#pry this morally grey character off my hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shini--chan · 4 years ago

Note

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

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frostironfudge · 3 years ago

Text

Rush - Tom Hiddleston (Chapter 16)

Summary: Chapter 16 of Rush - Tom Hiddleston (check warnings please)

here is my masterlist

< Chapter 15

Chapter 17 >

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, a few original characters.

Warnings: minimal angst, maximal fluff. mentions of non-con touching at the start but nothing after.

Words: 3233

fanfic masterlist

---

Y/N was on the floor, a dazed glint in her eyes as she smiled at Tom, he returned the smile, but then her expression twisted, as if something bitter had been placed upon her tongue.

She looked down towards her feet, then back at him, the haze in her eyes not clearing, he looked where her feet were, a large hand was tracing up her leg, she kept her eyes on Tom, a blank expression taking over her features.

Tom began moving towards her, wanting to pry her away from those non-consensual hands, something stopped him, he looked down, his arms and legs bound to a chair.

His head snapped up as her heard she groaned, your jacket discarded and the lowlife Harrison was tracing right over the side where she had the second branding by MM but also where she told him she was touched inappropriately.

Her eyes were on him, face tear stained,

“Tom” she called out looking at him, with the same look he had seen on himself in the video.

“Tom,” Y/N cried out.

He began pulling at the restraints, needing to get her away from the man, needing to rip Harrison to shreds with his barehands.

“Tom, Tom, TOM! ” The loud call of his name had his eyes shoot open. He was relieved what he saw was a dream. She was struggling in her sleep, trying to move closer to his chest, his name all that would leave her lips.

She were crying in her sleep, his stomach lurched.

“Y/N.” He tried calling out to her, “Y/N, you’re having a bad dream, you need to wake up.”

Shed stilled but then began getting restless again, he shifted, sitting up cupping her face,

“Y/N, darling please,” “Y/N,”

“Tom,” her breath hitched, as she shifted around.

“Y/N, love; please wake up, he gently shook her form.

For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t wake up, then slowly her eyes opened, blinking a few times as she adjusted to the small light.

He sighed in relief,

“Are you alright?” Both asked at the same time.

Y/N smiled at him, he pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling her breathing even out.

“Bad dream?” He asked, she nodded.

“Would you want to talk about it?” He watched over her features, the slight wince as she recollected the dream, unmistakable.

“Water?” He offered the bottle, she took it gladly.

“Keep dreaming about not being able to reach your car.” She mumbled out.

“I would never drive off without you.” He assured.

Y/N shook her head, he opened his mouth to protest.

“Bad guys get to me before I can,” she explained, how classifying themselves as non-bad guys worked she never knew, morally she believed everyone is grey.

“I’ll jump in your dream next time to beat them up.”

Now that made her giggle, trying to picture it but something told her Tom wanted those images out of her head.

“How long were we out?” She asked, taking another gulp of water, shifted around sitting up, realising just how sore she was feeling.

“Almost seven hours.” He put his watch back on his wrist.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Me?” He asked, looking taken aback.

“Yeah,” She affirmed.

“I’m okay, worried about you though.” He tracked her cheek with this knuckles, a soft smile growing.

“I’m okay.” She said in a small voice, then repeating it louder as she did feel better.

“Hungry though.” Y/N looked towards her stomach, feeling peckish.

Tom chuckled, “Its good you said that, I’m feeling peckish myself.”

She smiled at him, both slowly getting up and making their way to the kitchen.

Y/N went towards the bathroom, after getting the glasses ready for beverages.

If someone told her the stranger in the mirror is her, she wouldn’t believe them, by now she was used to having a few scrapes and bruises.

She carefully lifted her—Tom’s— v neck, inspecting her old wounds, eyes avoiding the spot which felt foreign on her once more. Sighing she washed her face and hands, making her way back out.

“Lee and Pierce?” She asked Tom, who was rummaging through the groceries.

“Will be back in an hour.” He answered gathering ingredients for pasta.

“Have you been up before me?” Y/N tried recalling if she heard him move around but quickly understood her body and mind had shut down into slumber.

“I was in and out of sleep, didn’t move away though.” Tom explained, bringing out the utensils, handing the pot to her as she began filling it with water to boil.

“Thank you.” She had her hand on his forearm, intently looking at him.

“Darling,” He was going to say she didn’t need to thank him, but he was surprised when he felt her lips against his own.

He set down the tomatoes and pulled her closer, responding to the kiss.

They settled on making a white sauce pasta and Y/N took charge of making garlic bread, rolling her eyes at Tom who was going to just chop the garlic and butter it, she swatted his hand away multiple times as she made the oven roasted garlic butter paste.

“Hey!” Tom grumbled.

“Patience.” She chastised him once again.

Tom’s eyes held a sudden glint, he turned her around to face him, trapping her between the counter and himself.

“Tom?” The look he was giving her, Y/N hadn’t realised the butterflies that were held within her being, her eyes closed as Tom’s breath was raising goosebumps over her neck.

He leaned in closer, lips brushing against her jaw, trailing up to her temple, then he brushes his lips against hers, when Y/N tried pressing herself against him more, his attempt to steal the garlic butter was thwarted all thoughts apart from her thrown out the window.

A low growl sounded from within his chest, needing her closer, his hands on her.

Tom’s hands stayed on either side of Y/N, on the counter top, her hands stayed on his chest, bunching up the fabric as their kiss grew more fervent.

Y/N whined when Tom pulled away, at that sound he almost did not run to the butter that turned brown in the pan they were using.

She giggled, looking at the butter.

“You’re a hazard.” Tom teased her.

“I am?” Y/N picked up the spoon of the whipped butter, tasting a bit of it to adjust the seasoning, not breaking eye contact with Tom as she tasted, humming in delight.

“Are you being a tease?”

“Hey, you tried making out with me to distract me so you could steal this.” She offered him a spoonful while calling him out with a wide grin.

He took the spoonful as she fed it to him, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Hey come up with your own flirt techniques.” She poked his bicep.

“Ah, an original Hiddleston?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well yes, I demand the best.” Y/N played along.

“Well for that I will need a day with you alone.” He smiled, the kind that would make her weak in the knees, thank god for the countertop.

“Alright, I did tell you rain-check yesterday.” She couldn’t hide the happiness she felt when Tom’s face lit up brighter than the grin she just witnessed.

“I’m going to charm your socks off.” He promised.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” She kissed his cheek, as she moved to the other side putting the buttered bread in the oven.

“Okay you both need to open up a home food thing just for this combo.” Lee complimented with their mouth full.

“Lee.” Pierce rolled her eyes,

“Take a bite.” They prompted,

“If you insist without offer.” She was only teasing them for not holding a bite out.

“Sorry babe but this, I’d take a bullet to save this.” They gestured to the food.

Pierce took a hesitant bite jokingly grumbling about how she never got such a sentiment.

Her eyes widened,

“Told you.” They scoffed scarfing down more pasta and bread.

“No, but seriously retire and do this.” Pierce started stealing from Lee’s bowl.

Y/N and Tom could only laugh at their friend’s affections to the dish.

“Okay, now can I continue explaining the plan?” Y/N asked, they needed to return to the original business.

Tom’s hand rested right next to hers, even as they sat, both of them accepted the fact that in someway they needed the presence of physical contact, which would be problematic in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes, please.” Pierce nodded.

“Man involve this pasta in the plan too.” Lee added, making everyone shake their heads while laughing.

“Alright so phase one was done yesterday afternoon,” Y/N began, an aura of seriousness taking over the group.

“Which was?” The pair asked the planners.

Y/N looked at Tom,

“Well, the previous nights events from yesterday kind of jumbled it up for us three but, Y/N here executed her part.” Tom informed, he looked at her to continue.

“So I paid visit to the locker where I used to get my payments from Cassandra, where I had seen the diamonds.” She gesticulated as she recounted;

Things were not going well, Y/N wanted to abort but they were on borrowed time, or rather given stipulated time, she could not and would not risk anything that brought trouble for Tom.

She kept her head low, the blonde wig making her head itch, thankfully the weather was colder so the wig wasn’t too uncomfortable, Even though Cassandra and her forms didn’t match, it could pass off through the low quality footage.

In and out as quick and then she would go back to Tom, they had reluctantly parted ways. She wanted to stay with him, he wanted her to stay.

Y/N made her way to the rows of smaller storage boxes that stood tall as shelves did, the keys still underneath the gap at the bottom.

The box was the same her latest payment instalment envelope labelled there and the box that contained the diamonds, she opened it, there they were, catching the light, shoving the box in her hoodie pocket, and locking the box she made her way out, head low.

“Did you return for your instalment?” Pierce asked, making her pause the story.

“I did, yes.” Y/N assured.

“When?” Lee’s mind finally out of the pasta and garlic bread, piecing the timeline of Y/N’s line up of events in their head.

“I paid a visit before I started my, uh,” She searched for a word.

“Anti-hero Revenge Antics?” Pierce offered.

Tom laughed, “I think that fits…” he wondered rhetorically.

“It does.” She agreed.

Y/N entered the storage facility again, this time without a wig, clutching her side, limping and a bandage around her temple. She stopped every ten to fifteen steps, trying to make sure the cameras caught her struggle.

The five minute process taking her an entire twenty minutes to retrieve an envelope.

For the benefit of the cameras watching, she did an entire show of not being able to bend down to retrieve the key, once again making a difficult journey.

She took a picture just when she opened the locker out of habit and proof that the diamonds were gone before she arrived.

Once done,Veronica grabbed her hand outside, wearing oversized glasses, and outfits similar to, MM’s entourage, then dragging her towards an unmarked vehicle.

So it would look as though MM still had her claws into her.

“Did you change the timestamps?” Pierce asked referring to the security cameras.

“Yes, did it before contacting that low-life.” Y/N answered.

“Where are the diamonds now?” Lee asked, “You need to change the timestamp of the picture as well.” They added.

Tom took out the small box from his pocket. Opening it for the group.

“This, Tom what the hell did MM do to you for this?” Pierce looked at the stones, this would have been awful for Tom.

“Oh just a bit of this and that.” He shrugged, keep the lock on the box he told himself.

“Don’t fucking lie.”

“I’m not.”

“That is why you were gone for two weeks.” Pierce concluded.

“No— I,” Tom tried not to let anything through,

“Drop the subject, Pierce.” Y/N’s tone slicing through the brunette.

“I’m just asking!” She defended.

“Your asking bring up things he’d rather not have addressed.” Her fingers intertwined with Tom’s as she rubbed circles onto the back of his hand, shifting closer.

Pierce looked at Tom, “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t pause to consider.”

“It’s alright.” Tom mumbled, he grabbed the box again with his free hand, putting it back in his pocket.

“What is the next phase?” Lee asked to divert the attention of everyone.

“We’re going to put this into another safety deposit unit under Cassandra’s name,” Tom explained, “The unit is next to MM’s, the diamonds being gone is going to set off Cassandra, we will attempt to help her,”

He looked towards Pierce,

“You will fake hack and show the altered videos, then we will create a slip up on Y/N’s end.” Tom reaches for the bottle of water.

“In what way?” Pierce asks,

“Well, I show up full of fear at the facility, saying I escaped, and that I overheard MM wants her diamonds or she wants Tom.” Y/N continues,

“And I panic and say I cannot go through that again and I tell Cassandra to bring the actual diamonds.” Tom says, setting the water down.

“Which are missing and MM’s fake representative says they tracked Cassandra’s movements to the other storage place. Tom will act confused.” Y/N held his hand again.

“But they have the forged names of the locker in place, when they open it they see the diamonds and take Cassandra.” Lee concludes.

“Yes.” Tom and Y/N answer together.

“What if Cassandra denies?” Pierce asks.

“Its Tom, she won’t bring him trouble.” Y/N counters.

“She kind of has before.” Lee stresses.

“MM knows that we have proof.” Tom says carefully considering the thoughts put forth.

“Why don’t you give her the diamonds from before?” Pierce asks, it is easier to avoid the hassle.

“MM has requested Cassandra’s presence.” Y/N informed them,

“If it goes south, you know what will become of you right?” Pierce looked at Y/N, with worry.

“I won’t let it go south.” Tom’s gaze hardened, hands forming fists, knuckles going lighter due to the harsh movement.

“If all aspects are considered and done, when do we act upon it?” Everyone looked towards Lee.

Tom took a deep breath, “Day after.” He relaxes his fingers, flexing and extending them to aid the process.

Y/N moved her eyes from the sight in front of her and pushed a ledger towards Pierce.

“What?” The hacker asks.

“I’ve heard praise that you know your way around handwritten forgery.”

“Where did you hear that?” She opens the ledger eyes scanning the scrawled handwriting.

“Where you heard about me.” Y/N teased back to when she had overheard Pierce and Tom try and find out about her at the petrol station.

“You have super hearing or something?” Pierce gave her a puzzling look.

“No the garbage disposal was near the car, could hear you guys crystal clear.” She laughed.

“You need to get back to the facility then Tom, if you appear briefly, before it sets off the steps then, it could been seen as calculated.” Lee sighed, they wanted Tom miles and miles away from Cassandra, but he knew he was making a point.

Tom looked at Y/N, “Can you sneak in?”

She laughed in response.

“I think I could.” She grinned at him.

Lee shook their head.

“You both know what I am referring toward.” They pressed on.

“I could disable security and change Tom’s floor codes.” Their partner offered.

“How will we explain if you get caught?” They asked.

“We kick start the plan earlier, I fake faint to buy time.” Y/N shrugged.

“You aren’t making a strong case, Raconteuse.”

“I’m making a story.” She waved her hands with a flair for the dramatic.

They gave her a hard glare, the writer of sorts looked down into her palms.

“Tom, I need to run your blood work once more.” Lee looked at the taller man.

“Okay.” Tom stood up they already did the required testing before so he knew they wanted to speak away from Y/N.

He gently pressed his lips against her forehead, smiling as she leaned into his touch.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He informed, she kisses the back of his hand, as they pulled apart Tom and followed his friend out into the lab area.

Pierce moved so close to Y/N so quickly she jumped in response,

“What is it?”

“This plan,” Pierce looked around once more, then back at the woman in front of her.

In the Lab, Lee sat Tom down, standing in front of him.

“What did you want to ask?” Tom’s eyebrows were furrowed,

Lee sighed, looking at the door.

“This plan,” Lee began, directing their gaze at the blue eyed man.

On opposite ends of the building, Pierce and Lee’s words could have echoed at the synchronicity.

“Are you, planning to sacrifice yourself if it comes to saving the other?”

Tom and Y/N’s expressions blanked, it was a thought that they dared not to let linger, both had warned the other not to pull the reckless move but somewhere both knew they were stupid enough to do so, so hearing the question from their friends without having the other near was probably a coordinated attempt by the partners.

Tom scratched the back of his neck, considering the words he could say or should say,

“Yes?” It came out as a question

“Liar—Wait, what? You said Yes!” Lee’s hands ran through their own hair at the prospect.

“You thought I am lying?” Tom looked at Lee with bewilderment.

“I thought you would say no which would be the lie. I was prepared to call you out.” Their shoulders slumped, “You do know she would do the same for you.”

Tom had considered this, but their conversation fresh in his mind, he knew they would have to think of this again.

On the other side,

Pierce waited for Y/N to articulate herself.

“Yes?” She replied, almost questioning her own choice.

