swallows thickly; if you were paying close attention you might have noticed that they look almost guilty.

“Let’s move.”

…

You’re almost out of the building when a blunt force hits you hard enough to let go of Ortega and stumble forward. Herald let’s out a yelp and ends up grabbing Ortega flying ahead of you with Ortega letting out a grunt of pain.

You turn facing a heavily moded man who’s wielding a sharp piece of rebar, grinning at you menacingly. Argent’s further behind struggling with a group of people, who seem to be pissing her off more than hurting her but it seems they were more for distraction anyway.

“Herald get Ortega out of here,” you say as your hands tighten into fists, you’re out of weapons but you can take him.

“Alright!”

“Fuck no!” You can feel Ortega’s glare at the back of your head but it doesn’t matter. The mod moves to try to skewer you and with the force, he’s put behind it you might not be strong enough to stop him. A force blocks your view letting out a half distorted and half real scream. A scream that echoes in your head and causes your blood to run cold.

The mods eyes widen in fear as he realizes just who is on the end of the rebar. “Big mistake fuck head,” they grit out before pulling the rebar out and ripping it from his grip using it as a bat to swing into his face. He goes down and Revelation is left breathing heavily over his downed body.

They turn slightly and your meet with a broken mask and a familiar set of eyes.

#fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero #Steel #Rangers #Sidestep #kinda a personal au #my writing

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dragontag420 · 6 years ago

Text

the Collapse of DustedWeb ceUsbrod.

Follow up to this small piece [here].

The link is on AO3 because the blog I originally wrote it for is now banned as nsfw. Thanks tumblr.

Read it on Ao3!: [Link]

DustedWeb: [Link]

So maybe it wasn't just allergies.

Web bent over as another spasm caught him off guard, the deep cough squeezing his eyes shut and clawing with needle thin tines at his throat. He straightened up quickly, breath ragged and audibly contorted. His tail swung and smashed into another one of the strange creatures trying to sneak up on him. It seemed to be the last of them in the immediate area, which was good since he was having trouble standing.

He stepped on it harshly, deliberately facing away from the brutality as he did. He left the corpse where it lay, knowing someone would be round later to collect it. Likely Bovey. Or, thinking about it, one of the spirals from the boonies, since he was pretty sure Bovey had been seriously maimed only hours before. Either way, the carcasses were too valuable to leave lying around. They were rich in resources, partially edible, and useful to the doctor for research, even as squished as they often were.

DustedWeb coughed again and began to drag himself back to the edge of the clan. The north-eastern border was holding. He'd been sent to look at it, fearing damage, but it seemed like most of the defenses were still in one piece. A quick inspection of the outward facing spikes and hastily constructed walls revealed only a few holes. He would report back with the recommendation that a few smaller sheets of material be sent, and perhaps a few extra bones to bury in the ground, sharp edge up. All in all not the most exciting report, but a good one.

Web coughed into his hand yet again and pretended not to notice the dark sticky wet left behind, opting instead to wipe it away on his clothing. The sickness had been eating him from the inside for days. The pain in his abdomen a dull ache and constant reminder of his failing health. It hadn't been too bad before the long night had started, but there hadn't been any time to take care of it. The past few weeks had been nonstop barrier building, visiting lairs to fortify any weaknesses just in case the border was lost and the creatures came inwards, and creating defensive lines. Not to mention once the sun sank for the final time and the creatures began to appear.

So maybe he hadn't been resting as much as he should have been, but who around had, really? There wasn't time for that. The siege of endless attacks and relentless monsters began, and what little free time there was ended. That was simply the way this went.

Web barely slept anymore, splitting his time between as many duties as he could. Every time something new was asked of him, he agreed. With the large workload on everyone's plate, it was easy for the rest of the clan to miss just how large his had become, since he wasn't about to mention it.

Monitoring the defenses and doing repairs. Boarding up huts, houses, and lairs. Scavenging for supplies and resources in a desolate and dangerous wasteland. Restocking the postings around the edge of the clan's land.

