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thehomophobe · 1 month ago

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The Floridian Couple Chapter 2: ticket to busan

"Have you guys seen my sweater?"

"Where the fuck is the bathroom here?!"

"Moon! You better not be using my rosary beads as hair ties!"

"Oh shut up church boy!"

"Chica! I believe I have found your sweater!"

So. Much. Noise.

I think I'd like to remind everyone that I live in a single apartment building. And while I may own the entire thing, it's not a lot of living space. It was simpler when it was just me and Monty but my ass thought it be cutesy and demure to have five more roommates come over. Great thinking Y/N.

*(Y/N) lies on the couch, legs spread out revealing her hot pink g-string underneath a Goosebumps t-shirt. She scrolls through her phone, mindlessly tapping the screen to hit the like button. Monty did the same thing, only not in a thong.*

"Monty."

"Yeah."

"Remember that one time we talked about having kids and how we wouldn't be good parents."

"Yeah."

"I'm starting to see that now."

You may be wondering why the fuck is there 5 other people living in a apartment as disgusting as this. Well a while back Monty and I went on tour together after given a huge paycheck. It was supposed to be for a few days but then everything screwed over when our plane crashed by a flock of harpies making us walk on foot. We met Freddy in the Alps after getting lost in the snow. (Monty can't look at a map for shit.) Freddy's apparently an ex-barbarian king until he got kicked out for being gay. Which made at lot of sense when he kept touching Monty when we stayed in his hut during the blizzard. (Being gay doesn't make you less of a man guys) He was only supposed to be a guide on getting out of there but he just sticked with us.

After that, we took a boat out of the mountains, then get shipwrecked on an island, where we met Sun and Moon. We thought we were in Greece cuz of all the togas and tzatziki. Turns out there was a cult apart of the isle and they were using those two as sacrifices for an old ritual . Something about how on the cusp of sunset, the Gemini Twins, Castor and Pollux, would be revived and smite their island if they were to kill them in time. Luckily we beat those guys up before they stabbed Moon. We didn't want to take them...well Monty didn't want to take them, (mainly cuz he thought Sun was a complete pussy and was too obnoxious to have around) but after hearing that they lost their home to the cult made you want bring them along. They were pretty cute after all.

Then we took another boat and sailed back to city (which I'm surprised we did make it back with the piece of drift wood we were sitting on) . But we stopped by a motel to relax and take showers. You think we're going back home smelling like fish shit? 'Course not. And I'm (pissed) glad we stayed longer than we should've because we wouldn't of found Roxy if we've left early. Apparently there was gentlemen's club near the motel we were at and the owner was an illegal arms dealer hiding away from the cops downtown. With Roxy just so happen to being his (bitch) wife. (Unfortunately) Luckily the police said that Roxy had nothing to do with this but the money was taken from both their account, leaving her broke and homeless. So we took her too.

Chica is just of friend of Monty's who wanted to get away from the rich girl life and room with her friends.

Now with that all said and done, having 7 people crammed in an apartment like this is disgusting, especially when the owner is too lazy to clean this shit up, but I also get in rent so that's nice.

"It's better than takin' care of regular kids. Like that time we started babysitting."

"Don't remind me. One of the kids got kidnapped by a leprechaun and we had to find "the end of the rainbow~.""

"I'm surprised there was something."

"If you call a hole to the underworld something." It's a long story. Don't ask much.

*(Y/N) stopped scrolling and swiped down on her phone to look at the time. 9:46 PM.*

"OH SHIT!" *She sits up quickly, short strands of hair falling onto her face.*

"What?"

"I'm fucking late!" *(Y/N) scrambles off the couch and hurried to her room.*

"Oh right...your job." *Monty huffed* "Y'know you can call for a day off. "Chow Mein" ain't gonna care if you're sick."

"Oh real funny asshat. Nguyet gonna kill me if I'm late again. She's already pissed after I left early during the mothmen invasion. I'm not getting my ass cooked any time soon."

God is she an ass. I swear that woman needs to retire.

Oh right my job. About a couple miles down and passed the entrance of Chinatown is a convenience store owned by Ms. Zhihao Nguyet, a medium, a so-called medium. She always said that she could see her dead ex-husband floating around the market and yet I've never sensed a single trace of him anywhere. I think she's turning senile, she keeps talking to the walls in the bathroom.

*(Y/N) made a mad dash out of her room and scrambled through the kitchen, prepping her packed lunch from the fridge. The other five tenants came down the stairs.*

"Where are you going?" *Moon raised a brow.*

"She's late for work." *Said Monty*

"You have a job? I thought that ghost busting was your thing." *Roxy commented*

"Yeah well it is, so why don't you shut up and move over." *(Y/N) pushed through Roxy and the other four while struggling to put on her uniform. She headed down the steps and took the keys to the convertible. The camera panes back to the five tenants looking down towards the steps.*

"I'm glad she has a job other than sitting here waiting for monsters to show up. She's getting better at disciplining herself." *Sun smiles, proud of (Y/N) work.*

*Monty adjusted himself on the couch, looking down at a phone with the time as well as a wallpaper that says "DON'T YOU TOUCH MY DAMN PHONE BITCH"*

"And she forgot her phone..."

God were people such horrible drivers. I almost got hit by a sedan just now. The fuck is wrong with people? Whatever I made it to Chinatown. And with only...

*The camera panes to a clock in the center of town:

10:06 PM*

Shit! Now Z's gonna kill me. How the fuck did it become 10 already?! The shop's a couple blocks down. I can still make it.

*(Y/N) runs down the sidewalk, the same speed used when killing demons on the job, except without jumping on cars and people. Lights and faces become a blur, blending together in a stream of colors. (Y/N) is focused. Poised and swift. Dodging city folk in a gust of wind. Shopping bags fly and hair whips in people faces. Women's skirts rise, revealing their dainty panties for all the pervs to see. Perhaps she was going too fast.*

Made it. Thank God.

*(Y/N) breathes for a moment before looking at the small convenience store, its sign highlighted by cheap bulbs: 良好的市場. Or translated to "The Good Market". Inside was an old asian woman with a bun of black and dusty gray hair wearing a qipao underneath a shawl. Traditional was the woman inside, for she was hardheaded and stubborn as any elderly woman who worked at the same job for 45 years and still had debt. (Y/N) opens the door, the bell attached to the top rings and alerts the manager inside.*

"Ah Monster Hunter. Why are you late? Too busy demon slaying?" *Zhihao chided* "That's Manager Nguyet to you narrator." *...yes ma'am...*

"Afternoon Ms. Nguyet. How are you?" *(Y/N) greeted lazily.*

"Awake. And upset. My ex-husband came back and he destroyed the drink coolers. I had to shoo him out with a broom and clean up the mess." *Manager Nguyet huffed.*

"Darn..." *(Y/N) deadpanned. She made it behind the counter and fixed her uniform: a piss yellow polo shirt with the logo printed on the right breast. A short visor was attached to her head, awkward strands of hair fell on her face.*

"Now, you work. I go for 5 minute break." *Manager Nguyet pulls up her glasses and heads deeper inside the storage room.*

The hell is she going? Whatever, I need this shift to be over already. *(Y/N) wiggled through her pants pocket.*

Huh?

*She wiggled through her pockets again. Then her chest, underneath her shirt, inside her pants.*

Shit! I forgot my phone. But I can't leave, I just got here. *(Y/N) looked at the analog clock plastered on the wall.*

She's got 2 minutes before she gets back from break.

*On the ground was a pile of crumpled newspapers, one of which was facing upwards, showing the latest news report:

”JAPANESE BULLET TRAIN FINISHED AND READY FOR TAKE OFF.

Meet "Thomas the Bullet Train" Today!” *

Ain't no fucking way they named it Thomas. *(Y/N) continued reading the article* Can go speeds up to 320 mph, from the suburbs to downtown in a instance. Hope Granny Peking doesn't come back in an instance. I think I have time to catch the train, the first stop's not far from here. I'll just make a quick break for it...

*(Y/N) sneakliy left the store, looking back at the storage room and clock each time. Once out she ran down the streets.*

——————————

I keep forgetting I don't have my phone. And I keep forgetting there would be no point in doing this if I had my phone. I kept looking at the clock. The train doesn't leave until 11:30.

*It's 11:26*

FUCK!

*(Y/N) bolts down the streets faster. To the point were she almost missed the stairs up to the track.*

Jesus Christ why did they put so many stairs...? *(Y/N) huffs as more people crowd the enterances.* Damn a lot of people showed up for this thing. Then again, Americans love Japanese stuff. Lot more than Chinese stuff anyways. Well, let's see how long these tracks will last until someone jumps onto them. *The train slowly approaches the stop. It's bright reds and blue pop out with vibrance, and to top it of, the words "THOMAS" was written on the side in pretty cursive.* Jesus Christ, they really did call it Thomas.