“God, I knew it.” Pierce ran her palm over her distressed face,

“You both are idiots, you do know he will do the same for you right?”

“I know there is a possibility.” Raconteuse twiddled her fingers, out of the nerves creeping up and aching to take over.

She was pulled out of her reverie when the others returned.

“We should get going,” Tom spoke softly, she reached up to cup his face.

Lee and Pierce exchanged looks knowing their line of questioning had the same result. The two idiots would not save themselves but would save the other.

It had been a long time since either Tom or Y/N had something of this much value to lose.

Lee and Pierce needed to think of their own back up plan, and they would.

AN: dunno about you all but i needed 3.2k words worth of fluff after the last two chapters.

tagging these beautiful people, a big thank you for always giving my work love: @arcticclouds @confused-clary @fire-in-her-veinz @fa-me @littlemissslytherinprincess @stevesmewmew @anemois-hiraeth @thegoldenhood

P.S. taglist is open! send me a message! also requests are open as well!

thank you for reading!

love, frostironfudge

note: Please understand no part of my work should be reproduced, plagiarised, distributed, translated without my informed consent.

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Text

Nemesis - Choose Your Own Whump 2

With A receiving the most votes on my last post, for this adventure we are going with a drugged Villain whumpee. Sorry about the generic name for this one, I really couldn’t think of anything else ^^

I hope you enjoy, and thanks to everyone for replying to the last post! As always, votes can be sent in through any method you want. Comments, asks, and PMs are all just fine. I’ll see it!

CW//Falling off a building, hostage situations, shapeshifting, medical abuse, extensive talk of sedatives, brief mention of a needle

Please note that the third scene of this piece is from the point of view of a drugged character, and thus the scene has some aspects that could be described as unreality. Please skip this scene if this would make you uncomfortable.

The video was grainy.

It was always grainy. That was the strange thing about it-- everyone carried around miniature computers in their pockets, equipped with tiny cameras that would have rivaled the most powerful devices of years prior. Any civilian could take a 4k quality video on some social media, but the moment anything actually important was happening, technology seemed to regress twenty years.

Hero supposed it didn’t matter. Their memory of the incident was certainly clear as day, better than any camera could ever capture.

And yet...

They clicked a button on the remote, and the clip restarted.

The sides of the screen were blocked out in fuzzy grey-- the video having been taken through the bars of a metal fence. Between them, the camera focused at first on the foot of a brown brick building, before panning upwards, only stopping upon reaching the roof. It took a moment for the visual to adjust, focusing against the glare of the sun overhead.

Two figures, on the building’s roof. Two figures seen so often together, in so many similar videos.

The standoff had taken from dawn till sunset. How Villain had gotten into the building unnoticed had yet to be fully understood, but, regardless of method, they wasted little time in taking hostage a group of professors, eating lunch together. A single one had been released, bringing with them a message:

“Everyone leaves. No one comes in. Everyone stays outside the fence.”

It had seemed like a trap, at first. Of course it had. It wouldn’t be the first time that Villain had played such a trick. After much debating, however, evacuation was deemed to be the best option, and the campus was soon barren.

The hours afterwards had been as long and hot as they had been nerve-wracking. The very thought of following orders from Villain made Hero’s stomach twist, but their orders were incredibly clear: Don’t do anything stupid.

It was an incredibly difficult order to follow.

Establishing a line of communication had been the hardest part. Villain had quickly disconnected any security cameras in the vicinity, alongside confiscating any technology their hostages might have held.

In the end, it was decided that a reporter would be the one to go in. One of the most recognizable faces in the city, and one that was neutral. Not fighting for either side, but representing the citizenry.

The whole plan bet on one fact: That the shapeshifting Hero could pull of the imitation.

It worked. At least, it worked for as long as it needed to. Villain accepted the olive branch, and allowed the supposed reporter to enter unharmed.

Of course, the illusion broke as soon as Hero opened their mouth. No matter how good they were at changing their shape, it did not change their voice. In the brief moment of confusion, the hostages had managed to make their escape.

Leaving only the two nemeses, and the building as their battlefield.

It was hard to remember the fight. They had waged so many battles against one another, they all seemed to blend together, at one point or another. There was broken glass, pushed over tables, exploding equipment, and then-

And then they were on the roof.

Villain was stupid, but they weren’t, well, they weren’t stupid. They may have had the moral compass of a kleptomaniac feline, and the brain cells to match, but they had common sense. A sense of self-preservation.

Forcing them to the edge of the roof... it was supposed to be like pushing them to a corner. Trapping them.

In the video, the two figures danced. Forward, and back, until one took the lead. Until they were up against the edge, with nowhere left to go.

They were supposed to stop. They weren’t supposed to fall.

They stopped their own fall, or at least they tried. They were telekinetic. Of course they did. But they were surprised, or confused, or, or something. They slowed themself down. But they did not stop. The force with which they struck the concrete parking lot below was more than enough to knock them out.

The video ended.

And... that was it. The end. Years and years of battles, some won, some lost, all ended. They should have been happy, and they were! They hated Villain, sincerely and truly hated them.

But no other villain fought like them. No other villain had their tongue, their wit. Their skill. Their fight.

Villain’s defeat should have been epic! The ultimate confrontation of good and evil, of chaos, and order.

Yet, their downfall was a simple trip.

In the corner of Hero’s TV screen, small white text helpfully reported to them just when that video had been recorded.

One year ago.

One year, since that day. Since Villain’s downfall. And now...

Hero’s phone buzzed. A text message. The confirmation of a meeting.

One whole year, and still, Hero’s mind was consumed by their lost nemesis.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The diner was terribly busy, and yet, when Hacker walked through the door, Hero had no doubts as to their identity.

Despite their rather stereotypical appearance, there was nothing about the person’s manner that would have indicated the sheer amount of time they spent behind a computer screen. They greeted the receptionist, pointed to Hero, and exchanged a few words beyond that. With a smile, then, they parted, and made their way to Hero’s table.

Their manner only seemed strange when they sat down, and Hero noted that the way they smiled seemed to pain them.

“Is this seriously what you people act like?” They hissed through bared teeth. “Can I stop smiling now? Or will they look at me weird?”

“They’re already looking at you weird.”

“They are?”

“You- You don’t need to do that.”

“Oh thank god.” Immediately, their expression fell into one far more analytic. Far less friendly. “I, uh, don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow incredulously.

“I’ve got more important things to do than, uh, than going out. Anyways.” They stuck a hand outwards. It was partially covered by a fingerless glove. “I’m Hacker.”

“I figured.” Hero shook the offered hand. “I’m Hero, though I suppose you already know that.”

“You’d think people here would be, uh, a bit more in awe? It’s not everyday you get to eat in the same building as a superhero.”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Oh, sorry. Is it, like, a secret? You don’t have a secret identity, do you?”

“No. But when I’m out of costume, I’m not exactly that recognizable. So let’s keep it that way. Kapish?”

“Kapash. But, still, oh my god. This is so cool! A real life hero...”

“Yeah... Yeah. A real hero alright.”

A hero who could hardly focus during battle. A hero who infuriated their team leader more than they aided them.

“Anyways.” Hacker raised their head, a far more natural smile coming onto their face. “I have the... thing.”

“You mentioned that. It’s about Villain, right?”

“Mhm.”

The person across the booth leaned down, prying a laptop from a carrying case and placing it atop the table. It was a bulky thing, and as soon as it was turned on, the shrill sound of fans struggling not to overheat filled Hero’s head. Hacker clicked around a bit. They gripped the edges of the device, as if about to spin it around, before they stopped, frowning.

“It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” They commented.

“Since Villain was captured. Yes. 374 days.”

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

“You miss them, don’t you?”

It was so direct. Hero couldn’t help but stutter:

“I don’t- Of course I don’t miss them. I hate them.”

Hacker looked up over the laptop screen to give them an incredulous look. It wasn’t a convincing lie.

“I don’t miss them.” Hero stood their ground. “But I want to make sure they’re contained.”

“I just... I don’t know if this is something you want to see. You’re trying to move on, and-”

“Show me it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it’s something to do with their containment, I need to know about it. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

“Well, that’s not the problem here. If you’re sure.”

With a sigh, Hacker spun the computer around, so that it’s screen faced Hero.

They weren’t sure what they expected. Some kind of... deep web threat? A message from Villain? A copycat? An escape attempt?

But they didn’t get any of that. Instead, the screen displayed a simple PDF. Medical records. At the top, in bold letters and a rather ostentatious logo, the header read:

Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization

For the most part, the page was Greek to Hero. A slew of ID numbers and attending physicians with far too many acronyms following their names. What did make sense to them was the spreadsheet that made up most of the page, labelled:

Approved Daily Medication Dosage for Patient: Villain

The spreadsheet took up two pages with solid text. Hero did not recognize the medication names, of course, but they did not need to be a doctor to understand the entries written under the column labelled “Medication Purpose.”

Every single data cell, even as they scrolled to the bottom of the document, contained only one word. The same word.

Sedation

“This is...” Hero muttered, furrowing their brow. Scrolling up and down. This had to be wrong, somehow.

“I don’t understand most of it.” Hacker commented sheepishly. “But, uh, I have a few friends with some more medical knowledge than me. They’ve never seen anything like it. It’s more than enough medication to sedate a fucking elephant- sorry, excuse my language.”

“It’s fine.” The confusion in their voice was rapidly melting to fury.

“Even for major surgical procedures... nothing near this level would ever be used.”

“This has to be a mistake.” Hero shook their head. “A mix-up. Maybe it’s like... all the medications the facility ordered. And they just labelled it wrong.”

“Well, if it’s a mistake, they’ve been making the exact same one for an entire year. I’ve got 374 of these files. Newest one just got uploaded a few hours ago.”

“And they’re always the same?”

“With some minor dosage adjustments, but yes. That’s not, um, that’s not all of it.”

Hacker reached over, dragging the computer back so that it faced them again. There was more clicking this time, along with typing at a speed that made Hero’s fingers hurt, just to watch it.

When the laptop was spun back around, this time, it was a video.

A camera feed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Villain felt about to choke on their tongue.

It wasn’t a new feeling. More or less, it was the only thing they felt, anymore. That heavy block of muscle in their mouth, threatening at any moment to block throat choke air no air no-

They were losing their words again. Words... wordsssssss... Voices. Voices spoke words. Sometimes, they did. Sometimes they grumbled and muttered and sputtered and murmured like a car murmured. Cars... or was it cats? No, cats didn’t murmur. They purred. What else did they do? Not bark... no, barking too loud for cats. Cat go mew mew, real quiet like.

Cat’s meow, that is a cat’s voice. There were other voices, too. Quiet like cats. Two of them, two voices. They knew those voices, those were the doctors’ voices. The doctors liked to talk a lot. They talked, but they did not see. Or... no. They were not seen. Villain did not see them. They wanted to, but their eyes were broken. The engines in their eyelids would not run anymore, would not open the garage door, Sally!

One of the doctors’ voices got closer. A million miles away, a hand was laid upon Villain’s wrist, flipping over their hand so that their palm faced downward.

“Let’s move it.”

It was a silly thing to say. Nothing moved in this place. Nothing that Villain could see, as their eyes were broken.

“Is the other vein healed enough?”

“It’s going to have to be.”

Silly words... Villain wanted to laugh, but their muscles were firmly locked away behind a padlock.

“Okay.” The doctor sounded so sad. Why were they so sad? Villain’s mouth was full of soil. The doctor was tired. “I’ll get the rest of the medicines.”

“We’re going 30 milligrams up from yesterday on the Propofol.”

“Oh? Why?”

“They opened their eyes, yesterday.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hero felt sick. In the top right corner of the security footage, the same logo from the medical records was displayed. The Specialized Criminal Rehabilitation Unit of Organization. Below it, a subtitle.

“Keeping the city safe.”

Was this safety? It shouldn’t have been. They had known, of course, what had happened to Villain after their capture and very brief hospital stay. It was what happened to all villains. They were sent to the rehab unit.

A therapy program. Helping villains to control their powers and reform their lives. To return them to the straight and narrow. But, now that Hero thought about it...

Villain was the only one who had never been released.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Tell someone about what is happening - Who should Hero tell? (They are on a small team, as well as part of a larger Organization, for reference.)

B.) Attempt a more direct approach. Visit Villain in the rehab program - Should Hero try to rescue Villain immediately?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #villain whumpee #hero villain prompt #choose your own whump #choose your own adventure #nemesis

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focsle · 4 years ago

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Bio for Neris

HERE have another one of my Long Rambling Character Bios because I’ve grown immediately endeared to my elf. It’s all under the readmore so sorry if you’re on mobile.

Basics

Name: Neris Ilyiil  Nickname: None  Age: 50 (He’s got like, a mid-20-something vibe tho, he’s a YOUTH…elf lifespans...)  Gender: A lad, a fellow, if someone calls him ‘sir’ or a man tho he looks over his shoulder to see who they’re talking about. Race: Dunmer  Class: Sorcerer

Physical Characteristics

Height: 5’8”  Weight: 110 lbs  Hair: Black  Eyes: Red  Skin: Light grey, freckled.  Distinctive features: Got a closely-trimmed beard styled in an obnoxious curly design. He’s missing his left arm from his bicep down, and he wears an articulated prosthetic made out of repurposed dwarven construct bits.  Mannerisms: He’s vivacious in a kind of explosive way--talks with his hands a lot, makes a lot of rapid gestures, maybe not the most comforting person to hang out with for people who startle/flinch easily.  Voice: A bit posh, a bit nasal, speaks very quickly, big fan of run-on sentences.  Fashion: Mages robes—he doesn’t have much consideration for aesthetics, just likes things that are lightweight and easy to move around in. Must have lots of pockets though. The inside of his robes have so many pockets. Wears a belt with even more pockets. They’re important.

Emotional Traits

Personality: Neris is friendly, earnest, and unshakably curious. He has a really intense drive for Learning, and so he tends to be very open to a lot of experiences and people. However, that curiosity coupled with a particular degree of privilege he’s carrying can lead to him being unintentionally impertinent or prying. He doesn’t have a lot of tact so he fucks up a lot, but he never makes the same mistake twice and is sincere in making amends.

He’s a ceaseless chatterer. He’s also unflappable with people who are rude to him, and generally shrugs off difficulties with an aggressive optimism. He takes a lot of things in stride, and is very adaptable. Which is good since he often finds himself getting entangled in various situations because he doesn’t know when to stop asking questions, and once he’s in deep he likes seeing things through. Religion/belief system: He doesn’t subscribe to a particular religious belief system outside of his own moral compass. He doesn’t put any personal faith in the Tribunal and frankly dislikes them (but admits Sotha Sil is ‘kind of neat…okay he’s secretly kinda engaged with Sotha Sil…). He finds Aedra and Daedra interesting, but he doesn’t worship any. He acknowledges that figures have done god-like things, and are worshiped or looked to for spiritual guidance, but doesn’t personally consider any of them Divinity. Doesn’t mean he’s not interested in religion, but his interest is a purely academic one.

Lifestyle Background: He comes from a family of Telvanni mages and he’s seen as a difficult wayward son because everything he IS goes against…their general ruthless, xenophobic, conniving values. He’s estranged from most of them, with the exception of his parents that he has a tenuous relationship with. While he does have good magical aptitude, he’s interested in being more of an adventurer than devoting himself to magical study in any concentrated form. So he’s part of the Antiquarian’s Circle and just…bops around digging stuff up. It’s an excuse to travel. All of his studies are independent and multitudinous because he just wants to Experience Everything.