Guarding the kii'gol, the nesting grounds, and caring for anything inside of it (which was now 8 eggs and a small, sickly hatchling). That particular task was its own full time job, and generally his main one. He was lucky enough to have Acorn helping him this year, but the coatl seemed to have his feathers full with the tiny nocturne they'd found in the waste and with the care of the non-nocturne eggs.

Alongside the kii'gol, his duties extended out to his young ward, Muiria. The long night meant it was cold, colder than most were used to, and so the young pup was covered in ice and raring to hunt. She'd been a terror when the Long Night started, running loose and trying to fight alongside him. His only counter, which was a mean tactic, had been to threaten to send her away to the Ventusians in Wind for safekeeping if she didn't stop. She'd quickly shaped up.

He could appreciate wanting to sink your teeth into something in defense of the clan, but really this wasn't the best time to have a young, inexperienced pup underfoot on a battlefield. He just let her chew on the corpses instead.

And the monsters? Those were part of his duties, too. They were the duty of anyone who was capable of dealing with them. Which, as far as anyone knew, he was.

He took a turn at the perimeter just like everyone else. He cut through attack after attack just like everyone else. He got bloody, beaten, and bruised for his troubles just like everyone else. He was part of the clan, and would do his duty, just like everyone else.

With all that said, he felt it was reasonable for him to be a little run down.

Web coughed again, tasting the blood this time, and forced himself to swallow it back. His head hurt like it had just been squished into dust by a rather larger imperial, and the pain didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon. Over the past week it usually arrived, tortured his head a bit, and then left. But today it wasn't showing any signs of stopping, and he was starting to fear he'd go blind from it.

Web shuffled closer to a wall, trying to avoid being spotted by whoever was on guard at that point of the clan’s edge in favor of bee-lining towards his hut, head down, shoulder’s hunched.

The ground wobbled some as he walked, and he caught himself on a wall. The past week and a half of beatings and constant pushing had left his right arm feeling vaguely numb, but today it was spreading. Web choked back a groan and gathered himself, pushing off the wall and forcing his legs to keep carrying him forward, despite the creeping edge of numbness across his chest and down his leg. Just need a bath. Muscles are just too tight, that’s all.

He made it to his hut without seeing anyone, and sent thanks and praise to the Plaguebringer as best he could considering his brain was a misty haze. He pushed through his front door and dropped forward, catching himself hard on the table with his arms, sending sharp jolts through the bones. He panted hard.

His lungs were on fire.

Web had been short of breath for weeks. So long so that it had become the new normal for him. He'd wake up, turn on one side, and cough in spasms until his lungs cleared.

But now? Now he could barely draw in a single breath.

Breath. Breath, Dusty, breath. You have to. He threw his head back, eyes prickling with tears as he gasped, trying in vain to calm his body and force his lungs to work.

Spots swam in his vision, but he couldn't tell if they were from the lack of air or the pain in his head. His hands gripped the table so hard that it creaked and threatened to crack. His arms shook with the strain of holding him up, and he squeezed his eyes closed.

Sharp pain blossomed in his chest, shooting out in all directions like lightning, searing his insides and causing him to grab at his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric tightly, desperate to reach the pain.

He stumbled sideways, hood falling and hair coming loose in strands around his face, wispy and clinging to the clammy skin. The spots in his vision turned from white to black, spreading and morphing, covering more and more of the world until it all seemed too much, and before he could even register that he was falling, Web was consumed by darkness.

Webster's body crumpled to the floor with a loud thud, glasses skittering across the floor, lenses cracking, leaving fine lines in a cobweb pattern on the glass. An almost mocking reflection of the body they'd been on so long.

It was hours before the body was found and the doctor sent for.

But in that time, DustedWeb died.

The only thing worse than the fear and panic Web felt as he fell to the floor was the absolute confusion and terror that greeted him as he was forcibly pulled back into his body.

The searing heat of magic forcing itself through his veins, pulsing and crackling, invasive and unwanted. Screaming up every nerve pathway it could find and stripping away the touch of death that had settled there.