*(Y/N), and about several other people, smushed themselves inside.* Jeez, it's just a train. Swear, people are gonna get stepped on if this keeps up.

The next stop is: Little Italy

Oh god. We're going to every stop. This'll be fun.

*During the train ride, (Y/N) rested her eyes and laid back cautiously. The train was surprisingly quiet, all the new hobos were getting acquainted with their new living quarters. The smell of weed started to float through the air. A smell all familiar to (Y/N).* They don't make anti-homeless train yet do they? Seriously, this train gonna have jizz stains on the ground in two weeks. We don't have the super clean sanitation teams here in America. They give everyone a Mister Clean Magic Eraser and one travel-size pack of tissues and call it a day.

*The train speeds up.*

Shit! Did I miss my stop? *(Y/N) looks at the train map.* The fuck's the train map? *A black screen replaces the train map.*

*The train speeds up*

"Hey where the fuck are we going?"

"What time is it?"

"Is the next stop coming?"

*The other passengers complain and question as the train speeds up. (Y/N) too is confused about the situation. A black haired woman taps her shoulder.*

"Excuse me miss, do you know what the next stop is?"

"Beats me I don't fucking know." Don't you have a phone lady? Seriously, this shit's getting weird. A train this expensive and fancy should be breaking down on the first day. Then again most expensive things tend to break so I can't deduce it to that. We're passed most of downtown, meaning that we're heading south. That's not even close to my apartment. Maybe the conductor's just shit.

"Hey! The doors won't open!" *A man in a trench coat tries to pry open the train doors but is unsuccessful.*

The doors won't open either. And the train keeps speeding up. This is definitely some fuck up shit. *A glitchy sound emitted from the speaker system of the train.*

"The next stop is: MY ASS BITCHES!!! Cuz I don't plan on stopping!!! Hahahahaha!"

Fuck man. Is this conductor crazy? Did he watch Speed last night? *The train crashed into something on the side.*

*BAM!*

Shit! *(Y/N) and the other passengers flailed to the side. The train must've hit something hard. The lights flickering on and off. The train speeds up even more.*

—————————————

*We pane back to Monty and the others, walking along the streets with one mission in mind:

Bring (Y/N) here phone.

And maybe some snacks.*

"She works at The Good Market right? I think I have a coupon for some stuff." *Chica digs through her tiny denim purse she just bought for Urban Outfitters and pulls a crumpled colored coupon. Roxy looks over her shoulder.*

"Chica that coupon's expired."

"Oh."

"Huh? They finished that thing already." *Moon comments.*

"What thing?" *Monty asked.*

"The train." *Moon holds up his phone to Monty. The article about the bullet train appeared in his phone.*

"They closed down half of the downtown for this thing. No wonder taxes went up last month." *A pop-up appeared on Moon's phone. A livestream of today's news. The same pop-up appeared on Monty's and (Y/N)'s phone.*

"Live footage of runaway train." *Monty read the title and click the video. The stream showed the same train but speeding faster than 89 miles per hour. The speedometer on the right shows the speed increasing drastically. The strangest thing was a woman lying down on top of the train*

"Hey, did you guys get the same pop-up?"

"Yeah."

"Sure did."

"Who's that chick on top of it?"

...

"Shit! (Y/N)!"

——————————————

You might be wondering how the fuck I got on top of the train?

Apparently, they installed an emergency exit on top of the train. You know, "just in case". I think this is what they meant by it. Just in case the train gets possessed by a spirit and a ghost hunter just so happens to ride it. Clever thinking governor...

What sucks is that I didn't bring anything to expelled the spirit. I left my katana at home and we're to far from the DJ's place to pick up supplies.

*The train starts to laugh like crazy as it speeds up.*

"Ahahahahahahahahaha! Aw man you're a crazy bitch huh? I bet you like it fast and rough."

"Oh shut up!" I'm starting to get tired. My arms can't take the wind anymore.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but where the fuck is Monty?!

*vrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooommmmmm*

Huh?

CRASH!

*A giant black SUV smashes through multiple cars on the road below the train, including cop cars trying to slow the train down by shooting it. The top was off, creating a convertible look on the car. 6 passengers, who were smushed into the car, looked up at the runaway train, trying to find their friend who was stupid enough to climb to the roof.*

"(Y/N)!"

*A dude with red long flowing hair parallel to the undercut on his right called out as he drove like a mad man.* Where the hell did he get---You know what nevermind.

*The camera cuts to Monty driving through the street while the others clutch onto the car for dear life.* "We're not gonna catch it if it passes the gate!" *Roxy yelled through the wind.*

"I know!" *Monty yelled back, swerving passed the other cars on road. Chica, Freddy, Sun and Moon all rock back 'n forth in the back seats.*

"WOULD IT KILL YOU NOT TO HIT ANYTHING ELSE?!?!" *Sun screamed from the very back. He clucthes the handle bar with one hand and the seat with the other.*

"What do think I'm doing smartass!" *Monty responsed.* "Chica, you still have the sword?"

"Yeah I have it." *Chica marveled at the katana, unfazed by the car chase.*

*Inbetween the sounds of sirens and broken metal, a helicopter flew above the train. Inside, several newsreporters and camera men record to what's happening below them.*

"Here take the wheel." *Monty's hand were off the steering wheel, wanting Roxy to take over. However, she wasn't ready for that.*

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" "Just trust me!" *From the glove compartment, Monty pulled out a rifle, specifically a C2 Scoripion EVO 3, and cocked it.* "When we get to passed strocum street, pull up to the highway!"

"You better know what you're doing jackass!" *Roxy gripped the wheel and took over. Said street was coming up soon.*

*The camera panes back to (Y/N), who was slowly slipping off the train.*

Shit shit shit shit! Where the fuck are they?! *(Y/N) only catches glimpses of the SUV between the buildings before losing it.*

...

*VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!*

*The car is back, thankful. Monty balances on the side of, trying to aim the rifle without falling.*

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

*A cascade of bullets shot the wheels of the train. Cries of pain can be heard from the train!*

"AH FUCK!!!! Q-QUIT DOING THAT!!! AAAHHH!!"

"EAT LEAD DILDO!" *Monty provoked as he shot again.* GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

*It was working. The train was slowing down. The speed slowed enough for (Y/N) to stand with full height.*

"AHH!!! Is this train supposed to be bulletproof?!?!?!" *The train cried*

"It is. For regular bullets. Monty's guns are made for hurting spirits like you, queefbreath." *(Y/N) smirked. She looked back at her friends, to which she sees one hold a long black stick in hand.*

Gōsutohantā?! Thank god! I thought they would've left at home. I can't kill the spirit without it. But how the fuck are they gonna---

"(Y/N)! Catch!" Huh?

*Chica---the one who was holding the sword---threw it with all her might...

And hit the helicopter flying above the train.*

*SMASH! The glass broke.* Holy fuck!

*But luckily, the bounced off and fell onto (Y/N)'s hand.*

"By the power the heaven spirits above, I rebuke you!" *The katana rises above (Y/N)'s head.* "I banish thee!!!"

*Shink*

*A bright flash of light emitted from the train. It slowed down before halting to a stop. If the train had move any faster, the gang wouldn't off catched it in time. (Y/N)---on her knees---pulled the blade from the top of the train.*

Finally...

*We cut back to Monty and the others. The car screeches to a halt as he jumped off the door. Over the railing, he spots (Y/N), who gave him a thumbs-up. He cheekliy smirks. The others followed suit (with Sun wobbling in fear in the background) and looked over the railing, proud of themselves.*

(TIME SKIP)

"Where have you been?" *Manager Ngyuet's brow furrows. She looks at her employee as well as her friends with her arms crossed.*

"Demon train." *(Y/N) said nonchalantly. Manager Ngyuet looks at Monty with the same face.* "You with her too?"

"Uh...yeah..." *Monty looked away.*

"Hmmm...." *Manager Ngyuet hums, before going to the back. The sound of rustling bags can be heard from behind the door. Manager Ngyuet later comes out with a bags of White Rabbit candies and Haw Flakes as well as other snacks.*"Take. For free."

"Shit really?" *Monty looked at the bag, before Chica snacthed from his hands.*

"You save city from monster. How could I not be grateful?"

"Does that mean I can get off work today?" *(Y/N) asked.*

"No. You stay and you clean." *Manager Ngyuet brings out a mop.* "Here."

