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shypotato-translations · 4 years ago

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QTVW Chapter 12

The Future* President's Fiancee (XII)

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Early the next morning, the An family's living room was filled with visitors.

Sitting at the head of the table is the current head of the An family, Father An; while sitting on the left side of him are his sons and his daughter, and the guests from outside; and sitting on his right side are a dozen of the actual elders of the An family, who look the youngest to be over 60 years old, a genuine group of seniors and elders of the An family.

In the future world, a thousand-year-old family like the An family would normally have a family head who made external decisions, while internally, there would be a group of elders who acted as guides to the whole family, and even the family head could not disobey their orders.

This time, Father An had called these elders in order to silence these elders, so that they would give up for the time being and expel the An family oldest son from the An family's circle of power.

Father An looked at the elders sitting on his right and sneered in his heart, but said calmly on the surface,

"I have convened this clan assembly to make an announcement, and that is to temporarily hand over the affairs of the An family to my daughter, An Mu Lan, who has been acting as the assistant to the president of Ling Xihan for all these years. I wonder if the elders have any objections to this proposal of mine?"

The elders of the An family did not move, and a relatively young elder, speaking slowly and with a trifle of dissatisfaction in his voice, said,

"Clan head, we acknowledge that you are a capable and qualified clan head, but that doesn't mean that we, the elders, all have to listen to you. You previously allowed your rotten sons to manage the affairs of the family, and what happened? You recall how much trouble they have caused our An Family over the past few years, and how much they have disgraced our An Family. The An family's reputation is in tatters, and they continue to do as they please."

He cursed first, and when he saw that Father An's face remained unchanged, he coughed twice in defiance, then sat back sarcastically.

The eyes of the group of elders fell on the eldest of them all, and the old man narrowed his eyes and said,

"For the An family, back then I chose you as the head of the family so that you could lead our An family to glory, and over the years, you've always done a good job, but this time, you've crossed the line!

The so-called patriarch's first priority is to put the legacy and development of the An family as a top priority, but look at how you've done it, pushing your childish son into the acting patriarch position, then letting him cause trouble, and now trying to push your daughter out, don't think that because we old men have aged, we're really deaf and blind, we admit that Mu Lan is capable, but how old is Mu Lan this year, she's only just graduated from university a few days ago? Are you going to use the An family as a toy for you to raise your children?"

He spoke in an unhurried manner, and after he had finished, he even gave a light glance at Father An, causing his face to flush red at once, hurriedly explaining that,

"Second Uncle, you misunderstand. I ......"

Father An struggled to explain, but the elders just sat on the sofa without moving. Father An hadn't had anyone disrespect him like this since he became the patriarch, and today these people were acting like a straight-up slap in his face, and it was all because of his four unworthy sons.

This made him stand up in anger and yell at his sons, who were sitting to his left,

"Oldest! I've already negotiated a marriage with the Li family, you get this lowly woman out of here now, I don't want to see her in front of me again."

Father An had originally intended to retreat as an advance to satisfy the Elders first and to plan things afterwards, but he had overestimated his son.

Only to see that the oldest clenched his fist on his knee, he gritted his teeth and looked at Father An as if he were dead, then looked at Ye Zixuan with a sad, grieved face, Ye Zixuan had long been frightened by this serious environment at this time and was now teary-eyed, which made the oldest very impatient.

He retorted regardless,

"Father, I really love Ye Zixuan, please don't break us up, she is a good girl, I have been such a jerk all these years because I didn't have her by my side to support me, but now that she is back, she will become my wife and be a qualified matriarch's wife, she is so gentle and kind, she will definitely be able to carry our An family forward. "

Father An was dumbfounded!

The second one, who was better at reading people's faces than the older one, just raised his glasses on the bridge of his nose calmly and said,

"Big brother, I know you love Ye Zixuan, but you can't be capricious and put the An family out of your mind,"

When Father An heard these words, his face finally looked better, but what the second one said next almost made Father An faint with anger.

The second continued,

"I love Zixuan too, we both can't live without her, but the An family is equally inseparable from you, so it's better for me to marry her, I don't want to be the patriarch anyway, as long as big brother marries Miss Li, we can continue to be together."

When An Mu Lan heard this, her eyes glazed out of their sockets. Father An was even worse, he could no longer stand and his figure was wobbly.

Ah, how pathetic, thought An Mu Lan, sitting on the sidelines, gloating.

Father An was simply furious, his fingers trembling as he pointed at the second oldest, unable to utter a word in anger.

At this moment, Lao San added to the chaos and stood up, his teary-eyed eyes extended his arm towards Ye Zixuan in a gesture similar to a call. He said,

"Brothers, I love Zixuan, I would give everything I have for her, my heart, my liver, my life and my love!"

He twisted his face, as if wiping away tears, and then said righteously,

"So, it's better for me to marry Zixuan. Brothers, you must do what father says properly, the An family is fine without me, but without you, it's like a flying bird leaving its wings, a soaring fish leaving the sea, a house losing its pillars, how can you be so unreasonable. The An family will have no future without you, so you must be good.

Even if Zixuan and I get married, we can still be together forever as we remember, and I won't get in the way of you communicating your feelings."

When An Mulan heard this, the five features on her face completely shifted and a mouthful of old blood stuck in her throat, she raised her eyes and carefully looked at Father An, seeing that his expression at this moment was not much different from her own.

An Mu Lan's heart tsked and sighed: worthy of being a heroine with a Mary Sue aura over her body, even though so many years had passed, even though the weather had changed her initial appearance, the true love between them would never change!

What's with the QY vibe?

At that moment, a slightly cool palm landed on her hand, An Mu Lan turned her head to look over and saw a smiling Ling Xihan, who, in a rare moment of disregard for the scene, came close to her ear and whispered,

"It's a good thing you're genetically mutated or I would have returned you."

An Mu Lan nodded, yes, she was excluded from the core of the An family, and now it seemed fortunate that this was the case, or else there would have been another brain dead.

The scene became entertaining as Father An collapsed unsteadily onto the sofa, his face had an expression of irony as he gritted his teeth and looked at Ye Zixuan, that look, as if he saw Ye Zixuan as the culprit.

The elders of the clan, worthy of being elites who had lived half a lifetime, remained lofty and calm even under such circumstances, handsome and very dashing!

At this time, the grumpy fourth son rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping coldly over the crowd present, and said,

"Isn't it just a patriarchship? Why can't I be the head of the clan? Do you all have to hold on to us and force us to death before you are satisfied? Father, I think you are also old and it is time for you to retire from the stage of history, after this, I will be the one to carry the An family forward, and as for you old and immortal people, I will be the first to clean you up."

Father An covered his heart with a broken expression of "You're heartless, you're shameless, you're unreasonable".

The fourth son spun around in a dashing manner and cursed everyone present, one by one, without repeating the words, fully enriching An Mu Lan's vocabulary and thinking: I am impressed.

He paced slowly to Father An's side, picked up the cup of tea that was sitting next to him and played with it, saying viciously,

"I have put the □ in today's tea, none of you can escape today."

The crowd looked at him with a what's-his-name expression, which gave him great satisfaction, and lifting his head, he said,

"Go to hell."

The crowd still looked at him with that what's-his-name expression, which was, how shall I say, complicated. But simply put, it's the look of looking at an idiot.

An Mu Lan couldn't look anymore, she reminded kindly and in a whisper,

"But, Fourth Brother, none of us, apart from Father and our three brothers, have ever had tea?"

The Elders, Ling Xihan and Zhang Yao: "Yes."

Fourth: "......"

Oldest, second and third: "......"

Father An: "You brat!"

With that, a mouthful of old blood spurted out and he collapsed on the ground.

The image of blood splattering three feet is what An Mu Lan has now seen.

The scene rose in confusion as the oldest of the Elders spoke into his personal terminal,

"Come in, you guys."

The door opened forcibly from the outside and a large group of people poured in. Police officers in green uniforms tied up the fourth son and took him away; doctors in long white coats carried away the eldest, the second and the third, as well as Father An; maids in pink dresses cleaned up the blood on the floor of the room.

It all happened so fast and so suddenly that it was all resolved before An Mu Lan could get back to her senses.

The old man looked unchanged, only holding his cane, and with the help of those beside him, he walked up to An Mu Lan and held out his hand.

An Mu Lan was quick to reach out for a handshake, but his dry, thin hand turned in the direction of a fair-complexioned, sharply boned hand, and he said in a respectful tone,

"President Ling, I've made you laugh, but it's all going according to our plan, and I hope you won't forget our agreement."

Ling Xihan smiled lightly and said gently,

"Naturally, I won't forget, but Elder, there's one more thing you haven't said, right?"

The elder came to his senses and said to An Mu Lan,

"After this, the patriarch of the An family who is in charge is yours, so marry and have children with President Ling and live a good life, do you hear me?"

An Mu Lan made an out-of-sorts "Huh? Ah! Ah ......" a few times, then watched the group of elders leave.

It was only when Ling Xihan took her hand and walked outside the An residence that she came back to her senses and said with a surprised look on her face,

"You did this, didn't you? How did you do it? How did you get so clever? Here, give me a kiss."

And with that, she kissed her forcibly.

The corners of Ling Xihan's mouth curled up slightly and she wrapped an emotional An Mu Lan in her arms as she said,

"I said I would settle this matter, I just spoke to the elders of your An family about something that solved your An family's immediate problem. After that, I ordered a few more people to get in your brothers' heads and whisper on their ears a bit. I didn't expect things to go so well either, it's been a long time since I've met an opponent like this, other than being a bit disgusting, it's not bad."

That said, there was a bit of lamentation, because such a brain-dead opponent will really never be seen again.

An Mu Lan snickered, a light shone in her eyes, and with a big smile on her face, she said,

"I love you! You're a brilliant woman!"

"Well, you're getting all worked up over a little thing, lets go home, I'm hungry."

Ling Xihan rubbed her long hair and said dotingly.

An Mu Lan stood obediently with her head bowed, allowing her to be rubbed and pinched.

Suddenly, a white light flashed before her eyes.

An Mu Lan's gaze glinted and she vigorously pushed Ling Xihan aside before a violent collision came to her body and she felt the wind and pain. Her body landed on the ground with a "thud".

She collapsed in a pool of blood, and felt the blood inside her body as it trickled out, what a familiar sight, it reminded her of when she had died.

With a pale face, Ling Xihan stood up and walked over to pick up An Mu Lan.

Then without the slightest emotion, as if looking at a dead man, she glanced at Zhang Yao who was sitting in the flying car laughing maniacally, before turning around and entering a flying car and heading to the hospital.

In the white corridor, Ling Xihan lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly; she hadn't smoked in a long time. She had always been a heavy smoker and couldn't quit, but then how did she quit?

Thoughts drifted through her mind as a familiar girl, pouting, put her arm around her and wrinkled her nose,

"Don't smoke, they say that's bad, it affects the quality of kissing."

Ling Xihan extinguished her cigarette, then turned around and left the hospital.

The doctor's words** echoed in her mind,

"The Miss An Mu Lan, who has suffered a severe trauma to the back of her head, has affected the nerves in her brain and may become a vegetable, but President Ling, please rest assured that our hospital will do our best to treat your fiancée."

A vegetable?!

No matter what, before that happens, she needs to find a person and get it off her chest.

#shypotato #yuri #transmigration #world hopping #QTVW12

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missperfectlyfine13 · 4 years ago

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Could This Be Something Real? (Chap. 8/8)

Read Below or on AO3

Chloe lets out a shaky exhale as she gingerly smooths her hands over the white material of her dress. It was an uphill battle to get to this day, in more ways than one. Logistically, it was very difficult to plan a wedding in two months. Overall, it truly seemed like this is a day Chloe would only ever get to imagine. When she started fake dating Beca almost a year ago, she was convinced she would end up dying with her unrequited feelings for her best friend.

A knock at the door makes Chloe’s head whip around.

Aubrey sticks her head in, looking at her warmly, “You ready?”

Chloe nods happily, “So ready.”

The moment Chloe sees Beca standing at the end of the aisle, her breath catches in her throat and her heart beats rapidly in her chest. Beca is staring at her with such intensity and love it makes her legs weak. She barely notices the stunning suit Beca had decided to wear instead of a wedding dress.

It feels like time has slowed down to a halt as Chloe makes her way to her fiancé. When she finally feels Beca’s hand slip into hers, she breathes a sigh of relief.

“You look so beautiful,” Beca whispers into her ear.

“So do you,” she whispers back, happy tears already stinging her eyes.

The ceremony flies by, faster than Chloe would like. Beca’s vows force those unshed tears right down her cheeks, and Chloe’s seem to do the same for the brunette.

Before she knows it, the officiant is smiling at them, the ceremony coming to a close, “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you wives, you may now kiss the bride!”

Beca lunges forward, pulling Chloe into a kiss the is borderline inappropriate for in front of all their friends and family, but Chloe could care less. She kisses Beca back with everything she has, her smile not fading for a moment.

************

*2 years later*

Beca grabs Chloe’s hand tightly into hers as they step out of the car. She winces slightly, her swollen feet not doing well in the heels she swore she would be fine in.

“Doing ok Bec?” Chloe looks at her, her face etched with concern.

Beca moves her other hand to smooth over her large baby bump, covered by the black silk of her dress, “Doing fine.”

“You regretting those heels?” Chloe smirks knowingly.

“They are so short, I thought I would be fine,” Beca whines, deciding to fess up, knowing her wife would get it out of her anyways.

“Well, lets hurry up and walk this red carpet, and you can take them off when we get inside and sit down,” Chloe whispers, starting to pull them towards the commotion.

They step onto the carpet and hundreds of cameras start flashing. Beca can feel Chloe flinch against her, she’s still not completely used to it.

After a slight break from the flashing, Chloe sticks her face next to Beca’s ear and whispers, “Bec, isn’t it crazy that two years when you brought me to the Grammy’s we weren’t even really a couple, and now we are married, walking down the red carpet with our baby girl?”

Beca smiles widely, her hands automatically going to cover her baby bump. She can feel little Lucy Beale-Mitchell moving, she’s been very active since the moment they stepped out of the car.

“All I can think of is, why I thought it was a good idea to do this 9 months pregnant,” Beca whispers back.

Chloe giggles at her response, the sound travels through Beca like honey, warm and sweet. It’s one of Beca’s favorite sounds in the world.

“Probably because you want to be able to accept your awards in person!” Chloe whispers back excitedly.

Beca rolls her eyes, “There’s no guarantee that I’m going to win.”

“Oh you know you will, I know you will,” Chloe chirps confidently.

“Beca, when are you due!”

“You look like you could pop at any second!”

“Have you picked out a name yet!”

A barrage of questions come flying her way, the reporters and cameramen shouting their inquiries. She tactfully ignores them, pulling Chloe along down the carpet. She grits her teeth, something about the questions ignoring her more than they usually do.

They finally make their way inside and Beca breathes an audible sight of relief. She can feel Chloe’s hand on her back, rubbing softly, but firmly. She knows that the red head is letting her know that she is here and that she’s ok. Beca turns to give her a small smile.

“I don’t know why that bothered me so much this time,” Beca shakes her head.

“Because they don’t need to know, it’s none of their business knowing any detail about our baby, unless we want them to,” Chloe replies quickly, “and you’re here because you’re up for four Grammy’s, and all they could focus on is the fact that you’re pregnant.”

“You know me too well,” Beca laughs shakily.

“It bugged me too Bec, it’s huge that you’re up for so many awards,” Chloe gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

************

Beca wins the first two Grammy’s. She waddled to the stage both times, Chloe cheering louder than anyone in the venue.

By the time she makes it back to her seat, she almost hopes she doesn’t get the next two. Her back is killing her.

“I’m so proud of you babe,” Chloe squeals the moment she sits down.

“Thanks Chlo,” Beca winces, her back really starting to bother her.

Chloe immediately hones in on her pain, “You ok Bec?”

“I’ll be fine,” Beca waves her hand dismissively.

She wins the third Grammy.

This time it takes her significantly longer to get to the stage, which doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Beca plasters a smile on her face and graciously accepts her third award.

Just as she’s about the leave the stage, a sharp pain careens through her, stopping her dead in her tracks. That can’t be good.

The pain doesn’t stop, making her pause every few minutes. When she gets back to Chloe, it doesn’t surprise her that she’s looking back at Beca, concern written all over her face.

“You’re not ok,” Chloe simply states, when Beca is close enough to hear her.

Beca shakes her head, “Yea about that, I think I might actually be in labor.”

Chloe’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets, “Oh my god, Bec.”

“It’s ok, I already called someone to take us to the hospital and Amy is meeting us there with my bag I packed,” Beca explains as calmly as she can, even though her own adrenaline is running high.

“How are you so calm right now,” Chloe looks as frazzled as Beca feels.

“It’s definitely all a façade.”

************

After what feels like a year of labor, Beca gives a final push, her screams filling the large delivery room. Her nails dig into the palm of Chloe’s hand. Her body is completely spent and achy. The shrill cry of a newborn pierces the air and Beca sighs.

“Oh my god,” she heaves, trying to catch her breathe.

“Baby, you did it,” Chloe says excitedly next her, her own eyes trained on the baby in the doctor’s hands.

Beca’s gaze immediately settles on her baby girl. She’s desperate to hold her. It seems like far too long before the doctor is walking the baby over to Beca, who outstretches her arms eagerly. The moment the baby is in her arms, a happy sob escapes her throat.

“Chlo, isn’t she beautiful?”

“She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Chloe says dreamily, her hand coming down to touch their baby’s tender head.

“Hi Lucy,” Beca coos, “your mommies are so happy to meet you.”

After having some time alone with their new baby, Beca finally lets their eager friends in to see them.

Amy is the first to barge into the room, her excitement radiating off of her, “Alright let’s see this niece of mine!”

Chloe lifts Lucy from her basinet carefully, walking her over to their friend.

“Aw, she’s pretty damn cute,” Amy says, letting Lucy curl her tiny hand around her finger, “by the way Shawshank, you did win the fourth Grammy.”

Chloe’s face lights up, “I knew you would win them all!”

With her new baby, Beca barely cares but she still feels a sense of pride overwhelm her at the news, “I guess I should have believed you.”

“You got four Grammy’s and a daughter, all in one night,” Chloe beams, walking back over to Beca, Lucy still tucked safely in her arms.

Beca scoots over carefully, patting the spot of the bed she just made. Chloe sits down next to her, both of their eyes immediately drifting down to their baby.

“I am the luckiest person alive,” Beca says softly.

“I would say so, between little Lucy here, and all those awards.”

“Not because of the Grammy’s,” Beca shakes her head, “because I have you…and Lucy.”

Chloe’s words from earlier rattle around her head. It is wild how just a couple years ago, Beca and Chloe were just pretending to be together. Who knew that a little fake dating would lead to this. That it would lead to something so real and so wonderful, that she can’t imagine her life without it. Beca can’t imagine her life without Chloe now and somehow her heart stretched even more to make room for their newborn daughter.

Chloe leans over and presses a tender kiss to her lips, “I love you Bec.”

“I love you too Chlo.”

#bechloe fanfic #pp fanfic #bechloe #fanfic #my stuff

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years ago

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Third Act: Patience

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-5

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, angst, supernatural, romance, comedy, slice of life

word count: 5.1k

Related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin

Continuation of the events following Jamais Vu + Interlude: Second Best

A/N: SOOO this is surprisingly quite shorter than I had planned because i was actually gonna put together two acts in this chapter but then i thought against it by the end because it would ruin my aesthetic of the story LOL PLUS more to read for these trying times. On that note, i hope you guys enjoy this nevertheless and that you’re all doing well, stay healthy and safe!

Tags! @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatinagirl @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl

The rest of the night was a blur in your memories. You vaguely remember exiting the arena in a daze, robotically moving with the flow of the crowd and ending up outside. The night air doesn’t shock you as much as it should from being in a stuffy place for so long, the reason being never really did leave your mind and it only makes you worry your bottom lip.

Eventually, Rosa finds you after blowing your phone up with all of her messages that weren’t able to get through from the weak signal; first crushing you into a hug and asking if you were okay, apologizing for having lost you when really, it was your fault and once you assured her that you were, proceeded to squeal with unbridled emotions while shaking you, still crushed against her.

It pulls a small smile out of you, wheezing a laugh before she finally puts you down. You’re happy to hear Rosa chat away so excitedly about the concert, the high of it all has yet to subside. You wish you could share the same enthusiasm as her, but you’re feeling more like you skipped straight into the post-concert depression stage, even though you literally just stepped out of the arena. Or at least, you tell Rosa that when she notices how strained your responses were.

It takes some time, but you make it back to your hotel. You remember trying to push yourself to keep up conversations with Rosa, guilty for raining on her parade a little and at times, you think it works as you two look over the footage she managed to get on her phone. However, unsurprisingly, it was short-lived; whenever you catch sight of Jimin despite knowing that it’s not your guardian, your mind automatically drifts to the fight you had in the back alley and your guilt takes on a completely different form — one much more stifling and overwhelming.

It continues to gnaw at you through the night and to the moment you step on the plane, ready to fly back home. It’s made you develop a habit of checking your phone every other minute, a small part of you hoping to see something, anything that might be from him.

By the time you’re back in your room late in the afternoon, you still hear nothing.

You discard your luggage and bags in a corner without much care before sagging onto your bed. Jaehee wasn’t home when you got in, but the note she’s stuck on your bedroom door told you that she was out doing a grocery run and would be back shortly to welcome you home properly with a home-cooked meal. You smile softly at the thought but it doesn’t stay for long as your attention drifts back to the phone clutched in your hand. You click to unlock it, finding no new messages or calls yet again, the sight further eating away at you.

A heavy sigh leaves you, eyes slipping shut and your head slumps down as you bring the phone up to your temple, hitting against it gently.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? Your mind recalls the memory with clarity; a movie scene being replayed before you and you cringe at how you acted, every word and action reminded you of a spoiled child. Looking back now, you knew he was only trying to look out for you, keep your best health in mind but you were too caught up in your emotions at the time, tunnel visioned so hard you didn’t see the bigger picture until you’ve already walked away.

Now you’re reaping what you sowed.

As if the weight on your shoulders became too much, you allow yourself to fall back onto your bed. Your arm automatically reaches out to the giant plush cat, dragging it until you have it flushed against you, the malleable toy bringing a little sense of comfort. You pull your phone up to your face again, unlocking it once more and unsurprisingly, not finding any new messages. You stare a little longer before almost unconsciously your finger taps onto the text thread and then they hover over the call icon — hesitating.