Current place of Residence: Middle of nowhere Northwestern Vvardenfell. Opposite side of the island from his family. Occupation: An archaeologist, sort of. He does it for work, but uses it mostly as a vehicle to explore rather than being particularly devoted to the job (beyond his natural curiosity of course, which admittedly takes him very far. People THINK he’s devoted). He’s mostly like…a trust fund tourist… Habits: He takes a lot of plant cuttings and soil samples from where the plants come from (likes knowing how things grow and where). He also carries around a little journal where he writes down phonetic guides for himself of the names of everyone he meets and places he goes. He’s also REALLY NOSY without being super aware of it and will absolutely like, poke around at things in people’s houses. Hobbies: Loves growing plants, particularly ones with alchemical uses. He’s also interested in dwarven constructs and assorted enchantments — always wants to take them apart and figure out how they piece back together. Adventurous eater, enjoys trying new food. Won’t ever yuck someone’s yum.

Likes: Meeting people, sightseeing, when someone asks him to explain something, when someone indulges him when he asks THEM to explain something, playing instruments badly, fruity alcohol, puzzles of all kinds but especially small portable ones. Dislikes: Standing on any kind of ceremony or being bound by tradition, being told what to do / rules in general…really hates rules, it’s the most Telvanni thing about him. He also thinks a lot of guild mages are extremely boring. He’s friendly but he’s not much of a team player and doesn’t like being asked to sacrifice his own ambitions for any group effort. Goals: HAVE FUN SEE THE WORLD LEARN A FACT.

Relationships Parents: Drevyn (father) and Milrenis (mother) He maintains a delicate relationship with his parents because through them he has a lot of access to resources/connections that he otherwise would not. That he has two older siblings who are much more in line with his parents’ ideas takes a good deal of pressure and scrutiny off of him so while he dislikes his siblings he is thankful for the buffer they unintentionally provide him. His parents are basically too caught up in their own business and their fav children to bother disowning him, at the moment. He’s a disappointment, but one that they’re so far content to let slide unless he ends up doing something loud that would impact them.

They’re technically supportive of his hunger for knowledge, but not in the ways he goes about it. They think he mingles too much, that he goes too far afield, that he’s more interested in People than in Study (which they consider a failing), that his ‘along for the ride’ way of learning rather than having a devoted goal to work towards is no good. So he shows up for awkward dinners every several months and they get uppity and complain at him and try to nudge him into behaving a way that is more customary of his House, and then he goes back to what he was doing. It’s not a sustainable relationship, and if they were to ever try to exert control over him, or if he stepped too far out of line in their eyes, it’d absolutely collapse.

Siblings: An older brother and sister, Selro and Viveri. He’s very estranged from them, owing to both a significant age gap and an entire…life approach gap. They don’t really speak. Sometimes Viveri visits Sadrith Mora and thus on very rare occassions her path intersects with her little brother. She’s warm towards Neris but in a way that…he never trusts her. There’s something dark and conniving about it, almost like she’s in on a joke he’s not. He’s always checking for blood somewhere immediately after she hugs him. Selro is more overt in his dislike towards Neris after Neris foiled an assassination attempt of one of Selro’s political rivals by tipping the target off. Selro found out and told Neris if he saw him again he’d put a hit out on him. And that it was no use telling their parents, because Neris knows which son they’d ultimately favor. Selro’s given a wide berth and they haven’t seen each other in years.

Orientation: Ace  Relationship status: Single  Notable relationships: Oof I’m too lazy to update this! He has friends!

#I only make two kinds of characters. Mean Nerds and Nice Nerds.#neris ilyiil

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choiceslife · 4 years ago

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Scenic Overlook: A Witness One-Shot (Cassian Keane x MC)

Disclaimer: Based upon characters in Choices - Witness: A Bodyguard Romance. All characters presented are the property of Pixelberry Studios. I claim no ownership. This story is purely the work of the poster as fanfiction.

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Adult Situations, Adult Language, Adult Content, Death

Summary: Gabriella (MC) and Cassian enjoy the scenery after she accepts his proposal, but trouble soon finds them.

Author’s Note: This takes place immediately after the end of Witness: A Bodyguard Romance. The name of my MC is Gabriella McGovern.

Tag List: @ao719 @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @boneandfur @debramcg1106 @bobasheebaby @ritachacha @brightpinkpeppercorn @rainbowsinthestorm @darley1101 @desireepow-1986 @the-soot-sprite @katedrakeohd @isporticus1234

***

“Let’s just enjoy the beautiful scenery,” Gabriella said, declining Cassian’s invitation to explore the secluded castle. She was pretty sure her fiancé wanted to explore more than just the architectural structure of the ancient ruins, but Gabriella was more interested in getting a selfie for her Pictagram.

She took her lover’s hand and intertwined their fingers as she led him down the worn walkway to the scenic overlook. Gabriella couldn’t believe her luck when it came to Cassian Keane. No matter how many times she treated him like shit through the whole ordeal with the O’Connell’s, he stuck by her side.

Through temper tantrums, anger, and an overall negative attitude, Cassian remained. Every time Gabriella tried to push him away, his resolve and love only grew stronger.

Looking back, Gabriella didn’t understand how anyone could tolerate her behavior because she was absolutely horrible. But Cassian did. He saw something in her that no one else had and now she was set to become his wife.

As they approached the cliffs, Gabriella pulled her phone from her pocket. She pulled Cassian in close to her and took several selfies of them with the castle behind them. There were pictures of them smiling, kissing, making goofy faces, and several with her displaying the engagement ring on her finger.

“I want to get one of you with the castle,” Gabriella said as she stepped from Cassian’s side. “And you know, feel free to take off your shirt so I can share with my followers just how sexy my new fiancé is.”

Cassian chuckled as Gabriella positioned herself in front of him to snap a few photos, her back to the cliff.

“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, Cassian,” Gabriella chided. “Just take off your shirt.”

“I will, but you’re getting—“

“I got this. You worry too much. Just—“

Before she could finish her sentence, Gabriella lost her footing and fell backwards off the cliff side. Her body ricocheted against the jagged rocks before landing into the frigid waters of the Irish coast. Cassian screamed in horror as he watched his fiancé disappear beneath the surface into a watery grave.

___

Two Weeks Later

Cassian sat at a table inside the small coffee shop near his apartment back in Boston. The Irish Coast Guard searched for Gabriella’s body for days, but they had no luck recovering her remains.

Tomas told Cassian he could remain in Ireland as long as he wanted, but the agent knew there was nothing he could do. He needed to return to the United States to help himself grieve.

Cassian sighed heavily as he swirled the red plastic stirrer in the extra coffee cup on the table. The beverage had long since turned cold, but that didn’t bother him. He had only ordered the cinnamon-vanilla drink because it was Gabriella’s favorite and the scent remind him of her.

“Excuse me, but are you okay?”

“Huh?” Cassian mumbled as he snapped from his thoughts. He turned his head to see a petite brunette standing before him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but you just looked a little down and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Cassian gave a half-hearted smile to the woman, “That’s very sweet of you to ask. I’m... uh... I’m not, but I’ll be okay.” He couldn’t believe he just admitted his feelings to a complete stranger, but something about this woman told him that he could trust her. “I just lost someone very close to me.”

“Oh,” the woman replied, her face frowning, “I am so sorry to hear that. I’ve just lost someone special to me as well and... well...” —the woman shook her head— “no it’s silly.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I know you don’t know me, but I started attending a support group twice a week after my friend Danny died. I was actually on my way there now when I saw you through the window and I just had a feeling like you needed a friend.”

Cassian’s eyes met the sad woman’s briefly, “I’m sorry for your loss as well.” The woman nodded. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk to anyone though, let alone a room full of strangers.”

“I understand,” the woman said. “I’ll leave you be then.” She turned and took a few step towards the exit before returning to Cassian’s table. “I’m Sienna Trinh, by the way.”

“Cassian Keane.”

Sienna shook the man’s hand. “If you ever change your mind, we meet on Tuesdays and Fridays at 7pm. And now that you know my name, it won’t be a room of total strangers.” She watched a small smile form at the corner’s of Cassian’s mouth and smiled back.

“I’ll keep that in mind Sienna.” Cassian watched the young woman walk off. He chuckled softly at her kind gesture and realized it was the first time in two weeks that he had allowed himself to have a moment of happiness.

***

End Note: So first and foremost, I absolutely despised Witness. This truly was the first book that I only played in order to mine diamonds. This is my own opinion and if you enjoyed it then that is perfectly fine, but I thought there was no real thought to the plot. The entire story just felt like ways to get the readers to spend diamonds.

Which leads to my biggest gripe. I hated this MC so much. If you don’t spend diamonds, she is an absolutely horrible person. I don’t mind having a morally grey MC, but I want to be able to make that choice rather than being forced because I chose not to spend diamonds.

Anyway, I wrote this because I thought that with the absolutely insane diamond choices in this book that PB would give us a diamond choice to accept Cassian’s proposal and if we didn’t then we’d leave him. Imagine my shock when we don’t have that choice and MC says yes.

Cassian deserved better and this story is the ending that I feel he should have received. :-)

#choices fanfic #anti choices witness #witness: a bodyguard romance au #cassian deserves better #cassian keane

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valiantlyjollynightmare · 3 years ago

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Nah villains should stay villains gtfo of here with that redemption bullshit.

Ok, first off, get off anon if you're so determined to tell me off for having an opinion.

Second off, I am allowed to have some personal preferences and you can pry my love for good redemption arcs out of cold dead hands.

I don't know which post you're referring to specifically so feel free to drop in with a clarification, but as far as I remember the only posts I wrote or contributed to referred to either allowing characters to be genuinely good, or romances with villains. So let me make myself clearer on these two first and then tackle exactly what you said.

What I meant by "letting character be genuinely good" is exactly that. Let characters be good. Because lately, I've seen and read a lot of things dealing with morally grey characters or characters who are outright bad people. Sue me for not liking that. I want characters who are genuinely good and I firmly believe that a well written character doesn't need to have questionable morality to have depth and be complex.

Now, as far as the second part is concerned, personally - personally - I don't like romances with villains. Because I can't imagine them as good partners, offering the love, and support, and respect I want my romances to be built on. That's it. That's entirely my opinion. Sue me.

Now, I don't think all villains should be redeemed. It's like in real life, some people are simply too far gone. But villains can have millions of motives and ways of acting on them. Take Zuko, take Catra, take Megamind. Do you really think neither of those characters should have been redeemed? This is what I mean when I say I want redeemed villains.

In conclusion, some villains don't deserve any kind of redemption, but others deserve the chance to try, and depending on how that is handled, redemption can be an amazing thing. Other characters don't need to be villains to be interested. And if you were talking about the romance thing, then let's just respectfully agree to disagree and see to our preffered ships.

#mine #rant #anon #ask #i'm curious if you have anything to add

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manlethotline · 5 years ago

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I was going to write a quick analysis of what smoking in The Goldfinch means but like always I got very carried away and I think I found basically every time smoking gets mentioned in the book. For the sake of my non tgf followers I’m putting this under a readmore, but here is an essay length examination of the thematic importance of cigarettes. In The Goldfinch. And in general.

A cigarette is one of the more thematically loaded props a character can have. For years smoking and was used as shorthand to mean lower class, then turned into a symbol of decadence and vice as smoking became more common. An air of bohemian intellectualism- intelligence with a touch of depravity- is not complete without a cigarette in hand. For a while cigarettes were code for homosexuality, eventually loosening to general sexual promiscuity and eventually loosening even more to show a character was ‘cool’ with a touch of moral ambiguity. And cigarettes will never shake free of the looming shadow of Freudian psychology- a cigar is never just a cigar, and neither is a cigarette.

Anyway, you could go on about cigarette symbolism for days, but we’re here, as per usual, to talk about The Goldfinch. Because Theo smokes- we learn that on page one- too many cigarettes in his Amsterdam hotel room. Now Theo isn’t exactly cool- though he is morally ambiguous, but more importantly later in the book we see who got him started smoking. And as with all of Theo’s vices besides Pippa, it’s Boris.

Are cigarettes cool? Oscar Wilde once said that a cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want? Oscar Wilde was also sent to prison on indecency and sodomy charges- a sentence that eventually killed him. Cigarettes were a key fashion statement in Dadaism, Decadence, and Bohemia. Yet while smoking was adored by the ‘artistic crowd’ most upper class society folks wouldn’t be caught dead with cigarette in hand. A pipe perhaps, but not a cigarette. After all, cigarettes were first made by those who couldn’t afford tobacco picking up discarded cigar butts and retooling them thinner- easier to move with- a history still reflected in the name. A working class activity. In the late 1800s cigarettes were thought to cause insanity, among other forms of ‘degeneracy’- yet still people smoked. The allure was too much to deny. And by the advent of the silver screen smoking was accepted. Cigarettes are cool.

So Boris smokes. His room in Vegas reeks of Marlboros (gee Borya, why is your brand of choice the one most heavily marketed to rugged masculine sexuality), and that first afternoon Theo turns down the cigarette Boris offers him- though he does take him up on the beer. So far this fits with Theo’s first impression of Boris as a homeless looking kid passing cigarettes back and forth, slotting Boris more in the morally grey badass zone of cigarette smoking. Safe, familiar.

But this changes quickly- it is specifically pointed out that Boris lost his virginity to someone he’d bummed a cigarette off- a story he tells Theo while blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. There’s a clear connection now between sexuality- specifically Boris’ sexuality- and cigarettes. And not just sexuality, but vulnerability, Boris is smoking specifically as he admits that he doesn’t think she liked it very much, something a so-called Marlboro Man would be reticent to admit. There’s also an obvious Freudian allegory here about phallic objects, but we’ll come back to that.

The next time we hear about Boris’ smoking, it is when he and Theo are lying in bed together listening to Mr. Pavlikovsky have sex with or otherwise terrorize two sex workers. As if that wasn’t loaded with sexuality and vulnerability on its own, Boris has Theo light the cigarette for him, and they pass it back and forth as they listen to whatever is going on down the hall. So somewhere between learning about Boris’ sexual history and becoming comfortable enough to share a bed with him, Theo has taken up smoking- though he’s obviously not completely comfortable with it since he mentions it makes him feel light-headed and sick. And now we get to talk about sharing a cigarette!

So passing a cigarette back and forth, or lighting it for someone else has been used as a shorthand for intimacy and sexual tension basically as long as cigarettes have existed. Back when the Hays code was in effect film-makers used cigarette sharing as a way to imply two characters having sex- especially same sex pairs who couldn’t even embrace on camera. Along with sharing a drink (something else Boris and Theo do often) it’s an indirect kiss. They lean in, breath hot on each other’s faces, and do a favor for each other with just a thinnest shroud of plausible heterosexual deniability.

Huh. I promise we will get to phallic imagery eventually.

There are more scenes of cigarette sharing between the two in Vegas- after the night it’s implied they first have sex they share one, and there are a few other instances we don’t have time to touch on one at a time. Suffice to say they’re intimate now.