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

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Do You Trust Me?

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Reader

Summary: When Lenora finds out she’s pregnant and another girl turns up pregnant and murdered, Arvin and Y/N take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Sexual Assualt, Teen Pregnancy, Cursing, Mentions of Rape, Bullying, Dark Religious Themes, Talk of Abortion DO NOT READ IF THESE BOTHER YOU (Very similar things to the movie)

Word Count: 7000

A/N: So Lenora doesn’t die in this but that part is instead replaced by the Reaster girl being found dead (I named her Jeanette... I didn’t remember if they gave her a first name)

A/N 2: I know I’m writing characters that exist already but like I feel like I’m going to Hell for writing this. Any other Christians feel that way about liking the movie?

___________________________________

Secrets were hard to keep in such a small town as Coal Creek. Everyone knew everyone and if one person saw something, the whole town knew about it by next morning. That’s why Lenora had kept her secrets with Reverend Teagarden from all except you. Other than Arvin, you were her only friend in the world. It felt nice to have another girl to talk to because as much as she loved her brother, it was nothing like having a sister. Though you weren’t related, just friends from school, it was the closest thing she had.

The two of you had bonded over the harassment from boys at school. Unlike Lenora, you had no problem dishing back threats and abuse. You were more like Arvin in that sense, not always terrified that the Lord was going to smite you for defending yourself. You and Arvin were close too because of it.

The day you two met, he’d gone to pick Lenora up from school one day to find the two of you cornered out back by Dinwoodie and his boys. They called Lenora ugly, as per their daily routine, and said they wouldn’t fuck her with a bag on a her head. Tommy Matheson had a paper bag held over her face, holding her down while she squirmed.

“There ain’t nothing alive that would willingly let you touch them, Dinwoodie!” You spat while Orville Buckman held you back, his arms wrapped around your body, keeping your arms . pinned to your side, “You’re a vile thing. Hell, I’m sure a dead pig wouldn’t let you fuck it.”

Dinwoodie spun around and blew a hard smack across your face, “Lenora here ain’t much different than that. But you on the other hand, I’d take you whether you wanted it or not. I like a girl with a dirty mouth. And lucky you, I won’t make you wear the bag.”

He fisted your hair and pulled your face close to him, trying to force a kiss from you but spat in his face, a massive drip of saliva landing in his eyes and smaller particles spewed across his lips. “You nasty bi-” Gene Dinwoodie reared back, ready to hit you again when suddenly Arvin came out of nowhere, sending a solid blow straight into Gene’s face, sending him flying to the ground with a crack.

Orville let you go to go after Arvin and Tommy did the same to Lenora. You ran over to her and pulled the bag from her head, seeing evidence of her silent tears all over her face. Once you saw she was okay though, you ran over to help Arvin, who had found himself dragged to the ground by the three boys. Lenora got up too, screaming for them to stop.

“Stop!” You yelled, pulling at Gene’s arms to try and get him to stop kicking Arvin. He shoved you back harshly by the chest but you caught yourself, returning with a sharp blow to his face with your locked fist.

The enraged boy smacked you even harder than before, sending your ass to the ground with thud that you knew would leave a bruise. Your hands and knees got skinned up as you skid slightly on the pavement. Lenora kept pulling on the boys too, begging them to stop but to no avail.

“Ha, sister fucker!” The three of them called out to Arvin before leaving the three of you alone.

“Are you okay?” You asked the boy that you hadn’t met before, who was curled up in a ball on the ground and holding his stomach. He groaned in response, trying to push himself up but requiring your assistance. “Thank you for what you did back there. I’m sorry this happened.”

He stretched, flinching at the slight movement. He sent a small nod towards you but then turned towards Lenora, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Lenora.” Words couldn’t describe the guilt he felt for allowing this to happen.

“It-it’s okay, Arvin. It wasn’t that bad this time. Y/N here took the brunt of it, unfortunately.” Lenora turned to you, “‘M sorry about that, by the way. You didn’t need to step in for me.”

You had stood up about the same time Arvin did, brushing as much of the dirt off your bleeding and scraped up knees as you could without flinching, “Those guys are ass holes, Lenora. I did need to.”

Lenora piped up, “Oh, um, Y/N, this is my brother Arvin. Arvin, this is Y/N. She just moved here.”

“It’s nice to meet ya.” You greeted the boy with a pained smile, your face hurting from the blows you’d just taken.

Arvin nodded, “You too.” He paused for a moment, “Can I give you a ride home? I don’t need them boys catching up with you again on the ride home. Besides, your face is getting mighty red. I might have something back at my house to keep it from bruising up too bad.”

You looked over at Lenora, sending her a questioning look, like asking if you could trust this boy who had just come to your rescue, which may have seemed like an odd inquiry to have since he just tried to take on the guys harassing you, but your encounters with boys in this town hadn’t gone all too well thus far. The girl looked unfazed though with almost a hint of excitement that you could possibly be going to her home.

“Um, yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.” You tucked a messy strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at Arvin to see that he was already staring at you.

That was months ago. You’d gotten settled into Coal Creek by now and the abuse from Dinwoodie had stopped entirely after Arvin had gone full vigilante to beat the shit out of them all. Speaking of Arvin, the day he saved you and Lenora, he asked you on a date and the pair of you had been going steady ever since. If there was ever a couple to not be fucked with, the town had learned it was you two.

This weekend, you’d gone over to the Russel’s home for supper at their Grandma’s invitation. It was delicious, as usual, as that woman had the God-given ability to produce miracles in that kitchen. As you all finished up, Uncle Earskell asked Arvin to help with something upstairs so he left without a second thought to help his kin.

Lenora had been looking at you funny all night, as if trying to catch your eye. After helping Grandma (which she insisted you call her as well) clean up supper, Lenora pulled you off to the side, “Y/N, let’s go on a walk. I need to tell you something.”

The weight in her eyes told you how serious this was so you just nodded, “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.”

She grabbed a lantern on her way out the door and towards the barn. It was already dark, despite only being seven in the evening. Lenora led you out there and then closed the door before sitting on the hay. “So what is it?” You asked nervously. Normally, you would have made a joke but something told you that this wasn’t a joking matter. Anxiety buzzed all around her.

“Y’know the new pastor? Preston Teagarden?” Lenora began, wringing her hands together and beginning to hide under her long red hair.

You nodded, the question having an obvious answer as everyone, including your God fearing Mama and Aunt, went to church every Sunday. “What about ��im?”

“Well… um… y’see. We… we had sex.” She whispered the last word like it was the dirtiest thing she could fathom saying.

Your eyes blew wide and your mouth dropped open, “You what?” You whispered back in shock.

“Shh!” She held her finger up to her lips, “He said that to bear yourself as God made his first children was to truly turn yourself to Him.”

You were having a difficult time processing this new information. Arvin and you had both agreed that there was something off about that new preacher since the first day you met him but you wouldn’t have guessed it was anything like this. “Lenora, that makes no sense. God sees everything. He’s already seen you in your birthday suit. He doesn’t need the preacher to see it too.”

Part of you felt bad for the way you were reacting, especially when you saw the way your best friend shrunk back a little in embarrassment. Clearly, he’d manipulated her into getting what he wanted, using her faith as a weapon for her sexual exploitation, but of course she didn’t see it like that because his words were specifically tailored to get her to believe him. Now as you said these things, though, it was becoming clearer to Lenora that she had been manipulated.

“That’s not all…” She continued.

You held her arm gently, “What is it?”

Her eyes got wide with fear, “You can’t tell anyone okay? You gotta promise.” Her hand covered yours, gripping tightly to ensure that you grasped the severity of the situation.

You swallowed hard, honestly scared by her reactions to whatever was happening. This wasn’t like sweet, simple, calm Lenora. Nonetheless, you nodded, “I promise.”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

You actually choked, “What? Are you sure?” This was bad. This was so bad.

Her eyes began to well up with guilty tears, “Yeah, I am. I was pretty sick a few weeks back. Couldn’t eat nothin’ cause I kept throwin’ up. And I haven’t had that time of the month in two months.”

“Two months, Lenora? Shit…” You whispered, leaning back against the hay. Even before moving to Coal Creek, you came from a small town in Pennsylvania where this had happened to a few girls. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon in that particular town. Your daddy had been a doctor before he died so you’d seen more than a few cases of teenage pregnancy. For Lenora, though, this was practically unheard of. Good Christian girls don’t have babies before marriage. “Did you tell ‘im?”