The pain of it being forced through every fiber of his being threatened to tear his mind to pieces, Web unable to scream as it wove tendrils through his tissues, nerves, and all the way up his spine to his brain.

All he could see and all he could feel was the crackling pink.

When the doctor finally removed his hands, the air was electric, and Web's breath cut through the silence in tiny, harsh puffs, stuttering and hoarse, lungs protesting being used when they'd already resigned themselves to the cold embrace of death.

Tears forced their way from his eyes, vision shaking and blurred as he watched Jan pull thick black gloves back over his hands. The thin, calculating eyes turned slowly towards Web to watch him, hands reaching out of his limited line of sight and coming back with a thin needle. Web tried to struggle as it was pushed into his neck, but one solitary hand on his chest was all it took to hold him down.

His eyes searched wildly as he desperately attempted to orient himself. He was.. in his home?

Web was spread eagle on his large table, shirt removed and a thick, fresh incision glowing pink as it continued to heal itself. That was all he could see. The knowledge that he’d apparently been sliced fully open should probably have panicked him more, but instead he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

He must have passed out..

Plaguebringer, to be found by someone that way... Probably Muiria looking for him... And then to need the doctor come out to fix him? His hands were so full already. The embarrassment and shame cut through the haze and helped sober him.

Jan, finished with it, replaced the needle with the rest of his tools and turned to face Webster fully. His assistant, an apprentice of sorts, was standing a ways off, pressed to the wall, looking for all intents and purposes as if he'd just seen something so spectacular that he might never speak again.

"Usbrod."

Web could only groan in response.

"Usbrod, you hear?"

He nodded a bit, eyes clenched shut against the impossibly loud sound of the doctor's voice.

"Ah. Good.” His tone was short and clipped as always, “You have died. This is no good."

Yeah, yeah, no good, eat more vegetables, get more- Wait. Sorry. Died?

He opened his eyes and looked straight at the doc, bewildered. "Nn..o.. Sick, but.. mm. Not that s..ick..."

Jan smiled down at him, no warmth in the expression. "Organs. Inside bits. Give up." He poked Web's stomach directly on the tender, pink line, causing him to flinch at the sensation. "You, ah.. Hmm." He turned to his apprentice, "Word is? For, ah.."

The boy on the wall stepped forward some and spoke, voice soft and mercifully quiet, "You died. Completely. Not for long... But some of your organs failed and your body shut down. You may have also severely choked on blood, but... we're not entirely sure." He glanced at the doctor nervously, and got an affirming nod at his interpretation. "Doctor Tinbergen was able to... counteract it some through the application of his own energies. The damage isn't entirely gone but.. it's no longer lethal."

Web tried to raise a hand to rub his face but was unable too. It dangled over the side of his table, numb. He couldn't move anything. It was like... a cloudy haze of pink surrounded him, and underneath it he could sense the dull ache of his body. "D-Don't..."

Jan tilted his head, "Hm?"

"Don't.. tell my mom."

Jan stared at him a moment, unblinking. He smiled a little more in reassurance and pressed his hand to Web's chest, giving it the tiniest pat. Web grimaced and tried not to flinch again as the hand was taken away and he was lifted from the table. The doctor was remarkably strong, and handled him with ease, despite DustedWeb being so much larger than him. He was laid out on his bed, and a blanket was carefully pulled over him.

Once settled, he tried not to think about what repercussions this... accident would bring. Which, for once in his life, wasn't hard. His head was too clouded and almost seemed as though it didn't belong where it was. Thinking was next to impossible.

Cleaning up tools, Jan and Finnegan talked quietly, too low for Web to make out words. When Jan came back over, he carried an aura of finality.

"Will not tell. Is secret. But warning, you are not well, you push too hard." He poked a finger into Web's chest yet again, "Very lucky. Died. Should still be dead. Now? Visits in dreams. Be careful."

Web groaned, struggling to sit up, but was unable.

"Do again and I tell mother. Father. Leader." Jan shrugged and turned away, "Back later for samples. Check on you and for Fin’gan give magic. To help heal."