What would you say? Would he even want to hear from you?

The thought makes your chest ache, but what’s worse than that is never hearing from him again at all and this would be your last memories of each other. No, you don’t want that. So you take a fortifying breath, pushing away all of your self-doubting thoughts and finally —

The phone comes alive in your hand, the vibration and the ringtone combined making you jolt for a second with your hands fumbling the device. Once you get a grip, your eyes scan the screen and your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. Without a second thought, you slide to accept the call.

“Hello?” It comes out in a gasp, breathless from how fast you bolt up from your position, ramrod straight and the poor plush cat clutched against you like a lifeline.

“Y/N?”

“Y-Yeah, hey…” Your heart is racing like you’ve ran a marathon, so loud in your ears that you hope by some miracle he doesn’t pick it up through the line because lord knows you’re not doing a good job at hiding how nervous you are.

“…Hey…”

And the sound of his voice is not helping; husky and low, like rich velvet chocolate that has your heart stuttering and melting all at once. He’s so easily emptied your head of all the things you had wanted to say and he’s only said one word.

Wow, you’re really losing it huh?

“Y/N?”

“H-Huh?”

“I asked if you got home okay.”

Your cheeks heat, picking up on the breathy edge of his tone and already imagining the amused quirk of his full lips. “Yeah! I — Yeah, I just got in…. In my room, just… resting for now…”

“That’s good to hear….” You hear him trailing off, trying to keep the conversation light and casual as if there wasn’t a giant pink elephant between you. It does nothing but make you more aware of it, antsy in needing to come forward and own up to your mistake because he, of all people, deserves an apology for how poorly you acted. Swallowing, you take in a breath and just go for it before you can regret it.

“Jimin—“

“Y/N—“

You both pause, an awkward silence filling the space at not anticipating the other speaking the same time. Hurriedly, you try to cover up your social blunder, embarrassed.

 “God, sorry you can—“

 “Sorry, what were you—“

Again, you speak over each other, which ensues another awkward beat. It’s only broken when you can’t help but let out a short huff of a laugh, completely at a lost. Through the line however, you’re greeted with the pleasant sounds of his own chuckle joining your own and like a spell, you are at ease, the nerves dissipating slowly.

“Now I remember why I can’t do phone calls…” You groan, half-jokingly but also already burying your face halfway into the large toy you have that’s now acting as an emotional support. If only it could swallow you whole…

“It’s okay, I don’t mind — not like I’m doing any better.” He replies and you smile softly, the warmth of his voice so soothing to your ears. Any other time you probably would be satisfied in listening to him talk for hours through the phone, social awkwardness be damn but this is neither here nor there, so you shake yourself before you get too lost into the tempting idea, getting back on the matter at hand.

“How about you go first?”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Seriously, Jimin—“

“I insist, Y/N.” Jimin’s voice is still gentle yet firm, enough for you to sense that there’s no room for argument. “Please.”

So you sigh, giving in. “Okay….” You say that, but it takes you a moment to gather yourself, not knowing where to begin or how to put into words what you feel properly.

But he waits patiently, and the quiet assurance allows for you to take that first step, even if you might stumble.

“I’m sorry,” You blurt out before you catch yourself and think maybe you need a little bit more context. “The concert… When you saved me from passing out by taking me outside, I— I’m really grateful you did that. I think it would’ve been bad if you hadn’t so…. What I said afterwards, and how I acted afterwards, that was really shitty of me…. You were right; I was so careless —“

“Y/N....”

“No! I really wasn’t thinking! And it’s so unfair of me because you helped me and I just—!” You stop abruptly, your voice rising dangerously in pitch with frustration and take in a shaky breath, trying to reign in your emotions. There’s no way you’re going to turn this already mess of an apology into an even bigger mess by actually crying. He might not be able to see you but you still felt the need to walk away with some dignity; composed so that he won’t think you’re some pathetic wreck. After swallowing away the growing lump in your throat, you continue on quietly, “I was just….so mad at myself. Like, after everything I couldn’t even stay for the entire concert — like I completely wasted it all and I took it out on you. So if you’re mad at me, then I get it; just know that I’m really sorry, Jimin.”

You don’t know what to say after that, not sure if there’s anything else left that isn’t ‘I’m sorry’. So you wait with bated breath for him to say something. Forgiveness was a selfish want from you but you would understand if he chooses not to despite the thought of it alone leaves your chest aching. The mere minutes of silence drags on like an eternity for you until finally, you hear him sigh.

“Y/N, I’m not mad at you, I promise.” He says, sincerely. “And I should be the one apologizing; for…freaking out at you like that, it just made things worse. I know….I know how much they mean to you,” There’s a short pause, like there was suddenly something holding him back but he shakes it off just as quickly as it had came, “how much he means to you.”

The statement has you momentarily taken aback, not expecting it at all. For some reason, you didn’t like the way he said that, even when everything about it was true. Before you can think too much on it however, Jimin quickly switches the tone in conversation, redirecting your attention elsewhere. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out but you know your safety is my priority, right?”

 “Y-Yeah, I know….” You reply, a little flustered from having your thoughts derailed but pouting at being reminded of your deplorable behaviour, feeling much like a reprimanded child. “I promise I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“That’s my girl.” You grunt in acknowledgement, heated face sinking back into the soft confines of the bean-shaped cat still in your arms. “Listen, I have to go soon, so take care of yourself for me alright? Get something to eat and, please unpack and do your laundry.”

His playful gibe draws out an affronted gasp from you, “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You only get a peal of laughter in response, making you further pout indignantly.

 “I’ll talk to you later okay? Stay safe, cherub.”

“M-Mm, yeah okay. I’ll talk to you later then.”

When you hang up, you’re in a bit of daze. On one hand, you feel relieved that you both managed to resolve the fight that was weighing so heavily on your chest, honestly just glad to hear from your guardian again too but on the other hand, you can’t help also feeling like you’d been bulldozed a little. You want to say you’re simply over analyzing things, but your mind is constantly wandering back to what he said about how much BTS meant to you — more specifically, how much he, BTS’ Jimin, meant to you.

It almost sounded as if….

As if he believed you thought less about him in comparison.

You swear your heart drops to your stomach, frozen in a stunned silence like you can’t process this information, the idea preposterous and so close to outright denying it until you realize that… you never gave any indication otherwise. It really has always been BTS and their Jimin with you but now…

Now there’s Jimin….Your Jimin.

BTS are still important to you but your guardian has become someone irreplaceable to you, and through all the fond memories you can recall, he's there.

He's always been there.

The revelation triggers everything all at once; sweaty palms, palpitating heart, butterflies in the stomach — the whole shebang along with a whole Pandora’s box of emotions: elation, relief, disbelief, giddiness, uncertainty….

And crippling anxiety.

Oh boy, you think as a nervous laugh escapes you, I’m in danger.

Fuck.

He curses to himself for the umpteenth time as a particularly harsh wave of pain rolls over him, eyes squeezing shut to try and block it out but he thinks all he’s done successfully is make himself dizzy. It lasts for a second longer before finally it ebbs away and a long exhale escapes past his lips, relieved. The demon remains where he is slouched against the concrete ledge lining the rooftop he’s on a while longer, simply catching his breath and letting the gentle breeze cool his skin. Only once he feels the throbbing against his head die down does he let his eyes slip open again.

He’s greeted with the brilliant sight of the sunset sky, so vibrant it almost seems like he’s looking at a painting. The rich shades of orange bleed like wildfire, lighting the streaks of wispy clouds almost red before blending in to softer pinks and hints of lilacs, the blues deepening into a more indigo shade with the coming of night. The sun sits just a little above the horizon, its glow no more than a haze as it continues to make its descent and he watches on with an almost mocking indifference to the splendour of it all.

Jimin instead, idly thinks he’s gotten a good handle at dealing with the shockwave of pain that comes with completing a deed. He doesn’t feel as winded or sore from the muscle aches it usually leave behind — he wonders if he’ll eventually become numb to it or simply be too tired to care. Dark eyes wander down to his phone still clutched in his hand and the conversation he had not too long ago rushes back.

It went… surprisingly smoother than he had expected, despite the awkward start. When he had decided to call you, Jimin had finally swallowed his pride in that he owes you at least an apology for shouting at you the way he did. It was unnecessary and did more harm than good, evident when he had watched you withdraw in on yourself soon afterwards. He should’ve known better, but in that moment his emotions got in the way; those dark desires he's trying to keep locked away, only for them to become harder and harder to contain the longer time passes. And that’s what Jimin’s afraid of — that despite knowing how much the band and the singer means to you, he’ll disregard it all for petty, selfish reasons. Hell, he couldn’t even acknowledge the fact out loud just now without having to practically force it through his teeth and even then, the bitter aftertaste the words leave behind still lingers.

Like a reminder that all Jimin will ever have with you are fleeting moments, nothing more.

Jimin’s afraid that sooner or later, he’ll end up hurting you because he got too greedy.

A deep sigh leaves him and he runs a hand through his dark tresses out of stress, thoughts racing through his troubled mind until one sticks out above the rest. From the way things are going, Jimin thinks his best course of action would be to distance himself from you a bit more; see you less in person and maybe perhaps get your roommate Jaehee to check in on you every once in a while for him.

It’s not something he wants to do, but with it, it’s killing two birds with one stone — you won’t find out about his weakening condition and he won’t do anything that he’ll regret.

Before you know it, the week is nearly over with days passing by with you back on your routine again of going to work and occasionally hanging out with your friends. The world moves on as if nothing were amiss even though for you, it was anything but.

Sure, in the grand scheme of things (i.e. the universe), your problem is pretty minuscule and there’s no doubt that if your friends were clued in on everything, they would probably smack you, call you a dumb-dumb and tell you to quote, ‘get that ass!’ but it just had to be so much more complicated than that.

First and foremost, you were four days old when you found out that you’ve caught feelings for a demon who also happens to be your supernatural entity guardian.

That sentence alone is already chock full of all sorts of sacrilegious implications (not that you really cared but you can only imagine how it would sound like to an outsider).

Secondly, you don’t know if he feels the same way or if he just sees you as something else; a tolerable human being that’s entertaining? A friend you would hope at least. Or…. Simply an obligation.

That last one stung a little.

Worse is you haven’t forgotten that your guardian was only meant to stay temporarily, something that had already been troubling you in the back of your mind and though you had pushed it away continuously, you learn that all it did was grow until it began manifesting itself in ways you hadn’t realized. Both a good and a bad thing because in doing so, some things make much more sense now. But with you being aware of your feelings, the question of how or should you even let them be known becomes the cherry on top of this rapidly melting sundae.

You think you’ve worked through every possible scenario, dissecting them every way you can like a mad scientist, but the results all end up the same either way — things wouldn’t work out and you’ll just end up being heart broken.

An exasperated groan leaves you and your forehead nearly connects with the table below you before you caught yourself midway, thinking better because you don’t know what’s been on it. You don’t get time to continue your brooding however as a radio static voice cuts through the lunchroom.

“Hey Y/N, you back from your break yet?”

Glancing down at your phone, you note the time and inwardly curse, reaching up to press down on the mic reluctantly, “Yeah, I’m on my way out.”

“Okay, cool. Once you’re back up on cash, Stephanie can take her break then.”

You slouch back on your seat, intent on taking your time to get up (not like there was anyone here to clock you on your punctuality). You have two hours left on your shift but already you feel drained, both physically and mentally. Eventually, you muster the strength and willpower to finally get up and begin making your way back to the store floor, despite your mind being far from keeping the queue line clean and customers happy.

You sigh, hoping weakly that by some miracle, the remaining work would be enough to distract you from your troubling thoughts, if only for a short while.

When the two hours were done, it felt like you had been holding your breath the entire time and when you finally clocked out did you let yourself breathe. The weight of your thoughts stayed, but at least now you’re finally free to wallow in it once again without any interruptions. Probably not the greatest thing since it nearly made you miss your stop. You get through the door, catching Jaehee just as she’s making her way to the kitchen, changed in her lounge wear, fresh from a shower with her hair still damp and a towel draped around her shoulders.

“Jaehee, you’re home… kinda early?” You remark, taking a glance down at your phone to confirm that usually she wouldn’t be home for another hour and a half.

“Oh yeah, I asked to clock out early; wasn’t feeling too well.” She answers wryly with a half-hearted shrug. You blink at that, brows pinching a little in worry.

“Coming down with something?”

“Nah, nothing serious. Promise.” Jaehee smiles, assuring. “I’m gonna make lasagna tonight, sounds good?”

You nod, feeling your stomach rumble with anticipation. After washing up, you head out of your room, comfy in your pjs and already smelling the cheesy goodness of the lasagna baking. Peering into the kitchen, you see Jaehee busy with cutting up lettuce, most likely for a salad on the side for you to share.

“So how was your day?” Jaehee asks as you step in to take out some plates and utensils.

You respond with a noise; a straining, drawn out groan that borderlines on a mental breakdown but never quite reaches. It’s a response your roommate is familiar with, so much that any further context isn’t necessary for her to understand that work has been same old, same old; irritating but you do it for the money.

“Any dumb customers?” She laughs.

You pause to think but then answer, “Thankfully, no. Like, God decided to take pity on me for once. What about you? Has your manager been acting up lately, Ethan?”

At the mention, Jaehee lets out her own groan, shoulders dropping for a second as if the very thought’s weight had suddenly pushed down on her. You offer a sympathetic pat before slipping on oven mits to grab the now ready lasagna. Jaehee worked at an office in a junior position as a recruiter of sorts, a job she managed to get a little bit before graduating and thus, quitting her old retail job. What the company does specifically you’re still a little unsure of to this day but from what you’ve been hearing through Jaehee, you think that’s not the biggest issue to worry about.

Most of the stories Jaehee chooses to share with you were more or less what you would call ‘office horror stories’ — two-faced co-workers, that one guy who doesn’t know what personal space is, after work get togethers that, although is a nice idea, were often times far too forced to feel anything remotely ‘team bonding’, some handful shady department practices and of course, the unstable manager. Needless to say, it’s left you feeling concerned over the environment Jaehee has chosen to work in and although she expresses the same opinions as you whenever she vents, she’s always left feeling uncertain on what to do and then just brushes it off.

You don’t push on it further after that, only offering suggestions she could possibly consider but ultimately, leave it for her to decide whether she would actually take them or not. This is Jaehee’s job, not yours and you respect and trust Jaehee as a person who can make the right choices about her life.

And so dinner passes by in that same manner, the subject shifting quickly onto more casual things. Once or twice Jaehee would sneakily ask how things are going on with Jimin (or Julien as she knows him) of which like talks about her workplace, you skitter around on — as if you can explain your dilemma to her when you don’t even know where to begin yourself!

By the time you wash up and crash land onto your bed, you’re back to square one, caught up in your internal whirlwind of emotions with no hopes of trying to sort any of the mess out. Like Dorothy trapped in her little house that’s been sucked into the tornado, except you don’t even have a little dog to be your emotional support. You toss and you turn for a while, kept up by those thoughts until your self-promises of trying to go to sleep early is abandoned in favour of scrolling endlessly through your social media feeds. So much for trying to fix your awful sleep schedule.

You swear you blink once and it’s well past two in the morning already. You put your phone down with a sigh, bringing up a hand to rub your eyes and relieve them momentarily from the harsh glare of the screen. The thought that maybe you should give it a rest and attempt to sleep, even if it means just closing your eyes and hoping you lull off at some point crosses your mind but right when you’re about to part with your phone, a low buzz erupts from it along with a small chime. The vibration sends a shock from your chest before you lift up the device, the screen lit with a new incoming notification. When your eyes adjust to the brightness once more, you freeze.

Speak of the demon.

“Hey cherub,

I know it’s pretty late (though something tells me you’re still awake anyways)

But I just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re doing.”

You inwardly groan to yourself; it’s like the Lord is testing you right now. All the mixed feelings you’ve been having has you seeing things through new lenses. It’s annoying on every aspect — you hate how it has made you second guess yourself on everything that you’ll do or say, like you’re walking on eggshells while being smothered at the same time. But you can’t deny that your caution isn’t without reason. When it comes to matters of the heart, your approach is comparatively much more skeptical than to most people you know. Hence, you suppose, it would explain your sparse and short-lived dating history.

You weren’t a big risk taker or trusting enough to leave your heart in someone else’s hands; you feel like you have so much more to lose than to gain and you’d rather save the heartache for something a little bit more worthwhile. So to even think about shooting your shot with someone when the odds are so against you like this….

You chew on your lip, heart pounding and fingers hovering over the keyboard in limbo, caught between listening to your head or your heart. But Jimin…. Your dear guardian Jimin, always had this inexplicable effect on you. You don’t know whether it’s from his nature as a demon or something else, but it has only grown stronger over the time you’ve spent with him that you think no matter how hard you try to stay away, you’ll find yourself unconsciously searching for him again, like a moth drawn to a flame.

And so you find yourself tentatively typing out your response, backspacing when the doubt creeps in but ultimately, you reason, as long as you don’t give anything away, he can’t see through you… yet.

You hit send before you think too deeply on that.

“I don’t appreciate being called out like that >:(

But if you must know, I’m well (despite, you know, possibly losing out on precious sleep right now due to a certain demon).”

The bated breath you let out could be mistaken for accomplishing something excruciatingly nerve wracking, like skydiving for the first time. It’s comical really, if you weren’t the one going through it. Your head flops to the side momentarily in a defeated manner; why did you have to get smacked in the face with feelings when you can barely get a handle of what you want for dinner the following day? Maybe you shouldn’t have replied, but then you’d feel bad because Jimin hasn’t done anything to get ghosted. Oh god, maybe you should’ve just replied in the morning instead, why did you have to be so — ! A rumble pulls you out of your mental panicking and with jittery hands you bring up your phone again, hastily reading the reply.

“Don’t pout cherub, I’m just messing with you ~

I actually didn’t think you would reply but anyways, I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay at least so you should try to get some of that sleep.

I won’t keep you then.”

But you do pout regardless. In spite of sounding like you wanted to desperately hide away from ever talking to Jimin again in fear of acting like a fool, you can’t help feeling a little disappointed at how short the conversation was. Your fingers move on their own, typing out the first thoughts that comes to mind, only to erase them. It goes on like that until you finally stop on the sixth try, deflating as if all the night’s tumultuous emotions have finally worn you out to a sullen calm. What are you even trying to do? You feel like for the past minutes, you’ve done nothing but be so indecisive with yourself that you fear you don’t know what you want anymore. Perhaps this is your divine intervention that you should sleep on this, at least for tonight.

With a resigned sigh, you send off a short and simple message, not really expecting a reply as you finally place your phone down on your nightstand.

“I’ll go to sleep soon.

I hope you’re doing well too, staying out of trouble and such.

I can’t exactly guarantee you that I’ll be of much help if you do, so….don’t do it!

And thanks… for checking up on me.”

You go to settle down into your sheets when the familiar chime and rumble once again snags your attention and you can’t resist, reaching over. You read over his words, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m fine, don’t worry your pretty little head over me.

I won’t do anything that’ll stress you out….too much ;)

(the prick, always gotta keep you on your toes somehow but you suppose that’s why there’s never a dull moment with him)

It’s not a problem darling, so rest easy and …. sweet dreams.”

The smile lingers on your lips long after you drift off to a surprisingly peaceful slumber, mind put more at ease. You’ll figure this out, one way or another.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #demon!jimin x reader #jimin insert reader #jimin insert reader fic #bts supernatural au #park jimin insert reader #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fluff #jimin fluff #park jimin imagines #jimin imagines #guardiandemon!jimin #jimin x you #park jimin x you

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

Text

Born a Rat, Burn a Rat

[2002]

Word count: 4561

Prompt: You need to stop making her laugh! You’re ruining her makeup!

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

“You need to stop making her laugh! You’re ruining her makeup!”

All the laughter that had once been rebounding through the locker room stopped abruptly. Everyone turned their heads slowly to face Carrie White, who was blinking innocently at them from her locker. She looked absolutely clueless, as she always did when she wasn’t dead-eyed or spazzing out. She didn’t seem to understand why she was being stared at.

“What did you just say?” Tina said.

“H-her makeup,” Carrie stammered, suddenly very uncomfortable under their gazes. “Chris’s. It’s--going to run. If she keeps laughing. I’m trying to save it.”

“Oh, so you think I’m ugly without any makeup on, huh? Is that it?” Chris strode up to her, eyes flashing like a hungry puma’s, and Carrie backed up against the lockers, blinking dumbly.

“What? No!” Carrie said. She gripped her fingers in the locker air holes tightly in some sort of scrabble for grounding.

“You hesitated,” Fern put in helpfully.

“I didn’t!” Carrie cried, eyes wide.

“Maybe I should try out some new makeup,” Chris mused. “Your blood will be a nice shade!” A second later, she raised her fist and sent it flying at Carrie’s face.

Carrie barely had time to react. She ducked and dove left, stumbling awkwardly through a pair of girls. There was a loud clang of metal from behind, followed by a shout of pain and a few gasps and snickers, and she spun around on her heels to see Chris rubbing her reddened knuckles tentatively with a look of murder on her face.

“You goddamn bitch.” She seethed.

Carrie tried to stutter out an apology, she really did, but then the entire left side of her face exploded into bright, colorful bursts of pain as a fist that seemed to be the size and solidity of a small boulder came smashing upwards and her whole body popped backwards in a fashion that was almost cartoonish. A near-perfect arc, like those old animated shorts she’d been deprived of as a little girl where Daffy Duck or Wile E. Coyote were getting nailed in the face with spring-loaded punching gloves left and right.

However, there was a very significant difference between those cartoons and real life, and the difference was that in real life, it hurt. It hurt a lot.

The punch had such force that Carrie thought for one petrified instant that she might do a full flip—but then her back met the floor with an unforgiving THUNK.

She barely had time to clap a hand to the smarting flesh on the side of her face, which she could already feel starting to get puffy, before she heard sneakers squeaking against tile and looked up to see that she was surrounded by all her gym classmates in various stages of dressed. She swallowed down a mouthful of blood thickly and awkwardly scooted backwards, only to have Chris reach down with alarming swiftness and wrap her perfectly manicured fingers into her shirt-collar, gathering a crimson-knuckled fistful of fabric and sending cuts scattered across the girl’s back alight with pain once more as they were exposed to the cool air when her lightweight body was effortlessly jerked to its feet.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your miserable little life, pig.” Chris spat.