Lenora’s breath shook, “Yeah ‘nd he said I was crazy and delusional. Just imaginin’ things. Said we never did nothin’ in the car. Then he said that I had to get rid of the baby or I’d be branded as the town whore with a bastard son. Even said it’d kill Grandma from the shame of it all if anyone found out.”

“That is not true, Lenora. None of it. You’re not a whore and it would be best for everyone if that baby inside you was a bastard. That disgusting man isn’t fit to walk the Earth we live on, let alone be a father.” It felt like the blood was rushing through your veins with full force, internally panicking about the situation. This was a big deal and, unfortunately, you weren’t sure if Lenora was emotionally capable enough to handle it alone. She’d always been quiet and lonely and an easy target for cruel people. “Are you keepin’ it?”

Her breathing shuddered as if she’d started crying, “I can’t kill the baby inside me and go on livin’ with that. But I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared,Y/N.” Lenora threw her arms around you and you held her as her body rattled against yours.

“Shh, you got me, alright? Me and Arvin. And I’m sure Grandma wouldn’t be ashamed if she knew what Teagarden did to you.” You insisted but she shook her head.

“You must think I’m stupid for believin’ that man.” She sat up wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“No! I do not think you’re stupid at all. That monster took advantage of you, told you things to make you believe that his dirty, lustful thoughts were vindicated by the Lord. And he’s going to fucking pay.” You were furious now as you began to stand up, unsure of exactly what you’d do but you knew you were gonna do it.

Lenora grabbed your arm and pulled you back down, “No! Wait! Please-”

“What’s going on here?” Arvin opened the door with a concerned face.

Both you and Lenora jumped at his sudden intrusion but were even more nervous about what he’d heard.

“How much did you hear?” Lenora asked her brother, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

He walked in and slammed the door shut behind him, kneeling down in front of you and his sister, “That someone took advantage of you and Y/N was gonna make ‘im pay. Now what happened? What’s going on?”

This was one of the things that you’d always loved about Arvin. He had this protective nature over what he loved, ready to do anything to keep his loved ones safe, whether that was his sister, his girlfriend, or his grandmother. His brown eyes held so much sincerity and understanding for his younger sister but also fear for what had been done to her.

When she didn’t respond right away, Arvin looked over to you with questioning desperate eyes but you chewed your lip, knowing that it wasn’t your secret to tell. Instead, you looked back over to Lenora sadly and nudged her slightly.

“C-can you say? Please? I don’t wanna say it again.” Lenora begged you quietly, avoiding eye contact with Arvin. Though you could never truly know she felt, you tried to understand all the emotions that must have been running through her.

Arvin met your eyes, begging you to tell him what had happened. “She’s pregnant. It’s that Reverend Teagarden’s baby. Said that he told her that the only way to get close to God was to show him her in the form of Adam and Eve. But now he’s saying that she’s delusional and that it’s not his.”

Arvin’s temper flamed inside his chest. That explained the Reverend’s intense sermon about delusion this last Sunday. Nobody did this to his sister and got away with it. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking ki-”

“Arvin please-” Lenora tried to calm him but it was a weak attempt, still trying to stay quiet so Grandma wouldn’t notice.

“No, I’ll end his life for what he did to you.”

You watched your boyfriend reel around, hands holding onto his hat. He was livid, understandably so.

Lenora wasn’t quite sure why she wanted to protect Preston Teagarden after what he’d done to her but she thinks it’s that she was more concerned for her brother. Besides, no matter what Teagarden had done, did he really deserve to die for it?

“We don’t have to hurt him,” You spoke to your boyfriend, “If she wants, she can just have the baby and we’ll help raise it.”

“But he said it’s not his and that I’ll just be considered some no-good whore. He said it’ll kill Grandma. I don’t want to kill Grandma.” She was almost crying again at the thought of their grandmother ending up six feet under because of the shame of having her as a granddaughter.

“He said that?!” Arvin nearly yelled.

“But what if he’s right?” Lenora thought out loud, “I couldn’t live with myself if I got rid of the baby but I can’t risk killing Grandma. Maybe it would be better if I were dead-”

“No!” You and Arvin both said firmly in unison. You held her hand tight and Arvin knelt down again.

He swiped his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hands, “Don’t you ever say that. We have both already lost too damn much to lose each other too, ya hear me?”

Lenora nodded, tears falling down her cheeks when she closed her eyes.

“Why can’t we just ruin him? You can have the baby and let everyone know what he did. Everyone will know that he’s the father and it’ll destroy his life.” Arvin suggested, all of the miserable ways this could end for the man twisting his heart in sadistic pleasure.

You shook your head though, “No, they won’t. It’s different for girls in small towns like this. Doesn’t matter what happened, you’re still the dirty no good whore, even if you were raped. The man is treated like a victim for even having the inkling of an accusation brought up.” After a few minutes, you suggested, “Why don’t we run off. We’ll all go to a new town, somewhere where nobody knows none of us. We’ll tell ‘em that your husband died in the war, leaving you with the baby. I’ll go with. I’ll help you raise it.”

She shook her head, “But what about Grandma and Uncle Earskell?” She did have a point. They were both getting on in age and would need more help than they already did.

You all sat in silence for a few moments, brainstorming ideas of what to do. Eventually, Arvin looked at his sister, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

The three of you went back to the house for the rest of the night, knowing that everyone would be getting suspicious if you were out any longer.

The three of you kept the secret quiet, barely even speaking about it to each other. You’d been doing as much research on babies in the libraries at school, which earned you quite a few disapproving looks from people who assumed that you and Arvin were expecting. You were serious when you said that you had every intention of helping Lenora and so was Arvin.

Weeks had gone by with relatively no news. Well, that’s what the town thought at least. After finding out about what the Reverend had done to Lenora, Arvin had told you about his plan to watch him.

The pair of you had spent several afternoons staked out near the church, watching as he went to the place of worship and then left at night. But then you started noticing a frequent visitor. Jeanette Reaster. The pair would drive off to a little secluded field and, sure enough, Teagarden would have his way with her. Though you couldn’t hear what was said, it was clear that they’d been praying beforehand before she submitted to him fully. Now, you knew Jeanette Reaster and, much like Lenora, she was the last person you’d imagine having premarital sex for the fear of being struck down by God. Whatever this man had said to them must have been real convincing.

“Piece of shit…” Arvin leaned forward against the steering wheel of his car while you sat beside him. You both watched on as the Reverend laid the girl down and began his assault of falsely “holy” acts.

For respect of Jeanette, you both looked away during the actual act but when you saw her ride off, Teagarden got out of his car, a bunch of fabric in his hands and sniffed them as he watched her. “That fucking perv. How does nobody know about this?” You asked, disgusted. Reaster was a good girl. She didn’t deserve this abuse.

“We know about it.” Arvin said, putting the car in reverse, “And that’s enough.” Less than a week later, word got out that Jeanette Reaster had run off. Grandma had told Arvin and Lenora that her mother had said to her privately that Jeanette left a note saying that she was pregnant but the father refused to believe that he was the father. To spare her family the shame, she ran away and begged them to just say that they had no idea what had happened to her. That’s what her parents intended to do for their daughter’s sake but had entrusted Grandma with the secret just so they had somebody to talk to about it.

The day after she disappeared, they found her body on the side of the road just a few towns over. Nobody had any idea of what had happened except for you and Arvin. Both of you were convinced that Teagarden had murdered her to keep his secret from getting out.

The anger that was held between you and Arvin both was unparalleled. In part, you both felt partially responsible for her death. If only you’d said something, maybe you could have saved her. But neither of you even knew she was pregnant. That monster did to her exactly what he had probably planned to do to Lenora.

“We have to set things right.” Arvin said, sitting in his car one night with you in the woods, “That girl is dead and I can’t help but feel like it’s on me.” His head hung sadly, the weight of another death weighing on his heart.

You shifted sideways in the seat, your jeans rubbing against the vinyl car seats. You placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, “This is not your fault. This is the evil of a wicked man.”

“A girl is dead, Y/N. He got her pregnant and murdered her. He got Lenora pregnant and tried to convince her she was crazy. He’s taking advantage of innocent girls out here and then tying up the loose ends.” Arvin sat there, so much hurt behind his brown eyes. Then an idea dawned on him, “Do you trust me?”

The question took you off guard and it showed but you answered honestly, “Yes.”

Perhaps being quieter in church was for the best for this particular scenario. You’d never been as religious as the rest of your family or the rest of the town, for that matter. But this morning, you found yourself on your knees by your bedside. “Lord, please forgive the things that I am about to do. Please understand that I do this with the best intentions of protecting every other girl to cross paths with Preston Teagarden and to avenge the death of Jeanette Reaster. I pray that you please forgive Arvin as well as I know he is a man with nothing but good and love in his heart. In Jesus’ holy name, amen.”