But to say that cigarettes are sex is reductive. When it’s Boris smoking, yes, it is sexually loaded, but Boris is not the only character who smokes. Xandra and Larry smoke too. And it’s not just that they smoke, but more specifically that they provide the cigarettes for Boris and Theo. The night after the pool they aren’t smoking just anything, they’re smoking Larry’s Viceroys. Boris steals Mr. Pavlikovsky’s lighter for Theo. Their intimacy, their vulnerability, is stolen from beneath the noses of their fathers- it’s a secret, a transgression, something that they are getting away with rather than just doing. Xandra actually calls Theo out for stealing her cigarettes. It’s one of the few actually positive interactions between the two- after she promises to bring him and Boris some food for Thanksgiving, practically setting them up a date. “Fine. I’ll hook you guys up. Just stay out of my cigarettes. I don’t care if you smoke.” In fact it’s maybe the only time anyone besides the two of them acknowledges and accepts their relationship- implying she knows exactly what is going on between them. For all the awfulness of Theo’s house it is something of a safe haven, especially for Boris, they aren’t taken care of, but they’re left alone, and the freedom of isolation is what allows them to find each other. And cigarettes are not merely sexual intimacy, but emotional intimacy, and perhaps just a shred of domesticity, something that hints at a promise of a different life- the kind their father’s would never condone- together somewhere.

The beginning of the end of their Vegas safe haven is foreshadowed with smoking as well. After Boris and Theo share a joint (not technically a cigarette but functionally the same act) Larry comes in, and not only remarks on the smell “you reek a bit Theo” and that Boris is definitely involved “where are you boys getting this stuff?” but he goes so far as to take what's left of the joint out of the ashtray and pocket it. Not only does he intrude on Theo’s private moment, he takes it away. Metaphorically, he has stolen the safety of his home from his son- and when next he appears he hits Theo and forces him to ask for money- the final deconsecration of the Vegas sanctum. But the damage is done as soon as he takes the butt out of the ashtray- Theo is no longer safe.

This has been a lot of talk about cigarettes as they relate to sex- but as with Theo returning to New York, we have to pry ourselves from Boris’ embrace eventually and talk about other characters.

Hobie smokes as well. When Theo first meets him he lights a cigarette, and when he catches Theo staring says “Don’t tell me you want one too.” Theo also specifically mentions Hobie smoking while cooking, one of the first times after his mother’s death that he feels safe, accepted once again. So again cigarettes are an expression of vulnerability, not sexuality but rather a loving, compassionate vulnerability. Theo and Hobie find each other after experiencing profound loss, and for Theo those days of healing, of first learning to put his hands to good use in the workshop, are entangled with the smell of Hobie’s cigarettes. Cigarettes as safety, cigarettes as sanctuary. Cigarettes as metaphor for emotional vulnerability, a way to feel close. Common ground.

Hobie is obviously gay coded, he lives with another man, raises a child with him, cooks-he would fit right into the gallery of what gay characters looked like before gay characters could be explicit- and cigarettes are just another detail of that. In some ways it’s another common ground between him and Theo- an uncomfortable conversation about men they have loved and lost that they skirt carefully around, yet to have a straightforward conversation about what exactly they felt for the men they shared their lives with, the men they lit cigarettes for and mourned bitterly. Theo turning down Hobie’s offer of a cigarette in some ways exemplifies the opportunity missed by the both of them struggling to discuss their true feelings with one another. Perhaps someday they can sit down for a smoke and finally talk about everything.

Neither Pippa or Kitsey smoke. It’s another thing that makes Theo’s relationship with Boris seems so much more intimate than his relationship with either of them- even though has sex with Kitsey they still have each other at arms length, not sharing with each other, not even having this shared experience of vulnerability with each other. In fact, Kitsey dislikes it when he smokes in her bedroom, slamming the door shut on one of the few ways that Theo actually can express himself, one of the few islands that occasionally crests over his waves of repression. When he learns of her infidelities he grinds out a cigarette butt on her dresser- a passive aggressive note- he may say he’s fine but everything is not well, and all his rages and aches are compressed into a streak of ash on a Limoges box. Doubt she’ll have anything to say about it. Beyond that note of anger, there is barely any mention at all of Theo smoking in his adulthood- you could almost be fooled into thinking he was quitting.

Yet as soon as Boris reappears, so do cigarettes. Just before he confesses to stealing the painting- one of the most honest scenes in the book- as he talks about how he was trying to have fun and be happy. [Theo] wanted to be dead. and moments before broaching their relationship as teenagers, Boris is toying with a cigarette. Not smoking it, not quite going that far, Theo isn’t ready yet, but reminding him that it’s there, that rekindling that sort of relationship is an option that he is more than willing to choose. At the engagement party he appears with unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers- another promise he has yet to keep, a hint to Theo at what might come next, come along and find out, the only thing that’s made sense all night. When he does eventually smoke a cigarette it is in Amsterdam, when he finally has Theo back in his good graces, ready to make the next move.

Also in Amsterdam, in their most triumphant moment, just having retrieved the painting and as Boris demands Theo ride alone with him, he lights a cigarette. And now we can finally talk about phallic imagery, because as Boris puts this cigarette to his lips, he tells Theo that now we can go and get you a real blowjob. It’s almost comical.

So anyway, cigarettes look like dicks. Only a little bit off topic, let’s talk about Edward Bernays. He was an ad executive back in the 20s, and the campaign he was most well known for was for Lucky Strike Cigarettes. You see, most women at the time didn’t smoke, it was considered unladylike. But Eddy knew that he was missing out on half the market, and decided what is considered one of the first great PR campaigns, series of ads with the slogan ‘Torches of Freedom’ that took advantage of the first wave feminist movement and branded cigarettes as symbols of rebellious independence, glamour, seduction and sexual allure. It was insanely successful, and where many of our pop culture views on cigarette use stem from (along with the decadence art movement in the late 1800s).

But Bernays was more than just a lucky guy- he was actually working off of the ideas of his more well known uncle, a real piece of shit named Sigmund Freud. And based off of Freud’s theories of subconscious desire, Bernays put two and two and realized that cigarettes are an obvious symbol for a penis- same as a gun or a paintbrush or maybe even a tiny sausage balanced precariously on a toothpick that your best friend has developed an odd taste for. Bernays dove head first into the Id, because he was marketing to women, and it was safe for him to acknowledge that cigarettes are incredibly sexually suggestive without upsetting the delicate heterosexual identity of the smoking American male. And the Marlboro Man, resplendent in his denim and cowboy hat, continued to be one of the most successful ad campaigns in history. But cigarettes, unlike guns, don't penetrate others- they are delicately placed between your lips, held daintily as you suck and blow and taste the slightest hint of the Vodka aftertaste he left behind before he passed it onto you. It’s intensely homoerotic- the man in the Marlboro ad puts a penis to his lips, adjusts his Stetson with a wink- don’t worry I’m straight. Just like all the other cowboys. Queer scholar Dennis Altman once put forward that because same-sex comradeship was particularly important in American life, there was a particular revulsion for anything that exposed the sexual nature of such relationships.

And my word, doesn’t that sum up Boris and Theo just perfectly. An insistence that when Boris’s bloody lips met Theo’s raw knuckles they became blood brother’s, nothing more. An assertion that it happens at that age sometimes, whatever, unfortunate mistake. But in that moment, as Boris lets the cigarette touch the tip of his tongue, flicks a calloused thumb roughly over the edge of the lighter- so similar to the one he stole from his father and gave to Theo all those years ago- and lets his mouth smile around the promise of a real blow job- for a moment things are exposed, if only just in that secret Vegas language only the two of them know. Rubbing his knuckles on my sleeve. He insists on getting Theo alone- well and truly alone, come let’s get back to your hotel and then, well... who knows what he had planned. What both of them were hoping for. But he is smoking, he is making promises he intends to keep, inviting Theo back into that private little world of shared cigarettes that Larry tore them out of long ago.

And when they are interrupted by Martin and his goon squad, Boris- cigarette in mouth- stood frozen. He has been caught with his hairpins down- interrupted in a moment of intimacy that was just beginning. It is the same as Larry pocketing that joint- sorry boys, smoke break’s over. In the fight he spits his cigarette in Frits’ face, defiant. Weaponizing what he feels for Theo- risking death to reclaim what is rightfully his because he WORKED FOR IT GODAMMIT.

Neither Boris nor Theo light a cigarette for the rest of the book.

Of course, we don’t know what exactly happens in Antwerp.

But, perhaps rather than meaning that that is a promise that remains unfulfilled, maybe they have moved beyond them. They don’t need a Freudian stand-in anymore, because they can actually talk to one another. Boris spat out his cigarette, showed without a crutch that he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for Theo, and Theo sees a half-smoked cigarette in a puddle of blood and answers Boris’ question with a bullet in another man’s brain. A thresh-hold is crossed, and when they reunite things are changed. They can admit their importance to each other and perhaps, in Antwerp, though Theo draws the curtains on the scene quickly, perhaps things are not nearly so symbolic as before.

So cigarettes are communication, vulnerability, understanding and intimacy? To smoke is to love, to feel fully and hope for a better world? Sadly, no. Because smoking kills. And so far this analysis has had a massive hole in it in the very conspicuous shape of a dead mother. Or at least the shape of a box of ashes and porny newspaper ads abandoned somewhere in Central Park.

It’s much rarer to see smoking on film nowadays. Partially this is a reflection of real life- smoking rates have been on the decrease since the 50s, and since most public places now can smoking, you have to go out of your way to see a character lighting a cigarette. Much of this, though, comes from external forces. Cigarette advertising has been banned on TV for decades, and since the 90s there have been stricter and stricter rules on how smoking can be portrayed in media. Smoking cannot be shown at all. Smoking can only be shown if the character eventually faces consequences in the form of bad health and social rejection. Smoking can only be shown if the character smoking is portrayed as irredeemable, undeniably the villain, and perpetrates other unforgivable acts.

The reason Theo and Audrey were at the museum the day of the bombing is because Theo got suspended. And though he fears it was for breaking into houses, he is pretty sure it was because he got caught smoking. Or rather, standing around with Tom Cable while he smoked. Had Theo never faffed around with cigarettes in the first place, his mother might still be alive.

Which he feels all the more guilty for because Audrey hated smoking. Lung cancer killed both her parents- banished her to an aunt’s house the same way her own death sent her son languish in Las Vegas. Generational orphaning, all because of smoking. No wonder Theo turns down Hobie and Boris’ offers at first- it is one of the ways he betrays his mother. His first cigarette kills her, and each one after that pushes him further and further away from the version of himself he thinks she would be proud of. When he shares that cigarette in Boris’s bed- surrounded by smoke and spilled beer and the smell people get when nobody cares about them- he dreams about her. What are you doing here? Go home! Right now! He has let her down in the most fundamental way he can- letting himself indulge in a vice he knows she wouldn’t forgive him for. Another way he has let himself become like his father, just as he prayed never would be.

And yet Theo smokes. He melts into Hobie’s cooking, into the sharp curve of Boris’ smile, into the forbidden pleasures of street corners and friendly faces lurking in doorways. Each drag buries his mother deeper, hacking at his leg to free himself from the trap of loss, of what he will never be able to become. Sorrow inseparable from joy. Theo burns and is lungs fill with museum ash and chlorine and to clear his throat he lights a cigarette.

And another cigarette

Or, as they call them in Europe sometimes, fags.

#the goldfinch #Theo decker #tgf #tgf analysis #literary analysis #smoking tw #boris palikovsky #boreo

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ravens-rambling · 6 years ago

Note

Sleepy

So…I realized I haven’t done a lot of Moxiety and that is a disgrace on my part so uhhhh hope you like this platonic Moxiety drabble? I might continue this with Ro and Lo finding out in the morning and them taking care of the lil emo??? Idk tell me if you guys want to! And hey maybe if I do continue this I have an idea on how the ‘yellow man’ will make an appearance?? Hhhhhmmmmmmm~

WC: 2,382

ships: Platonic Moxiety

warnings: Mentions of Deceit, Mentions of violence, Panic Attack, Crying, Mentions of Abuse, Deage character, uuhhh??? I think thats it

Tag List: @punsterterry @frostedlover @mycatshuman @stormcrawler75 @mutechild @panicattheeverywhere15 @analogical-mess @thewinterbookqueen

The small dark boy yawned loudly as he hopped off his beanbag. Blinking his eyes he glanced out the window seeing snow lazily fall down outside. It made him shiver at even the sight of it pulling his jacket even tighter around him. One thing he noticed was that it was darker out by the looks of things. Did he fall asleep? Why was he still tired then…

He heard movement out in the hallway and with small footsteps sneaked towards the door. Opening his door gently he peeked outside ready as ever to dart back inside.

Wait… Where was he again?

Why were his arms tiny?

His eyes shot open as he looked down on himself. He was tiny. And…why was he in a black and purple sweater?? What happened to his black one??

He was vulnerable like this. Before he didn’t mind being this small, it meant Thomas wasn’t being affected by him which was good in his book, but there was something bad that always happened when he became small, something he was scared of. Scared for the one person that always brings pain to him when he’s like this.

His grip on the doorknob tightened into whiteness as he gulped. Before he knew it his body started shaking. But still, he peeked out. Maybe it wasn’t him? Wait this hallway is different than before…

He heard a loud yawn in the darkness and gulped yet again. Those footsteps grew closer towards his door but the figure didn’t seem to see him.

But his shaking was making the door creak.

“Hello? Roman is that you?”

Roman… Wait… Is that Creativity? What-

The footsteps grew louder until he could see what the figure looked like. He wore a cat onesie… Cats… He also wore glasses…

The yellow man doesn’t wear glasses nor a cat onesie right? He doesn’t ever remember that…

This is…Morality then?

His breaths were coming in small gasps as he tried to be quiet. Would Morality toss him to the yellow man? Would he yell at him and hurt him? He wasn’t certain and he didn’t like not knowing.

Tears were coming down his cheeks before he could stop it. He heard himself whimpering through his hand on his mouth.

And Morality turned towards that sound his expression full of concern. He didn’t seem to notice him yet…

“Who’s crying? Are you okay? Hello?”

That was until he turned towards his door and he seemed to be able to see his eyes through the darkness for his expression was full of concern. And he was looking right at him.

Virgil gasped and quickly closed the door with a slam hoping beyond hope that he was faking seeing that. Hoping that he won’t come in his room. Hoping-

He ran to his bed grabbing one of the blankets and tossing it over him and just as he was able to get under the bed in time he heard his door opening. Putting his hand over his mouth again he shook as he pulled the blanket tight over him. Closing his eyes he prayed that the man won’t find him. Prayed that he’ll be safe.

“Kiddo it’s okay. It’s just your fatherly Pap-pap here. I won’t hurt you. Why were you crying?”

He only shook his head. One of his tricks. One of his twisting tricks.

As he tried to hide his head in the carpet somehow his back hit the bed and he winched at it. His breath picking up as he heard movement. Please don’t hurt me, his mind raced around in dizzying speeds so fast that he wasn’t able to catch on to one thought.

“Hey kiddo it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Shshs.”

He looked up to see a face looking at him through the darkness. He screamed loudly pushing away from the all too familiar smiling face before he could be hurt. Crouching low he huddled against the wall his hands going to his hair tugging it harshly.

“I-I’m sorry… Please… D-don’t hurt me… Please….” He begged his entire body shaking as he rocked side to side. Maybe if he begged the pain would be less intense. Maybe if he-

“Sweetie it’s okay. I swear to you that I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to help. Virgil? Virgil, can you look at me?”