“Chris,” Sue hissed cautiously. She cast an uneasy glance towards the front of the locker room, expecting Miss Desjardin to suddenly materialize inside and blow her ear-piercingly loud whistle before raining hellfire on them all.

“What?” Chris snapped. “She DESERVES this! If you’re that worried, then keep watch or lock the door or something!”

“Chris!” Sue said again, but this time as a much more alarmed warning. Because Carrie is tugging backwards and snapping at Chris’s hands around her collar like a contagious rat in the midst of the Black Plague.

“What the fuck!?” Chris yelled, startled.

Carrie’s hands shot up and they’re like the skeletal fingers of death around Chris’s wrists. She had exactly zero muscles in her arms, so it was pretty impressive that she was able to pry the grip off of her pale yellow sweater’s collar and totter backwards into safety.

And then there’s a hissing sound, like the warning of a rattlesnake.

Something splatters against Carrie’s face and neck and open mouth, and she flinched in surprise. She raised a hand to wipe her eyes, but it only got halfway up before it suddenly felt like she got a red hot fire poker jammed into her sockets.

Then, she screamed.

------

Rita Desjardin has heard screaming before. In her senior year of high school, she vividly remembers watching a school football game and one of the players from the other team, she believed they were the Pumas if her memory was correct, broke his arm so savagely it almost looked like it was on backwards. He had dropped to the ground in a blur of black and maroon, bellowing in agony, and at the time Rita had thought that it was the worst sound she would ever hear in her entire life.

And then she heard the ricochet of a cry rattle from the girl’s locker room, so loud that she could hear it from outside in the gym, and the first place spot for “Worst Noise She’s Ever Heard” was quickly snatched away from the football player.

He had screamed. But not like this.

This scream was piercing, bloodcurdling, and memory-haunting, and it only got worse when Rita charged into the locker room, leaving a gaggle of wide-eyed students already dressed out behind in startled shock.

Opening the door and passing through the doorway was like coming out of water in the midst of a war- the scream suddenly became ten times louder and much more ear-splitting. She actually had to clamp her hands over her ears and stop her forward stride to shudder in pain at the intensity of the noise that made her feel like she was going deaf. What could very possibly be 140 to 150 decibels of volume jammed its way directly into her eardrums, stabbing over and over and over again until a ringing was sent jangling through her skull like the aftermath of an explosion.

To be in the same room as such an outburst of agony, so close to the cause of deafening distress, was so much more bone-chilling than listening to it from stadium bleachers.

Rita staggered forward, pulling her hands away from her ears and crossing the corridor threshold into the open space of lockers. There, her current class was huddled in a group of abstract horror around one row, eyes so wide they were nearly popping out of sockets and shaking in abject pant-pissing fear. Rita wasn’t quite sure who looked more terrified: them, Helen Shyres holding a can of pepper spray, or Carrie White frenzying around with her hands over her face, screeching.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?” Rita roared over the commotion, and everyone except Carrie whirled around to face her with ogling bug eyes. They apparently hadn’t heard her come in over the noise. Carrie keened again, a loud, drawn-out sound like the cry of a crow being gutted alive.

“Sh-she--” One girl tried to say, but the words got stuck in her throat when she glanced back at Carrie writhing, slamming into the lockers, and scratching desperately at her face.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Rita demanded.

“I--got startled.” Helen choked out.

“Is that PEPPER SPRAY?!” Rita shouted.

Helen looked down at the canister in her hand as if it were an active bomb and suddenly appeared very sick. She doesn’t answer- she can’t. She’s shocked into silence.

“WHY do you even HAVE IT at SCHOOL?!” Rita bellowed. Her eyes are wide now, too, as she put the pieces together.

“I’m sorry!” Helen said.

Carrie wailed tumultuously. She dropped to the ground, screaming helplessly at the ceiling and squirming like she was trying to wriggle out of her own skin. Her hands are still fervently clawing at her eyes as if she were trying to scoop them out of their sockets, and there’s spots of red mixed in with the translucent sheen of pepper spray spattered across her pale face. Rita quickly pushed Helen aside, practically throwing the other girls out of the way to get to the panicking student rolling on the floor.

“Carrie! Carrie!” Rita called over the screaming. Carrie doesn’t appear to hear her- she just continued to caterwaul and claw like a burning black cat. “Carietta White!” Not even that got through to her, and if it did, it only made her even more distressed. “Carrie!!”

Rita finally grabbed the girl by the wrists and yanked her hands away. Without the spindly fingers itching incessantly, she could see her reddened face, gashed skin, and eyes filled with blood.

“Oh my god,” Someone from behind, Sue Snell, maybe, muttered.

“IT HURTS!!” Carrie’s screams have finally morphed into words, and Rita isn’t sure which was worse because the screams may have been nightmare-inducing, but the words were like a punch to the stomach with a spiked iron gauntlet. They come out hoarse and high pitched, vowels stretched out in whines and keens of pain, and Rita’s heart clenched tightly in her chest when they reach her ears. “IT HURTS!! IT BURNS!!!!”

Carrie writhed beneath Rita, flailing her arms in the grip that holds them. Her dark eyes are upturned in their puckered sockets, saturating in blood, and the whites weren’t even white anymore, rather an awful crimson color with throbbing scarlet veins lacing through them like smoldering snakes. The shredded, bloody eyelids soon slam shut and remain shut, swelling so badly that Carrie was temporarily blinded, and that makes her panic even harder.

“It burns! It burns! IT BURNS!!!” Carrie screeched. Her voice became garbled after her final cry and she dissolved into body-breaking coughs that manage to rock Rita’s own frame from where she’s crouched over her.

“What do we do?!” Another girl, Frieda Jason, yawped. She flinched backwards in fright into the arm-locked duo of Mary and Donna Thibodeau when Rita whipped her head around to her, icy blue eyes flashing like jagged glaciers in the arctic sunlight.

“NOW you care?” Rita snarled, loading her voice with as much venom as possible. “Now you care about her? When she’s been fucking pepper sprayed?”

All the girls flinch this time. It’s obvious that they’ve never been cussed at by a teacher before, and it gives Rita just a tiny swell of pleasure. But then Carrie sobs audibly again and it’s replaced with seething rage.

“It- it was an accident!” Ruth Gogan tried to defend. “R-really! Helen didn’t know!”

“Oh really?” Rita said. “I’m sure spraying a kid with fucking pepper spray, which shouldn’t even be brought to school, by the way, is really easy to do om accident!” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chris Hargensen clench her jaw and she rounded on her. “Do you have something you want to say, Hargensen?”

Chris opened her mouth as if to snark, took one look at Carrie’s bloody, burned face, and realized this was not something her father could fix with his lawyer status. Even if she told him that Carrie had snapped at her, he would have to agree that being pepper sprayed for it was much, much worse. She grit her teeth and looked away.

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” Carrie wept. Rita looked back down at her and felt a sharp stab of guilt when she realized how much time she had wasted scolding the other girls when she should have been treating Carrie.

“It’s okay, Carrie,” She told her softly, smoothing down the barbs and thorns in her voice until it’s more like warm honey or silken velvet. “It’s okay… You’re going to be okay.”

Carrie’s lolling head froze in its process of sweeping back and forth across the scuffed locker room tile. Her brow twitched and her eyelids flutter like she was trying to open them but can’t, and only bloody tears are able to squeeze their way out of the scrunched up sockets. She ‘looked’ in the direction of Rita’s voice, lips quivering.

“M-Miss Desjardin?” She whispered hoarsely.

“Yes, it’s me, Carrie. It’s just me.” Rita moved to hold both wrists in one hand and used the other to brush Carrie’s cheek tenderly--which was instantly the wrong thing to do because she grazed over a spatter of pepper spray and tiny burning teeth latched onto her fingers and began eating away at her flesh. She bit back a hiss of discomfort to avoid stressing out Carrie even more. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“It hurts,” Carrie sobbed. Her eyes screwed shut even tighter, like she thought that it may help block out the pain. “I-it hurts, Miss Desjardin. M-make it stop!”

“I will, Carrie, don’t worry,” Rita assured her. “Just take deep breaths for me. Can you do that? Deep breaths, sweetheart.” She swiveled her head around to the group of quavering onlookers. Helen backed up behind Tina Blake and Norma Watson when her glaring eyes skim by, still white-knuckling the canister of pepper spray. “Sue.”

Sue jolted, but raised her head in an obedient, listening way.

“Make yourself useful and get a bottle of water and a rag from the showers. Wet it.” Rita ordered.

Sue nodded, but didn’t dare speak up. She scurried off, clipping her shoulder on one of the lockers and tottering sideways for a moment before regaining her balance and continuing with her task. Rita can hear her tinker with the padlock of her locker in another row, open the door, pull something out, and then hurry into the bathroom area without fully closing the door. She stopped listening after hearing the running water of a sink to glower at the rest of the girls.

“Get to class.” She said coldly.

The girls exchanged glances. They seem surprised that they hadn’t been struck dead or something (although Rita really, REALLY wanted to do so). Then, they disperse without another warning, with Helen hightailing it out the door first. Sue returns shortly after with a folded, pulpy paper towel that drips water on the floor and a water bottle. She looked down at Carrie as she passed them over and Rita saw that she was genuinely worried.

“Is she...going to be okay?” She asked.

Rita was conflicted- she wanted to say yes to make them all feel better, but she really didn’t know. Carrie had rubbed her eyes viciously enough to smear the pepper spray further into her sockets and the open cuts she carved into her skin was probably exposed to any lingering residue, too, which would only deepen her anguish. But she didn’t want to say no either because that would just induce panic, so instead she just said, “I’ll take care of her.”

Sue seemed to catch her avoidance of the question by the pinch at her brow and frown on her lips, but she just nodded instead of pointing it out, much to Rita’s relief.

“Okay,” She said. She cast one more glance at Carrie, who appeared to be trying to figure out where she was, then turned around, gathered her belongings, and walked out.

“Okay, Carrie,” Rita looked down at her student. “I’m going to pour some water over your eyes, okay? Just keep breathing for me. You’re doing so good.”

Carrie whimpered. She jolted when the contents of the water bottle were poured over her face, crying out in shock and pain, and a light bulb overhead shattered in millions of burgeoning pieces. Rita jumped and looked up at it, then back down at Carrie, who was now panting and wheezing heavily.

“H-hurts to b-b--reathe,” She uttered.

“Oh, Carrie…” Rita murmured. She carefully wiped away the pepper spray residue on Carrie’s face with the paper towel, finding that the girl’s skin was suddenly very cold. Her breathing wasn’t normal anymore. She can feel her heartbeat thump heavily beneath her flesh; it’s too fast for even someone in the midst of a panic attack.

Something was sizzling in Carrie White’s skin, and it wasn’t just the pepper spray.

There’s a clamor from the front of the locker room- Rita’s next period class started to bustle inside to change out before their minimal time limit was up. Rita jumped up, causing Carrie to whimper in distress at the loss of her presence, and stormed to the entrance corridor. The girls inside stopped, easily picking up that she was on edge, and took a small step back in near-perfect synchronization.

“You don’t have to change out today.” Rita said hurriedly. “Or do anything. Just sit in the gym and do whatever. As long as you don’t kill each other or set something on fire, I really don’t care what you do.”

The girls blink and exchange looks.

“Everything okay?” One asked.

“Fine.” Rita said, squaring her shoulders and straightening her shoulders. Her posture nearly faltered and crumbled when she heard Carrie whimper again. “Go on. Out!”

The girls obey, quickly exiting in a flurry of binders and backpacks. Once they’re all gone, Rita hurried back to Carrie, who was trying to get up. She yelped and flinched so badly she knocked herself back over when Rita touched her shoulder, and another light in the first aisle of lockers popped and fizzed out.

“It’s just me, Carrie.” Rita said. “It’s Miss Desjardin.”

“Miss Desjardin,” Carrie repeated to herself in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“That’s right,” Rita nodded, although she knew Carrie couldn’t see it. “Carrie, I’m going to help you stand up and we’re going to walk over to the showers, okay? The water bottle isn’t working as well as I had hoped. Running water will help flush out your eyes better.” She gently touched Carrie’s face and she ‘looked’ up at her. “It’ll make it hurt less.”

Carrie nodded. She grit her teeth as she’s helped to her feet, staggering, but staying upright. A jewel of blood welled up from a scratch dividing her left eyebrow in two and lazily made its way down her face. She twitched when it tickled her skin and she reached up to swipe it away, but Rita snatched her hand before she could make contact. Carrie jumped and instantly tried to jerk away.

“Don’t touch your face.” Rita scolded lightly. “It’ll only make the burning worse.”

Carrie swallowed thickly, but didn’t say anything. She just nodded silently and obeyed.

The short walk to the bathroom and shower area was much clumsier than it should have been, with Carrie stumbling over her ankles and hitting every outcrop of lockers, even with Rita guiding her. Lack of sight was numbing her senses and making it hard to listen. Rita didn’t ever get mad at her, though; blindness, even temporary blindness, would make her a complete nervous, bumbling wreck, too.

“M-Miss Desjardin?” Carrie croaked as Rita cranked the nozzle to a middle-row shower. She turned her head in the direction of the sound of spraying water.

“Yes?” Rita gently touched her shoulder to let her know she was there. “I’m right here, honey.”

“I’m sorry,” Carrie whispered.

Rita’s heart sunk into her stomach. Oh, Carrie, please please don’t--

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

A wave of guilt slammed into Rita, alongside a rumbling riptide of pure rage that roiled through her insides like a storm at sea. She clenched her teeth until she thought they may shatter and wished that she had exacted punishment on all those girls, especially Helen, instead of sending them to their next class to deal with them later.

“I’m sorry,” Carrie said again, this time much more choked up. Her skin was frigid cold. “M-Miss Desjardin?” She reached up a blind hand and lightly touched Rita’s, which she must have forgotten was on her shoulder. She grabbed it in a way that sent shockwaves of desperation up Rita’s arm. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, Carrie.” Rita said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay,” Carrie said, but Rita knew she didn’t believe it. She lowered her voice and rasped out, “It really, really hurts…”

“Come on,” Miss Desjardin lowered Carrie to her knees and tilted her into the warm rain of water shooting from the showerhead. She lifted her chin so the spray would directly hit her face. “There we go... Good girl.”

Carrie took a deep breath, spitting out water. Streams ran red when they touched her numerous cuts and the blood oozing from her tightly shut eyes turned into puffing clouds of crimson along her cheeks, but at least everything was getting flushed out.

Rita risked getting wet when she reached over and began to rub soothing circles against Carrie’s back. She swore the girl arched her spine into her touch, exhaling a soft sigh of relief--or maybe contentment. She wasn’t quite sure, but at least it wasn’t a sad or angry sigh, although Carrie had every reason to be sad and/or angry.

“It felt like a hot knife.”

Carrie’s rough, husky voice jarred Rita out of her thoughts. Silence had descended upon the two of them for about five minutes, the only sound being the hiss of the overhead faucet and the low creak of pipes. Rita blinked a haze of black spots out of her vision; her hand was still on Carrie’s back, no longer rubbing, but the fingers were still grazing up and down tenderly, with the thumb gliding in soothing strokes.

“Or a fire poker. Like the ones you use for fireplaces.”

“What?” Rita said.

Carrie craned her neck to look at her, and her eyes were open. They were reddish-brown jewels in a nest full of restless red snakes. Trails of water cascading over her face cause the dozens of cuts around the sockets to glow in hues of neon pink and burning scarlet. She tilted her head at Rita.

“When I got sprayed,” She specified. “And you know what I thought when it happened?”

“What?” Rita said again, this time with dread pooled in the pit of her stomach like a dark oil spill.

“‘Thank God,’” Carrie said. A small, weak smile twitched at the corner of her lips and she looked down at her hands, where bits of her flesh still clung beneath her nails. “I wasn’t angry. Or upset. It did hurt, though. Really badly. But after everything--after everything I’ve been through--” Her arms dropped limply to her sides and she turned her head back to Rita. “It felt good to not have to see.”

Rita was silent. Her breath is caught in her throat in horror.

How could a child think like that? How could they be treated so poorly that they have to think like that?

“I’ve never been blinded before,” Carrie went on, musing her words like she didn’t realize how traumatic they were. She lifted a hand and gently touched one eye, as if she were reminding herself that it was still there. “It was--scary. Really scary. I’m--used to darkness, but--that was different. It wasn’t black, but really, really bright. So bright my head started to hurt--still hurts--and there were these flashes of color and it all mixed together into this big mess. But still-” She shifted on her knees, sloshing water around her. “I thought that not seeing anymore would make things better. Somehow. Maybe then I would be pathetic enough for people to leave me alone.” Her eyes gleam; Carrie is crying. “But it wouldn’t end up being like that, would it? I’m never granted such mercy.” She flicked the water around her bitterly, then had to scrunch her eyes shut again when the pain registered again.

“Were you--” Carrie cocked her head in the direction of Rita’s head to let her know that she was listening. Rita’s hand on her back clenched a fistful of soggy pale yellow sweater. “Are you happy?”

“Now?”

“Ever.”

Carrie ‘looked’ up at the ceiling like she was deep in thought, and Rita already had her answer.

Fury bubbled in Rita’s stomach, while pity and grief squeezed her heart to the point of nearly bursting apart. It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair for a child to have to live like this.

Carrie had tipped her head down and apparently stopped thinking by the time Rita was finished stewing in anger and conflict. And that’s when Rita realized that Carrie didn’t look even a little angry or conflicted. Or upset or sorrowful or anguished or vengeful.

She just looked tired.

Not just tried, though- Jaded.

“How are your eyes?” Rita asked.

Carrie gently touched one. “They still burn. Badly. But not as bad as before.”

“Yeah, they’re probably going to hurt for awhile.” Rita frowned. She cupped Carrie’s cheeks, which felt so hollow and sunken beneath her fingers, and she cradled her head. “Can you open your eyes, honey? So I can see them?”

Carrie struggled, but managed to pry open her eyelids and keep them open for Rita to inspect. They were bloodshot and definitely looked like they were hurting, but at least they weren’t bleeding anymore. Rita gently stroked her thumb across her cheekbone.

“Maybe I’m not happy,” Carrie blurted.

Rita frowned at her. Carrie flicked her gaze to examine a cracked piece of tile flooring. She clenched her hands in the hem of her sweater.

“I don’t--blame you.” Rita said. “You’ve been through a lot.”

Carrie just nodded silently. She’s crying again. Hot tears seep through Rita’s fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Rita said. “For everything you’ve been through. You don’t deserve any of that.” Carrie’s eyes went wide at that and she blinked at Rita in shock.

“You don’t...you don’t think I’m a freak? Or a pig? Or the devil’s child?”

“Oh no, honey, no.” Rita said. “Not at all. You’re a smart, wonderful girl.”

Carrie’s eyes are hungry, now. Rita has never seen that look before, but she instantly knows what it means: “Do you love me?”

Rita pulled Carrie against her and the girl began to openly weep into her chest. She rocked her back and forth in the shower stall, whispering sweet things in her ear and stroking her messy hair (which really needed to be brushed). And Carrie clung to her in return, blubbering and sniffling and whimpering until she’s exhausted and can only hiccup weakly. Rita smoothed down a stubborn cowlick on the top of her head.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Rita cooed to the girl in her arms. “I’ve got you.”

Carrie nuzzled closer, curling her knees in until she was a soggy ball in Rita’s lap. She breathed out a sigh, and this time Rita knows it’s of contentment.

“Don’t let me go,” She whispered. “Please.”

“I won’t.” Rita promised.

But she did.

To move Carrie into her office, where she signed a pass for her to skip her remaining classes for ‘mandatory physical health workout’ and spent the rest of the school day brushing out her hair and letting her relax. It’s the first time she thinks she’s seen Carrie really smile, like she thought this was the most delightful thing in the entire world, and Rita’s heart melted.

“Thank you,” Carrie whispered. The tune of smooth jazz is playing from the small speaker on Rita’s desk. A dark purple brush glided through her long hair and she gave a soft coo of bliss at the sensation. “You’re--more of a mom than mine ever is.”

#carrie #carrie 2002 #carrie fanfiction #carrie white #rita desjardin #sue snell #chris hargensen #helen shyres #tina jason #norma watson #my writing #born a rat burn a rat #slasher #stephen king

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chazz-anova · 5 years ago

Text

My official Far Cry 5 fanfic!

Alrighty everyone! After a LONG time, I’ve finally finished the first section of this fic and I am so excited to start posting it everywhere lmao, so please feel free to leave your comments in the replies I’d love to hear what people think! Now without further ado; here’s chapter 1!

Veronica glanced lazily at the clock, which read 3:28am. She'd gotten off work about 4 hours earlier, but couldn't seem to lull herself to sleep no matter how many drinks she had or smoke breaks she took. Lately, the young sheriff's deputy had felt unsettled, like she was stuck in a rut. Ice clinked in her Crown Royal glass as she raised it to her lips, finishing it with a swig. "What's wrong with me Olive?" She asked the calico cat that padded silently into the room. The cat replied with a dainty mew and climbed into Veronica's lap. While petting her companion, she glanced around her modest townhome.

It was a tastefully furnished two story home with a balcony and a neighborhood pool. She sat on a powder blue couch that was joined by an armchair off to the side. The TV screen in front of her read 'Are you there? Press X to continue" Answering the question aloud, she muttered "Sometimes I wonder if I am still here" She lifted Olive off her lap and replaced her with an engraved silver tray, a baggie of weed, and a Cherry Dynamite flavoured Swisher. She may be a deputy, but some vices she was reluctant to give up.

A few moments later- Veronica stepped out onto her balcony, blunt in hand. She slowly took in the familiar scenery, living right on the outskirts of Hope County afforded her one of the best views. The Whitetail Mountains towered over the town beyond, the neon lights of various restaurants and gas stations glowing upwards and framing the tall peaks in a surreal glow. Her gaze turned up to the stars, dazzling like diamonds on the velvet black sky. As she lit up and the lighter illuminated her balcony, the atmosphere shifted a degree 'Everything will be different soon.' The thought flew through her mind without warning, and she shivered as though possessed. "Jeez..." She murmured and took a long drag of the sweet smoke, shaking her head and praying for rest to come quickly, after this she’d go and try to lay in her bed until sleep overtook her finally.