Almost on cue, your mom knocked on the door to see you on your knees, “Arvin is out front waiting for you.” She announced with a warm smile, noticing your outfit, “You look nice, sweetie! Since when do you clean up all cute for that boy?” She teased, a loving smile on her face as you smoothed out your yellow dress that hung just below your knees. The sleeves were tight and went about halfway down your biceps. It was far from revealing with a neckline that stopped just below your collarbones but it still was tight enough to accentuate the shape of your concealed breasts. A brown belt was tied around your waist, showing off your figure.

“Yeah, well I figured that for once I might as well dress up and do something nice.” The lie slipped out smoothly despite the racing of your heart in your chest.

She pulled you in for a hug, “Well you tell Arvin that I want you back by nine tonight! I’ll be going over to Mrs. Hadderson’s for quilting today, just so you know, in case I’m not home when you get back.”

You picked up your bag and pulled her into a side hug, “Alright, Mama. Love you!” You hollered, running out the door. Arvin was dressed normally, just his blue jeans and t-shirt, but he still looked great as always.

When you slid into the passenger seat of his car, he perked up and looked over at you, “Not used to seeing you like this on any day but Sunday.” He attempted to joke but found it difficult considering what the two of you were planning on doing.

After driving a ways down the road, he asked, “Are you sure you want to be a part of this? Because I can drop you off with Lenora and I’ll take care of this myself.”

Looking over at him to see his eyes scanning your face for signs of hesitation, you placed your hand on his leg, “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Not too deep down, Arvin felt terrible for allowing you to partake in this. Death had always seemed to follow him wherever he went; he didn’t want you to be stuck with the same curse. The two of you developed a plan but Arvin had created a backup just in case you decided you didn’t want to partake, not that he would blame you. He was terrified beyond belief himself but he’d decided that for the sake of every other girl in this town and any other one’s Teagarden had harmed in the past, he had to do this.

The only thing making him feel remotely at peace with your involvement was the fact that you weren’t actually doing the killing. You were the diversion, he was the trigger man. Arvin sighed, relenting to the fact that you were in on this, “Did you bring the rope?” He asked, eyes flicking over to you and your bag between glances at the road that moved beneath the wheels of his car.

You dug around in your little bag and pulled out a small length of rope, a weapon chosen for the lack of clean up. “Got it. You got the gun?”

Arvin pulled his denim jacket back just enough to show the handle of the Luger that once belonged to his father. This weapon was chosen for its reliability. Once you guys started, you had to finish otherwise he’d tell everyone.

Before you knew it, the tires were coming to a crunching halt on the rocky sideturn just around the corner from the church. A sudden wave of nausea came over you and you had to breathe deeply to settle it down. “You okay?” Arvin asked, reaching out for you.

You swallowed hard, “Yeah.” Sweat began to bead up on your brow as a million different images of what could happen in the next few minutes ran through your head.

Arvin watched as you zoned out on the dashboard and he knew exactly what was going on in your mind. It was the same inner conflict he’d had this morning before picking you up, when he first pocketed the gun. “Whatever happens today, I need you to know that I love you Y/N.”

You sucked a quick breath in. Neither of you had ever used the L-word before. Arvin was scared to because he’d lost so many people and the fewer people he loved, that fewer people he could lose. You had just never loved anyone romantically before and were too terrified that maybe you’d say it too early or think you felt it when you really didn’t. With Arvin, though, you knew it. “I love you too, Arvin.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the lips deeply, wanting nothing more than to stay against his skin for the rest of your lives. But, unfortunately, there was something you had to do first.

“Remember, just get him to bring you to the field. I will be there waiting. I won’t let anything happen to you, you hear?” Your faces were close together, so close your foreheads almost touched, as he went over the plan one last time, trying to make sure that you knew that you were safe as long as he was around.

“I know.” You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though it was far from a grin of actual happiness.

Arvin watched as you got out of the car, leaving the small bundle of rope behind, and walked down the dirt driveway to the church. You looked just like someone that pervert would fall head over heels for. There was an innocent sway to your hips and the way you held your bag close to your body screamed insecurity, but the kind of a young girl who doesn’t know how beautiful she is. The funny thing was that this wasn’t something totally out of character for you. Sure, you had a mouth and fist that could dish as much as it could take, and yeah, you and Arvin had been together for almost half a year, but there was still a youthful innocence to you. There was still a brightness in your eyes and a pep in your step, one that hadn’t been beat down by the tragedies of life yet. It was one of the things that Arvin found most attractive about you but it was also one of the things that Preston Teagard would as well.

The doors of the church were cracked open just slightly when you approached and you could see the Reverend sitting in the pews, reading his Bible, through the gap. Taking one less final deep breath, you pressed the door open and stepped in, the heels of your little white chucks padding against the hardwood. Teagard turned around at the sound, “Why, hello, there.” He greeted warmly. It disgusted you how this man could act no different after knowing what he’d just done but the worst monsters were human.

“Uh, hi there, Reverend. I’m sorry to bother but I just needed to talk to you about something.” You began, accentuated your Appalachian drawl while trying to make your voice sound as young and innocent as you could.

He patted the pew beside him, “Well, my child, you’ve come to the right place. That’s what I’m here for. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Skin crawling as you walked, you forced your feet to move towards the man and sit beside him. Right away, his arm stretched behind your shoulders as he sat uncomfortably close. At first, you avoided eye contact, “Well, um, you see, I’ve been… straying from the light and I really want to get right with God.”

This had to be the first truth you’d told anyone other than Arvin today. You felt too terrible lying in the presence of God so you’d found a way to genuinely get your feelings off your chest while still luring Teagarden into your trap.

He rubbed his chin and hummed, “The fact that you acknowledge this means you haven’t strayed too far. God always comes back to his flock, even to those little sheepies who’ve gone astray. Why don’t you tell me more.” He urged.

Your hands squeezed the strap of your bag tightly, “I… I have lustful thoughts sometimes.”

Preston was lucky he’d had a lot of practice concealing his emotions because he’d be lying if he said that those words didn’t stir something in him, “Now are these just thoughts or have you acted on them?”

“Oh, just thoughts, Reverend. I’ve never acted on any of them.” You reassured, finally meeting his eyes. They seemed to look at you with such understanding that you could see why Lenora and Jeanette had fallen for him.

He nodded in approval, “And who are these thoughts about?”

This was where you’d have to do a bit more lying, “I don’t really want to say.” You blushed bright red. You knew that Preston must have taken this as a sign that it was about him but it wasn’t. Your dirty thoughts never strayed from Arvin.

Preston looked away and then back down at you, “You’re going with that Russel boy, right?”

Silently, you nodded, not wanting to incriminate your boyfriend too much in this process of confession.

“Has he ever touched you?” Preston pressed, his body getting closer to yours inch by inch until your legs were nearly touching.

The red in your cheeks wasn’t part of the act anymore but genuine. You shook your head, “No, never.” You felt almost panicked at the question.

“Have you ever touched yourself to these thoughts?” His voice became slower, more cautious as his inquiries got riskier and riskier.

You found yourself unable to maintain eye contact with him anymore and looked back down at your shoes instead, just shaking your head, “No, I feel too weird. Like it’s a violation or somethin’.”

Preston looked away, as if considering something, before turning back to you, “Can I show you some place? I find it helps me feel closer to God when I feel like I’m goin’ astray. Perhaps I could help.”

Hook and sink. He’d fallen right into the trap. With a shy nod, you agreed sweetly, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that. Is it far?”

Teagard shook his head, “Oh no, not too far at all. But I’ll drive so we don’t have to walk.”

Getting him to drive you to the spot was just as easy as you imagined it would be. With a quick glance in the rear view mirror, you noticed a car in the far distance behind you that you immediately recognized as Arvin following. Preston’s car came to a stop in the same field you’d seen him take Jeanette Reaster to a few weeks ago, facing the woods ahead.

It really was quite peaceful and would have been a pretty sight if you weren’t with a sexual predator. Again, his arm slid around your shoulders and you breathed in deeply, the intense sexual tension making you uncomfortable even though you had every intention of finishing him off before he even got a hand up your skirt.

“You said that Russel boy has never touched you. Have you ever shown him yourself?” The fact that this man had the nerve to ask you such questions disgusted you beyond belief but you kept up the facade.

“Like naked?” You clarified, seeing him nod, “No, not naked. We went to the lake one time so he saw me in my bathing suit then but that’s not exactly the same thing.”