Web listened to him gather his things, the clink of equipment barely drowning out the immense amount of magic still thrumming in the air and through his head. Finnegan paused momentarily next to the bed, gently setting down his glasses, cracked and delicate. He gave Web a tiny smile, worried and sympathetic.

Eventually it was quiet, sounds fading out, and his door clicked shut. There was too much on the doctor's plate for him to fret very long over any singular patient. Webster cursed himself and thanked everything divine over and over that the clan's doctor was as strange of a man as he was. Had he been any other person, Web didn't think he'd have gotten away with trying to hide what had just happened.

What had just happened....

Web’s eyes fluttered shut, and he tried to push away the flashes of memory. His supposed death, the experience of it, the pain of treatment... He groaned and tried not to acknowledge the tears beginning to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Exhausted by his ordeal and overwhelmed by emotion.

He.. He’d really screwed up this time, hadn’t he.

#character death #uhhh briefly...#rip dusty...#dustedweb #writing tag

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donatnetherlystudios · 3 years ago

Text

The Downsizing

Chapter 1 – Fallout

The dust and ash had settled, so we collectively thought after the third world war hope was restoring itself. Families and friends of families ushered out to an atmosphere enshrined in sandy driven air, almost like mist with dirt. Craters lay everywhere from each major explosive that had set off and the radiation was finally dissipating. Mountains and deserts for miles were the only environments that could be seen,

not from war, but for this particular area of the country in general. As for our hope

and faith we relied upon, we couldn’t have been more wrong at the time.

Previous allies who had long supported Americans such as Russia, China and others had turned against us at turning point in the war. The remaining ones took neutral stances. Anxiousness and fear were overloading them to oppose what had become new superpowers. Our allies in UK, Canada, Australia and Israel were still with us to the end. Sadly, they would suffer the same consequences we did. The only thing that saved us from total destruction was nuclear chaos in every country, no one knew where they came from. Every country was alone now dealing with their own woes. Betrayals came from every spectrum, but none as sinister as that of our own. Our own military had dissolved due to casualties from war and the government in place collapsed. When the opportunity arose the remaining officials and military who had planned for takeover assembled. They rose up and formed a dictatorship led government, with the army itself forming into more of a widespread militia. Our country had become what some of us had felt about other nations before it started, third world. Common folk were treated like peasants in medieval times. Labor camps were installed left and right, barricaded, highly fenced, heavily gated and with plenty of militia to keep everything exactly how the government wanted it.

Militia was dressed in all black with red symbols of a picture of our great country in the center and an X over it to show their anti-American sentiment. Politicians who were actually against the new order had either fled the country or taken up with the new ones to become just as corrupt. Our encampments were called settlements, with tents seen for miles in the distance. “Move along.” says one soldier as they scramble us forward like cattle. Militia quarters mirrored actual building structures made of stone and steel. Laughing, drinking, and all types of rustling sounds could be heard from structures. Frankly, it made me sick. The tents were more quieting since the majority always felt defeated, ashamed or just weary of how things unfolded and how much worse they could actually get.

My name is Eve, which suits me because I had always wanted the forbidden fruit, so to speak. I was in fact named after Eve from the bible as my mother was of the Christian faith. My father had always been more of a realist though and was an agnostic who believed if there was a God, things wouldn’t have gone down the way they did, with so much suffering. In the long period before the order had come together properly, there was a time of dead silence everywhere. We were alone from other people, but we didn’t care, since we were together as a family.