Running. Feet pounding the ground. Lungs shriveled and screaming for a full breath. Tears welled up in Veronica's eyes as she wind cut at her skin. In front of her, millions of faceless souls reached their hands out; grasping for her as she ran, seemingly suspended between them and what she ran from. The group was insistently whispering "Help. Help us." Veronica turned around, slowing a fraction. Behind her there was a plume of green smoke billowing out of an unseen source, threatening to take her mind and steal her heart if she got too close. The entities in front of her were murmuring "Please help us" "We need you". With each pleading moan their voices grew; louder and louder until their words were a guttural, rasping cacophony of screams. And just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone and replaced by deafening silence. The air seemed to be holding its breath, and Veronica turned to see the smoke gone as well, leaving her alone in the blackness.

Upon waking, Veronica gasped and clutched her heart, which was fighting to escape her chest with each beat. “Fuck!” She exclaimed and looked around her room. In the darkness she saw everything was normal, her desk and computer stood in front of her and no one occupied the chair in the corner to her relief. She took her phone from the nightstand and saw that it was only 6:20am. “Man, screw this.” She burrowed back under the black covers and pulled them over her head.

The next time she awoke- gentle sunlight streamed in through the half open curtains and her eyes fluttered open. Checking her phone, it was now 10:42am, and relief filled her. Looking underneath the time she saw a message from her co-worker and good friend, Joey Hudson. It read “Come to your shift ready for some bull today!” Veronica sighed, typing out her response “Always do!”

Soon enough, Olive jumped onto her bed and sat, giving her an impatient look. “Alright you little beast, I’ll get up.” She smiled at her furry friend and swung her feet over the side, striding into the kitchen and grabbing the cat food while also setting her coffee pot to brew.

In about 20 minutes- she was sitting on her balcony with a hot cup of mostly cream and sugar with a little coffee, and a quickly rolled joint. ‘Please let today go by quickly...:’ she prayed to no one in particular. Her work outfit looked creased from not being washed recently, and she knew Sheriff Whitehorse would have something to say about that. ‘After this joint I should probably get going.’ V thought, looking through the balcony windows at the clock.

Veronica stepped into the grey/white walled sheriff’s office; seeing Nancy at the front desk on the phone, examining her long nails disinterestedly. She gave her a quick wave before heading back to Sheriff Earl Whitehorse’s office, where a commotion could be heard.

“I don’t care how scared of him all you backwoods hicks are, where I’m from we get shit done!” An aggressive man declared, venom dripping from his words. ‘This must be the aforementioned bullshit Hudson mentioned.’ Veronica sighed before pasting a professional smile over her frown and stepping into the room. “You’ve got no right to just come in here like-” Hudson’s confident voice was absorbed by the same angry voice that had started the yelling, “Oh I’ve got every right missy. Know why? Because I’m a federal marshal, and what I say goes.” The tension in the air was malleable. Between Hudson glaring daggers at the stranger and Whitehorse’s dejected look, Ronnie knew she had just walked into a shitstorm. “Woah, let’s take it down a notch okay?” She said, directed at the man in front of her. He was of a bulkier build, and his stance said he was used to having things his way or the highway. “Oh great, another dumbass deputy to deal with! Sheriff, get your team and your shit together.” The man pushed past Veronica and Joey, shouldering his way out of the room. “Nice to meet you too!” The youngest deputy called before turning back to Hudson and Whitehorse. “So, who pissed in his cheerios?”

Hudson just shook her head angrily, as Whitehorse replied grimly “Joseph Seed.”

“That pastor who’s been causing trouble in Hope County?”

“That’s the one. He’s formed some kind of militia and is kidnapping folks… I’d get yourselves ready, because as soon as the judge fills that warrant we’re all going to pick him up.”

V met his words with an incredulous look, retorting “He’s bad enough that we all get to join Captain Sunshine there on a simple warrant like that? I mean, every time we’ve had to deal with him and his followers it’s never seemed that severe.” Hudson spoke up, pulling her phone from her pocket and presenting a video “Look for yourself. Someone sent this in a couple days ago.”

Grainy footage showed a tall, shirtless man in aviators preaching to a flock of similarly dressed people. The video zoomed in on the man’s chilling blue eyes; and the camera suddenly fell to the ground, showing the owner of the device being dragged forward and put on his knees before the preacher. In a casual manner he reached forward and placed his thumbs against the man’s eyes, pressing while his victim’s screams grew louder and more pained. Soon the man fell to the ground, and Joseph flicked the blood from his hands as though it were water. Veronica’s eyebrows raised in surprise as the scene was cut off and a new image appeared on the screen.

The recording was now taking place outside. There was a sizable wooden stage and Joseph stood in the center, a large curtain obscuring what was on a stand behind him. “My children, we must repent for our sins!” Joseph called while pulling the curtain down with some flourish. Veronica gasped in shock upon seeing the man from before who’d had his eyes crushed. He was lifted up onto a wooden pole, his eyes had been replaced by a white flower in each eye socket. Looking down his body- it was clear someone had mutilated his chest cavity as well, carving out space for a bouquet of the same flowers. On both sides of his head antlers had been impaled into his skull, where dried blood decorated the base of each antler in grotesque detail.

When the video finally faded to black, Veronica handed the phone back to Joey. “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t have anything heavy for breakfast.” She deadpanned, shaking her head. “This is a mistake, we need more people.” Whitehorse murmured and walked out of the room with an exasperated look. “Old man’s taking this real hard… I think he saw something real messed up on the last call out to Joseph’s compound.” Hudson looked after him with worry clear on her face. The other deputy nodded, unable to clear the images from the video from her mind. “Even though he’s clearly an ass, maybe the Marshal is right and we’ll just go snatch him up real quick.”

“Hopefully..” Hudson murmured and left the office as well, leaving Veronica alone.

The rest of the day- Marshal Cameron Burke holed up in a back office making heated phone calls, trying to find a judge to sign his warrant. V spent most of the day riding with another deputy, Staci Pratt. Veronica couldn’t stand Pratt, so every call they went on was a chore. However, the shift was finally drawing to a close as the pair pulled up once more at the station.

As soon as they walked in the door, Burke was on them. “You two, I suggest getting some rest tonight, because I found a judge. Once I’ve gathered everything I need, we’ll be flying out to Joseph’s compound.” Veronica checked the clock in the lobby, nodding “Well it’s 9 now, when are we leaving?” The Marshal sighed, as though responding was a chore, “We leave when I call and tell you we’re leaving.” V narrowed her eyes while crossing her arms, “You know, I’m not sure what your problem is, but don’t talk to me like that. You’re an adult, not a petty child, act like it.” The federal marshal was shocked someone had stood up to him, and unsure what to say. Seizing the opportunity to make her escape before her mouth got her into more trouble, Ronnie rushed past the man, shaking her head. ‘What an asshole!’ She thought as she punched numbers into the timeclock, hurrying out of the building without further incident.

About 20 minutes later, Veronica was speeding down the winding country roads in her beat up Mazda Miata. The roads were entirely empty, save for a deer she saw on the side of the road while taking the next turn. Upon rounding the corner- a large flare of light and an earth-shaking explosion caused her to slam on the brakes. “What the hell…” She peered out of the window. “Guess I should go check on that.. being an officer of the law and all…” Her murmured words were enveloped by another explosion, causing her to jump. Some days the job of a deputy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Ronnie had finally reached the area where the explosions had been coming from, after breaking several traffic laws to get there. Stepping out of the car, she drew her gun and took a preliminary look around the clearing. There were almost cartoon-worthy scorch marks on the ground that had wiped away any sense of greenery on the ground, but no one seemed to be around. V kept the gun at her side and started her sweep of the area. Right as she was going to start heading back to her car to report this to the station, she heard someone walking through the woods to her left. “Note to self, don’t light the fuse before you’re ready to have it blow up..” She heard someone mutter to themselves before she yelled “Freeze! Who are you and what’re you doing here?” A man of medium build walked out of the treeline, holding his hands in the classic ‘I surrender’ style. He wore a green sweatshirt, and a matching ballcap. “Charlemange Victor Boshaw at your service ma’am, I apologise for the bother-”

“You describe an explosion as a ‘bother’?” Veronica interrupted, gun staying trained on him.

“Well yeah. It sure bothered me that it exploded.”

“May I ask what you were exploding?”

“So my totally awesome cousin Hurk gave me some dynamite that he made himself, and of course being a good buddy I told him I would try it out! Well, silly me I didn’t realise that Hurk only knows how to make short-fused dynamite! So when I went to light it, it exploded preemptively so that’s why there’s those scorch marks… ma’am.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side, giving the man an incredulous look, “Would you be offended if I said that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard?” He thought about it for a moment before responding sincerely “Nope.” The deputy nodded, saying “Well I appreciate the honesty! Unfortunately, I’ve gotta call the station for this one.” She fished her badge from her pocket. The man crossed his arms, asking “Well what exactly are the charges?”

“Uhm… detonation of an explosive device and illegal possession for one.”

“I supposed I can’t argue with that.” He said amiably, watching Veronica reach for her radio off the utility belt she still hadn’t removed after work.

The pair sat on the curb together, one handcuffed one not. “So you’re the Sharky Boshaw?” Ronnie asked, giving him a mischievous smile. Sharky grinned and shrugged modestly “The one and only!”

“You’re a legend around the station, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before! Out of curiosity… why choose this spot for blowing shit up?”

“Well I was actually on my way to the store when I saw this spot and thought to myself ‘That would be a good field to set off some fireworks’. Then I remembered Hurk had put his stuff in my backseat, and that dynamite is just a less pretty firework, so here we are!”

When his story was finished, V gave him a look that was part amused, part withering glance. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.” He shrugged with a lackadaisical smile. Before either of them could continue the conversation, a light brown Crown Vic pulled up and the sirens on the roof let out a quick whoop before one of the night shift deputies stepped out. “Hey Veronica! Boshaw, the backseat’s ready for you!” He said, helping Sharky stand and turn towards the car. Veronica stood with him, and gave a curt nod to her coworker, “Thanks for coming out, Sam.”

Finally after that detour, V was almost home. It was a relatively long drive back and forth, but she didn’t mind it. Working with Sheriff Whitehorse was worth it since she’d known him almost half of her life. Veronica and her mom had moved to Hope County when she was only 12, her mom found work as an officer and then an office administrator for Earl until Nancy came along and gave her mom the chance to take her pension, and start a new job as a conservation officer at a small national park nearby called Polebridge.

The actual sheriff’s office was in Missoula, about two hours away from Hope County, making Veronica’s drive home take about an hour since she lived practically in between the two.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug one-handed through her purse for her phone. Once it was in hand she said “Hey Google, call Mom.” and a soft chirp came from the device, processing the demand before dialing. Three rings in- a cheery voice answered. “Hey sweetie!”

“Hey, mom, I just had a question?”

“Sure what’s up?”

She paused, rethinking her request for a moment. In that second, her nightmare from last night danced through her thoughts and her mind was made up. “Oh um, well I’m going out on a warrant tonight, and I was wondering if you could watch Olive for me? It’s probably nothing, I just had a weird feeling.”

“Of course! I’d love to see my grandkitty! I’m glad you know when to listen to your gut.”

“Well I learned from the best! I just got home now, can I pack her up and head over?”

“That’s fine! I’ll be here for a bit. Can I plan on you staying for dinner?”

“Uh… yeah that’ll work, I don’t have any plans. I’ll see you soon, love you!”

“Love you too!”

The line disconnected with a click as Veronica pulled into her driveway and stepped out of the car, fetching her keys from the caribinger she kept it on. As she approached the door, she heard insistent meowing on the other side. “I’m comin’…” She chuckled and pushed the door open to reveal Olive, who immediately rushed to hug her legs as she stepped over the threshold. “Hey monster, ready to see grandma?” She asked in a baby voice and grinned at her, reaching down to pick her up. As soon as she did- the cat clambered up to her shoulder and balanced precariously “Why are you like this?” She joked, removing her before making her way to the hallway closet and pulling out the cat carrier and a half-full bag of cat food.

Once she’d put a few more odds and ends into an overnight bag, she took out her decorative, pink bong and loaded a bowl. The water bubbled and pure white smoke filled the center chamber as she lit the greenery in the bowl. After coughing her lungs up for a few moments she set the glass piece on the table and stood up, “Okay, now we can go!” She declared and bundled Olive and all her things into the Miata.

In a quick 15 minutes- the two of them pulled up in front of her mom’s. It was a tidy ranch style home, painted robin’s egg blue with crisp white shutters. V knocked on the door, Olive’s carrier in one hand.

Her mom answered the door with a sweet smile on her features, immediately wrapping the deputy in a tight hug, “Hi Ronnie!” She exclaimed before pulling back. “Hi mom!” She responded and stepped through the door, setting Olive down. Sarah Rook looked like an older version of Veronica except her hair was a chestnut brown as opposed to V’s dirty blonde; they shared aquamarine eyes and a light spattering of freckles.

The younger woman pulled the zipped and freed the hyper cat, who immediately jumped from containment to survey her surroundings. “Someone’s impatient!” Her mom chuckled and watched the cat sprint off into the hallway. “She takes after me I guess.” Veronica smiled and inhaled deeply, “Is that steaks and mac and cheese I smell?”

“Well I thought I’d at least fatten you up before you leave tonight.” Her mom said and ushered her into the dining room. There was a round white table there that was joined by a tall china cabinet filled with memorabilia. The places had already been set, two red and white checkered table mats sat across from each other at the corresponding seats and the silverware was laid out neatly. “Sounds good to me, I’m starving!” Veronica took a seat and watched her mom buzzing about the kitchen as she put the finishing touches on their meals.

Once everything was done, the table was filled with food. A bowl of salad in the middle, with a basket of rolls to the side. Their plates were adorned with juicy t-bone steaks, mac and cheese, and potato salad. “I knew there was a reason I hadn’t put you in a nursing home…” V joked as she savored a bite of the rare steak, just how she liked it. Her mother scoffed, and took a sip of water, “As if you could.” They both shared a smile and then turned to see Olive padding into the room, her head in the air as she scented the air. “What a brat.” Veronica said as she jumped up on the table expectantly. “You did say she took after you!” Her mom retorted, picking up the naughty cat and setting her on the floor. “So, what’s this warrant you’re going on?”

“Mom, you know I’m not supposed to divulge any details...”

“Oh please, I used to be in the game, and still kind of am. I worked for Whitehorse long before you did, I don’t think I need to be counted as a citizen.” She said, rolling her eyes. Veronica looked uneasy as she considered it for a moment, then relented; “It’s some doomsday cult leader… Joseph Seed. Something about him really freaked me out.” She confessed, almost hanging her head. Being freaked out was not the norm for this deputy. “Why’s that?”

“I think it’s just his ability to brainwash all of these people… anyone who can do that has too much power. Also Earl is scared of him, which is weird. He’s usually so gungho about catching the bad guys, but he doesn’t even want to go on this warrant.”

“That’s certainly odd. I’ve never seen that man back down, there must be something seriously bad going on.” Her mom looked off, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “Hopefully this mission will just be in and out. That way I can get back to my baby!” She said the last part in a higher pitch, directing it at the cat, who was sitting in the window behind them. “I hope so too sweetie. People like him are the reason I’ve got a bunker.” Ronnie smirked, saying “Yeah you and everyone else in Hope County, it seems like.”

“It never hurts to be prepared!”

“I guess so.” She relented, standing and grabbing their dirty dishes.

After all the dishes were cleaned and hugs were shared, Veronica stretched and glanced at the clock which showed 10:45pm. “Man how’d it get so late so fast?” She mused and stroked Olive’s soft little head. “Hopefully a late dinner won’t give you any nightmares.” Her mother thought out loud and wrapped Veronica in another suffocating hug. “It was nice having dinner with you baby, I love you!” She smooched Ronnie on the cheek before pulling away and giving her a loving grin. “I had a good time, and the steaks were amazing. Thanks for having me over, I love you too!” She returned the kiss on the cheek and put her hand on the doorknob. As she stepped out her mother wished her luck on the warrant later, and then she was in her car once more.

20 minutes later, V was brushing her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror wearing a simple black night dress that fell to her thighs and was fringed with lace at the bottom. Long day… who knows when that asshole Burke is gonna call me.’ She thought, spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. As she flopped into bed, the black sheets felt cold without Olive’s presence, but she felt it was for the best. It was 11:11pm as she glanced at the clock. “Make a wish…” She murmured while her eyes shut, the feeling of a full stomach lulling her to sleep.

A blaring ringing tore through the dark silence in Veronica’s bedroom. It was her phone, blasing her generic android ringtone. Her eyes snapped open and she grasped for her phone, having to blink the bleariness away before seeing that it was Hudson calling her. She looked at the clock for the second time that night to see only two hours had passed, making it around 1am. She slid the green answer icon across the screen and answered, her voice thick with annoyance, “Hello?” Instead of Joey’s pleasant voice, she was met with Marshal Cameron Burke’s gruff one, “Rook, get your ass up and get dressed. We’re executing this warrant now.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah, time to arrest that asshole Joseph Seed.” Burke practically shouted, and then Veronica was met with a dial tone. She scoffed, pulling the phone from her ear to look at it and see only her lock screen, a photo of Olive in a taco costume. “Guess I’m getting ready.” She grumbled and turned on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. The light flooded every corner of the room, forcing V to squint as she flipped the covers off and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room that was covered with clothes and blankets. She snatched her green work button up before finding a tank top and some jeans. On top of her dresser, she eyed her jewelry box and plucked out a rose gold heart-shaped locket with a matching chain. It was engraved ‘To Veronica, Love nana’ Once she was dressed, she buckled her utility belt and hurried down the stairs to the front door.

Something forced her to stop and take a look at the open plan townhome. All was calm and nothing stirred in the living room, yet she felt eerie as she left. Almost like she was abandoning her castle. She shook her head, shaking the thought off and stepping through the door to lock it. As she was walking to the car she pulled out her wallet from her back pocket, it was a replica of the one used in Pulp Fiction that said ‘BAD MOTHERFUCKER’ on the side. She opened the zippered secret pocket, pulling out a faded scrap of paper. On it was written ‘Good luck on your first day! -Mom’. She’d slipped her that on her first day at the sheriff’s department. At the time, V had laughed and said “I’m not a kid!” But stowed it away nonetheless as a good luck charm. A sudden, bone-chilling breeze whipped across the land, forcing a shiver to wrack her body. Veronica stepped into her car, feeling like this was going to be a long night.

The deputy’s hands clenched the steering wheel- frustration written all over her features. She’d already been to the station only to get redirected to some field by Nancy, who was the only one not joining this adventure. Apparently the sheriff had asked her to come in and man the scanner, just in case things got out of hand and they needed to call reinforcements. Ronnie shook her head as she saw Hudson, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Burke standing in front of a matte black helicopter that had a badge on the side. Upon walking up to join them, Veronica called “Well this is fancy!” Staci stepped up next to the marshal, exclaiming “Yeah, the feds decided to help us out on this one!” He clapped Burke on the shoulder- earning him a heated glare. “Anyways… everyone pile in. Hudson, you’re flying us.” The grumpy man got to the point, motioning everyone into the copter.

In no time they were in the air, flying to Joseph’s Compound on an island in the middle of Hope County. Veronica looked at the screen of the gps in the front, searching for the time. She found that it was 2:37am, and asked “So what exactly is the benefit of going to get him so late?” Cameron replied- his voice dripping with unearned confidence “The benefit, Rook, is catching him by surprise.” As Ronnie was about to speak up, Pratt cut in with, “You don’t catch men like Joseph Seed off guard.”

At that moment Joey spoke up, “Crossing the Henbane now.” Everyone looked out of the wide windows, only to catch sight of a perfect rendition of Joseph Seed’s face captured forever in stone in way of a towering monolith. “Crazy motherfucker…” Burke murmured, his gaze held by the monument. “Jesus Christ.. we’re officially in peggie country.” Hudson shook her head before looking back to the skies. “You know, they call this Angel’s Peak. It’s a holy place for them.” Pratt said, sounding almost wistful.

“How much longer?” Cameron asked.

“Just long enough for you to change your mind so we can turn this bird around.” Whitehorse insisted. “You want me to ignore a federal warrant, sheriff?” Burke scoffed.

“No sir, I want you to understand the reality of this situation. Joseph Seed… he’s not a man to be fucked with. We’ve had a few run ins with him before and it hasn’t always gone our way. Sometimes.. sometimes it’s better to just leave well enough alone.”

Burke scoffed, lifting up the warrant. “Yeah, well we have laws for a reason; and Joseph Seed’s gonna learn that.” Instead of replying to that, the sheriff radioed Nancy to make sure she was still there, and told her that if she didn’t hear from them in 15 minutes to call backup. V looked down and saw a white church surrounded by other smaller buildings, she was mystified. The whole situation didn’t even seem real. ‘Maybe it’s just because it’s late and I haven’t gotten any good rest lately.’ She thought, trying to comfort herself. Somehow it didn’t help.

“So what’s with calling them ‘peggies’? I’ve never heard anyone at the station call them that.” Veronica asked, hoping to lighten the mood. “Project Eden’s Gate. P. E. G. It’s what the locals call them.” Earl explained. Somehow she knew he was trying to distract himself as well.

As they got closer, it was obvious there were people everywhere. “So much for taking him by surprise.” She muttered, shaking her head and thinking ‘I could be asleep right now.’ The helicopter jerked slightly as it landed on the ground, the blades whirling to a stop. All of them exited the bird, taking in their surroundings. Peggies surrounded them on all sides and the compound had as many as 12 buildings; dorms, a barn, and various other houses. The cult members regarded them suspiciously, casting daggers their ways and muttering insults. Ronnie looked to her left as they walked down the main path, there was a man wielding a flamethrower and keeping a pire of fire sufficiently lit. “They don’t fuck around…” V commented, her brow furrowed.

The group made their way into a fenced corridor topped with an arch that said ‘Church of Eden’s Gate’ with the cross adorning the center. As they walked, a creaking then metal clanging could be heard behind them, causing Veronica to whip around only to witness them closing the gate behind them. “Why are they closing the gate?” Joey asked, looking to her partners for answers but receiving nothing. They approached the door to the church and could hear a choir of members singing a hymn as Whitehorse motioned for them to hold up. “Going in there, we do this my way, quietly.” He said sternly, mainly for Burke’s benefit. Cameron smirked and put a hand on Earl’s shoulder, “Relax sheriff. You’re about to get your name in the papers.” Veronica couldn’t help but shake her head, something was wrong here.