He knows his name. When did the yellow man know his name??

Despite him not wanting to he knew he had to follow the yellow man, for if he didn’t he’ll get more punished. He was already going to get punished for huddling away like this. All he could hope for now was less pain.

Sniffling and gasping he glanced over his shoulder to the grey man silently pleading for no pain with his teary eyes.

But he didn’t see a trace of yellow. He didn’t see a trace of a snake eye through the darkness. All he saw was concern and worry. Concern for him.

He didn’t see a single trace of the yellow man.

Despite this man’s worry he smiled kindly and placed both of his hands in front of him at first making Virgil panic, “No, no shshs you see my hands?” A small nod. “I’m not going to touch you until you tell me you want to alright?”

Why was he telling him this? Not like it’ll matter. Not like anybody will listen to him.

“Can you breathe for me kiddo? Breathe with me, in for four. There you go. Out for seven. Let’s start over your doing wonderfully.”

Virgil hiccuped as he tried to breathe. He followed along with the man until he was able to somewhat breathe on his own. His tears at least stopped and he had somewhat stopped shaking thankfully. He was still huddled against the wall, however unable to pry himself from the walls at the moment. And just then he realized that maybe this man won’t hurt him. He made sure he’s breathing right? That’s something the yellow man never did.

“It’s alright kiddo. Do you want a hug?”

A hug… Hugs are…what again? He had to lower his eyes a bit to think on that. Nope, he couldn’t remember.

“W-What…” He winched at his own raspy voice, “What are….h-hugs?”

The man’s expression seemed to crack at that and his eyes grew watery. He still held on a smile though as he hiccuped once.

“A hug is comfort kiddo. It’s protection against everything around you and the world. It’s knowing that somebody loves you no matter what and that they will protect you from all the awful things in the world. It’s knowing that somebody is there for you and that they have your back.“

“O-Oh… T-That sounds…nice…” That means this man will protect him from the yellow man right?

“It is. It’s really nice. But for me to give you a hug you gotta come out from under there. Don’t worry though,” He quickly said as he saw Virgil’s frame tense, “I’ll be right here. I won’t let anything happen. I’ll give you a hug the second your out of there how does that sound?”

Virgil didn’t want to leave here. He didn’t want to leave this protection. He liked having the wall to his back knowing that nothing could come up behind him. But did he trust this man enough to leave this?

As he stared at the man he didn’t see a single trace of wanting to hurt him. He didn’t see a single trace of anger. All he saw was hurt. Concern. Deep down he didn’t think that this man will hurt him. He had to believe in that.

He nodded, “A-Alright…”

The man smiled keeping his hands firmly on the ground, “That’s good to hear kiddo,” His voice was soft…kind.

Itching slowly out of his cocoon he made his way out from under the bed gulping as he saw how big the man was from up close. His breath quicked as the man stood up and he gripped the blanket hard. So hard, in fact, it was turning into itself.

The man smiled down at him and Virgil winched at that. But when he saw how badly he was holding the blanket and that he wasn’t breathing that smile faded away. His hands went up again as he sat back down on the floor.

“Okay okay, it’s okay. Keep breathing for me. I’m sorry I should have asked you if you wanted me to stand that was my fault. Do you want that hug now kiddo?”

He took a breath in then out and nodded. He didn’t like it when the man was standing he was so…tall. But sitting down, however, he was at about his height. He could see him clearly and saw if he was going to hurt him or do anything else to him. Swallowing he nodded, protection sounds good right about now.

“Okay my arms are going to go around you now okay? You can lean on my chest if you want to, kiddo. You see my hands?”

He nodded, of course, he was he wasn’t letting them out of his sight. That and his eyes. He kept expecting to see yellow flash across his eyes. He hasn’t seen it yet though.

“Okay okay,” He said as he slowly itched his way over. Virgil stiffened as he did and even more as those hands reached behind him. He was expecting pain now, maybe he’ll get off easy, maybe-

His thoughts were paused as one hand landed on his hair ruffling it up gently. Then the other drew lazy circles across his back, up and down. These…weren’t pain… This was..gentle? What was…

“Keep breathing kiddo. I got you. Nothing is going to hurt you now. I’ve got ya.”

He breathed as he felt a warmness on his cheek. Blinking he saw it was the grey onesie it was so incredibly soft softer then he could ever imagine. It felt like a cloud… But he also heard something, some beating… He leaned closer to hear where it was coming from and sniffled when he heard a…was that a heartbeat?

It sounded…calming… So calming enough that he smiled a bit. This was so..gentle and nice. Much different then the pain he often experienced. So maybe this man wasn’t going to hurt him after all.

Before he knew it he started crying as his hands tried to go around the other’s body too, but his arms were too small. Gasping he dug his hands into the soft fabric his face dug into it as well. He loved this warmth. This care and protection that radiated off this person. It was overwhelming but gentle at the same time.

“I’ve got you kiddo. You’re going to be okay. Let it out don’t worry. Just keep breathing remember to breathe.”

They could have stayed there forever like that Virgil won’t have said a word against it. But once he finally calmed down till all that was left was him hiccuping the man kept rubbing his back and hair and he could hear him humming all throughout. It sounded nice against his chest…

“Are you sleepy now sweetie?”

Was he? He supposes he was… As if on cue he yawned loudly smacking his lips when it closed. He nodded.

The man chuckled, “Okay I’m going to pick you up now is that okay?”

His eyes were already closing but he was able to nod. He didn’t even know what he was agreeing to now. It felt like a wave had just hit him.

“Okay. I’ll make sure you don’t fall. One. Two. Three. There we go nice and easy.”

With very little movement he felt himself get lifted up. But he didn’t panic not even once, he didn’t even flinch, he was too tired now to panic. He trusted this man now, his full trust was placed in this stranger now.

“Let’s go to my room I have stuffed animals in there that I know will just love to cuddle with you kiddo. They all are just begging to be held.”

He smiled at that even purred gently. Normally he would have tensed at the moment of vulnerability but no. There’s no reason to be now, his heart told him.

His purring got louder as they moved and he heard a door opening and closing. By the time he felt himself being put down on to something soft and comfy, his eyes were already almost closed.

He felt movement beside him and opened his eyes a little to see the man lying right next to him. With gentle hands, he moved his purple hair out of his face and smiled, “I won’t let anything happen to you kiddo. Now go to sleep. Here you go.”

Opening his eyes a bit more he looked down to see a small purple cat plushie. He smiled as he grabbed it and hugged it close to his chest him purring once more.

Then a hand went to his side then back as he felt his back being rubbed again. Yawning the small boy made grabby hands for the man to come closer whimpering a bit. He wanted that soothing sound again. He wanted that warmth back.

The man scooted closer his hand not leaving his back only stopping once he cuddled Virgil close to his chest.

Virgil curled into a ball as he closed his eyes, his ear against the soothing rhythm and he felt blankets being wrapped around the both of them and he sighed heartily.

“I’ve got you kiddo, I promise you. Nothing will hurt you as long as I’m here. Go to sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that in mind, he drifted off to the darkness, letting it engulf him. For once he hoped this wasn’t some dream. He hoped this wasn’t the yellow man’s trick for if it was it was the cruelest one he’s ever pulled. It felt so real. Maybe he can let himself trust his instincts and heart. Maybe he can let himself go into this paradise. Whatever the case he went to sleep for once a bright smile on his face and his soft purrs was all that could be heard in the sparkling dark bedroom.

#sanders sides #virgil #thomas sanders #patton #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #my fics #deceit #deceit sanders #my fanfics #my fanfic #moxiety #deaged Virgil #platonic moxiety #abusive deceit #Sanders sides

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sea-and-storm · 7 years ago

Text

[ GHOA MANKHAD : About the Character / LFRP ]

B A S I C S

Name : Ghoa Mankhad. Aliases : Ghoa Kharlu, Ghoa Kha, Tsakhlai (black market alias), other tribal names. Gender : Female, cisgendered. Age : Twenty-four winters. Race : Au Ra - Xaela. Birthplace : Azim Steppe - Eastern Coastlands. Current Residence : A bit of everywhere, but mostly Ul’dah and Kugane at current. Relationship Status : A handful of non-committed, casual involvements. (Even though she’s technically married, but good luck prying that information out of her!) Romantic Orientation : Demi-romantic, non-monogamous. Sexual Orientation : Pansexual. Occupation : Black market alchemist and poisoner. Occasional healer-for-hire. Small-time con artist. But her preferred job? Hanging off the arms of the wealthy and generous. Enemies : Probably more than a few NPC enemies, but no PC enemies. (Yet!)

A P P E A R A N C E

Hair : Mid-back length. Starts a dark, inky blue at the crown and gradually fades into a silver-blue at the ends. The style varies depending on her mood, but small white-gray feathers and/or flowers are usually accompanying whatever style she settles on. Skin : Medium brown with bronze undertones. Smooth, soft, and obviously well cared for. Eyes : Light silver-white with bright white limbal rings. Height : Slightly below average for a female Au Ra at four fulm, ten ilm (4′10″). Markings : None that are especially notable. No tattoos or other body modifications. A few small scars here and there, but none that one could be faulted for overlooking entirely. Physique : Petite and soft. Distinctly feminine, even if lacking in exaggerated curvature.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Overview : Ghoa is best and most succinctly described as an unrepentant hedonist ever on the prowl for the next luxury to indulge in and the next thrill to get her blood pumping. But naturally, there’s far, far more to her than meets the eye. Positive Traits : Intelligent, cultured, curious, adventurous, charismatic. Negative Traits : Self-centered, manipulative, capricious, stubborn, work-avoidant. Quirks : Her tail often gives away her emotions, whether or not she’s trying to hide them. Always seeking some sort of thrill or excitement which can sometimes get her involved with the wrong sort or in over her head. Will play flirtatious with anything with a pulse so long as she thinks it stands a chance of endearing her to them and that she can get something out of it (and sometimes even if it won’t). Religion / Philosophy : Follows traditional Xaelan belief in the Dusk Mother Nhaama and Dawn Father Azim. Also shares a clan-specific reverence for both the sea and the storm. However, despite her beliefs and the occasional ritual or platitude she indulges in, she’s become more or less non-practicing since leaving the Steppe.

Likes : Traveling, the finer things in life, new experiences, new people, anything that gives a thrill, criminal types, the ocean, thunderstorms, birds. Favorite Foods : Anything expensive and indulgent. Seafood and sweets, especially. Favorite Drinks : Anything top shelf or bought for her. Especially rum and red wine. Favorite Colors : Dark blue, white, black, gold, silver. Dislikes : Strict traditions/laws, working, dependency, inactivity, working, anyone who tries to hold onto her too tightly, mopey or aggressively antisocial types. Positive Habits / Hobbies : Traveling, exploring, dancing, shopping, learning new reagents and alchemical techniques, does excellent work (even if she hates work itself). Negative Habits / Hobbies : Partying, drinking (often), smoking (occasionally), recreational drugs (occasionally), one-night stands, getting involved with the wrong sorts.

R P H O O K S

FELLOW XAELA : This is a pretty wide hook that could encompass a lot of things. Fellow Mankhadi and Kharlu would be interesting to set up potential backstory with. Ghoa has also spent varying lengths of time with other tribes before leaving the Steppe, leaving that avenue for backstory connections open, too. Or we could start wholly fresh! Just keep in mind that Ghoa is pretty non-tribal, so there may be some conflict with more tribal sorts (but I’m 100% down for conflict-based interactions!).

BUSINESS CONTACTS : Need some poisons or potions on the down-low? Fellow merchant looking to strike a trade arrangement? Got literally any other idea for a business hook that I would most certainly love to hear? Let’s make it happen!

MORALLY QUESTIONABLE? NO PROBLEM! : Ghoa is the queen of keeping questionable company, finding herself often drawn to those of a more criminal element not only due to her work, but because of how thrilling it can be. (Not to mention that it never hurts to have a couple of people in one’s pocket for those extra special jobs that need to be done.) So give me your thieves, thugs, druglords, smugglers, etc.!

NEED ARMCANDY? : If your character is wealthy, generous with their money, and appreciates having the company of a charming, attractive woman, Ghoa’s your armcandy! She’s a shameless gildigger whose enjoyment of the finer things in life is only eclipsed by her enjoyment of having them bought for her. But at least they’ll get the joy of sharing her company out of the deal, right?

If you’ve got another idea, let’s hear it! I just tossed this handful of ideas up for brevity’s sake (and because I’m running out of steam writing them). But if you’ve got an idea for an interaction that doesn’t fit any of the above, I definitely wanna hear it!

O O C I N F O R M A T I O N

Server : Balmung Timezone : Central (US). Availability : Week nights from 5PM - 11PM CST until raid starts back in Patch 4.2. Saturdays 12PM to whenever. Sundays vary depending on how much I’ve got to do around the house, so tentatively.. 5PM - 11PM CST, maybe a little earlier / later.

Post Style : I naturally tend towards paragraph-style RP when left to my own devices, but ultimately I mirror what I get or what is most appropriate for the situation! Lore Preference : I prefer to stick to lore as much as possible, but with a little flexibility for the grey areas. (So long as that flexibility doesn’t get too out of hand.) Seeking : More RP partners in general! I love intricate, plot-heavy RP just as well as casual, lighthearted event-going RP. So I’m looking to make more contacts both to delve into serious plot with, as well as more friends to hit up things like Tavern Nights, Pub Crawls, Festivals, Balls, and other such server events with. (Because they’re even more fun in groups!) I would prefer to RP in-game, but I’m also willing to do Discord scenes as long as they conclude in a timely manner and don’t leave me in an awkward position with in-game RP. Alternatively, I would potentially be open to one-on-one Discord RP that is AU / non-cannon (i.e. exists in its own bubble and doesn’t affect Ghoa’s actual continuity in-game), especially for those of you who play on a server other than Balmung! Will Do : Mature, sexual, dark, violent, psychological, and/or criminal themes. Coarse and explicit language. Mild to moderate injury/incapacitation without being given prior notice. Ask First : Long-term and/or permanent significant injury and disfigurement. Captivity or imprisonment, either long or short term. ERP, as I'm not always up for writing out sexual scenes (especially if there's no plot advancement purpose behind it or if we don't already have an established RP history together). Won’t Do : Character death. Any sort of mature RP (sexual, violent, dark, etc.) involving underage characters or players.

C O N T A C T I N F O R M A T I O N

In-game : Ghoa Mankhad. Discord : Jaliqai#1327.

#Restless Seas #Ghoa Mankhad #long post #signal boosts appreciated <3 #been a while #and Ghoa's been refined a lot since I first posted one of these #so it was time for an update!#FFXIV #FF14 #Balmung #RP #Balmung RP

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icecoldparadise · 7 years ago

Text

Tricks and Treats

Words: 4880 (what even?)

Pairings: Moxiety (oops) and implied Prince-logic (if you squint, it’s starting up kinda.)

Summary: It’s Halloween: Patton is in charge of costumes while Roman is in charge of adventures this years. What could possibly go wrong..? Maybe a poor decision to visit the dragon witch could…

Possible Triggers: blood, near death experiences

AN: I have never written a fic like this before, especially for the sides, so if they’re a bit out of character, I apologize. This… This was supposed to be short… Enjoy?