A gun goes off in the middle of my daydream and rattles me with me almost jumping in the air. “Shit” – I turn around to catch a glimpse of who was eliminated and realize it was the old man who mentored my father, who had just turned 70. I walked forward while the line and militia were moving the opposite direction to investigate further. “You’re going to get caught” came from a familiar voice. It was Emmy, my best friend in the settlement, possibly my only friend. Heeding her advice, I turn around, met with being struck in the face with the back of a militia hand. “Next time you’ll get the gauntlet” he muttered as he pushed me back in line. The gauntlet was a solo event the militia devised for their evil amusement and found one poor soul being forced to wander across a field while soldiers from all sides took places shooting them. It wouldn’t be merciful and fast because the person in question would be shot in areas less severe and gradually getting worse until they reached close to the end. Most were dead from bleeding out before they got there. Thinking further back I started to remember my father teaching me survival skills from a tender age that involved archery, throwing knives, scavenging and surviving in the wilderness. Guns weren’t permitted for civilians even then, so they were out of the question. He always told me the ammo would run out anyways. A loud noise of a piercing sound mixed with a siren commenced to go off and snapped me out of my daze. I recognized it as the escape siren, this time a group of five attempting blitzing some soldiers and forcing through the gates, only to be put down a few seconds later from gun fire. Any people attempting escape were killed and disposed of in the desert. We all knew when deaths occurred, despite our captors giving us light explanations of the missing. It had become like concentration camps from the second world war, only in the year 2032. All ammunition had begun running extremely low and other resources declined not far behind it.

Men who were able bodied were put to heavy labor working the fields or in construction. Women were treated as if they worked in sweat shops and treated as objects or toys for the militia to play with. Elderly people and those with major disabilities were terminated quickly to preserve supplies. Pregnancies were forbidden, with any woman and her offspring wiped out shortly after it was known. We’d hear babies cries and painful screams from the women giving birth. Following that was dead silence, which seemed worse than the noise. As we knew what that meant.

“Time is 21:00, all civilians please return to your homes” blurted out over the PA, as people everywhere scrambled away like mice. My face was the shade of the bark on a tree from the mud and debris I had worked with all day. My hair was matted against my head and shoulders from sweat and the color copied the same shade. I was still only 20 years old and small but was lean and agile. My skin was tan from all of the sunlight and even though I was of Indian descent I had always been a lighter skin color than my family. The rebellious side of me was from the Irish in my blood, as well as me holding my liquor whenever we could sneak some from the passed-out soldiers on more idle days.

Nothing to see in front of me, everything pitch dark. Soldiers had streetlights but they were as good as useless. They would sway back and forth and flicker nonstop against the midnight backdrop. A light came into view from the distance and I could finally tell it was my tent. A candle sat in the doorway with a bell, as I would post it there as my porch light and used a cowbell to pretend as a doorbell. Gradually I winded down for the night plugging my ears with a mix of cloth, leaves and other material worked into a ball with doughy material. As I lay there, I think back to the day my parents were killed. Both had come ill and the moment those bastards found out they were spoon fed a kind of quick acting poison. I was only 16 at the time. My father could sense he was fading from a source other than his illness and was able to tell me bye. My mother never got the chance, she plummeted a mere minute or so after the poisoning. I was handed over more lies of how it happened but had an inside source who told me the real events.

That evening I lie motionless, with every inch of my body asleep. Clattering noises tap the ground back and forth, nudging me partially awake. Telling myself its due to the wind is what becomes of it. The corner of my eye catches a shadow lingering behind me and showing a silhouette on my tent. My candle makes it like a light show. Finally, I hear obvious footprints in the back, leaving me completely petrified. Unsure how but the shadow seems to fade as fast as it came, and I decide I’ll be alright. “Cling” – My cowbell drops off its foothold and to the ground. The sound shakes me enough to cause me to finally turn around toward the tent flap opening. It is now wide open, even though I safety pin it at lights out. I remain there speechless and dumbfounded, frozen in place. As I turn around a hand is already grabbing me by the arms and forcing me to my cot. Though it’s still dark, I recognize the force to be one of the soldiers clearly drunk. I screamed but it was done in vain, as no reinforcements would come to aid me. The heavy smell of tobacco and alcohol was enough to cause anyone to gag. He grabbed my miniscule wrists using only one hand. Meanwhile he hit me several times with the other to silence me, as by that time I had given up waiting on anyone else. Bloodied and beaten I was severely weakened, but I came from a family of survivors and fighters. His sweat and mine allowed my hands to slip from his grasp, but still on top of me. Using all the weight I could whip around and forward; I landed a few strikes with my fists to which he barely flinched. He smacks me again and my arms flop beside me. As he leans forward, I feel my arm thinking its way over to the side of me. Though dark I can feel the insignia on my Mother’s pen knife lying on the bedside table.