As the white double doors swung inward, V took in the scene and was enthralled. Joseph was standing at the front of the church delivering a sermon, “Something is coming… you can feel it can’t you? We are creeping towards the edge, and there will be a reckoning. Because we know what happens next; they will come for us… to take from us. Take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them!” The church patrons were captured by his presence, hanging on every word.

The deputy, marshal, and sheriff made their way to the platform Joseph stood on. White candles surrounded him, casting a holy glow on his features. “We will not let their greed, their morality, or their depravity hurt us anymore!” The preacher’s voice grew as Marshal Burke reached him and held the paper warrant aloft. Whitehorse murmured “Goddammit…” and Cameron said forcefully “Joseph Seed, we have here a warrant for your arrest, under suspicion of kidnapping with intent to harm. I’m gonna need you to step down with your hands where I can see them, and come with us.” Veronica noticed three figures she hadn’t seen practically melting out of the shadows to stand behind The Father.

“Here they are, the locusts in our garden. They’ve come to take me from you, to destroy all we’ve built!” The peggies started to converge around Joseph, their voices joining together as they objected. He parted through them, his calm demeanor quieting their shouts. “We knew they would come. This is what we’ve prepared for. Go…” He sent them off and came to stand in front of the pews, raising his hands up. “I saw the lamb of the first seal and I heard the noise as if of thunder as one of four beasts sang ‘Come, see’-”

Cameron cut him off, “Step forward!” Joseph stepped closer- undertered from preaching, “And I saw and behold, it was a white horse... and Hell followed with him.” He finished while looking from Earl to Ronnie and finally holding out his hands, a worn brown rosary dangled from his wrist. “Rook, cuff this son of a bitch.” Burke growled.

V stepped forward, about to pull out her cuffs when the people behind him caught her eye once more. She recognised them to be his family. From right to left; there was a gruff looking man with scar tissue climbing up his side, next to him a beautiful young woman wearing no shoes and a lacey, floral dress. Veronica’s gaze lingered on her a moment before she took in the last figure- a tall man wearing an expensive looking duster. His piercing stare found hers and she felt as though he was seeing straight into her soul. Ice filled her veins and she froze in place, suddenly feeling like a gazelle who had just realised the lion was upon her but only when it was already too late. There was so much animosity in the man’s eyes, like he hated her for even thinking of taking his brother.

“Earth to Veronica.” Burke’s annoyed voice snapped her from the trance she was in, causing her to shiver before finally producing the cuffs. The metal clinked around Joseph’s small wrists, and right as she was about to secure the second ring, he turned his hand to grip her wrist tightly and V looked into his eyes. “God will not let you take me.” He said calmly without an ounce of doubt. “Good thing God doesn’t get to decide in the end.” She retorted before shaking off his hand and slapping the final cuff on with a resounding click.

As they walked out the church doors with Joseph in cuffs, armed peggies started to surround them. “Back up!” Hudson yelled, taking lead. Burke pushed a woman down when she got too close, and the crowd became more riled up, closing in as they walked to the helicopter. Soon, they started throwing rocks at the group and screaming, trying to defend their Father. The whole time Joseph stayed eerily silent, even as they were getting into the copter. Pratt fired off a few warning shots to the cultists that were trying to mob the vehicle, Veronica and Burke pushed a few of them from the copter as they gained height, yet the peggies continued trying to swarm them.

One of the cultists did something, because the helicopter went into a tailspin, and the engine sputtered. Joseph looked skyward and began singing Amazing Grace, his tone calm despite the chaos. They made impact with a tree, then another and everyone but Joseph was screaming, their lives flashing before their eyes. Upon impact, the whole world cut out and everything was black.

Veronica’s eyes opened, and the world spun in streamers of color. Nancy’s frantic voice could be heard over the ringing in her ears, she was yelling into the helicopter’s headphones. She looked around and saw Burke across from her, dangling by his seatbelt, Earl was next to him, doubled over; and Joey was to her right. She tried to take in a deep breath and sputtered on thick smoke that was no doubt coming from the engine. Before V could swing forward and grab the headset to alert Nancy, she was pushed lightly back into her seat by a battered Joseph Seed. He smiled at her softly, grabbing the headset on his own while maintaining eye contact. “I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me…” He murmured soothingly. “We’ll see about that…” Veronica persisted. He shook his head and spoke into the headset mic, “Dispatch? Everything is just fine here. Call no one.” Veronica scoffed, ‘Surely Nancy will know something is wrong-’ The thought began to cross her mind before she heard her last hope’s response: “Yes, Father. Praise be to you.” Her mouth dropped open in shock and horror, watching the man she came to apprehend smirk before whispering “No one is coming to save you.”

He climbed from the wreckage and met a handful of his flock, reassuring them in a hushed tone. V started to struggle against her seatbelt, which was stuck fast. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..” She muttered and beat at the clip. Her companions began to wake and she turned to see Joseph standing on the hood of a car, his hands raised as he delivered an impromptu sermon, “The first seal is broken… now we must take what we need, for this world will be no more. We must stop all those that stand in our way- including these harbingers of doom. Begin the reaping!” He screamed the last sentence into the night air, his followers cheering.

They swarmed the copter for the second time that night, Veronica, Joey, and the others squirmed trying to get free. Hudson freed herself finally, only to be savagely pulled from the wreckage kicking and screaming. “Joey!” Veronica yelled, reaching after her only to just miss her hand. More peggies ran over and were about to reach in, when a ring of flames surrounded them instead. “Fuck!” V exclaimed, pulling frantically at her seatbelt. Burke was able to free himself and dash out of the small opening in the wall of fire. Heat was searing her skin and desperation made her claw at the restraint harder and harder, finally the belt snapped and she tumbled forward to what used to be the roof of the vehicle. Ronnie caught herself just barely and found herself sprinting away into the foreboding woods.

Branches whipped at her face, scratching her cheeks and forcing her to hold her hands out in front of her. Not far behind, the men who hunted her yelled, “She’s escaping! Grab her!” Emotions overwhelmed her; panic, fear, anger, confusion. “Goddammit give me a break!” She huffed, breath ragged from sprinting. She spotted a soft light in the distance, a campfire. V ducked behind a thick tree trunk- whipping her head around in both directions wildly, adrenaline and fear coursing through her. The angry voices were distant enough for her to turn and survey the campsite.

There were two lawn chairs on either side of the fire, and a cabin beyond that. One of the cultists patrolled the perimeter, both hands on his handgun. She caught sight of a sizable branch in front of the fire, and knew what she had to do. Ronnie crept forward on the balls of her feet, trying to avoid any stray twigs as she made her way to the branch. Finally she was there, taking the worn wood in her hands and feeling the weight of it. ‘This should do..’ She thought with a grim look. The deputy continued forward, waiting for just the right moment to slip behind the guard. Veronica gripped the bat harder and was about to swing when the guard turned around, surprise on his features. She wasted no time slamming the branch down on his head with a crack as he turned his gun towards her. The first blow slowed him- and for good measure she delivered the finishing blow. Through the branch, she could feel his skull give and an initial spray of blood shot from the wound, flecking V’s face in red freckles. She gasped and looked down to see his body twitch twice more before stilling, his heart steadily pumping out his life force.

Veronica felt cold as she watched the light drain from his eyes, shock starting to take over. She’d never actually killed anyone before. The world faded back piece by piece as she grabbed the man’s gun, and more screams came from the woods. She had to keep moving. A small drop off into the woods was her escape, and she crouched in the ferns on the woodland floor. There was another fire in the distance, and her enemies were scouring the area for her and Burke.

Suddenly- her radio crackled, causing her to jump and grab it from her belt to muffle the speaker. “Hello? Hello.. it’s Burke… I think I lost them.. I see a trailer ahead across a bridge and I’m going to try to get inside. If anyone is still alive, if anyone is out there...” The signal was lost and it cut out. “Well I guess that’s where I’m going.” V sighed, and started slowly making her way through the woods. She passed the second fire, narrowly avoiding detection by two guards standing there. From there, she ascended a small hill that led to the bridge the marshal had mentioned. It creaked as she took to the wooden planks, practically crawling her way to the other end. When she got there, a white trailer with a green roof stoof in front of her. There were steps leading up to the back door which she pushed open cautiously, eyes darting side to side straining to catch any movement in the darkened abode.

As soon as she cleared the door Burke was to her left, hands out and ready to attack. Veronica grabbed his arms, stopping him in midair before he regonised her. “Oh my god, Rook… you’re alive!” He cried with relief. “Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. You left me to die back there!” She scoffed, glaring daggers at him. “I… It was just fight or flight, I was-” He struggled to defend himself.

“It doesn’t matter. Whitehorse told you this was a bad idea, this is your fault no matter what you have to say.” Ronnie cut him off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. When he had no retort she continued, “Now we have to find a way out of this shit show, and to rescue the others. Did you have a plan?” Burke sighed, walking further into the trailer, motioning for her to follow. The walls were wood panelled, and words were scratched into most of the walls; ‘The Father’, ‘Walk the path’, along with other mantras and bible verses. Pictures were also posted all over the spots that had no words. They all depicted the members of the Seed family in various poses and situations. One such picture was a framed portrait of all of them, Cameron grabbed this and stared into their eyes. He looked haunted.

“The plan is to put all of these fuckers in jail. No matter what it takes.” He gathered himself before tossing it on the table and going to point out of one of the front windows. “To get out of here, I was thinking I could try to hotwire that truck, unless the keys are in it. It’s probably only a couple hours back to Missoula, then we’re gonna come back here with the National fucking Guard, and take care of these lunatics.”

“Fine, let’s just get out of here before-” Veronica was cut off by a shot ringing out, and one of the windows behind her shattering into a spray of glass. “They’re in there!” Screamed a man, and more shots were fired at the trailer. “These guys just don’t give up!” She exclaimed, exasperated. Burke took shelter against one of the walls, pulling out his gun to fend off the attackers. V scanned the room and found a gun mounted on the wall, she grabbed it and cocked it before crouching under the shattered window, sitting up to aim outside. There were four peggies firing at them. She took aim at the first, shooting him square in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Burke took out one on the other side then turned to say “Cover me! I’m gonna go get that truck started!” Veronica nodded curtly before turning to shoot out the window twice more.

Even more cultists were arriving at the scene and taking up arms, it seemed almost hopeless. V fired shot after shot, taking out as many as she could until she finally heard the sweet roar of an engine, and Cameron shouted for her to join him in the truck. “Finally, fuck!” She gasped, dashing from the trailer and ripping open the door to the vehicle. “Let’s fucking go!” He yelled while she slammed the door and immediately leaned out of the window to shoot at the peggies behind them. Burke careened down the simple dirt road, Veronica shooting at their enemies as they approached a chain link fence and busted through the gate with no problem, then they were crossing a bridge to the main road.

Burke was gasping, close to panic, while V just felt numb. ‘Shock must be setting in, great.’ She thought distantly. “God, I had no idea Rook. I didn’t know how bad it was, how right Whitehorse was… I wish we’d never served that warrant.” He rambled, glancing between the deputy and the road. “It’s too late for wishes, Burke… they’ve got the road blocked!” She exclaimed at the sight before her; peggies had their trucks and sawhorses blocking off the next section of street. She lifted her gun once more, shooting at them while Cameron swerved wildly to avoid the obstacles. One of the cultists to their right set off a flare, letting the rest of them know where they were.

The pair crashed through another barricade, and Ronnie kept shooting at the people pursuing them that were in an identical looking truck. “We aren’t losing them marshal!” She shouted. “Alright, I guess we gotta try something else.” He huffed before taking the truck off road, almost going airborne as they crashed through a wooden fence. Blinding headlights were blazing behind them as more and more peggies joined the chase. Veronica happened to glance in the bed, and spotted some red sticks. “Oh fuck yeah.” She chuckled, reaching out of the window and grabbing a stick before producing her simple purple lighter that had miraculously stayed in her pocket. She lit the fuse on the dynamite, squinting her eyes as the cord came to life and the flame hissed. V chucked it at one of the trucks behind them, causing a loud boom and fire bloomed from the wreckage. “Shit! That’s pretty satisfying.” She commented, turning to Burke who still looked too scared to be impressed.

After lighting a couple more sticks and tossing them out, causing some major chaos, they found themselves about to go under an overpass. Right before they passed underneath, a sleek white plane flew out of the clouds and began shooting at them, hitting some green crates on the side of the road only for them to explode. Keying into this as they finally passed under the bridge, she fired quickly at the crates scattered around an upcoming roadblock, sending people flying in every direction. “A plane, are you kidding me?” Burke yelled and pounded a fist against the wheel.

A gargantuan bridge waited on the other side of the roadblock, there was a sign mounted near the top that read ‘Henbane River Bridge’. As they raced across, Cameron took a deep breath before saying “Home free, after this we are home free!” Veronica wasn’t so sure as more planes swooped overhead, and suddenly a high-pitched whistling could be heard getting closer and closer, before V yelled “Bomb!!” and orange flames whooshed across the bridge, enveloping their truck and sending them tumbling into the river below.

The vehicle was in a freefall with chunks of concrete, the river’s waters rushing up to meet them. Neither of them had time to say anything before they made impact. Veronica was incapacitated for a moment and when her eyes opened they were underwater, trapped once again. She saw Burke across from her pounding on the window, shattering it on his third try and swimming up to the top, leaving her to drown. Ronnie gathered together her last bits of energy, slamming her elbow into the passenger side window until it finally broke, and she maneuvered her way from the descending car. Her arms flailed as her lungs screamed, daring her to take a breath before breaching the surface, and then it went black.

Not too long later, her eyes snapped open and she grasped at the wet silt underneath her, she was on the shore. On the bridge there were countless flashlights casted down upon the water, looking for her. She heard Marshal Burke yelling off in the distance, and saw a group of peggies pulling him away as he shouted “I am a federal marshal! You can’t do this!” Veronica tried to get the will to get up and run, knowing she was next; but her muscles screamed with exhaustion and wouldn’t cooperate. She was able to lift herself to crawl maybe a foot before collapsing once more, staring up at the sky and trying to accept that this was the end.

A figure came into her field of vision and the barrel of a shotgun was dangerously close to her head, she didn’t even have the energy to protest as the person lifted her over their shoulder with a grunt, and began carrying her through the woods. Her vision faded in and out, allowing her to see them pass by a radio tower and then a cabin, only to walk down some metal stairs. Then she could fight no more; and everything went black.

#my writing #veronica rook #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #jacob seed #earl whitehorse #staci pratt #joey hudson #cameron burke #sharky boshaw #fc5 #far cry 5 #...and hell followed with him #ahfwh

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miss-m-winks · 4 years ago

Audio

warning for: long post, injuries, death, natural disasters

Lyrics: Oh Death, Woah Death

Image: a massive hurricane cloud at sunset with a crashing wave in the foreground transitioning to clouds above a wrecked and flooded village. There is a black dog in the midst of the wreckage.

Lyrics: won't you spare me over til another year

Image: a small child with green feathered wings laying injured and unconscious on a broken board floating on the flood waters.

Lyrics: Well what is this that I can't see, with icy hands taking hold of me

Image: the winged child with the black dog standing nearby. Above the child, reaching out to them, is a black and skeletal figure with a feathered cloak and a canine skull head. It also wears a spiral pendant as the clasp on its cloak.

Lyrics: Well I am Death, none can excel: I'll open the door to heaven or hell.

Image: now in a dark featureless void, the skeletal figure with the canine skull crouches over the winged child, holding a glowing orb between their hands. This orb has a soft trail connected to a much smaller glowing spot in the child's chest.

Lyrics: Woah Death, someone would pray, could you wait to call me another day.

Image: the spectral canine skull of Death surrounded by the feather cloak, pushing the glowing soul orb forcefully downward. The spiral pendant is glowing brightly. Below this, the winged child is awake on the broken board, where the flood has receded and the black dog beside them now has a golden collar. The child seems to have a glowing halo.

Lyrics: The children prayed, the preacher preached

The child, Morianten, bandaged and clothed in a simple grey tunic, leans on the black dog as he hesitantly looks towards a large and diverse family of mostly elves that is inviting him in.

Lyrics: time and mercy is out of your reach

Images: in the upper left, morianten as a small child, hunched over and facing away. In the middle, an older child morianten sitting in a defensive pose but glancing toward the viewer. At the bottom right corner, adult morianten stands confidently, smiling and facing forward. His feathered wings now have blue and black stripes on the inside while staying green on the back. His tail feathers are very long.

Lyrics: I'll fix your feet til you can’t walk

Image: Morianten dances in front of a brightly colored background.

Lyrics: I'll lock your jaw til you can't talk

Image: a close up of morianten and his wife evelyn, a gnomish woman with long black hair. They're looking at each other softly.

Lyrics: I'll close your eyes so you can’t see; this very hour come and go with me

Image: the skeletal canine-skull figure of Death reaches a hand out to morianten who reaches up to take it, his face an expression of wonder and also worry. Death's feather cloak is now sunset colored.

Lyrics: I'm Death, I come to take the soul, leave the body and leave it cold. To draw up the flesh off of the frame; dirt and worm both have a claim.

Image: Death as a spectral figure again, in a similar pose to the previous image where they held their hands out around Morianten's soul. Now morianten is between Death's hands, holding his own soul. Below him is a reflected version of himself in brightly glowing blue. At the very bottom of the image is a bird skull helmet with a feathered crest and colored decorative lines all over it.

Lyrics: Oh Death, Woah Death: won't you spare me over til another year

Image: morianten kneeling, wearing a bone white skirt and golden armor in the shape of a rib-cage with a spiral pendant at the collar. He is putting the bird skull helmet on, his face a mix of hesitation and determination.

Lyrics: my mother came to my bed, placed a cold towel upon my head. My head is warm, my feet are cold, Death is moving upon my soul.

Image: in the upper right, a starving family of goblins wrapped in frayed cloth, sits by a cracked wall. Below and to the left, a naga and two kobolds, one with a bandage around a stump tail, are huddled around the dying embers of a fire. At the bottom right is morianten, in his Death armor, hovering with several souls in his arms. He looks conflicted.

Lyrics: Oh Death, how you're treating me!

Image: a close up of morianten wearing his bird skull helmet and staring upwards. He is crying. The spiral pendant at his collar illuminates him with soft blue light.

Lyrics: You've closed my eyes so I can't see. Well, you're hurting my body, you make me cold. You run my life right outta my soul.

Image: a series of scenes depicting mass disasters. A lightning storm above a town in ruins after an earthquake, the ground and buildings all cracked apart. Huge waves and rapid currents flood another town, crashing into houses and trees. A forest fire destroys another group of buildings. In each scene, morianten is visible, coming slightly closer to the viewer each time.

Lyrics: Oh Death, please consider my age! Please don't take me at this stage.

Image: two armored orc women kneeling injured in a grand hall. One looks frightened, holding up the other who leans on a sword and glares upwards. The entire scene is colored in tones of gold.

Lyrics: my wealth is all at your command, if you will move your icy hand.

Image: in the same gold tones, an injured elven king crouched on the stairs before his broken throne, leaning one arm against the seat and flinging his other arm forward, shards of gold transforming into sharp flying weapons at his fingertips. He looks furious.

Lyrics: the old, the young, the rich or poor; all alike to me you know

Image: still in gold tones, a close up of an armored hand wielding a gleaming sword, and below that a close up of a hand casting liquid gold into sharp forms that seem to fly forward

Lyrics: no wealth, no land, no silver or gold; nothing satisfies me but your soul

Image: in the grand hall of golden tones, a silhouette of the orc woman with the sword running forward, her companion reaching out to her, and the elven king standing up to pull more gold from his throne as he throws the sharpened liquid gold towards the orcs. Below this, transitioning to a deep blue background, morianten in his armor holds two souls in his hands. His face is no longer visible in the dark empty eye sockets of the skull helmet

Lyrics: Oh Death, Woah Death, won't you spare me over til another year.

Image: morianten flies above trees at sunset, his gold armor and skull helmet catching the light. The line "won't you spare me over til another year" echoes in varying levels of opacity, overlapping all across the image.

Phew that was a long project. This song, particularly the lyrics in this version, is just perfect for summarizing my oc morianten’s story. I like how this conversation between Death and The Dying is typically sung by just one person

#lyric art #winks art #winks ocs #morianten #tw death #Tw injury #tw natural disaster #long post #accessible art #image description

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rainbows-fanfics · 6 years ago

Text

Two Dearest Friends (Chapter 3)

Summary:

Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town, meets Sally, a ragdoll created by Dr. Finklestein. A friendship blossoms between them as he introduces her to the world outside of her tower. Sally is falling for him as their relationship grows into something more, and Jack finds the same is happening to him.

A story where the Christmas incident never happens, and Jack and Sally find their happiness on their own.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally

Her plan is to visit the shop and find the things she promised for the Doctor. But when she sees the citizens rushing to gather into the Town Hall, she has second thoughts. If nearly everyone is going to attend the meeting, it's probably important. And important means Jack... A clown riding a unicycle suddenly bumps into Sally, turning to give her a menacing laugh as he passes by. She jumps at the sound -- so dark and malevolent - and finds herself looking at the other creatures who surround her. They are all diverse, ranging from vampires to ghosts and witches. They all have certain aspects to themselves that make them scary. One man is even modeled after Satan himself, with horns protruding from his forehead and a sharp goatee. Sally tries to distance herself before she eventually reaches the stairs. Safe to say, she is the last one in and nearly collapses trying to keep the door open. When she turns around, she notices that all of the benches are full, and people are starting to crowd around the seats. "Hello there, miss!" She finds a tall tree smiling down at her, his face consisting of whirls and his eyes black sockets. 5 skeletons are hanging from his branches with rope tied around their necks. Like the tree, they were all smiling down at her politely. She goes to reply but is overwhelmed by more people coming into the room. She takes a step towards the stranger as to not get pulled in and lose a limb again. The tree notices the issue right away. "Oh! You're probably looking for a seat, aren't you? Please, feel free to sit on one of my branches if you have to! I have two of them, you see..." "While I do appreciate the offer..." She hangs the basket in her hands low. "How will I reach it?" "We'll help you!" One of the skeletons offers. They all nod in unison at this suggestion. The skeleton who offered extends his hands to her and cups them down. "Here! Step on my hands and climb on!" She accepts the offer and does as she is told. She's hoisted upwards and has only a second to grab onto one of the stems. She sits herself comfortably on the bark and looks around. There was nothing obstructing her view and she very well may have had the best seat in the house. Looking down at the stranger, she says, "Thank you! I don't believe I caught your name?" "Folks just call me the hanging tree!" He replies. "And these here are my hanging men. I've heard of you myself....you're Finklestein's new creation. Sally, right?" "That's right. Have you heard of me?" "Oh, trust me! Word gets passed along fast. You stick out like a sore claw in these parts."