After much anticipation and excitement, Halloween had finally arrived. The mindscape was festively decorated with fake cobwebs (that Patton frequently and fearfully inspected to ensure no “creepy crawly death dealers” had moved in), bats, rats, ghosts and other spooky decor. The sun hadn’t even rose yet when Roman, Virgil and Logan found themselves startled awake as Patton pounced them, excitedly rambling about costumes and trick or treating and “how they were gonna love the costumes he picked for them all.” Roman jumped out of bed and bounded towards the kitchen ecstatically, humming as he began making bat-shaped pancakes. Logan groggily gazed at the bouncing dad before sternly telling him to calm down before he launched a textbook at him. Virgil seemed disoriented; he hadn’t even realized he fell asleep a few hours prior and had no idea what was going on. Eventually he joined the others in the kitchen and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee, only remembering what day it was when he saw the bat shaped pancakes literally flying from the stove. He couldn’t help but be a bit excited until Logan finally woke up enough to ask, “So Patton, what costumes did you pick out for us this year?” Virgil’s heart pounded as he watched the dad’s face light up brighter than a Christmas tree. “Oh you kiddos will LOVE what I came up with! Let me get them!” The moral side shot off into his room, leaving the other three to look at each other skeptically.

Patton bounded back in with an armful of clothing…. Most of which seemed way to bright and happy for Virgil’s liking. “For Roman, I picked an elf!” He held up this shimmery, gold tunic and some bright red skinny jeans that were boot-friendly. Roman puffed his chest out slightly. “Why would you pick something so-so gentle? I’m a prince! I slash and slay dragon witches!” He protested indignantly. Logan quirked an eyebrow. “I do believe Thomas had watched some Youtube videos about something called Lord of the Rings, in which the elves were both beautiful and lethal. It is fairly fitting, objectively speaking.” Roman seemed apprehensive, but looking down at Patton’s big, pleading brown eyes made him sigh and give in. “Oh, alright. I suppose since you put the effort into making me beautiful and lordly, this prince will slay in as an elf for you.” Patton lit up and hugged the creative side before bounding over to Logan. “I picked my favorite thing for one of my favorite people!” Logan paled as a grey cat onesie was presented to him. “Patton, this is… impractical to say the least… But I cannot deny your reasoning behind it.” The logical side smiled gently down at the bubbly heart. “I will wear it with pride.” A small excited squeal came out from the costume provider as he whirled around to face Virgil. Anxiety rose through him. “I better not be some fairy princess, or I swear I’ll-“ Patton laughed merrily and held up a black cloak. “Don’t worry kiddo, I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re gonna be a vampire!” Virgil couldn’t hide the surprise and subsequent small smile from his face. “I… I can go with that.” Patton seemed to exude pride. “I wouldn’t torture you like that, my strange dark son.” The father figure turned to the others. Roman raised an eyebrow. “Well what are you gonna be, Patton?” The father figure smiled sheepishly. “You’ll see when I come out!” Before they could pry further the heart declared, “Alright! Let’s get ready! Then we can hear what adventure Roman made for us!” Everyone nodded and dispersed.

Virgil was in his room, perched in front of a mirror as he put on more vampiric make up (which honestly, wasn’t too far off from his usual routine) when he heard a hesitant knock on his door. He rolled his eyes, giving a slightly irritated “Who is it?” and wondering who could possibly need something from him. “Hey kiddo, it’s me.” Patton’s unusually timid voice responded. Virgil’s irritation dissipated as his heart melted slightly; of course he would snap at the gentle spirit who made sure he was taken care of. With a much softer voice, Virgil invited him in. The heart quickly slipped into the anxious side’s room, shutting the door behind him. The brooding side offered Patton a gentle, welcoming smile that he reserved for the father figure. “Whatcha need, Pat?” Patton shifted, as if he were a bit embarrassed. “Well, I was um… Wondering if you’d help with my make up?” Virgil quirked an eyebrow at the timid squeak of a response. “You want my help? Wouldn’t Roman be a more suitable candidate, being a theater freak and all?” Plus, what if I mess it up and you don’t like it? Verge couldn’t help but think to himself. Patton looked down and lightly kicked the floor with his foot. “That’s the thing actually. I’m afraid our little theater muffin would be a bit too… flamboyant with his work.” Patton peered up at Virgil with his big brown eyes. “You’re a bit more, well, you have more finesse in your work. And you’re more precise- Roman is a bit careless.” Virgil couldn’t help but smile at the father’s sheepish nature, and the thought that Patton thought he was better at something that Princey. “Course I’ll help you Pat. What’s your costume?” Patton blushed vividly and mumbled, “A fairy.” The anxious side finally took note of the clothes his friend was wearing; a trademark blue tunic with silver, flowy pants and a pair of cerulean wings stuck out from behind him.

Virgil laughed quietly, and Patton began to scoot back towards the door. Panic rushed up inside Anxiety, who quickly grabbed Patton’s arm. “Wait- no Patton I’m not laughing at you!” Seeing Patton pause he continued, “I was just laughing at how perfectly it fit you, and how shy you are.” Patton completely relaxed and sat on the darker trait’s bed, letting him get to work on his make-up. Virgil’s gentle grip on his chin and focused dark eyes put Patton at ease somehow, making him feel a bit more confident despite the room’s usual effect. When the vampire was done he gave Patton a mirror to see his final touches; he gasped and smiled gleefully. Gentle swirls of blue and silver cascaded down from his forehead to his cheeks perfectly, warm brown eyes enhanced with just the slightest touch of silver eyeshadow and thin black liner. The tiniest hint of blush gave life to his face, making him look elegantly beautiful and ethereal. Patton tossed the mirror on the bed and hugged Virgil tightly. “Thanks kiddo! It’s exactly what I was hoping for!” Virgil tensed at first but relaxed and gave a small pat on the father’s back. “No problem. Lemme just finish a few details on me and we can head out.” Patton sat contently on the black and scarlet bed, gleefully switching between admiring his make-up and fascinatedly watching Virgil work on his. Once the angsty side finished, they rejoined the others in the common room. Roman went over the top with his details, adding in a gold circlet, very pointy elf ears, and some bold make up to his attire; Logan, on the other hand, looked charmingly adorable in the cat onesie with a very simple pink nose and precise, symmetrical whiskers drawn on his face. His trademark glasses were still perched on his nose, making him retain a sense of sophistication. Patton danced around, excited about their costumes. Roman snickered at the heart’s antics. “Of course you’d be something flighty and glittery.” Virgil glared at the creative side, something indescribable rising in his chest. “Oh, like you’re much better Princey. What, did you lather yourself in every bit of glitter you could?” The prince sneered at the goth boy. “At least I look different, Frighten Me Emo. Take away the fangs and what’s different, really?” Logan raised a paw in the air. “Now Virgil, Roman, cease your bickering before you upset Patton.” The two looked over to the father side, who was trying not to seem upset by the needless insults. Anxiety and Creativity gave each other one last glare before Roman announced grandiosely, “Let’s get going then! I have an exciting adventure lined up for us, including lots of glorious and gooey treats for us- and maybe even some tricks!” Virgil rolled his eyes and took his position in the back of the group, subconsciously alert for anything that might run amiss.

And oh, did everything run amiss. Horribly, horribly amiss.

They were just finishing getting the last of their treats for the night when Roman spied a cave opening in a nearby mountain. The smile on his face frightened Patton, but Virgil and Logan both groaned as they knew exactly what this meant. “BEHOLD! A CAVE! The dragon witch is SURELY in there- we must vanquish her!” In the background, Virgil imitated the prince perfectly as the animated elf prince drew his sword and dramatically pointed towards the cave. Logan sighed deeply. “Roman, this never goes well and you know it. Let’s go home and enjoy--“ Roman flared around looking horrified. “Go home? Have you lost your mind, Calculator Watch?! This is the trick of the night! It can’t all just be treats and goodies on Halloween- there has to be some terror, some mischief!” Patton grimaced, but quickly put a smile on his face. “Now, we did give good ol’ Roman the choice of what we do tonight! Surely we can humor him a bit more.” Logan remained unconvinced, but didn’t wish to hurt the heart’s feelings or deal with Roman’s obnoxious complaining the whole way home. Sighing deeply, he consented, resulting in Roman prancing forward like a hunting dog on a scent. Virgil tried to mention all the things that could go wrong, but no one paid attention to him. I have a really bad feeling about this… He thought anxiously, mildly cringing at the unintentional Star Wars reference. Up ahead he could hear Patton making a string of Dad Jokes and Logan frustratedly trying to keep up with him until he made an accidental Dad Joke of his own. Roman and Patton howled with laughter.

Before long the sun was low in the sky, and they were up the mountain and clambering into the cave. Everyone ignored the impending sense of dread each step brought. Patton noticed how quiet the vampire had gotten, how jagged his breathing had gotten (not just from the climbing), and his heart broke a little. “You okay there, kiddo?” The wide eyed stare betrayed the nod, but before Patton could pursue it further Roman hushed them. “We’re here.” He whispered as dramatically as possible, his voice resounding off the walls. They tip toed into the lair of the dragon witch. Admittedly, the three traits had pictured this huge horrible dragon curled up in the middle of a giant gold pile, and thus were shocked to see a dark, jagged throne surrounded by skulls and foul creatures with a tan woman sitting on it, an elaborate dress sprawled over her feet and some of the skulls. Something about her seemed haunting and nightmarish while simultaneously beautiful. Her eyes snapped open and locked onto the quartet in an instant, fueling the dread they felt deep inside. “Ahh, Roman, I see you brought friends.” Her voice fell like water in a river, smooth and soothing. “You’re just in time for my best trick yet.” Roman shook his head and drew his sword. “I’ve come to challenge you to a duel, dragon witch!” She threw her head back and laughed, her minions joining in as fire spurt from her mouth with each bellow. Steam hissed out of her mouth as she sighed in amusement before she snapped forward, eyes glowing an eerie yellow color and her voice deep and ominous as she cast a curse:

On this day of Hallow’s Eve

You will get more than you wish to receive.

All the world so joyously arrayed

Will transform and be dismayed.

This my evil curse shall do,

‘Til clock strikes twelve or home you go to,

Which shall my dark magic undo.

Virgil barely opened his mouth to sass her about how horrible it was when a strange smoky aura shot out from her and encompassed the four sides. They all writhed in pain for agonizing minutes before being unceremoniously dumped on the ground as the misty aura shot out of the cave and into the world. Screams could be heard... Screams that quickly started to sound like howls and screeches of unnatural things. Roman looked at his counter sides and gasped in horror: Patton’s wings became fixed to his back and were moving of their own accord, Virgil’s fake fangs looked decidedly real and Logan… Logan was a small grey cat with black spectacle markings around his eyes. The prince laughed at the sight of Logan until the cat hissed and said, “Laugh all you want, Roman, but your ears are permanently pointed.” The realization horrified him. “But, but they’re not PROPORTIONAL to my gloriously handsome face!” Virgil snickered. “That’s what you get for picking them and then dragging us hear, Elfy.” Roman went to reach for his sword only to discover it was no longer there. “You’ll need to find it if you want it back, Prince Roman. Leave no stone unturned.” The dragon witch hissed, her own eyes starting to look very dragon like. “Now all of you scram before I decide to eat you as my Halloween treats!” They scrambled out of the chamber and through the caverns, Logan leading the way as his little feet went pap pap pap pap every step of the way. Once they reached the outside world, they saw the extent of the dragon witch’s curse. Everyone had been transformed into whatever they had dressed up as- meaning there were a plethora of witches, ghouls and goblins of all ages wandering the world, acting as if they truly were the monsters they dressed up as. Virgil stared out at the chaotic scene, a panic attack working its way up. “Princy, how far are we from home?” The normally flamboyant prince hung his head down in shame. “We’re a long, long way from home. Without monsters, it would take us a good twenty minutes. With them?” He trailed off, fear settling in his belly. Virgil crumpled into a quiet ball, silently trying to breathe but struggling. The fairy carefully flew over to him and got down on the floor with him, gently running his hands through the vampire’s hair as he softly talked the panicked boy down.

Logan peered up at the elf, his cat eyes still holding depths of knowledge within them. “Roman, think. Where would your sword be if it got taken from you?” The elf prince shrugged, mentally racing through a variety of options. Something the witch said rung in his head. Leave no stone unturned… Stone… “AHA!” He cried out loudly, startling his companions and drawing way too much attention to themselves. “That blasted dragon witch knows I’m overly fond of The Sword and the Stone. There’s a perfect boulder over in those woods.” He pointed to a thicket of trees nearly two miles away, where a clearing could barely be seen from their heightened position. “Come, Count Drabula, Fairy Godfather, Logikitty! We should get there before the sun completely sets.” They hurried down the mountain side, reaching the forest precisely as the sun began to set. Virgil couldn’t help but welcome the darkness of the woods, as it made his skin much less itch and Patton was happily carrying Logan while floating around, exploring the scenery from a higher view. After about half an hour Virgil frowned; an unsettling feeling had slowly rose up from the depths of his being, one he didn’t know how to handle.

He was hungry.

Logan noticed his grimace instantly. “Are you alright, Virgil?” The vampire glanced up and nodded quickly. “Yeah, just keep stabbing myself in the lip with these fangs, that’s all.” Don’t tell them you’re hungry, they’ll freak out and think you’re a monster and—

They kept going until they reached the clearing where lo and behold, Roman’s sword was in fact shoved in a giant boulder. While he and Logan raced over to start the irksome task of reclaiming it, Virgil was staying back with his eyes closed and head pounding. The soft sound of fluttering wings made his stomach lurch. “What’s wrong kiddo?” He didn’t reply; a firm hand found a soothing place on his arm. “Verge, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” He opened his eyes and saw the blue fairy dad’s worried eyes, and couldn’t help but open up. “I… Promise you won’t freak out?” Don’t think I’m a monster, please Patton I need you Don’t think I’m a—“I’d never freak out on you, Virgil.” The way his name rolled off Patton’s tongue so effortlessly and gently sent an involuntary shudder down the vampire’s spine. He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered so softly it was barely audible, “I’m hungry.” Patton looked confused at first, but his eyes widened when it clicked. Virgil could barely breathe as he waiting for the dad to back away in horror when all of a sudden Patton smiled at him. “D’aw, it’s alright kiddo. It must suck being a vampire!” The anxious trait stared at him, then rolled his eyes. Patton quickly glanced back to see Roman and Logan still struggling to get the sword out of the stone before turning back to Virgil. “Here,” he offered up his wrist. “You can feed off of me.” Virgil’s stomach sank to his toes. Feed? Off of Patton? He couldn’t. “No, Pat no I can’t I might hurt you.” Still, the idea was morbidly attractive, something he blamed at his temporary vampirism. Patton gave him a warm smile, the glittery swirls of his make up sparkling softly with the move. “You won’t hurt me, my poor vampiric baby. I trust you; if it gets to be too much I’ll stop you. Just… hurry before the others see. They won’t understand like I do.” Virgil could see the fear dancing in Patton’s eyes- he had thought of the same thing Anxiety had. Reluctantly, the vampire carefully clasped the fairy’s wrist and bit down, trying to ignore the gasp of pain. As he began to eat, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a slight euphoria as the sweet blood filled his growling stomach. He anxiously glanced up at Patton, who seemed to be enjoying it?? He wondered in surprise, not wanting to know exactly how the fairy was enjoying it. Worried he would take too much the anxious vampire forced himself to stop but couldn’t resist giving Patton’s wrist a long, slow lick to clean off the blood and heal the wound. Patton shuddered and made just the slightest bit of noise before turning bright red. They became distinctly aware of the other two arguing with each other, resulting in the heart to smile brightly and say “Well, sounds like those two need help.” He flew off to hear the problem.