As fast as he was there, my right arm flew forward and forced the pen knife into his chest. Feeling he would fall over any second and I’d be free were my only thoughts, not thinking about alternative possibilities. Slowly he pulled out the knife, glaring at me with his evil, bloodshot eyes and a smile that showed me just how little effect my short-lived attack had on him. He was simply too strong and overpowering. I was winded and my head lay to the side toward the tent entrance. I concentrate on the candle, attempting to black out what is ahead of me and try and imagine a different place. Although the entire event took only a few minutes, I was raped for what seemed like hours. A tear crawled down my cheek, as my innocence was ended. I’ve never been one to cry, but one could fill a river with the amount occurring at the time. The sheets were painted red from his blood and mine. They were also damp from sweat and tears. The air itself was suffocating because all of the malice around and the fact he smelt like a chimney. Since most of our settlements were in the deserts, he had dry chapped skin. As he rubbed up against me, that dryness could be felt to the left and made even lying beside him more unpleasant than it needed to be. Snoring and sleep grunting seeped from his vocals and I could sense he was passed out. After I had peeked around and confirmed it, I had my eyes set on the way out. I slowly backed away from my side of the bed and dropped to the side, before making my way around the front end and making a break for my front flap entrance.

Although still shaken and frighten, I manage to stumble through our row of tents trying to seek out a safe place to finish out my night. “Thud” – Falling to the ground out of exhaustion I collapse. Sobbing proceeds to take over as I start to release the cries of anguish I had longed for earlier. The tent flap opens, and a girl approaches I recognize as Emmy, who assists me off the ground and inside, before penning the flap back up and walking me over to the bed to be able to sleep my pains off. She lie beside me stroking my hair and just whispering it’ll be alright. Sounds of my crying didn’t cease so she simply allowed me to finish it out, before I eventually drifted to sleep.

Barely a month following the assault, I found I was indeed pregnant with my abuser’s child after being a few weeks late. Knowing the consequences for me and the child, I foolishly had thoughts of attempting escape to a border state away from New Mexico. Alas, the gates were heavily guarded and little way over the fence, so I returned to reality. Emmy comforted me with her only advice being something we came to call back alley abortions. It was a play on words, since we had no alleys and were out in the desert. They simply took place in a secluded area of camp where nothing had been constructed and were out of view of any lighting not provided. They were risky and dangerous, as the procedure wasn’t precise and couldn’t possibly be unsterile. A risk of being caught was a common fear at the same time, with patrols not sticking to their normal routes for certain all the time. Unlike some young mothers I actually yearned to keep my child, for they were from me and would be the last family I ever had. Arriving at the vacant tent, Emmy ushered in her light. The stand in doctor asked if I was ready and I reluctantly nodded. He approached me and I chose to swing my head to the side to black it out and bury it like other traumas. The physical pain was immense but didn’t compare to the emotional pain I would endure. Thoughts of vengeance consumed me with the thoughts of violence spiking as we approached the end of the event. Although the doctor and Emmy are mumbling in the background, I remain still and as dead as before. From those moments on I swore nothing like that would happen again and that it wouldn’t be the end, but the beginning of a revolution. My abuser would be my first target and just as he had snuck into my tent in the dead of night, I would use a stealth tactic to get to him. I figured it wouldn’t require much to amp the settlement up into an uprising, as things had been heated between the men and soldiers for the past year. I couldn’t save my family but was going to save my friends I had and other’s families from this abusive new nation by any means necessary. Only after they had been overturned would I find peace and a restful heart.

I’ve always heard time heals all wounds, it wasn’t something I believed in. My mother’s gift of dispensing hope and faith caught ahold of me, meshed with my brain absorbing my father’s training in survival. If this new tyranny thought it was over and that the rest of us would remain their slaves, they were wrong.

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