It makes her feel nervous that she stands out. Attention is not something she wants - nor does the Doctor, for that matter. Her thoughts are interrupted when the lights suddenly dim, grabbing the audience's attention as a spotlight illuminates the stage. All conversations cease as they hear footsteps. She feels slightly disappointed as a stumbling Mayor reveals himself from the curtains. He climbs up the steps and approaches the podium. It's clear that the light bothers him and he is looking around blindly, struggling to keep the papers in his hands together. "Horrible day, everyone!" He greets. "Thank you for attending today's meeting. I wanted to discuss with you all about this year's Halloween." She leans forward in fascination. Jack may not be here like she had hoped, but she can at least learn something new about this 'Halloween'. He likes it very much, and since it seems so important to everyone, the least she can do is learn what it is about. The Doctor has never told her anything about it before, so she might as well take this chance to listen and see if she can understand it. "As hopefully none of you know, progress is going very slow this year. We have had a run-in with officials for some of the ideas this year, and we are going to need changes if we can make an excellent Halloween happen! I called this meeting for any suggestions that are more appropriate than what we have gotten this year. If you have any ideas, please, feel free to shout them ou-" "Let's replace all the lampposts with snakes! That'll keep them on their paws!" "How about we smear blood all over the windows?" "-Fake blood?" "-Sure, whatever." "We could have everyone howl from the rooftops!" The Mayor is quickly writing all of these suggestions down as they're being yelled. Sally feels very much like the outlier - she doesn't understand what is being sad. Blood? Fake blood? What did those mean? Has she ever seen a snake before? She recalls learning about them but she can't remember a thing. As the ragdoll is furrowing her eyebrows trying to keep up, the Mayor brings everyone to a stop by slamming a small hammer on the podium. "-Settle down, settle down, everyone!" They all quiet down. "I appreciate everyone's enthusiasm and I will most certainly have these ideas under review, but we have to get to more important matters now! I've had several conversations undergoing our renovations for the town's library. If anyone has any concerns-" By this point Sally stops listening. Her head hurts thinking about all these things and trying to listen to every voice at once. This town meeting isn't at all as enjoyable as she thought it'd be. She thought Jack would be here, and instead of the Mayor's voice, she'd be listening to his. His soft, melodic voice echoing about the room...sending wonderful chills along her spine, putting her in a relaxing trance-- "Miss? Everyone's leaving now." When she looks up, she finds people are leaving their seats. The tree must have pulled her from her thoughts. She climbs off with the help of the skeletons and gives a polite nod to her new friend as soon as she is down. She corrects her posture and stiffens herself, a habit the Doctor has given her. "Thank you, again." "It's no problem." The tree smiles. "If you ever need a seat, just go ahead and hop on. I attend every meeting there is." He uproots himself from the ground and walks out of the Town Hall. She cringes as she sees the hanging men swing by their neck. That must cause a lot of pain! They don't seem to mind it as they wave goodbye to her. She's left to leave through the door and find her way back into the market, specifically the store Jack recommended to her. When she approaches the building, she finds a large sign placed in the window. "OUT FOR LUNCH". Was she...too late? Oh, how horrible! She's going to get a brash scolding when she gets home. She can't explain where she has been for the past hour without mentioning the meeting. She suddenly feels so foolish for going to that meeting in the first place. She trusted herself to go into town, but here she is getting too involved in Halloween. Maybe the Doctor is right...she shouldn't meddle with the town's affairs and just focus on what he wants from her. And right now, she needs to find those spices! Jack's words suddenly ring through her head. "...Between you and me, you can get the same stuff very easily for no cost in the graveyard..." So she may not get grounded after all...She sighs in relief and leaves the market, wandering around in search for this graveyard. She realizes, after a good half hour of walking ,that she has absolutely no idea where she's going. Perhaps she hasn't thought this as through as she thinks she did-- "Lookin' a little lost again, dollie." When she turns around, she finds James standing across from her. His band members are nowhere to be found and he isn't holding his usual saxophone at the moment. She steps forward politely and bows her head. He might know where it is, being in town longer than she has. And she really needs the help! "Do you know where the graveyard is, by any chance?" She asks. "Graveyard? Yea...keep walkin' this way n' you'll find it." He points behind him, and she mouths 'thank you' as she passes him. Her basket is empty now, but she needs it full before sundown. Otherwise she will be in deep, deep trouble. --- She only has to walk a minute or two until she finds a pair of gates open in front of her. She steps right through them and blinks. It is awfully foggy here. She sees a hundred-or-so tombstones in front of her and a large spiral hill with a pumpkin patch underneath it. Black gates encircle the graveyard with sharp tips. Everything is completely silent. She shivers at the cold that roams the fog. She walks through the graves slowly, listening to the unsettling noises as she passes by. The large pumpkin sun is burning brightly just past the spiral hill, but it does nothing to soothe the nerves creeping up her spine. She doesn't see the many thorns and bushes in between the graves. One of her seams catches onto one and trips the ragdoll. She falls harshly on the ground and hears one of her legs come off. The impact from the fall also causes one of her hands to fly off. When she sits up, she easily sees the two limbs beside her. She places the basket to the side to thread her usual needle. Stuff like this happens all the time; she was getting used to it. "Arf!" When she looks up, she sees an apparition staring back at her. It is a blanket that resembles the shape of a dog. Black, hollow eyes stare back at hers as the body levitates. The dog's sheets are constantly moving and she sees a spiral tall at the end of his body. On the tip of his muzzle is a miniature pumpkin nose that shines brightly within the fog. Sally drops the thread and needle in surprise. "A dog..?" The ghost comes forward cautiously. He uses his nose to sniff her dress and hair. She's very unsure of what to do. She hasn't encountered any animal like this before. The dog circles around before stopping in front of her. He opens his mouth to pant and that is when she notices his insides are completely transparent. "Woof! Woof!" Slowly, she outstretches her arm. Her hand comes into contact with the texture of a blanket. She's shocked. How could a ghost dog like this...exist? She's touching him! She runs her hand along his body and feels him lean into her touch. He nuzzles the side of her arm and ushers her to pet the rest of his body. A giggle escapes her mouth. "How adorable..." When he tilts his head upwards, she notices the collar around his neck. A golden, circular tag hangs down from it. There is a name engraved on the surface. She takes a hold of the tag and leans forward to read it closely. It reads: "ZERO". "Zero? Is that your name?" The dog puffs out his transparent chest in pride. She scratches behind his ear and refrains from cooing when he sticks his tongue out. This may be the cutest dog I have ever seen...She thinks to herself. That is, until he suddenly hovers away and takes her leg in his mouth. He wags his tail before flying off. A couple of leaves fall from the open hole as sheattempts to stop him. "H-Hey! Give it back!" The dog stops in alarm and slowly hovers back to her. Relieved, she goes to take it until Zero snatches it again. He motions forwards and backwards with his head, then opens his mouth and pants again. She finally understands the message. Or, at least she thinks she does. "Oh!" She picks up the leg. "You want to play fetch..?" "Arf!" Zero, clearly happy that this message got across, spins in a circle. She understands this. She once read a book telling her all about pets(while the Doctor repeatedly insists they have no use for any). In this game, all you have to do is throw something and the dog will get it. So that's what she does - making sure to secure the leaves before tossing her arm as far as she can. He goes after it and retrieves it for her. She throws it again and watches as Zero leaps for the leg. He comes back with it in his mouth and places it back down on the ground patiently. The two of them continue this until she decides to stop. She picks up her thread and needle and sews her leg back into its proper place. Zero whines before eying her curiously, hovering by her side as he watches. She props herself up with the help of a nearby tombstone and begins to search for the ingredients, looking at the tombstones she passes. Zero follows behind her. She stops in her tracks and jumps when the dog goes right through her. She shakes and mutters, "Witch hazel..." Zero barks to catch her attention. The dog nudges her side before leading her the other way. She follows and finds that he directs her to another set of gravestones. On these are several names of ingredients, including both Witch Hazel and Deadly Nightshade. The ghost wags his tail as he waits for her reaction. "Why, Zero! Thank you!" She starts gathering the spices in her basket. She stops collecting them once it's full and turns to face Zero. He tilts his head and gives a confused 'rrr?' She leans down and pats the top of his head. He wags his tail at the affection. She feels warm around this dog. He helped her find what she was looking for, and they even played a game together. Regardless how short a time it was, she's becoming a little attached to him. She runs a hand along his coat before heading back to the gates. He whines and floats backwards when they come to the exit. She turns to scratch the back of his sheet and catches the smile growing on his muzzle. "I have a funny feeling I'm going to be seeing you again, huh?" She asks. "Arf!" He agrees. "Are you my new friend?" "Woof!" "If I come back tomorrow, will you want to play?" "Arf! Arf! Arf!" Zero's tail wags vigorously. She places a hand in front of her lips and giggles, finally bidding the dog goodbye. His subtle whines echo down the alleyway but the ragdoll moves on. She has to return to the tower before it gets dark.

#two dearest friends #fanfiction #the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #sally #jack x sally #tnbc #jack and sally #disney

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bimboized · 6 years ago

Text

The Woman Formula

I walk into the room and set up a small wooden stool. Across from it I set up a small video camera on a tripod. I flip it on and then sit on the stool facing the lens of the camera. My 6'2 frame filling up the frame as I nervously rub a large hand over my shaved head. Blue eyes looking right into the lens as I settle down on the chair as uncomfortable as it is. Nervously putting my hands in my lap of my shorts as I begin. The room feels warm, even though I am only in a simple t-shirt, shorts and sandals I clear my throat. "This is the first trial run of the formula I call, the woman factor. It costs a pretty penny, but if it lives up to expectations it will be worth it. As far as I know, this formula has never been tested on humans. It was stole...acquired from my many black market connections. I've been told it is from a now defunct black ops program of the U.S. military's chemical warfare division. Which has of course been officially denied. " *tugs at collar, beads of sweat on forehead, showing my anxiety, I wipe the beads from my forehead with the back of my hand and continue... "My sources have told me, that this antigen. is all that remains of the program. The program's goal was to make a pathogen that could be delivered to the enemy combatants, in their water supply, that would effectively make them docile and easy to manage. This would be done through a radical formula that would target, the male genome and switch them to their female counter. Turning all hostility and anger to peace and compliance. The main combatant would be ISIS and equivalent terrorist radicals. However, upon leakage of this revolutionary weapon to the press by a disgruntled female scientist. Congress balked upon ethical means, and put an end to the program. All research was soon ordered destroyed. All but the one I hold in my hand. I've already broken down it's elements. So, if this test is a success. I will be able to continue the work. Do to the potential danger of this formula, I will be testing this on myself. In case of my death or incapacity, my notes have been forwarded to my colleagues, to ensure the survival of this program. The sole purpose of this video is to showcase the effects of the potion, I admit trepidation but fortune favors the bold." Resolved I look at the camera again as I pull out a small vial, a strange pink formula swirls around within. I dramatically uncork it and hold it up for the camera, before bringing it too my lips and swallowing it in quick gulps, my head lulled back. That finish I lick the remainder from around my lips and gaze at my watch, then back to the camera. "According to the research, the potions effects should start to be felt, once absorption is fed through the stomach lining into the blood. That can take anywhere to ten to..15...." *groans as I hold my stomach, lurching forward, recovering I look at the camera in small pants. "It seems my calculations were off. I am feeling a strange tingling throughout my body, and my stomach is lurching...it seems to be intensifying and..." I squirm on the chair, head drenched in sweat, my hands roaming over my body as I try to refocus. "The tingling is intensifying, increasing..it..is quite *gasps pleasurable. This is the result of the potion hitting the pleasure centers of the brain, to quell the stress of the transformation....I " hands slip down to my hard bulge in my shorts "I am quite aroused as you can see. It's hard to control myself. Another effect...of the formula...I suspect" On the camera, already the effects can be seen, my once shaved head is sprouting brown hair, filling out the previous thin spots. The follicles growing in, and lengthening rapidly, tugging at my scalp I gasp again as I feel the weight of the sudden hair growth, strands falling into my view, as it flows past my shoulders. I run my hands through it. Noticing for the first time how different my hands look. In front of my eyes I watch the skin ripple. The hair follicles falling away, fingernails lengthen from the tips of my fingers. My fingers cramping as they shrink, becoming smaller, dainty. First the left, then the right. I flex my hands in awe of their new size and softness. My voice coming out in awe. "As you can see. The changes are commencing rapidly. All ready my hair growth is excessive, growing out in minutes what would take months or years. My hands... " holds them up to the camera "Are now of feminine size and shape. I feel the changes moving into my arms now..." I hug myself as I feel and watch the changes wash up my arms, the large arms, thinning, the muscles twitching as they slim down, the bones shifting as my arms shrink, the changes flowing up and into my shoulders. Theirs a loud crack, as bones shift. It doesn't hurt. In fact with each change the pleasure grows. My mind whirling as it is assaulted with new pleasures. I barely notice as the arm hair flakes away. My shirt hanging loose on my narrow shoulders as I seem to shrink in on myself. The sounds of bone and cartilage popping and shifting fills the camera, as I close my eyes for a moment trying to strengthen myself I breath in shallow rapid breathes, as the air is forced from my lungs from the sudden narrowing of my ribcage. My eyes flash open. As on camera, first the left, then the right switch from their original blue to a brown shade. I grit my teeth, as facial hair falls away in waves, splattering over my loose t-shirt below. I hear and feel the cartilage in my nose and ears, pop and shrink. My eyes watering, as the eye sockets grow larger, teeth moving in my narrowing jaw. I try to speak but my tongue feels numb. I my eyelids flutter rapidly, trying to refocus, to gain control. The eyelashes lengthening, thick and long, framing my large eyes. My brow itches, as my eyebrows thin, arching, beautifully sculpted and female. Cheekbones raise on my face, my nose, small with a cute slight upturn to it. I manage to regain focus, looking into the camera "The changes are...indeed...intensifying. It's like" I cough, as I swallow rapidly, throat muscles narrowing, as my voice box changes. The pointy peak melting away from my neck...flattening.... "nothing I've ever felt before..it feels so...good.... " I almost purr at that. my voice high and feminine. Causing me to pause in my narration. I gulp as my mind whirls, two small bangs breaking my reverie. I feel my shoes fall away from me, revealing the small petite feet within, the changes flowing up my legs now, the calves spasming, as the flesh thins, leg hair falling away beneath the baggy pants, My calves cramp as they swell with muscle, defining, tracing up my thighs, which fill out, my feet hanging above the ground as my legs shorten by inches I squirm on the seat of the stool, feeling the flesh beneath swell, the excess weight from my height loss, moving to my hips and ass. I feel the ass cheeks lift beneath me. A gasp escaping my lips as my pelvis cracks and reforms, pressing out my narrow hips. I bite my lip then speak "The changes now are in there final stages...Genitalia of yet haven't changed... my hand openly rubbing my hard on as I bring it in view. Not wanting to stop the pleasure and telling myself it is just to show the results. But there's a growing need in me, welcoming the show, encouraging it, spurring me on it wants more. I stifle that want and speak again "So...ugh...far..mental capacities seem to be intact...but I find my self control slipping...I...feel. God I feel..." Moaning with wanton abandon. I slip off my shirt and pants in a rapid mania. Sitting naked on the stool now. My back arching as on camera, my small pink nipples darken. The flesh crinkling as they harden, the areolas widening, as thousand of nerve ends grow and expand. I forget my manhood, both hands flying to the chest as I tug on the hard thumb size nipples. The flesh beneath swelling, press outwards. The feelings are ecstatic and I don't want them to end but I manage to speak, my mind barely registering what I am saying through the bliss. "Final....changes are....fuck...commencing...mammaries are growing... finding it hard...hard to think now..brain rewiring from flow of estrogen...Oh god" My petite hands rubbing the cones of flesh, feeling them press into my palms, as the tissue with in fills out, as if two balloons are filling with air. I feel the weight of the flesh, the tightness of the skin, as they expand, the cones round and lush, the flesh overwhelming my petite hands. I feel the jiggle of them, how high they sit on my chest, not yet affected by years of gravity. As in moments I grow breasts that would take a girl, years to develop. The massive watermelon size orbs are electric in sensation as I mead and fondle the soft tissue. A sudden pressure in my groin draws my attention their, as I try to look past my shelf of delicious tit flesh. Panting now I continue to narrate as if on autopilot. "Full development of titties...err breast has finished. Final changes in my cock...err male genitalia is commencing. My mind is wandering. I find it so hard to like...focus. linguistic skills seem to be effected. Was this part of the results intended?" As if on a mind of their own my hands slide down to my throbbing member as I openly stroke it, its rock hard and red, the sensitivity building in it with each stroke. It begins to shrink rapidly in my hands, a slit forming just below my testes as they begin to deflate. Like air out of a tire. I stroke faster now...my thighs twitching, the hair around my genitals long gone, leaving behind smooth skin, finally with a howl of joy and pleasure I explode, thick ribbons of cum surging onto my flat stomach, my organs gurgling beneath as they shift, waist sucking inwards, a soft sexy curve at the front of my stomach leading down to my changing manhood. My mind blanks, ribbons of ecstasy flowing across my brain, chemicals spiking, short circuiting it, rewiring. The orgasm seems to go on and on, the cum, thinning and clearing, a new smell mixing in with the juices, as with a resounding slurp, my testes, one after another, slide up an into me through the large slit. I feel them move and shift, framing on each side, of my fully developed womb. Forming the ovaries of my new female body. My penis now a slippery numb, slips from my fingers, as it slides up to the top of the slit, a flesh hood covering over it as it forms the clit of my new female sex. My fingers don't hesitate. I slip them into me. My fingers coated in my former male cum and new female juices, I bring them to my lips, my full pouty lips as I taste myself for the first time. My eyes widening in shock as I pull my hand from my lips with a noticeable pop sound. My new body is bathed in sweat, which gleams in the harsh lights of the room. Finally, through half open glazed eyes I speak. "Final...body...changes....are like done...That part of the...exper... thingy...is great. But, my mind is not my own. I feel these needs. These wants. my titties...and body feel so senst...sensit.....good. I can't control myself...I can't fight..it..I need..I need. " *hands trace over my chest and body, my eyes taking on a wanton needful look, as the previous me, is there. But not in control. "I... need a man!" Jumping up I knock over the camcorder, it falls facing me on the ground, watching my naked form walk away, oblivious of my nakedness, a sexy sway to my hips. Stopping at the door I turn to the camera with a wink and then I disappear from view the sounds of my giggling fading into the distance out of frame......Fade to black...

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tammyhybrid21 · 6 years ago

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Eneida Martell

“I felt it. You know what I mean.”

She is in the crowd when the reveal happens. She is in the crowd of people there to watch the show, only for it to veer straight into what could have been something straight out of a nightmare. The sight of their two guests from the Land of the Living, the Rivera family, the shock of watching that foreigner get swung out and around.

The horrific tearing sound and breath-stealing moment where they just vanished. Even he looked stunned for a moment. Their pack still in his hands, but with no one hanging from it anymore. It’s a moment where the entire crowd is just silent. Everyone can only watch as the once beloved singer makes his declaration, almost mocking. Before he’s coming out.

They don’t take it. Everyone booing, shooing him off the stage, and when that feline comes back up.

She winces, watching that marigold flicker glow cover not one but two people who don’t deserve it. There’s absolute silence as people watch the events on the screen, watch and hold their breaths. Some faint mutters ripple through the crowd, quiet questions and whispers and when that boy disappears, the peak of sunlight, that final fatal flare...

They’re still there.

The two of them are still there.

Although that glow still lingers, lingers until it fades, pulling back and she can only let herself sag. Such relief floods her bones, and she feels the way her gaze softens, a smile spreading over her face as the Riveras pull their long estranged member into a hug. The one oddity is that stranger. Still unconscious and out of it, and despite still lingering.

She and everyone else watch as he slips away, eyes slipping shut in the security of his family.

When everyone else surges forwards, questions tumbling over and over into a sea of sound and voices she steps backwards and away. There’s already a headache building. They’re going to be doing a fair bit of overtime work to try and fix this mess.

Contacting those from alternative afterlives as well to sort it all out.

And...

She lets out a huff of breath, tilting her head back to watch the giant alebrije fly overhead.

There’s going to be a trial after all of this. That foreigner’s going to have to be involved, all of those in the Department who were involved in Héctor’s case will be involved, its going to be two headaches tied together. But as she turns around, and walks away to get herself ready, all she can feel is a distant curl of satisfaction in the knowledge that her haunch that food poisoning was wrong, was right.

She had been right.

“And can you explain why you suspected foul play Señora?”

Off to the side the foreigner has remained in the courtroom, after the fiasco from earlier they’re still brightly glowing, awkwardly not looking at anyone. She’s more than sure they’ll be called up again, to expand on that particular suspicion of theirs.

Once this whole mess is sorted. Deal with the murder part first.

“You’re all familiar with the Arrival Procedure aren’t you?” she asks, and there’s some muttering around them. She folds her hands into her lap. “Some of the routine questions that I asked to be sure he wasn’t lying on the paperwork had some rather, odd and confusing answers. Inconsistent with information that we have for other people who experienced similar deaths.”

“As in?”

“Food Poisoning is not a quick death, not typically.” she states the words plainly, simply. “It typically takes at least a day or more to set in. It didn’t match up with his claim of only a few hours.” she says, tilting her head, and in response there’s a small sound, the foreigner’s head snaps up and she meets her eyes with their hazel.

They speak, voice almost hushed. “You had a suspicion, things didn’t add up, like the songbook’s handwriting verses...” They catch themself, browridge pulling in as they simply stare.

“Sí, things didn’t add up. I worked in a hospital before my own death after all.” Shaking her head. She answers all the rest of the questions plainly and simply, merely stating the facts and explaining where they could find more information on what the whole department would understand about the situation.

What they know.

Of course, she’s more than aware, there are two others here familiar with Héctor’s case more than others. José who looks almost like he’s going to be sick clutching a packet of documents tight to his ribcage and Èric.

And in the end, when she’s dismissed, she makes her way straight to the department to deal with their other issue.

The other headache.