Preston chuckled at your naivety, “No, no, not the same thing at all. You know how you’re supposed to save yourself for marriage to be right with the Lord. But there is nothing that brings you closer back to our heavenly father than to be as Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, the garden of pure paradise.”

“How is that so?” You cranked up the childlike inquisitive nature as you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

Preston had to fight the urge to take you here and now, looking at you like this, but he remained strong for the sake of the process. “They were made in his image. We all were but they were his original children. The pure, unaltered image of God himself, before the sin of man tainted it all. By showing yourself in your pure, unaltered image, you bring yourself closer to the light.”

Your brows furrowed, “But didn’t you just say that premarital sex is a sin?” This may have been jeopardizing your mission but you felt inclined to point out the hypocrisy before you offed the man.

He nodded, chest falling and rising with a heavy sigh, “It depends on who you’re with. I’m a man of God myself and I like to model myself after Jesus. I’d like to think that makes me an extension of His love and power and therefore an outlet for you to feel safe to do whatever you need to do in order to be right with Him.”

With a shaky breath, you bit your lip, “Alright. H-how do I-?”

Preston watched as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt and let his mind wander to what else those fingers might be good at. “First, let us pray.” He reached over and held your hand, “Lord, Y/N is showing herself to you. See her Lord, as you made her. She presents herself to you. Give her strength. Amen.”

“Amen.” You muttered after him, your fingers slowly going to unbutton your dress. This wasn’t how you’d imagined the first time a boy seeing you in your knickers going. In your mind, it had always been on a nice romantic evening with Arvin and a selfish part of you wanted it to stay that way but then you remembered why you were doing what you were doing and sucked down the reservations. At least you weren’t actually losing your virginity to the monster.

Nervous fingers fuddled with the button for just a moment too long and Teagarden twisted sideways, hands coming to cover yours, “May I?” He offered his assistance.

Your heart thumped so loud you could hear it but you nodded silently, letting your fingers fall onto your thighs. With deftly skilled fingers, he had your blouse unbuttoned before long and had pushed it off your shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat at this much exposure, your breasts just barely concealed under only the fabric of your bra. Lord, you prayed silently, please let this be over with quickly.

Your eyes slid closed, trying to imagine that it was Arvin touching you instead of Preston Teagarden but then the mere thought of comparing the two made you sick to your stomach. They were nothing alike.

A set of chapped lips kissed your forehead gently, then your cheek, and then, finally, your lips. At first, you drew back, but still kept your eyes closed, trying to mask the disgust with untouched hesitance. You forced your body to relax again and Preston took that as a cue to continue with what he was doing, his lips returning to yours.

Wasting no time, he’d crawled over you until your back was flush against the seat. You placed your hands awkwardly and haphazardly on Preston’s shoulder’s, trying to feign inexperienced confusion. You and Arvin may not have ever gone all the way, but you’d at least gone this far.

Preston’s lips moved down your neck and your breath got caught in your throat. As much as you hated it, he knew what he was doing. This man knew all the right buttons to push to make a nervous girl submit to his every desire and, though you were well aware of the game he was playing and had zero attraction to him, the physical reactions were almost impossible to stop. Your body shuddered when his stubble, something Arvin lacked, scratched the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes were open wide now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finally show up and save you from this situation.

Arvin approached the car and slowly and quietly as he could. The windows were up so it wasn’t too big an issue as long as he wasn’t clanging metal but he figured he didn’t want to take any chances. When approached the driver’s window, his heart wrenched and he immediately regretted putting you in this position.

Preston was on top of you, his hands roaming all around your semi-exposed chest. He knew that you’d never been exposed like that to anyone before and he suddenly felt sick with himself for allowing the first time to be with anyone beside him, let alone Preston fucking Teagard.

He expected to have to psych himself up for the actual kill, to have to convince himself to do it but when you locked eyes with him, a silent plea to get the man off of you, it came unnervingly natural. With the rope already wrapped around both of his fists, Arvin reached for the handle and threw the door open, looping the rope around Preston’s neck and dragging him back out of the car. Preston’s eyes were wide with shock and fear, “What the fuck?!” He hollered in fear, the words turning to gagging and choking. His hands grasped at the rope but Arvin had it pulled too tightly.

Preston’s body was kicking against the grass but his neck and head were pressed against Arvin’s chest, who was kneeling in the field.

“You really thought you could get away with what you did to my Lenora? To that poor Reaster girl you murdered? And then I bet you were willing to do the same to her over there too, huh?” He seethed, notioning over to you with a flick of his chin.

The reverend tried to say something, anything to defend himself or get himself out of this situation but Arvin never let up so the words came out as disgustingly graphic chokes. You crawled out of the car, not knowing what you could do to help or secure the situation but feeling useless now.

In a few minutes time, his lips had turned blue and the thrashing of his body had stopped. Arvin finally let up and the body slump into the grass. He crawled back and away from the man who had only moments ago been all over you, touching you.

That was when he remembered that you were there still. He’d gotten so blinded by rage that he almost blacked out, caught up in the task at hand. But when he looked up, his heart began to beat again and he stood up, rushing to you, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Your face was pale and blank, almost as if you were in shock. Your top was still totally unbuttoned, white modest bra still exposed to the world but you didn’t look like you cared at all. If Arvin was being honest, this wasn’t how he’d pictured seeing you topless for the first time going. He always hoped it would be romantic and with more than enough time to compliment every inch of your perfect body. Instead, you looked scared and shocked and almost like you could be sick.

“Y/N?” He urged, coming stand between you and Preston’s body, attempting to break your view of it. He reached down and began to re-button your blouse for you.

“I’m fine,” You said flatly, only moving to look up at him, “Are you okay?”

With a glance down at his knuckles, the rope burn was clear to see, but Arvin had been through much worse, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry that I let him do that. This whole idea was stupid and now-”

“No,” You interrupted, finally snapping out of your shocked state and bringing your hands up to rest on his, which were on your chest now, “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Arvin didn’t actually feel remorse for killing the man. The only thing he wanted was to take you back home, or rather far away, where there weren’t any reminders of today’s events. He wanted to show you how special you were, how much he loved you, and how brave he thought you were for being willing to be Teagarden’s last victim for the better good of the world.

#the devil all the time #tdalt #tdalt fics #arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel imagines #do you trust me?#dark fics #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader

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bruhstories · 4 years ago

Text

Flowers and Vinyls

Summary: You and Porco are neighbours. You also despise each other. Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, softdom!Porco, softsub!Reader, thigh riding, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (male receiving), alcohol abuse, enemies to lovers Word Count: 2.2 k

A/N: Porco deserves some love, too! I also really wanna give Connie some love, too.

You hated him, you loathed him.

To you, Porco was the most insufferable person to ever walk on this earth, strutting his pushed back hair, with his stupid undercut and his silly little upturned nose. You wanted to gouge his eyes out, but that would only land you some time in jail. He was your next-door neighbour both in terms of accommodation, and in terms of work. You owned a small flower shop at the ground floor of your townhouse, he owned a record store placed strategically wall-to-wall with yours — naturally he lived above it. Marcel, Porco's brother, was seemingly a nicer person, but he wasn't always there when you needed him to shut his little brother's mouth — or music. Not only were you two bickering like petty children, you were also complete opposites — he was edgy and brash, you were dainty and solemn. He always wore dark colours, you were dressed in pastels. And to make matters worse, he was best friends with your best friend!

Pieck was completely oblivious to the fact that you two hated each other, both bitching to her, unaware of the other's complaints. She always told you, separately, that perhaps you just need to get laid with one another and get over it. Impossible, for you despised each other. And when Pieck invited you to a small party at her place, you were not expecting to see Porco there. At first, you wanted to turn around and leave, but your friend talked you into staying, promising that Porco was actually a good guy, and that you didn't know him well enough. Oh, how wrong she was. He was evil incarnate, he vandalised your shop after you called the cops on him. Nonetheless, you stayed at her party, opting to spend some time with Reiner and Colt, avoiding Porco at all costs, because if looks could kill, his would smite you.

What you didn't know was that a conflict was taking place inside his tipsy brain — should he kill you or fuck you? Despite your differences, Porco couldn't deny that you were a very alluring woman, hips swaying every time you walked and an ass that could raise the dead. And he saw Colt glancing at that ass, prompting him to drink some more. On the other side of the room, you told Pieck all about how your date stood you up and you were quite sad, opting to drown the empty feeling in your chest with cheap vodka and tequila, and that combination did a number on you. You weren't shitfaced by any means, just drunk enough to feel the music better, taste the liquor better, smell Porco's perfume better whenever he walked past you. God, he intoxicated you more than the alcohol could, and you were beginning to wonder if Pieck was right — maybe you didn't hate him, maybe you needed to fuck him, relieve the sexual tension. But how? What if he did hate you and you'd only make a fool of yourself? The questions were grinding your gears and no amount of tequila could help you get them out of your system. You settled on ignoring them.