Virgil watched as the fatherly figure listened intently to the problem, laughed and said something about just pulling it out of the rock. He proceeded to fly up despite the others’ protests and effortlessly pull the sword out from the rock. The elf prince’s jaw dropped, and a hint of hurt glimmered in his eyes. He straightened up, looking quite princely in the last glimmers of dusk, and his jaw firmed in resolution. “Now that THAT fiasco is out of the way, let’s go home before some horrendous beast comes out to eat us!” The elf scooped up the cat, who meowed in protest, and marched to the other side of the woods. The fairy and vampire followed him, trusting he knew the way home in his own world. At the end of the woods stood a large, elaborate gate that stretched as high as the trees and as long as the eye could see. “Oh my,” The prince began, flushing a little. “I forgot I put this here.” Logan growled, his tail twitching in aggravation. “Please tell me you remember how to get through this?” The prince laughed boisterously. “Of course I remember! I just… Can’t reach it.” They all stared at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well, I made a lever high up in the trees that only something tiny could get into a flip.” Patton lit up. “It seems like this cat’s good luck!” Logan groaned. “I can just fly up, find the lever and tell Logan where it is so he can get it!” Logan seemed impressed for a cat. “That’s a logical solution, Patton. I approve.” The dad figure beamed happily before zipping up into the branches for a solid ten minutes. Just as Virgil was starting to worry he’d never find it, they heard an excited “FOUND IT!” boom down from the trees. A blur of blue shot down, grabbed Logan (who shrieked in fright, though he would never admit it) and shot back into the branches. A few more nail-biting minutes later, the gate opened and the fairy returned the cat to the ground, who was sternly chastising Patton for grabbing him in such an undignified manner.

Another hour passed as they dodged monsters; Virgil was getting extremely hungry again, Patton’s wings were drooped in exhaustion and Logan’s paws were tender. The elf finally collapsed and allowed them all to take a break under the reasoning that “they were almost home, they should be safe.” Logan noticed the exhaustion on the unusually stoic prince’s face and felt some odd instinct to curl up in the boy’s lap- and that’s exactly what he did. The elf was shocked at first, but soon was delighted to have a furry companion curled up on him after a long, tiring trek. Before either of them knew it, they were asleep against a tree, Roman’s hand gently resting on Logan’s head. Patton gazed at them and chuckled, looking to seek Virgil’s amusement when he noticed the boy pinching the bridge of his nose in pain. “Hungry?” The fairy asked, and Virgil blushed a deep red. “Y-yeah, but I’ll manage.” Patton sat down by the angsty vampire, unconvinced. He offered his wrist up once again with a gentle, “Eat.” The gnarling hunger would not be ignored, so Virgil once again timidly bit into the offering and drank deeply, the strange warmth filling his entire being with every gulp. Once again, Patton seemed to intensely enjoy the sensation and his cheeks tinged red when he saw Virgil noticed. The vampire stopped feeding, a questioning look in his eyes and a bashful expression on his face. “P-Pat?” The side in question opened his eyes and nodded, encouraging him. “Why do… Why do you like it?” Crimson flooded the fairy’s face as he grinned sheepishly. “I… Well… I can’t think of a dad joke for this, I’m so flustered… I guess it’s because I love you.” Tingles shot down Virgil’s spine, the strange warm sensation returning. “You… love me? But I’m such a pain to deal with!” A gentle hand caressed his cheek, stopping him. “I know. But in some weird way we just… We get each other, Verge, and I can’t help but love you for that.” Virgil was about to respond when a chilling howl filled the air… Right by their rest spot.

Roman and Logan startled awake, the Prince standing up and drawing his sword before Logan could get out of his lap. His tail was bristled and his back arched. “Werewolves…” Prince Roman whispered as four other howls responded. “RUN!” No one questioned his command as he bolted out of the small haven and towards home. The werewolves crashed out into the clearing, gaining ground on the four sides. Logan quickly turned and landed a nasty swipe on the smallest (and presumably youngest) wolf, cutting its snout pretty bad. It whimpered and fell back. A well-aimed kick from Patton took down the other small wolf, and without warning Roman turned on his heel and faced the other two, sword already slashing at their faces. The others rallied behind him, Logan swiping at feet and bellies as he could, Virgil and Patton trying to distract the other so Virgil could bite into it. They managed to split the two remaining werewolves apart, but something seemed unsettling about the one they got. It was almost as if… “Oh my gosh, this one is real.” Patton gasped. Virgil officially went into Full Protection Mode, throwing every punch, kick and bite he could at the monster. It swiped hard and knocked Virgil back before turning itself to face the fairy, who’s wings were too strained from all the traveling to lift him up to safety despite his best efforts. He tripped and fell, and he closed his eyes as the beast lifted a paw with four sharp claws to hit him when—

“MMMPppphhh!” The sound of claws hitting flesh could be heard, but Patton felt nothing. He opened his eyes and saw the vampire standing in front of him, silhouetted by the moon, with four razor sharp claws gouging through his stomach. “NO! VIRGIL!” Patton screamed in horror as the boy’s body fell to the ground. Roman rushed over and quickly decapitated the beast, the other one having retreated to its family. Morality was desperately clinging on to Virgil, who was struggling to breathe. Logan came to his side, panic evident but his voice calm. “Patton, vampires heal off of blood. We need to feed him, and fast!” Roman started to volunteer as an apology, but the fairy didn’t give him the chance. He gently pulled the vampire’s head up to his neck, made sure the fangs were lined up, and whispered, “Bite, Virgil. Please. Don’t leave me…” He shuddered as the fangs sank into his neck, drinking weakly at first but getting progressively stronger. The more Virgil drank, the more his wounds healed until they were nothing more but deep cuts. He unlatched from Patton’s neck, who was looking pale from blood loss but still managed to give him a loving smile. “You okay, kiddo?” The dark trait nodded, gasping out a thank you. “N-no, thank you Verge.” Morality started to say, his voice quivering. “For saving me, and for not leaving us behind…” Tears cascaded down the heart’s face as he pulled the anxious trait in close. Roman was silently crying at the scene, guilt and relief splattered across his face. Logan rubbed his head against them, purring. “I’m sorry to interrupt this,” he began, “But I think we should finish our journey home before anything else attacks us.” Everyone vehemently agreed, and Roman led them the rest of the way home, Virgil carrying a very drained Patton the rest of the way.

Upon arriving home, the dark aura lifted off of them and whisked away into the night. Virgil’s fangs came off, Patton’s wings and Roman’s ears returned to being props, and Logan was blissfully back to being human. Everyone was relieved to be back in their normal forms. “Logan?” Patton asked, getting the former cat’s attention. “Yes, Pat?” The heart looked down kind of shy. “It’s only 10 pm- can we all stay up and watch movies together?” The logical side’s face softened as he processed the heart’s request; he was still quite frightened from the attack, and needed them all there as a source of comfort. “Of course we can. Let’s get in pajamas, shall we?” As they split to get in comfy clothes, Patton felt a firm but slightly shaking hand on his shoulder before he entered his room. “Hey Pat?” Virgil’s voice tremored with uncertainty. The father figure turned around to face his love. “Did you really mean what you said, back in the woods?” Patton smiled, gently lifting the dark trait’s face up for a gentle kiss. “Yes, I did Verge.” Virgil seemed to contemplate everything for a moment, before a small smirk crossed his face. “In that case, I think I’ll help you get all this make up off- seeing as you aren’t experienced with removing it.” Patton turned to his room, mid thank you when he felt teeth gently bite his neck, causing him to stiffen and give the softest of moans before he could hold it back. He glanced at Virgil bewildered, who in turn had a very wicked smile on his face. “We better get started Pat,” he said slowly, “It can take a long time to get make up off.”

@tinysidestrashcaptain

#sanders sides #fanfiction #halloween #first fanfic #dear god #i'm sorry #writer's itch #this was supposed to be short #enjoy?

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silver-spider-art · 7 years ago

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Okay... so I had horrible writer's block and couldn’t work on the other projects I had going so I decided to make this self-indulgent AU that no one asked for. All because I had a really good idea for Rhys and the other story is a Tim story. I’m going to actually try and finish the whole thing before posting it to AO3 for once, but I thought I’d put a teaser up? Maybe if someone is interested in being a sounding block for ideas hmu. I love talking this stuff out with fellow fans. ^^;;

It's going to be a modern AU (slightly future tech), domestic, assassins/spies, transgender coming out story, autistic characters (POV who doesn’t know he’s autistic yet), fake marriage, pinning, slow burn, awkward flirting, secrets and betrayals, faked deaths, misunderstanding... basically just all the shit I love combined with a stupidly personal exploration of my own identity issues. I’m by no means an expert but the aspects relating to autism and transmasculinity are based on my own experiences and research. I say this because they both will play major roles in later plot points. I have everything but the ending plotted out.

This will eventually include Rhack (fake marriage), Rhysothy (pinning), Rhysha (pinning), Okay Dad Jack, Trans!Tim, Trans!Rhys, Atlas!Rhys, Dark!Rhys, autistic teenage Angel, side characters or cameos from most the rest of Tales, BL1, BL2, and the PreSequel

Anyway... for your interest:

a teaser that is 4k words >_>

tw for death, blood, and dubious morals

featuring Rhys, Zer0, and Sasha

(the title comes from The Village by Wrabel)

unbetaed, edited while tired

Written In Blood

Ch 0.5 (there's something wrong with)

Rhys really did love his work on days like these. It certainly wasn't what his parents had wanted for him when they'd dreamed up the future plans for their rosy-cheeked child. Hell, it wasn't even what he'd wanted for himself when he'd gone off to college to get his double major in business and computer science. Back then, fresh-faced and full of hope and ambition, Rhys had dreamed of owning his own company. He’d practiced inspiring speeches into the mirror and designed business cards for his future company, dreaming of tech mobiles or ambitious startups in Silicon Valley. So full of boundless ambition and idealistic dreams. Even as the reality of it had set in, unpaid internships and a soul-crushing entry position in one of the big five, he’d still longed for more. That one day, if he worked hard enough, he’d be the one making decisions in the huge cushy corner office with a view over the entire city instead of filing meaningless paperwork… or getting his boss coffee… or fending off lewd sexual advances…

But life tended to take strange turns. Back in those days, this had been one of the companies he’d applied to. In another life, he could be on his way to one of the many cubicles right now. Funny, how life goes.

Leaning back against the elevator wall, Rhys inspected himself in the mirrored surface, smoothing back a few stray strands of auburn hair that had escaped the expensive product holding it all into styled perfection. Sharp and dangerous, if he said so himself. And he did. Rhys didn’t care what Yvette said, he looked cool. His charcoal suit fit like a glove, all long lines and tailored seams, making his already long legs even longer. Heeled boots pushed him just over six feet and frankly made his ass look great. Carefully he adjusted his skinny tie (which was also very in style, thank you very much Yvette), focusing on maneuvering his prosthetic arm through the sensors attached to his chest and shoulder. The best money could buy and it had been worth every penny. None of the other arms he'd ever owned could come close to matching its fine motor control and while some were put off by the obvious robotical nature of it, Rhys reveled in it. It was more than human. A symbol of how he was rising above the limitations of his own body. Function and beauty in one. Exactly the aesthetic he was striving for. Unlike his left eye which was entirely cosmetic. A vanity purchase his *supposed* best friends still mocked him for. The iris of the prosthetic eye was inhumanly blue made tiny sapphires set in a gold ring. It twinkled and sparkled under the harsh fluorescent light as Rhys smoothed down his suit jacket, eyeing the elevators numbered lights. As the doors opened, he was moving before they’d even stopped, sliding out into the group waiting to descend.

Keeping a sneer etched into his face, Rhys passed men and women in corporate approved orange, blues, and greys who peeked nervously up at him as he strode past their cubicles. A raised eyebrow and his clearly too important for this building wardrobe sent them hurriedly back to work, trying their best to avoid his further attention. No one wanted to make eye contact for fear he was the boss's boss or some other unknown overlord. Rhys really did feel he had the look of it, with the Maliwan tie clip and crisp orange waistcoat. He’d never minded Maliwan’s colors, he would have fit in well here… in another life. But never one of them, he overlooked the terrified office drones with a frown, eye scanning the room for his goal. He was made for more than that unappreciated drudgery in too loud and overcrowded spaces.

It had been quite the wakeup call during his first internship out of college, to discover just how grey the morality of the corporate world really was. He knew the giant megacorps didn’t value human life, not when there was money to be made, and Rhys had wanted that money. He really had. But it had been something else entirely to realize that competition amongst his fellow workers not only included manipulation, bribery, embezzlement, and social backstabbing… but literal backstabbing as well. Anything went… as long as you increased the quarterly profit margin and met your deadline (and didn’t get caught). Rhys’s moral might have been loose, but that was a step further than he could handle. When his internship had ended, he hadn’t sought employment.

How funny, the way things could change so quickly.

Weaving his way through the sea of cubicles, Rhys neared the corner office. He couldn’t afford to linger long. The security clearance badge pinned to his vest had easily passed a cursory inspection and his hacking program had gotten him added to the list of visitors for the day, but the longer he stayed the greater the chance he’d been seen through. Pausing at the water cooler he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket to fetch the lock picks stored in his arm's hidden compartment, barely able to contain the smug grin that fell over his features. He'd beeped, of course, when he'd passed through the metal detector so many floors below but wouldn't he, with that obvious metal arm. He'd laughed and flirted with the guard while they'd hand scanned him with the wand, with them apologizing but, "rules are rules, you know?" Rhys sympathized with them in easy comradery, showing off his technological wonder of an arm for their amazement before being waved on through. Really, it was all too easy sometimes. Maliwan should be ashamed of themselves.

Letting his eye wander the room to make sure his path was clear, all that remained between him and files worth a very cushy paycheck was one locked door. If everything had gone to plan, Mr. Vertis would be tied up downstairs with Sasha for another hour at least, leaving Rhys plenty of time to get through whatever paltry security protocols where in place. Sliding in close to the door and blocking the lock with his body, he kept his shoulders relaxed. Nothing to be alarmed about, nothing out of the ordinary. He hoped if he chanted it in his head loud enough, somehow all the eyes in the room would remain at their computers. He strained to listen for any approaching footsteps over the click-clack of typing all around him. As he worked his picks into the lock, he felt more than heard, his phone go off, vibrating against his leg. Cursing under his breath, Rhys focused on twisting the lock open with deft movements, all was still within Mr. Vertis’s darkened office so whatever issue Sasha ran into could wait until he wasn't in the open. God, he hoped they hadn't miscalculated the mark's tastes. He still recalled all too vividly the time he'd been flat out rejected by a previous mark for being a twink. As much as Rhys had been relieved to stop flirting with the asshole, the mistake had cost them over five grand as they’d scrambled to improvise.

~*~*~

As the lock finally clicked open, Rhys slid gratefully into the darkened office. His sigh of relief, however, was cut abruptly short by the knife suddenly pressed against his throat. Behind him, he heard the door seal once more, blocking out prying eyes… and escape.

"Uninvited guest, you just set off my trap card. Your death approaches.”