“DAD!” She watches along with the rest of the department as their newest resident foreigner flings themself across the hall. Straight into the arms of a face that they probably haven’t seen for years. Two figures shake, and wrap each other up. And there’s an ache in her ribcage as she listens to the desperate muttering and apologies.

The hushed soothings, the way that they rock. Comforting one another as best they can. Before the younger pulls back, rubbing one hand at a socket and sniffing. They turn to her, a watery smile and those eyes reflecting such a deep swirl of gratitude.

“Gracias!” they say bowing their head slightly. As if they’re Japanese and she rolls her eyes.

“I was simply doing my job!” she says, voice almost drawling and they laugh, shaking their head.

“Sí. But, I still have to thank you. All of you. Especially since I caused such a fiasco.” they look away, awkwardly shuffling before taking a deep breath and huffing it out. “I mean, what with getting myself cursed, causing that trial to be even more of a mess than it already would have been due to my own suspicions... and... dying.” they deflate, closing their eyes and ducking their head. A slight glow to their markings.

She hums, absently tapping her pen against the pad in her hands. Not quite committing to writing down her signature on the form to approve the full transfer of them quite yet. As much as their family is in another Afterlife and they probably belong there...

She turns her head just slightly, able to see the Riveras there, all of them waiting.

“Yeah... I guess... I...”

“Tamara...” there’s a pause. They flinch just slightly, turning to their dad with a wobble of the lip. “It’ll be alright. You can worry about that all later. It’s over now.” he says and they sniff again. She steps forwards and they take another shaky breath. He looks at her, looks at the Riveras and steps back. “You’re going to be alright...”

“Yeah.” they says. “We’ll be alright.” they say, straightening their spine and standing. “Gracias... Eneida...” they turn to her, something in their expression. “I...”

“You wish to stay here?”

“I... yes, but how-“

“I felt it.” she smiles, lowering her clipboard and their eyes widen just slightly, their dad inclines his head. Conceding to their choice. “You know what I mean.”

Found family, and besides that. She flips the page, looking at the visitation sheet, and nods her head. They did die here after all, and the one who holds their apparent memory. It’s only fitting. Their story’s so intertwined with the Riveras now.

“Oh! Oh! Come on, I have to introduce you!” they excitedly bounce, cleared from her and she watches out of the corner as they drag him over to the Riveras.

Things will sort themselves out.

She looks up, something distant in her gaze, a thought and a shake of her head.

“The world’s growing more and more connected...” she mumbles, as she signs on that line. Listening to them all in the background, as awkward as the situation remains. The choice has been made.

Notes: This... ended up kind of warping into something of a tribute. Since in 2011, dad died today... and well... Ehh or at least today was the funeral

I miss you dad... so here’s a slight bit of Self-Insert mixed in... and there are spoilers there... oop.

#THybrid Writes #Coco #OC Tober #OC Tober 2018 #fictober18 #Fictober 2018 #fanfiction

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canadian-buckbeaver · 7 years ago

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Edgeberry’s Second Chance - Chapter 23 - Battle Front

MTT has shown that he is more than willing to fight his ex-lover and sweet Berry. The question is not if Edge will spare him, but will he survive the encounter?

- I also went through and updated Chapter 22 -

If you like what I do, please leave me a kudos/like and a comment, or buy me a ko-fi!

Undeterred at the weapons, his fans cheered. Finally MTT was showing them new tricks. He wasn’t just up there on the stage, dancing and singing horribly, nor was he trying to tell his off-colour jokes. Here was the real entertainment. He was a Human Killer after all, what could two skeletons do to him?

“STAY BEHIND ME,” Edge ordered Berry. One of his swords came up to guard the little skeleton. “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE IS NOW CAPABLE OF. STAY BEHIND ME AND, AT THE FIRST CHANCE, RUN AND HIDE. I WILL FIND YOU LATER.”

“But Edge… I…”

Edge looked over at him. “I WON’T LOSE YOU AGAIN, BERRY…. NOT TO HIM.” There was a sincere light to his eyes. Gone was the madman and the wild Fell warrior, the one who would dust or kill anyone at the chance of raising his LV. Here was the monster that Berry had seen deep inside, the calm warrior, the one who only wanted to do what is right.

There was a sound of chainsaws and Edge had just enough time to raise and cross his swords in time to catch MTT’s blow. In his hands were two chainsaws, both smoothly purring, silver glinting in the spotlight. The chainsaws sang and whirled desperately against the red bones as Edge’s shaking arms tried to push him back.

* * * * *

“What’s wrong Papy~” MTT asked, “seems like you were a little distracted there. Perhaps a little dust in the old eye socket?” he taunted, pushing forward with the machines. Edge lost a little ground with the chainsaws, boots gauging the floor, gritting his teeth as he struggled to push the robot back. The crowd was cheering, like a horde of hounds desperate for blood. This was the best performance that MTT had put on in a long time.

“BERRY…” Edge whispered, his eye lights leaving the robot’s and risking a quick glance around. The little skeleton was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had taken Edge’s advice and had been able to hide. He hated asking the little skeleton to do that, yet Berry was obviously untrained in this kind of fighting. Berry would be more likely to survive if he hid himself away. Edge was trained in this act of war, he knew how to act and what to do.

He hoped so… worst comes to worst, he didn’t want Berry to see him die.

Things were bad. He could see that MTT’s LV and stats were higher than when they had last seen each other. They had always been high though not as high as his. But now… now those numbers even higher than Edge’s. He was a huge, deadly threat. And now the robot had his arms trapped by his chainsaws. If he even moved one of the swords he risked having the metal teeth cut into him and his armour. He briefly debated allowing it to happen, if only to give Berry time to escape, but he threw the idea away.

No. He was Edge, Captain of the Royal Guards, and beloved mate to Berry. His mate tattoo still glowed with fresh magic, his bones still warm from Berry’s heat.

He wouldn’t give up so easily.

He was Determined.

His hands and arms may be trapped, but when had that ever stopped him? He had been named captain for a reason. Taking a step forward, he angled his toes behind the robot’s. Fixing the angle of his bone attacks, he pressed himself forward. First MTT took a small, almost tiny, step back, and then another, stumbling over Edge’s feet and causing him to let off some of the pressure of his weapons. The crowd began to get excited. This wasn’t going to be such a one-sided match after all. Papyrus was fighting back.

With a great shove, Edge pushed MTT back, causing him to wobble backwards and release him. Now, with adequate distance between them, now he could show MTT exactly what he was holding back.

Taking a charging step forward Edge cut down on MTT on an angle, nicking one of his prized chainsaws. The blow, although looked useless and merely cosmetic in nature, gave the motor a small hiccup. Luckily the other monsters, as well as MTT, seemed to be unaware of this. They jeered and cheered, hands clapping and feet stamping. Exactly what go MTT riled up. As he and MTT began to dance with his chainsaws and blows, red sparks began to fly and sizzle around them. Metal teeth met bone, time and time again. Their feet moved effortlessly over the floor, crossing and coming close, retreating and teasing.

There was a slight change to their routine. Their blows echoed louder in the hall, and they became closer to their targets, only for MTT to move out of the way in the nick of time. He began to see it in MTT’s eyes. The robot was now showboating, gladly showing off what moves that they could pull off together and building the crowd’s excitement…

Or was it for a more sinister reason…?

Faster and faster they danced. Arms and legs were a blur of sweat and sparks. They were equal titans in this field. Neither one of them seemed willing to give up so easily, each of them had something that they were fighting for. Something that, to them, meant something.

MTT’s chainsaw, the one that Edge had damaged, was beginning to blow white smoke. There was a stutter in its engine, its speed uneven. MTT was looking at it puzzled, the previous blow still not computing with him. Edge flipped his sword in his hands, preparing to slice through the glass stomach that housed his borrowed soul.

“Edge!” A voice cried out from the crowd, drawing Edge’s attention away from the fight. Blue! His eyes fell to the audience, looking for him…

Realizing his mistake a second too late.

MTT kicked him in the chance, sending him off of his feet and onto his spine. As he grunted in pain his bones disappeared,

And a red and yellow stiletto boot came down on his armoured chest.

“Typical voice recording, darling. Hopefully you don’t mind me using it. Figured that you would at least like to hear his voice one last time before the end.” MTT smirked evilly at him, single chainsaw in his many hands now. The crowd was frantic in its cheering, screaming for the robot to kill him.

As MTT raised the chainsaw in triumph, Edge closed his eyes. He thought of Berry’s open arms and large smile, complete with the hearts in his eyes…

“BERRY…” he whispered as the chainsaw began to scream towards his soul.

There was a thunking sound, but no pain.

Edge’s eyes flew open and he saw the long, blue bone impaling the chainsaw into the stage, jamming the mechanisms. MTT had looked away from Edge and four more bones shot towards him. These bones cut through his elbows and knees, lacing through the metal like water, and skewering him to the wall behind them. It reminded Edge of those insects that were put on display for humans to look over…

But who…

“That was a dirty trick Mettaton. And Edge was going to beat you fair and square.” Berry’s voice came from beside Edge, his left eye still shimmering with magic. For a moment he resembled Cherry… “Luckily, he has me to even up the odds.”

The robot tried to pull himself from the wall but the bones stuck him fast, even damaging his HP when he tried to move. Instead, he settled to scowl at Berry. “So what is it that you intend to have me do? Write lines? Send me into the corner or in my bedroom for a time out? Spank me? Because I’ve been a very naughty boy, Berry. I could use some punishment.”

The double meanings were not lost on Berry. A small flush had come to his cheeks but he did not respond to them. “And have risk you entering the land of Swap again? I don’t think so. How did you enter to drop off that letter?” he demanded.

MTT only chuckled as a long, metallic tongue wiped at some loose oil. “It was simple really. I had long since figured out how and where Papyrus goes to visit you… it was only a matter of turning it on.”

Edge wanted to growl. Of course… he couldn’t blame Cherry for his mistake. He had felt eyes occasionally when he had booted up the teleporter before but had dismissed it as his own feelings of paranoia. But rule number one…

You can never be too careful in UnderFell.

Berry helped Edge stand, refusing to look at the robot. “Let’s go home.” he said, suddenly looking tired. “I… my brother…”

Would probably be worried sick about him now, especially if he realized that Edge himself was with him, Edge thought. Picking up Berry, he grabbed the blanket that he had used to wrap him in to come to UnderFell and began to carry him out.

“And what about me, I ask again?” MTT’s voice broke the little bubble between the two skeletons.

Edge turned to him, scrutinising him with his clear eye lights. It was a tempting thought to dismantle the ego-mantic but, at the same time.

“You’re not worth it. The EXP, the LV, none of it.” Berry said, looking to him. “There are other, more pressing and important things to worry about.”

The crowd was becoming restless again. Loud whispers to one another, and sinister chuckles could be heard. “BESIDES METTA, YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN AN ACT BECOMES OBSOLETE… THEY GET THE HOOK.” Edge said before walking out the door again. Walking quickly, he and Berry had exited the hotel and were well on their way to the teleporter. Edge didn’t dare look back or look at the faces of the audience.

“The hook?” Berry asked, looking up at him. “Is… is that a pun?”

Edge shook his head just as there was a loud, glitching scream from behind them. Walking faster he pressed Berry’s skull closer to his chest, not allowing him to look back, not even once. “It’s a torturous procedure that was once only used in traitors of war…” he said simply. “HE MAY HAVE BEEN SOLD OFF TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER, OR THEY MAY HAVE ALL RUSHED HIM. BUT I DON’T WANT TO FIND OUT.”

Berry looked slightly pale, his mouth posed for another question before Edge made it to the little house in UnderFell. So many memories… memories of him and Sans as baby bones, some foggy ones of their father, Gaster. Countless memories of watching TV or goofing off or cooking. Good and bad, young and old, the house had been with them every step of the way. And yet, when he looked to the little, sweet, blue skeleton in his arms, he knew that he had all that he needed.

Without looking back at his hometown, Edge strode through the machine, holding tight to Berry. As they walked through the glowing portal, Edge magically turned it off behind them, removing a single screw and tossing it into the universe behind him. That would be enough to prevent any further access.

Now no one could access the sweet world of UnderSwap… and he could no longer return to where he was now a traitor, to where his life was in ruins… he had murdered a famous celebrity, probably defied the orders of the king…

It seemed like a fair trade.

#edgeberry #papyton #us!sans #uf!papyrus #uf!mettaton #fighting #canon-ish mtt fight #underswap sans #underfell papyrus #Underfell mettaton #character death #torture #weapons

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thenextcelestialchapter · 3 years ago

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Sneak Peak at my original work~

I hope to have a more full first chapter ready before too long, but until then please enjoy this sneak peak of my original story...

“Eleonor and the Everskippers of the Beyondmore”

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

It was the proudest day of their lives... The day they’d both been working towards together since forever. Several enormous crowds surrounded them on all sides. Delegates from all the populations were present, even the Feline and the Canine tribes were enjoying one of their rare truces to attend the event together. Chameleons and other Reptilians were staring them up and down and all around, Owls and Falcons focused so intently on them with their superior sight. The Arachnids had all eight eyes on them, and the Serpentines were slithering up as close as they could to sense their royal presence better with flicks of their tongues while the various Apes climbed to the best spots, up high in the treetops of the Royal Red Willows that decorated the Capital Courtyard. It was admittedly a little nerve-wracking but the royal sisters were just as excited as the rest of them, and more than ready to deliver what they were all expecting already...

So the elder of the sisters stepped forward first. Golden haired Eleonor stood a neat foot over her younger sister, although she was only a couple years older. She was to inherit the role of the Kembra, the Ruler of the Earthly Realms, from her father, the previous holder of the title. In order to do that, she stood before him now, an imposing man who usually managed to dwarf his daughter not just with size but with presence alone... She stood face to face with him now, head held high, raising her hands to the sky and then letting them fall like thunder and lightning, she let out a long, loud, bellow of a ROOOOOAR--!! Right in his face. The one she had perfected from her Lioness Governess for years...

Her stoic, solemn father stood perfectly silent and still before her, except for the strands of his muddy red hair flying from the force of her breath and voice. He stared back at her, and then... He slowly cracked a miniscule smile, and nodded.

Eleonor grinned wide back at him, but maintained composure and simply gave him a bow instead of trying to reach for a hug like she wanted so badly to. Father wasn’t fond of that most of the time anyways, especially not at such an important and solemn time...

And besides that, her sister Laurelis had a much harder role to fill now, so she deserved to have everyone’s attention and focus on her. She was much shyer than Eleonor though, and it took her a moment to come up to address the crowd. She drank some ceremonial honeyed tea that was nearby for her to prepare herself, and then she took the stage, singing slow and purposeful, reciting the most important and basic of their laws, and vowing to do her part to protect and preserve them, all in the softest, sweetest voice that could ever be heard. It took much longer than her sister’s roar, and it lulled the crowds with both the mastery of her voice and the reassurance that she knew how to represent them all fairly. This was the duty of the Lureli, the Ruler of the Heavenly Realms and Decider of Laws, and Laurelis was ready to accept it too.

The former Lureli, younger sister to their father, stepped forward after Laurelis was done, and nodded solemnly in approval. As this was done, both she and her brother took off the respective bejeweled cloth-chokers that they wore as an indicator of their royal status, and proceeded to fasten it to the new young ruler’s throats. Kembra Eleonor was presented with a white silk cloth, upon which a red bloodstone, a celadon crystal and a shining seastone was laid, and connected with a string of black pearls. The opposite of such beauty, Laurelis had a black velvet cloth laid with gold stars and a silver moon, and white pearls to complete. Once they were secure, they both bowed to each other one last time as this was done, and then straightened out to address the crowd, who began to cheer, cry, howl, chatter and make all other manner of noises to show their appreciation for the new rulers.

Feeling too giddy to stop herself, Eleonor waved to the crowd cheerfully from behind Laurelis, putting a proud hand on her sister’s shoulder too. Laurelis smiled back at her, and then gazed back down peacefully at her peoples, prepared to serve them faithfully and fairly for years to come...

For now though, the hard work of the coronation was over, and it was time for the celebratory Feasting.

The closest and most important of the nobles followed the royal family to the Feasting Dock, a special sea-port turned exclusive cafe that served everyone that worked at and visited Fortress Meadow, the royal home and surrounding properties, and had been tirelessly preparing for this special feast for days, even weeks in advance. Meanwhile the rest of the common folk dispersed back into the city, where their own special festivals and parades awaited them in the streets.

Everyone had settled down to the feast, sampling rare delicacies from every corner of the world and melding their minds, sharing the all the news that had been happening outside of this rare and momentous occasion. Little did they know, the most important moment of their entire history was about to occur...

It started with a Serpentine noblewoman. She was flicking her tongue into a glass of dark red wine, half-listening to a neighboring country’s delegate when suddenly she let out a horrid half-choked hiss, the tip of her tail flying up into the air and suspending the poor woman upside down in mid-air. Her tail was held by some kind of violet-colored circlet of energy, like a ring or bracelet, but instead of being made of silver or gold it seemed to be created with pure rare magical force. Said energy was slowly but surely pulling the poor Serpentine into the air by the end of her tail, leaving her unable to do anything but drop her glass of wine in shock and grab at the air around her. A few of the other members of her table attempted to grab at her hand as it floated away, though most at first just stared in shock and confusion. A few even laughed, thinking it must be a special trick to entertain those at the coronation. However, the laughing very soon stopped when another person at the table suddenly found their foot being pulled up and out from under them, this time the Boar Chief’s young son, who squealed in shock and terror. Now that it was happening to a child, suddenly people realized it wasn’t just a funny trick after all...

Then another person had their foot ‘snatched’ by the violet energy, found themselves rising slowly but surely into the air just like the first... Panic started to finally set in, and the fellow event-goers finally began to try to help the others, grabbing onto their hands and clothes as they started to rise. But no matter how much weight was applied, no matter how many other people tried to pull them back down, nothing would stop the ascension once an unfortunately soul had begun to rise... And to the terror of everyone present, more and more people just continued to rise...

Some were forced to let go of their loved ones, worried they were too heavy and would only pull their arms out of their sockets. Others hung on desperately, determined to go wherever their family was going. Some who were being lifted in tandem clung to each other in the air, weeping and terrified but determined to at least to through whatever it was together...

As the newly appointed leaders, the Lureli and the Kembra knew it was up to them to do something... But in the name of all the gods what could they DO? Nothing like thing had ever, EVER happened in their entire history, there was no precedent or protocol, no one could explain it and it was all happening so fast, people could only react on the spot. They rushed all around looking for chairs and table-sheets, whatever they could find to try and help the people who were rising or falling, but it was only working out for those falling. The ascenders only continued to rise, either dropping the items or taking them and their potential saviors along for the ride...

In only a matter of minutes almost half the guests were floating away -- No, being pulled away into the air, and they finally began to see to where... A giant violet storming hole had just started opening up, far out in the sky, whirling soundlessly but with a terrifyingly obvious presence when one remembered the violet energy around everyone’s ankles, pulling them up towards it... When they realized where they were going, people started to flail and scream and beg for help even louder. That ominous bruise in the sky was suddenly just as if not more terrifying as the prospect of falling back down to their deaths...

Poor Eleonor and Laurelis were both at such a loss, unable to stop the horror unfolding. The only issue they’d ever been prepared for was Savagery, which could be sometimes but not always healed with the power of Song... Somehow Eleonor doubted singing at the horrible portal would stop it, with her recent reason to doubt that the Healing Song truly did anything against so-called Savagery... But since she couldn’t think of anything else to do, she prepared herself, taking in a deep breath into her chest and--

And it amounted to nothing, because she involuntarily released the breath into a scream as she felt a buzzing, like a bracelet made of angry bees, forming around her right ankle, and before she could look down to see what had caused it, she instead was looking UP as that caught foot was dragged out from under her by an unseen but irresistibly powerful force. Her foot was caught, SHE was caught, just like the others... Wherever it was taking them, it was now taking her too...

She suddenly felt not just her leg being pulled, but her hand and her arm -- Laurelis had grabbed onto her as soon as she began to ascend, with both hands but still struggling to hold on. Besides taking after the smaller, prey-like Fai-Ron, she was the one who was stuck behind a desk most of her days, so even her own weight was a struggle for her to bear. Eleonor quickly fastened her own powerful grip around her, but was soon weighted down not by her sister’s frail form, but the guilt that she was now dragging her up to whatever this horrible thing was...

As they rose just a bit higher, over the buildings, Eleonor felt like a stone as she was weighted with the full realization... It wasn’t just the people at her coronation... There were bodies being lifted into the sky all over the CITY, out in the countryside beyond that, for miles and miles further than that specks were rising... It was happening all over the WORLD...

A brave but desperate Bra-Din man rising alone nearby them tried a sickeningly sensible move in the heat of the moment -- He took out his large hunting dagger and amputated his own foot in one fell swoop, and despite the awful pain it must have caused him, he cried out in triumph, glad to at least die on his own terms... But before his wish could be realized, another ring simply reappeared, this time around his neck... His limp form didn’t resist the second ascension...

Eleonor had her own weapons, thankfully well-fastened despite her battle with gravity, but she decided to save them just in case she had to fight whatever was doing this, once she found out whatever was going on. That was her third priority, the second was to make sure as many of the other people being taken were saved as possible. And first... Was to ensure the safety of the Lureli... She couldn’t ensure that if Laurelis came into the mystery void with her, it was safer to leave her with father, who didn’t seem to be rising... It was better they only lost one new ruler, not both...

Laurelis was realizing it at the same time, and her eyes went wide. She shook her head, begging her on the spot, “No, no... Please just take me with you...”

Below them her father and their aunt were ordering as many soldiers as they still had on the ground to get a large tablecloth spread out under them, ready to use it like a makeshift trampoline to catch Laurelis. The sooner Eleonor dropped her the safer she’d be... But of course she couldn’t stand not to at least say some final words first...

“Laurie, please... I’m sorry... I don’t want to do this either... I don’t know why this is happening... All I know is there’s going to be Chaos after this... So this world is going to need someone to restore Order... They’re going to need their Lureli... I’ll do whatever I can to find out what happened and come back to you, but until then... I need you to stay here... I’m so sorry, Laurie... I love you...!”

Laurelis knew what was going to happen. She begged but she knew it was going to happen anyways, and there was nothing she could do to stop it... “NO, p-please! Eleo—NOOOOOOOOOO--!!”

Eleonor let her grip go limp just before her own forming tears could fall on her sister’s face, down into the stretched out cloth waiting perfectly under her. Her father and the other strong guards caught her light form effortlessly, and despite the long fall she was left completely unharmed... Relatively unharmed, anyways, except for the nightmares that would chase her long after...