"We're gonna split a cab." Porco explained, a bored, inexpensive look on his face.

"Hey, 'm not poor, aight? I can afford a f-fuckin' taxi." You poked his chest with your index finger while losing your balance and falling into his arms. He quickly released you once you regained control of your legs, his eyes drifting elsewhere, crimson creeping to his cheeks.

"We literally live next to each other, but if you wanna go all by yourself, fine!"

"I haaaaate you, Pokko, d'you know? I especially hate that cute nose! Boop!"

He was so done with your attitude, your gestures, your voice, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. But Pieck really wanted to make sure you got home safe, and Porco didn't want to disappoint his friend by letting you loose in a stranger's car, especially since you were drunk and vulnerable. He was an asshole, but he wasn't that bad. Not that you could realise that, anyway.

"Just get in the car, Y/N." He rolled his eyes and opened the door once the yellow taxi pulled over. You stopped between him and the car, nose and cheeks pink from the alcohol, and leaned closer to his face.

"D'you also know I really, really wanna ride you?" You whispered in his ear before stumbling inside the cab, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Ah! Evening, mister!"

"Jesus Christ..."

The entire way home you drove Porco insane with little touches, whispers, obscene proposals. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants but he didn't want to take advantage of you. Yet the more you looked at him with hunger in your eyes, the more he couldn't think rationally — he, too, was drunk, after all. When you got out of the car you almost fell face first, but luckily, he caught you, your hand accidentally brushing his thigh in the process. God, he hated you.

"Come inside!" You looped an arm around his neck for better balance. "I gotta give you your money b-back."

"It's fine."

"No, no, I insist."

"You're so annoying, you know that?" Porco walked with you, perfectly aware of how much he'd regret this night.

"Close the door behind youuuu!" You kicked your shoes off and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket, practically dragging him through the hallway, into the living room. "Sit!"

He could say no. He could just walk out. But he didn't want to. Not anymore.

You rummaged through a drawer looking for some cash, taking your sweet time to do it. The way you were bent over, the tight skirt revealing just an inch of your red panties, sent Porco down a rabbit hole of dirty thoughts. Every gesture, every word uttered so nonchalantly by you made you both forget the turf war you both started, the atmosphere slowly becoming more intimate and sensual. You swayed your hips from side to side, opening another drawer and digging through the clutter.

"Hey, Pokko? Do you think 'm pretty?"

The question caught him off guard as you turned around, no money in your hands. He raised his gaze from your skirt to your eyes, frantically nodding his head.

"Yeah."

"Then why did I get stood up?" You pouted, walking to the couch. Porco swallowed hard when you took a seat on his thigh, his fingers digging into the sofa. "If 'm pretty, why don't men want me?" Your hands rested on his shoulders as your hips slowly rocked back and forth.

"I- I don't know." He pursed his lips, unaware of what to do. Usually, he wouldn't have any issues with situations like this. But it was different this time because he really wanted to shut your srupid mouth up — or maybe Pieck was right and all he needed to do was fuck you.

"Do you want me?" You asked, head tilted, movement stopping.

"God, yes." Porco grabbed your nape and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his other hand desperately tugging at your tank top strap. You could feel your panties dampening under his rough touch and hot kiss, your hands removing his jacket as quickly as possible. "I'm gonna fuck you on that table first." He picked you up and slammed your ass on the dining table, earning a moan out of you. "Then we'll take it to the bedroom." Porco removed his shirt while you pulled your underwear down.

"Fuck me wherever you want, just fuck me!" You begged, legs spread and lust in your eyes.

"Shit, I knew you were a little slut under all that soft girl crap." He unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the ground while he pulled his cock out. You took a good look at it, teeth digging into your lower lip.

"Aren't you gonna finger me first?"

"You didn't do anything to deserve it. But I'm in a good mood." Porco sneered before he spat on your wet cunt. The disgusting gesture made you purr like a kitten, proving him more that you were indeed a filthy whore. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down your slit, slowly pushing it between your folds as you threw your head back in pleasure. "Fuuuck, you're so tight, so wet."

"Oh my God, go deeper! Please!" You pleaded, voice low and seductive.

"Look how good you're taking it." Porco praised you, fingers digging into your skin before he started rocking his hips. It truly felt that your pussy was made just for him, the silken walls clenching around his hard cock making him grunt with every thrust. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you both realised just how much you needed this, the hate you had for each other melting away, replaced by lust and desire.

"So b-big 'nd hard-" You mumbled incoherent words while one hand found your neck, calloused fingertips squeezing the skin.

"You've no idea how much I wanted these hands around your neck." Porco groaned, his thrusts faster and harder. "Who knew I wanted to fuck you, not kill you?" His thumb parted your lips and you hollowed your cheeks around it, sucking on it like a lollipop. "Good girl. Bedroom, now." He pulled out and you almost cried at the empty feeling between your thighs. You took his hand in yours and guided him to the room — just as pastel and cute as your personality. Porco spun you around, giving your ass a firm slap before bending you down. He pressed hot kisses on your hip and lower back and you threw your head back to look at him.

"Stop t-teasing me!"

"Jeez, aren't you greedy? I thought you hated me." He laughed into your skin, the vibrations tickling your flesh. Porco couldn't abstain any longer, one hand grasping your hip, the other pushing his cock back into you. Inch by inch, it disappeared and he let out a satisfied groan.

"I still h-hate you!" Teeth sunk into your lip to stifle a moan.

"Oh, really?" He thrusted so deep that you lost control over your arms, head falling onto the mattress. Another deep thrust and you shot back up with a growl. "Talk shit and I might not let you finish." His threat alerted you and you bucked your hips, walls clenching around his cock.

"It would be a shame if you f-finished first." Your voice was cocky, targeting that huge ego of his. It was effective — Porco's hand travelled between your legs, fingers rubbing your swollen clit and you moaned in extasy, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

"N-not fair!" You squirmed and whimpered, tears of pleasure pooling at your eyes.

"We're not playing fair." He wrapped his other hand around your neck to pull you closer, back hitting his chest. The room smelled of sex and jasmine incense and it drove you mad with lust. "Oh, what's the matter? Are you coming already?" He mocked while fucking your desperate cunt.

"Yes! God, yes!" You cried out, the climax blurring your vision.

Despite your pleas that you couldn't take it anymore, Porco kept thrusting deeper into your numbing pussy, his fingers bruising your skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. He was an animal, everything about him was instinctual and filthy and you hatedloved it. Your silken walls clenched around his cock again, and he was impressed that you still had some fight left in you.

"That's right, milk me dry, you dirty whore." His disgusting words reignited the dying fire inside your core and you bucked your hips against his, the friction and pressure making you come undone a second time.

"Fuck!" Was all you could say before collapsing onto the mattress, body limp and exhausted.

"Damn it, Y/N. I said milk me dry." Porco grabbed a fistful of hair and turned you over, yanking your head back to shove his cock down your throat. How on earth did he have so much stamina? You hollowed your cheeks and triedto suck, but it was him actually fucking your pretty mouth. "Are you gonna keep being a little bitch?"

"Nu-uh!" You shook your head, the word muffled by his girth. Your cheeks were burning from the lack of air, your eyes watery and red.

"Good." He groaned, thick, hot strings of his seed shooting down your throat. "Swallow." Porco held your head back as he slowly pulled out, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue.

You laid on the bed and pulled him next to you, unaware of what to do or say. Your body relaxed when he looped an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked.

"It depends. Are you gonna blast music at three in the morning?"

"Yep."

"Well, there's your answer." You laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Listen, I'm not sorry you got stood up tonight. I mean, I am, but I'm not-"

"Porco, stop talking. It was never going to work out with him, anyway."

"Fair enough." He shrugged, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "What if I take you out?"

"Like a date, or a murder?"

"It depends. Are you gonna call the cops on me again?"

"I'll try not to?"

"A date, then."

#porco galliard #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #porco galliard smut #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #shingeki no kyoujin #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyoujin smut #porco galliard one shot

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renaerys · 3 years ago

Note

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #september fic prompts #weird king au #i have no idea what i will call this yet #but it'll make its way to AO3 and it'll be a Thing #i have to think of themes and shit now #i came here to shit post and here we are with another full on Reds fic

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runtedfiction · 3 years ago

Text

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

#zelink week 2021 #zelink #zelink fanfiction

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia.