The cooling body slumped over the desk with the dark stain seeping ominously into the carpet should have been enough to quell Rhys’s fool mouth, but he *knew* that voice. Or at least the trademark speech pattern tinged with a robotic warble.

"Oh- ooh my god," Rhys whispered, his heart pounded loudly in his ears, "I... um..." he fought to keep still as his body went to war with itself. Fear dropping out his stomach even as he felt his face heat, "I just- I just want to say, I think you’re really cool."

That was probably the least professional thing he could do in this given situation... but Zer0 was a *legend*. The mysterious assassin, known only as a number, lived and breathed aesthetic. It was anyone’s guess if Zer0 actually was Japanese, but the assassin certainly borrowed heavily from the culture, wielding a chokutō inspired sword and speaking in haiku. According to rumor and fan site gossip (which Rhys in no way followed at all), Zer0 was skilled in complicated origami and could write kanji. Even Zer0's gender was hotly debated by fans. Everything about the person beside him, Rhys admired.

But truthfully, right now, he really wished the assassin hadn’t snuck up on his blind side. It was making getting a good read on the killer quite difficult. The blade shifted, making Rhys’s breath catch. As quick as his reflexes had gotten over the past years, there was no way he could pull out the hidden knife from his prosthetic and turn before Zer0 opened veins. It had barely touched him but the finely honed edge simple exuded sharpness and death. This is why Rhys avoided combat in general. Being one-eyed was a fatal disadvantage in situations like this. Actually, there wasn't ever a good time to lack depth perception. But there was a time and place for cursing his body and this really wasn't it. Not when it felt like the blade might nick his throat with every shallow breath.

“Praise won’t stay my blade, bathed in blood is just as good. Fool to be a fan.”

"Fan? Oh god, no" Rhys squeaked, cursing his vocal cords for their utter betrayal. He forced laugh that sounded too harsh. He wasn’t an obsessed fan… it was… professional interest, "I just admire your work is all, your craftsmanship. I mean, everyone in the business knows of Zero," his laugh pitched up, was that blood running down his chest or sweat? His hand trembled, the flesh betraying him in a way that the metal never did. His mouth joined the betrayal as he babbled, words flowing out without filter, "Not that I’m even close to being in your league.”

He must sound like a panicked idiot. Which... he was. He was going to embarrass himself *and* die. Rhys wasn't entirely sure which one was worse. And Zer0 hadn't said anything or moved. Was he just going to stand there? This was lasting too long. His shirt was already sticking to him with what Rhys truly hoped was just sweat... though that was bad enough. And the walls. The walls were too thin, Rhys could hear the oblivious idiots on the other side of the wall still typing away on their keyboards, the sound burrowing its way into his skull as he strained to get a read on the assassin.

“I mean-" Rhys blurted, "I’m just here for the computer. No mind to me if the guy is dead right? I mean… my client won’t really be happy… but it doesn’t bother me,” he quickly assured, unable to stop the stream of words from leaving his mouth, “Ha ha, I’ll just hope he pays me in full before reading the new, right? Have to roll with the punches in this business,” Rhys’s awkward laugh trailed off as he tried to catch a glimpse past his own nose of the assassin that held his life in judgment. His phone vibrated against his thigh like he didn’t already know that the plan had crashed and burned horribly.

The blade at his throat lowed an inch and Rhys sucked in a greedy lungful of air, turning his head enough to finally glimpse the near featureless black helmet that covered Zer0’s face. A red [ . . . ] glowed faintly within the dark mask, changing into [ ? ] as Rhys watched.

"Such a gilded thief, shadows could never hide you, you are not common."

“Thank you? But I’m not a thief,” what was he supposed to say to something like that. The robotic pitch made it that much harder for him to tell if the tone was sarcastic or accusatory or simply observational. Rhys moved to cross his arms over his chest, brows furrowed, but the shimmer of light flashing off the dark blade as it was flicked back up, aborted the motion leaving Rhys’s arms hanging uncomfortable outstretched and decidedly uncool looking.

Uncertain if it would actually help his case, he filled the potent silence regardless, “I’m an assassin. Like you? I mean, obviously not as awesome as you are. And I don’t just do assassinations… but…” his left hand gave a nervous twitch as he resisted the urge to tug at his hair. He finished lamely, “…yeah… I steal stuff… sometimes,” or most of the time.

The blade swished through the air and clicked back into its sheath leaving Rhys’s legs feeling like they were made of jello. Sagging, Rhys hurried to put distance between himself and the dangerous assassin before him.

"Has anyone told, it’s a fool who runs his mouth. Prattling on and on, benefit to me alone. I claim the victory here."

He really didn't need Zer0 to tell him that. Rhys was painfully aware of his flaws. If he wasn't already, he had Fi and Sash to point them out regularly as reminders. He scowled in what wasn't a pout no matter what anyone said. He still felt off kilter. If anything, being free from the blade only made it worse, the adrenaline leaving his limbs shaking with nothing to do. Rhys carded his fingers through his hair, the gelled locks breaking apart under his fingers, but the simple repetitive motion did more to calm him than anything else could.

"I shall have your name, if trust is broken after, I shall hunt you down."

Damn this was still going sideways but he couldn't think fast enough to work out any other options. Scowl deepening, he complied, “Rhys Oliver, of Atlas.”

The [ ! ] that appeared on the assassin’s mask filled Rhys with a modicum of smug satisfaction. Five years ago Atlas was all but a footnote in history. Yet now Rhys, with the help of his friends, had raised it like the proverbial phoenix. Slowly but surely, the name Atlas was becoming relevant again. Though… maybe admitting to being from what could be seen as a rival organization wasn’t the *best* move Rhys could have made in this moment. If Fiona was here she would have smooth-talked her way out of revealing so much, she was always better at improving than Rhys was. Or she’d have gotten shot at already. That was nearly equally likely some days.

“I have heard of this, its corpse thought rotten away. Yet you claim it yours?”

“Atlas was never dead,” Rhys huffed defending his tiny operation, “We’re small right now but growing,” did he just volunteer too much? Ugh, he wished he had Yvette on a radio line but they hadn’t been able to get the headset past the security checkpoint. He felt naked without his support line. Her calm reassurance and direction in his ear.

Zer0 tipped his head, only serving to remind Rhys how much taller the lanky assassin was comparatively. Idly he wondered what was under that suit… Rhys bit his lip, his mind trailing back the myriad of speculation he’d read on that subject. Sucking in a sharp breath, he snapped his eyes back up, feeling his face heat. This was so not the place. Real spies never bought their way out of death by offering sexual favors. Or at least Rhys was fairly certain that was the case. He wasn’t going to risk his neck offering. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a protective barrier to his own wild imagination. Which hurt more than it should… that could cause issues if they did fight. But at least his hand was nearer to his weapon now.

“Atlas is reborn, this I must see for myself. You’ll introduce me?”

“What? Oh, I mean, yeah, sure. Anytime,” Rhys stammered. This was so not good. He was acting like a blushing teenager. Maybe it was actually a good thing no one had eyes on him. Sasha would never let him live this down.

“An intriguing talk but time presses ever on, I shall leave you now.”

Zer0 turned toward the large window behind the desk, a sheer drop down 53 stories, and glanced back only briefly. [ <3 ] lit up on the helmet as Zer0 gave Rhys a cheery, “Goodbye.” The assassin’s suit seemed to shimmer, an active camo making the edges harder to distinguish in the dark. Taking a half step forward, Rhys could still track Zer0’s movement as the assassin pushed open the window and dove out. Gripping the edge and peering down was enough to seize Rhys’s stomach into knots. Too high. He squeezed his eyes shut and staggered back like the fucking armature that he apparently was. He was never going to be as cool as someone like Zer0. It was hopeless. Just a dork dressing up and pretending to be James Bond.

Running his left hand, Rhys sighed heavily. When that didn’t work, slapping his own cheek, Rhys berated himself, “Focus, you still have a job to do, dum dum.”

~*~*~

With a great deal of distaste, he nudged the cooling body aside. That was certainly unfortunate. Fi would have her work cut out for her, but with luck, the data might be even more valuable to the right buyer because of the inevitable shift in power dynamics. If they acted fast enough. They might even get more than originally offered.

Careful as he tried, Rhys couldn’t get to the computer terminal without stepping in the blood. The carpet squished wetly around the slick soles of his leather boots. He wasn’t dressed for bodily fluids today. It was going to stain. Or worse seep into his socks. He was not walking around with wet socks. It was bad enough his shirt was binding up and clinging to him with drying sweat making just standing unbearably uncomfortable. He took a deep breath through his mouth, trying to ignore the ripening scent, and plugged in his flash drive to activate rhys_winz.exe. While the hacking program did its thing, he browsed through the unsecured files for important keywords, copying anything that looked promising. He could sort through it all at leisure later when he wasn’t hovering over a smelly corpse. Preferably with a cup of coffee or some ice cream. No, definitely ice cream. Today deserved ice cream.

God, the smell really was unpleasant already. This is why he refused jobs that required handing bodies after the fact. Speaking of which, he took it all back. He hated this job. This wasn’t supposed to *be* a messy mission. Yet because no one in all the city had worse luck than he did, here he was, standing in blood and the download *still* wasn’t done. Rhys was sure even the corpse would agree that Rhys’s luck was worse. The dead guy didn’t have to deal with his own stink.

His endless list of complaints stalled as the popup informed him of the download’s success. Slotting the drive back into the watertight storage in his arm, Rhys was left with only one pressing problem… bloody footprints. His bloody footprints. He hated that there was really only one solution. Standing at the door, he held his bloody leather boots in hand. Real leather, mind you. He’d had to import them! Real leather was so rare nowadays. And even if they hadn’t been god awful expensive, he couldn’t just leave them at the crime scene either.

Rhys walked out of the office distinctly less cool than he’d entered. Face beet red, he prayed no one questioned the garbage bag clutched in his fist… or his brightly colored fish socks now on display. God, how many people were *in* this damn building? Every set of eyes crawled over his skin but he refused to meet their questioning gazes. It was probably all in his head anyway. Either that or security was going to be waiting with an armed escort when he got off at ground level. He jabbed the elevator button with prejudice, shoulders tense.

~*~*~

Fuck. His phone. He’d forgotten all about it after the Zer0 debacle. He pulled out the disposable burner, opening up the deluge of texts he’d gotten from an unsaved number.

>> greet & meet failed >> still no luck, be safe!! >> getting odd looks, have 2 bail >> where r u? >> Hey dork, u alive??? >> if u r making me worry for nothing I’m going 2 kick ur ass >> if ur dead im taking ur pc >> don’t be dead, I dont know ur password

Cradling his bagged boots to his chest, Rhys chewed his lower lip, chuckling under his breath. I’d been just over three years now since he’d first run into Fiona and Sasha but now he couldn’t picture his life without them in it. They could be brash and rude… but they really did care. In their own way. He liked to imagine it was what having a sibling was like. Yvette seemed to think so and Rhys took her word for it seeing as both he and Vaughn were only children. But Sasha, Rhys was especially fond of her. Fond was likely underselling the soft feeling that curled in his chest when he thought of her, but Sahsa had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't interested in anything serious. Which… which was fine. Good even. It meant that Rhys didn’t have to worry about any awkward explanations or reveals later down the road. Just friends was fine. They clicked and she was fun to work with even though she terrified him at times.

One handed, he typed out a quick reply. Left thumb moving with practiced ease.

<< not dead, call off the funeral << done & done but messy << so ready to bail

He watched the eclipses dance as the other side of the conversation typed. Sasha must have been waiting for his reply. With luck, she’d already fetched the car.

>> tnx 4 the heart attack dork!! >> outside

Never trusting their messages not to be intercepted, they always avoided anything incriminating or too descriptive. You could never be too safe, after all, but he had to laugh that their secret agent spy code was just vague text speak and knowing each other well enough to read between the lines. It really dispelled the glamorous spy mythos. Real life had far more bloody shoes and aching ribs than cocktails and fast cars.

~*~*~

As it turned out, clutching a trash bag and brooding in an elevator didn’t gain as many strange looks as he’d feared. A woman in a crisp suit gave a snorting laugh as she entered the elevator with him, though Rhys wasn’t sure if it was his face or his socks that drew her humor. And that had been the most notable reaction. Most simply turned a blind eye to him. The purposeful sort or ignoring that likely meant they were filing away future blackmail (what little good that would do them) but it served Rhys well enough. Apparently leaving a head office in an embarrassing state wasn’t all that surprising. All the more reason to be glad he’d missed out on such exciting corporate affairs.

It was a struggle to remember to walk as he exited the elevator, pulling away from the business men and women. Security was going to be a whole new issue. They *would* open the bag. Then they’d see the blood. Then there would be questions he couldn’t flirt his way past. With a heavy heart and cursing his completely shit luck, he turned toward the ground level food court. Selecting a very full trash can he stuffed his bagged boots deep into the mess of greasy burger wrappers and paper cups. Rhys said a brief farewell to his boots, parted from this world too soon. His closet would be all that much emptier without them. The world that much colder. He blinked back a tear.

~*~*~

“Nice socks,” the guard’s barely held back smirk was beyond punchable. They were the same two guards as when he’d entered the security checkpoint what felt like ages ago. The other leaning casually back on their shared desk.

Holding his arms up, Rhys breathed through his nose. He was almost out, “Thanks.”

The other one had the audacity to wink, “Maybe if you’re naughty next time we can have a cavity search.”

What even was that? Was that supposed to be a pickup line? His head frazzled from the careful plan falling apart, Rhys was too tired to piece out what the hell was going on. He scrambled for some semblance of a script and hoped the flirty executive role still worked sans boots, “Next time, cowboy.”

It seemed to work. At the very least they laughed and released him. He couldn’t be bothered to care more than that he was leaving. All that much closer to his own room and chocolate cookie dough ice cream. After he cleared the obstacle that was his concerned friends… he sagged, staring down at his toes as he exited onto the city street. His socks really were ruined at this point. There was going to be no salvaging them from the sidewalk dirt, not when he could feel the grit from the office building still clinging to them. The purple and red fish mocked him as he glowered.

“I gotta say, that’s quite the fashion statement you got going there, dork,” a punch to his fleshy arm signaled Sasha’s arrival.

Her words mocked, but he knew her well enough to understand that she really cared. It was unlike any of the friendships Rhys had previously, but it felt stronger for it. Besides, he often felt sarcasm was greatly underappreciated and Sasha always seemed to get when he was joking. Unlike Fi. She was just scary mean sometimes.

“Ha ha,” Rhys rolled his eye, “Come on, I’m starving.”

“Uh, huh. Don’t pout, it couldn’t have been *that* bad,” Sasha pointed out.

He was in one piece so she was right on the account. But he wasn’t going to admit that, “I’m not pouting.”

“So is that why you could land aircraft on your bottom lip then?” her laugh was utterly fake, though Rhys doubted anyone who didn’t know her would be able to tell. It’d taken him long enough to learn the difference.

She steered him easily through the crowd and into the twists of side streets to their getaway car. Casual as could be. Just two friends giving each other shit. Rhys followed without thought, it was so much easier to navigate when someone else led and he could follow her anywhere.

“I hate you,” he didn’t.

~*~*~

#rhys the company man #zer0 the assassin #tales from the borderlands #fanfiction #my writing #wip #sasha the kid sister #borderlands

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