As soon as she overcame the shock and vertigo of the fall and the landing, Laurelis stared up at the sky, up at her sister, who was looking down at her and their father and aunt for seemingly the last time... She could do nothing but wave down to them one last time, as both an apology and a farewell... Her waving her hand to them was the last of her they’d see, for as soon as her foot touched the crackling violet energy, the slow and steady ascension suddenly sucked her body in with incredible force, and she was gone in an instant... Several hundred more people were slowly but surely sucked into the amaranthine abyss, and then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, it just as suddenly vanished without a trace, along with everybody it had taken...

It was no small number that it had taken... Half of everyone that had been present at the event, half of all the men, women and children of various species were gone... And presumably that was the case everywhere else too...

The resulting day went down in their history as the Missing Rain.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

#writing #fiction #will post a more complete first chapter hopefully in a week or few~

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cj-rogers · 7 years ago

Text

locked,

You lied.

I lied. And you're both surprised.

Where were you?

[ A shutting of Charlie Jo's bloodshot and tired eyes as some salty tears peak at the brim of her eyelids with a rattle of her breath. Her parents stared down at her in her birthday clothes from the night before as she sat in the dining room chair.

It's a moment. Only a moment before Steve Rogers slams his fist down on the table in front of his daughter which jerks those eyes back open, out of fear.]

Ou-out?

[ And yes, the girl had indeed started a silent fit of crying. And she was trying her hardest to shake the aching looming over her head as her hangover throbbed throughout her whole body. And even as she tried to calm her short breaths, she wiped the warm tears as her eyes burned.]

Out where?

Just... out? We went out...

We?

Me and Beau.

Beau?

Oh, I'm calling Lucy, right now.

Don't--

I should have known this would happen.

When do the lies stop, Charlie?

[ And yes, Sage has left the room her hands flying in the air with her pregnant waddle.]

It was only supposed to be for a while, and then I'd sneak back in! [ and a sniffle but those tears just keep coming.] but-- I guess I realized I needed to find a new place to stay since it was late.

And where was that?

[ And Charlie would have said something along the lines of 'I don't remember I was trashed' had her mind spoken for her as it always does, but she offered a shrug instead.] I... woke up at Winnie's.

[ And a scoff from Steve Rogers because, Charlie Jo.... why do you insiST?]

The Warner's house? Why?

I--I don't remember!

You don't remember?! Where were you all night Charlie Jo?!

If I could tell you I would. I just don't remember half of it.

So you were drinking?

[ A huff, an exhausted huff-- as her voice goes quiet.] Yeah. Yeah. I was. I'm sorry. [And her face is scrunching up because she actually means it. It’s an apology for her Dad and herself.]

That's it, Charlie.

That's 'it'? What's 'it'?

I’ve had it.

[ And the furry in Steve Roger's eyes shook Charlie to the core more than ever in her life... And end flash forward picking back up in 3...2...1--]

Your eyes didn't deceive you, no. And who else did you think you were buying all those shots for?

[ And Charlie's stopped walking. Or sway walking. Stumbling. How was she even using her legs??????]

Fine, you got me.

What is it that you want?

[ And the Stage baby has swayed against a car. A car with a loud alarm. Is that stopping her from leaning even more. No? But it is hurting those ears of hers...]

To talk.

Hard pass.

[ And it was a wince from her and a pushing herself off this loud ass car and it's alarm and a stumble towards the right direction because listen, Toff. I gotta get home and 'M really not down for talking ever again so.]

Charlie.

[ Pulling that arm--Pulling that ex-girlfriend's arm was a terrible habit for a Boomer to break despite the fact that Charlie's growling at her because come the fuck on Tiff, REALLY? And Charlie Jo is quite literally ready to rip her own arm off and stumble to the ground just to get out of that witch's snare. Which would have happened. Had, Tiff allowed that to happen. Instead, her grip was rather tight...]

Hey. How about you don't touch me?

[ And bingo the warning is successful, as Cj's face pressed almost too close to Tiffany's. And her arms shot up in the air in order to balance herself because Tiff was the only thing holding her up apparently.

But nevertheless, Charlie had done the smart thing and again attempted to walk away.

She kept walking but the voice of Tiffany Boomer was still ringing in her ears and in the air as she offered explanations. And it's like they had never even broken up.

And Charlie was rolling her eyes trying not to listen. But listening. And kept rolling her eyes but listening. And she was walking-- more like swaying and still listening. And she kept offering a sarcastic 'Okay.. so??' after a head shake here and there as well as a sour chuckle but lISTENING.

Because apparently, get this, Tiffany Boomer had no idea of Monty sending Charlie Jo to jail. Nope. Not a clue. And she hadn't found out until Charlie had gotten back into town when Monty bragged about it to the band. And the moment Tiffany found out about it she punched Monty in the face apparently. And she broke up with him apparently and trashed his drum set aPPARENTly and Charlie was trying really hard not to listen. She was trying really hard to keep her head in front of her and she was trying really hard to dodge that girl yelling at her.

Though she kept chuckling because surely she was about to go insane for believing any of this.]

Could you shut up already? I'm trying to find my way home.

[ And Charlie had stopped in her tracks, because where the fuck was she actually?]

I could always walk you back to my car, and drive you back.

[ It's a pause because Charlie was reconsidering going back home altogether... now with that offer. And a look in her ex-girlfriend's face is what sealed the deal. Because she genuinely could feel Tiffany's apology in front of her.

So. Here we go.

"Yeah. Alright. Sure."

Charlie stumbled into the direction of the Boomer.

So it was a soft smile that persuaded Charlie to accept such a thing. The same smile she still found adorable and annoying and if she didn't stop soon, Cj wasn't sure if what would be the outcome... But it wouldn't be good. That was for sure. Either way, the feelings it rounded up were strong and torturous and clouding all other judgments.

This could be seen by onlookers as Tiffany was allowed to snuggle close to a completely phased out Charlie Jo. Snuggly and adorable and far too close for this high and drunk as fuck Charlie Jo. And it was Tiff's job apparently to help Charlie Jo walk because Charlie was having trouble and even more trouble doing so as the street light posts passed.

And they were walking in the complete opposite direction that Charlie was headed….

And even if her intentions were to just talk, Charlie still wouldn't listen to a god damn word she said. Right? She tried not to. She tried to stay in her head and way out the outcomes of going home with Tiffany. And all signs were pointing to bad fucking idea Charlie Jo.

Even if it was straight flattery, and "Happy Birthday, Babe" and junk after junk about how much Charlie Jo was missed in the last couple of months that was coming from Toff's mouth.]

Yeah, well you're still second best.

[ And Charlie still hadn't even known where that one came from. She still couldn't even figure out how she was still in control of her movements, but that was a sure sign that she was losing pretty much all inhibition. Right?

And the look on Tiff's face was one of shock because did she think they were getting somewhere? Mending things? Rotten thoughts, babe.]

Charlie. [ A giggle after recovering from that blow.] Shut up. [ And her cheeks were flushed in a smile a disppointed smile because why would you say that, Charlie Jo?] You told me you loved me.

Oh, you shut up. [ A wrinkled nose, from this drunken mess.] I lied to you straight to your face. Like five times, even, remember?

[ And at this point they were passing the coffee shop. And Charlie was wondering just how fucking far she had walked and where the fuck was she walking because the coffee shop and the club weren't on the same block, right? All the while, Tiffany's dealing with the words that Charlie had just uttered.

So Cj's eyes had scanned the inside, and it seemed empty. And seemed safe as if there weren't a Hanna Bellum to chastise her inside because what a tough hankering to fight off--- the smell of nice warm coffee.

Within seconds she was instinctively heading in. Or trying to because Tiffany Boomer had other plans, right?? She was still shaken by the last statement that came from Charlie's mouth. So Tiff's feet were still moving and Charlie's were moving in the other direction.]

Come on, Tiff. I need some fucking coffee, I'm about to fall asleep and I wanna drive home.

You're not driving my car.

Yeah, the fuck I am. I'm driving and we're going back to my place. Got it?

Charlie... [And Tiff's pulled her arm once more.] Listen, babe, you're not driving us. You're way too trashed. And I'm not taking you home like this. You're being so...

I'm driving us. Trashed or not, asshole. And if we crash into a building so what? Maybe your head will hit the windshield. Maybe you'll forget to wear a seatbelt. Maybe the car will catch fire. And the flames burn that pretty face, right?

[ And how was she able to escape Tiffany's grasp?

It was a fight. A tugging and a pulling. Charlie-trying to pull her arm out of her socket and Tiff trying to keep it to herself. As her tears began to stream down her face, because ‘Charlie, Stop. Charlie, what is going on with you? Charlie, you’re hurting me. ‘

And Charlie was shouting 'Let go' and Tiff was pleading and crying because Charlie Jo was terrifying her because of her shouting, because of her insistent need to grab for Tiff's keys, her violent fighting back, and her words. It was nothing she had seen before.

Until finally, Charlie had pushed Tiffany off of the sidewalk. And thank Christ there was no oncoming traffic because the girl landed directly on the ground. Her eyes wide in terror, and out of breath from her crying and hitting the cold hard ground.

The fight was over with a final huff from Tiffany. And it sounded a little broken as her hands covered her face after meeting the brown eyes of the girl's behind Charlie. She began to sob-- it was something Charlie hadn't seen. She seemed... broken.]

Charlie Jo...?

[ And Charlie spun around to meet the girl's voice, and she stumbled once more as she felt a little queasy in the stomach. Because Winnie was showing some eyes of concern for Tiffany, as well as some of fear of Charlie Jo.]

Charlie, please, come inside.

[ And Charlie felt like puking in that instant because Tiff was crying on the road still, and Winnie Warner was ushering her in.]

#locked #3 #that is all until tomorrow im gonna pass out bye

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ashlynniis-bracketeers · 7 years ago

Photo

Cuphead ToG phase three

"Congratulations: You've wasted my time!" Phase three of Cuphead ToG (Brett Beaker)! When you deal with his second phase, he is stuck on a platform with rising radioactive waste, and get's angry/goes crazy, part of his head bursts (loses an eye) from pressure, jabs himself in the head and locks his tail in a socket while the nuclear waste rises, resulting in him getting shocked, the waste becoming electrified, and becoming a giant radioactive monster with three sets of wings (his feet aren't visible), no eyes, a scorpion frayed-wire tail, and the level goes from vertical autoscrolling to a more Grimm Matchstick-like moving platform boss. He can flip the direction the waste flows (from having to jump back to having to jump forward and vice-versa), the platforms can be normal, or green electrified that you need to jump over or pink electrified that need to be parried before being stood on, he an strike down platforms with his tail, send out bolts of green or pink electricity with his tail, spit out parriable pink cherubs that cry green while flying across the screen, fire a parriable pink laser (a-la Brineybeard stage three) from his mouth and green lasers from his (lack of) eyes, and his beaker spurting out green liquid can summon green waves with pink foam/crests that need to be parried over (or Smoke Bomb dashed through) to avoid. I hope you like it!

#cuphead #tear of grace #youtuber

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trbl-will-find-me · 7 years ago

Text

Every Exit, An Entrance (Part 3/?)

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

She gauges life by language.

When they met, it was stiff. Formal. He was Lieutenant Commander, and she was Doctor. That particular stage hadn’t lasted long, falling away in light of dinners, good natured ribbing, and a few too many jokes that should have earned them both sharp rebukes.By the time they were traveling, wining and dining in pursuit of funds, it had changed again, a strange mix of private first names and public titles. They’d adapted well enough, the code switch reading as performative to none but the sharpest observer.

He has been Central since the invasion, but the single name has come to hold two weights.

Language doesn’t lie, but it’s not much use in sorting substance from specter.

The op goes well. Molchetti mind controls the first Berserker they come across, and uses the creature to ram through the remaining complement, leaving the rest of Strike One to pick off the stragglers. The Ethereal lies crumpled on the ground by the time Martin puts a shell through its head. There are a few bruises, and Shen’s team will be busy with armor repair for the next several days, but its as close to a flawless op as they’ve run in months.

So, there is absolutely no reason she should have woken up with a pit in her stomach, a sense of doom just around the corner. Yes, there is the matter of the Council and the research, but she hasn’t been removed from her post yet, so she ostensibly still has time.

She rolls over and buries her head in the pillow. Logically, she knows it is months of stress, anxiety like nothing she’d ever felt before, slowly surely being processed. In the heat of the invasion, she hadn’t had the luxury to digest what was happening around here; this is the natural consequence of that.

But something nags at her just out of reach, a fact she can’t quite recall, a word she knows but can’t form.

Groaning, she sits up, and swings her feet onto the floor. If she’s not going to sleep, she’s not going to waste the time in bed.

There aren’t many places left in the base that feel truly safe. She walks the halls and remembers the wreckage, the chaos, the terror of a few short weeks ago. Her side aches, a reminder that there is healing, both physical and mental, left to be done.

She’s still not entirely certain how the Council was convinced to include an aquatics facility in the base. They’re not technically qualified to engage in anything other than land-based operations, and while she’s well aware of the benefits of swimming as exercise, she can’t help but see it as an extravagance.

Not that she’s complaining, of course.

She’s never been particularly fond of the water, not beyond hot showers at least. She hates the beach and the allure of a pool never quite took hold.

Still, she can’t deny they’re a good place to think.

She blames Central. Somehow, in crisscrossing the world, making nice and begging for funds, he’d convinced her that pools were the appropriate place if you needed a plan.

She’d teased him about it once; of course the Naval intelligence officer preferred water to sensible dry land when he needed to think; he’d been quick to correct her of course. Less Navy, more Kansas plains --- though those two are more closely related than you’d think.

Whatever the cause, she’d spent more time dangling her feet in from the edge in two-and-a-half years than she had in all the rest of her life combined --- almost always with legal pad in lap and pen in hand. She doesn’t see a reason to change that now.

The halls are quiet; with the die down in hostilities, they can run a smaller third shift. It’s less breakneck, less harried. People are taking advantage of the opportunity to catch up on nine months of lost sleep.

Which is what she would like to be doing, but that’s beside the point.

Pushing open the door, she sees she’s not the only one falling into old habits.

“Commander?” Central asks from the far side of the pool. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I know,” she says, prying her boots off. “I’m not the one in swim trunks, Central.”

“Don’t you have first shift tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she offers, enjoying the warmth of the water against her bare legs. “But if I can do twenty hours of consciousness on four hours of sleep, I can do twelve on five.”

“And, yet, you’re here, not cooped up with your laptop. This after … what was it? ‘How your landing go? Pretty good it doesn’t seem.’”

“Of all the things that have come out of my mouth in the panic of battle, that’s what you’re commenting on.”

“For now,” he says, pushing off towards her.

She shakes her head. “It was appropriate.”

“Just do me a favor and stop the men before they start calling the SHIV ‘metal husband.’”

She chuckles, watching as he cuts through the water. “I’m more worried about their affinity for taping things to the little guys.”

He comes to rest a few inches from her, leaning his forearms up on the concrete of the deck. She’s briefly relieved to see amusement, as opposed to distrust, in his eyes, but can’t imagine why she’d expected the latter. “They got into the butter knives again?”

“Better. Sectoid heads.”

He rolls his eyes. “I hope you made them disinfect the SHIV.”

“And apologize to Vahlen.”

“That was cruel,” he grins.

“I have to get my fun somewhere.”

He looks up, considering her for a moment. “Why are you really here?”

She sighs, and leans forward, resting her chin on her hands. “The more I think about it, the worse it gets. Plasma weaponry is bad. Interrogation techniques are worse. An elerium bomb,” she shakes her head. “But it’s the things we didn’t develop that scare me most.”

“Meld.”

She nods. “You saw the gene mods EXALT was pushing. They couldn’t have done it without Meld. If they could disable the canisters, so could the council nations. The mods are bad enough, but handing them Shen’s outline on the feasibility of MECs? Humanity doesn’t have a great track record with ensuring their human experimentation is ethical. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much trouble we’re in.”

“And that’s not even factoring in psionics.”

She nods again, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “Things were supposed to get easier now, not harder. There’s no way I can let that data out. I’ll purge it myself, if it comes to that.”

“They’ll court-martial you.”

“I know,” she sighs, meeting his gaze. “But I can’t let anyone outside of XCOM get their hands on this.”

And, suddenly, she does know. If the worse comes to pass, if she’s removed from her post, she’ll purge the data and face the court martial. You tasked me with defending humanity. That’s what I did.

For a moment, she considers saying fuck it, and jumping into the water alongside him, fully clothed. She’d done it once before, in the Airbnb they’d stayed in outside of Rome. It had been hot, it had been been late, and the negotiations with Italy had just fallen through. Jumping into the pool solved at least one of those problems, and doing so fully clothed seemed the least likely to create any awkward situations.

It had the added benefit of her counterpart’s reaction, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Most people wear a swimsuit, you know that, right?

She could do it again. She’d probably feel better.

But this isn’t some little Italian villa, it is a military base. They are not alone, and with their luck, aliens would come crashing through the base again the second she hit the water. She is still the Commander, and he is still the Central Officer, and they do not need rumors floating around.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a warm hand on her knee. “We’ll figure it out. It won’t come to that.”

She’s reviewing blueprints for the Proving Grounds with Shen when the ruckus breaks out.

“…I know alcohol fucks with your judgment, but I thought you had pickled yourself well enough to be immune to that particular effect.”

Sally.

She drifts out toward the ladder, debating whether or not to intervene.

“S’ a reasonable concern.”

Central.

She should not intervene. She should not eavesdrop. She should go back and---

“Reasonable? Reasonable? Since when do you --- you’re telling me that you think it is reasonable to think that the Commander, who was violently kidnapped and tortured at the hands of the aliens, who was shoved in a suit and thrown in a tank, who got the tech that got us flying, for fuck’s sake might have willingly collaborated?”

She screws her eyes shut. She’s not surprised to hear the accusation, but the expectation does little to take the sting away.

“Torture---“

“Willingly collaborated. Willingly. I can’t believe you. Have you talked to her?”

Lily is at her shoulder. “No one thinks that, Commander,” she says, quietly.

Upstairs, Central is silent.

“No, because you’re too busy down here, drinking yourself to death as usual. Look, I know you don’t trust me much these days, but do you really think Shen would stand to be working for someone she thought might have collaborated? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she still doesn’t trust Tygan. She’s fine with the Commander, though. Or, hell, you trust Kelly still, don’t you? Don’t you think she might have noticed that something wasn’t right?”

The Commander’s throat tightens.

“Do you think Volk would have helped you if he thought there was a chance of collaboration? And if you’re concerned ahout collaborators, might I remind you that Tygan worked for ADVENT –willingly worked for the aliens– and you still trust him. And over Lily’s strong objections!”

He tries to say something and is cut off by a torrent of French, mostly profane. There is the clunk of boots on metal, boot on rungs, boots on ---

Sally gapes at the two women as her boots hit the ground, the color abruptly draining from her cheeks. “You … heard?”

The Commander nods. “You’re both … pretty loud people. The ship is metal. Things carry.”

The cooler floods back into the younger Royston’s cheeks, and she runs a hand back through her hair, suddenly fascinated with the scuff marks on her boots. “I … Sorry. He … he doesn’t …”

“He’s a shitty drunk,” Lily offers.

“Vodka leaves him talking out of his ass,” Sally adds. “Everyone knows it.”

“And, he doesn’t do well with surprises.”

“Or, the aliens.”

She offers them both a small smile. “I appreciate it, you two, but we all know, on some level,” she sighs. “He means it.” She manages a shrug that she hopes doesn’t look nearly as defeated as she feels. “If he’s got doubts, then this doesn’t work. Divided we fall, and all that.”

“The crew’s behind you, Commander,” Lily says.

Sally’s quick to nod. “She’s right. He’ll pull his head out of his ass. He just has to sober up.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not gonna get better until it’s all out on the table.”

The younger Royston goes to say something, than stops herself. “You’re really gonna go up there?”

The Commander nods, then turns her attention to Lily. “Shen, plans look good. We’ll get started as soon as the debris is cleared. In the meantime, stand by for whatever’s coming down the line with establishing comms.”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Sally,” she sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you could do what you can to keep people away from the bar.”

“Jane’s usually got a plan.”

The Commander nods, and draws in a deep breath. “Alright,” she exhales. “Let’s go start to deal with this.”

There are many things she hates about the current situation. She hates the alien lines and contours of the ship, how tenuous they make XCOM’s hold on the space feel. She hates the odds, an entire well-armed totalitarian regime hunting them down, dedicated to their eradication. She hates the headache that’s been buzzing behind her eyes since she wore up on Tygan’s table, unceasing and unrelenting, untouched by anything she’s tried. She hates that virtually anyone and everyone she’s ever loved is dead, and she is here, absent their company and their ghosts.

Of all the things she hates, though, the one weighing heaviest on her as she mounts the ladder is the absolutely atrocious state of her relationship with Central.

On the macro scale, she knows that things won’t work if he doesn’t trust her. That in and of itself is a matter of no small concern if they want any shot at retaking the planet. That is what should be her primary motivation.

But it’s the micro scale that really eats at her. She wants her friend back, the person whose shoulder she slept on over more transatlantic red eyes than she’ll ever be able to count, who backed her up when the Council questioned her decisions, who went down fighting alongside her when the base was overrun.

She wonders if it wouldn’t have been better if they had just both died then and there. A brief, bright flash of pain and it could have all been over.

It is, she admits, in some part, her fault. She’d pulled them through everything else, but when it really counted, when XCOM had truly needed her, she’d failed. All her theories, all her strategy, all her foresight: it hadn’t been enough. She bears no small amount of blame for ADVENT, and she knows it.

But I didn’t collaborate.

He doesn’t look up when she steps behind the bar, doesn’t react when she sets a glass of ice water in front of him.

“I don’t know what to do, or what to say to make you trust me,” she starts. “I don’t even know if I can. I didn’t … I didn’t have any say in what happened. I promise you. I wouldn’t have turned on our people like that.” She sighs. “But I can talk all I want and it’s not gonna change anything. I know that. But, if you figure out what will, I’d really like to know.”

She waits, but there is no acknowledgement of her words. After a few minutes, she dries her hands against her pants. “I’ll be in the crew quarters if you figure it out.”

She’d give anything for the ache in her chest to stop.

#xcom #every exit an entrance #commander/central #john central bradford #x-posted to ao3 #minor WOTC spoilers

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