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?”

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?”

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about.

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks.

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname.

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles.

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom.

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

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome.

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing.

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying,

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly.

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary.

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice.

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.”

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up.

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.”

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex.

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude.

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously.

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom.

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

#tw: dysphoria #trans dean #destiel #deancas #ftm dean #transmasc dean #fanfic #dean is trans #my writing #mine

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

Zoo Break

Jaune eating a apple in the courtyard.

Blake comes up and asks: What’s that in your hand.

Jaune: An apple.

Blake: No, in the other hand.

Jaune looks at his other hand: It’s a chain.

Blake with a raised eyebrow: To what?

Jaune follows the chain to his feet: A lion.

Blake: Why do you have a lion.

Jaune shrugs: Wanted to try to evolve my semblance. So, I got a lion.

Blake with confusion: Why, a lion.

The lion growls at Blake an she jumps back.

Jaune looks at the lion then shrugs: Why not a lion?

Blake from up a tree: So, you just thought it would be a great idea to awaken the aura of a natural born killer, and then further turn it into a murder machine, that no offense, you could not stop if it was enraged.

Jaune looks at the lion cleaning itself: Hmm, yes, I’d say that was my thought process.

Blake: Where did you even get it from?

Jaune: I saw it being loaded out to a ship that said... SDC? Sorry I don’t really have good farsight, but I saw it, thought it looked cool, and... I punched out the pilot took his uniform, hijacked the ship, and then landed here.

Blake:...

Jaune: Do you know anywhere, I could sell the ship? Ozpin offered to buy it, but he’s a little shady, and I think that he’ll under cut me.

Blake clearly stunned, now noticing a poorly hid ship behind Jaune, how did she not notice this!?

Jaune: I really don’t want to keep it, we kept getting weird looks from some guy from red hair and horns. Eris put him in the morgue though, don’t know how we got away with that one....

Blake returning to sense, but with a large smile on her face: I take it back, you’re clearly capable of owning a natural born murder machine.

Jaune, rubbing the back of his head: Ah, shucks, thanks Blake. But, I don’t own, Eris here, she’s my friend.

Blake: Then why do you have a chain on her?

Jaune: That’s for her to play with.

Blake: Oh... So, do you have anyway of controlling here?

Jaune: Bellyrubs and neck scritches mostly.

Blake with a flushed face: Must be pretty good scritches then...

Eris the lion: Growls at Blake again.

Blake hisses back.

Blake: So, has she attack anybody?

Jaune: Tons, mostly women though, and Cardin.

Blake looking at Eris: Huh, I wonder why.

Pyrrha: I HAVE RETURNED AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS IN THE ER!

Jaune: Oh, hey Pyrrha.

Pyrrha staring at Jaune and then glaring at Eris: I have come to reclaime my rightful postion as Jaune’s right hand bitch, and I WILL NOT BE DENIED! Now have at you, foul beast, I have been lifting weights and snorting protein powder all day for this-AGGH- Pyrrha gets attacke mid-sentence by a Eris the lioness.

Blake watches as the lioness dominates Pyrrha in a fight: Huh, who knew all it took to take down the Invincible Girl was a supernatural and supercharged lion, huh, learn something new everyday.

Jaune eating his apple: Yep, second time today, actually, don’t know why she has it out for Pyrrha so bad... and now that I think about it Ruby, Velvet, and Cinder? I think her name was? Anyway, Eris stop!

Jaune rears back and throws the chain around Eris, the change perfectly wrapping around the big cat and capturing her, it glowing with a blinding auric light as she is then pulled back to Jaune.

Jaune: Bad Eris, we do not attack our friends.

Eris the lioness grumbles.

Jaune: Eh, what was that? Sounds like you don’t want afternoon cuddles then.

Eris looks panicked, and then lets out a strangled lion eviqulent of sorry to Pyrrha, who was laying on the floor with bruises, bite marks, and several bleeding cuts.

Jaune looks at his sorry mess of a partner: You ok Pyrrha?

Pyrrha: Tis, just a scratch.

Jaune: Your missing part of your shoulder, here let me help.

Pyrrha turns red with ectascy as Jaune fill her with his white, powerful aura.

Pyrrha’s body fully heals.

Blake looks at Jaune: Your semblance is broken.

Jaune shrugs: I guess, but it still requires aura... which I can regenrate faster than I use, so yeah, yep, uh, pretty op.

Pyrrha kisses Jaune full on the lips, and then pulls back glaring at Eris: I will return for you, Jaune! Stronger than ever, and reclaim my right of afternoon cuddles! You hear that you yeller hair bitch!

Yang in the distance: Hey! I only cuddle with him every other afternoon!

Pyrrha shouts back: I wasn’t talking to you! But, know that I know this I’m going to kick your ass too!

Yangs: Well, bring it then!

Pyrrha: Later, I got to take care of this other yellow haired bitch!

Yang: Fine then!

Yang then walks off.

Pyrrha changes her glare back to Eris.

Eris growls back at Pyrrha and takes a swipe at her but can’t due to being bound by chains. Pyrrha smugly looking down at her Nemesis.

Jaune flicks Pyrrha in the forehead: None of that, beside leave Eris along, she just needs to adjust to being around people, and you picking fights with her isn’t helping. Your welcome to join in the cuddles if you behave!

Pyrrha looks flushed and looks away. Eris looks at Pyrrha with the smugness only a lion can have.

Pyrrha: ...Ok, but I get to be little spoon.

Jaune shrugs: Sure.

Pyrrha kisses Jaune again and leaves.

Jaune unchains Eris: I will never understand that woman.

Blake watches bewildered, and then shrugs: Can I join?

Jaune; Sure.

Cinder Fall appears!

Cinder: I have come to claim, you as my prince Jaune! Now where is that Lion, so that I might smite her- AGGGH Cinder screams as she too is attacked by Eris.

Jaune sighs: Ha, why does she keep doing this.

Blake deadpan: I wonder why...

AN: I was deeply moved by the Gorrilageeks horny duck, and decided to make this.

#RWBY #Jaune Arc #Jaune Arc Appreciation #Blake Belladonna #Pyrrha Nikos #Eris the lion #Cinder Fall #Jaune Arc Crack

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maskedpalmcivet · 2 years ago

Text

So nobody cares about this, but a while ago I made a post about crossing over Star Wars the The Locked Tomb series. Since then I did some thinking on what it would look like. So here are some ideas I had

The backstory:

It starts off with a young Harrow at home on the Ninth House. Young as in 8 years old.

In comes a young Anakin. I imagine Anakin is 1-2 years older than Harrow, so maybe he’d be around 10. This is fresh off of Tattooine Anakin, newly apprenticed. He’s maybe been a padawan for a month or so.

Something has happened to have Anakin land on the Ninth House with a way to get back, not sure what yet. At the Ninth House, he meets little Harrow.

Baby Harrow is all “gross who are you get away from my house I will smite you,” and baby Anakin is all “You’re a funky little fellow can I be your friend?”. So Anakin is consistently kind and Harrow is increasingly suspicious but the kind of get along. They learn names, Anakin learns about where he is, Harrow learns why this boy has an ugly braid.

But then the Ninth House bell (which I forgot the name of) rings and Harrow has to leave. She tells Anakin, in her snobbiest baby voice possible, to never come back. Anakin makes it a vow to come back as often as possible.

So Anakin, year after year, finds a time where he can sneak away to the Ninth House and see his funky little emo friend. Harrow, begrudgingly, starts to enjoy seeing Anakin. Though she’d never admit it.

But one day, Anakin stops visiting. Harrow isn’t offended, but shes wildly curious and spends a good portion of her days speculating as to why he stopped coming. She guesses it has to do with this obnoxious “Obi-Wan” figure Anakin always complains about.

Present

So fast forward a few years. Mid clone wars for Anakin and the point in Canaan house where Harrow and Gideon start getting along better but aren’t really friends or anything (pre-pool scene)

Some kind of argument happens between someone (Probs Gideon) and Harrow, and Harrow takes an angry walks. (Btw it’s about nighttime when this happens)

However Anakin managed to get to TLT world happens to Harrow. She trips down a hole or smth and when she opens her eyes, she is definitely not in Canaan house.

City lights everywhere, people bustling around, a weird sort of thalergy flowing around (spoiler alert: it’s the force), and it’s all too loud.

Also it’s raining and Harrow decides she doesn’t like that. And it’s kind of dark — she seems to be in an alley — though she is adapted to that stuff.

So she gets up, internally panicking, and looks around. She’s in an alleyway, she steps out of it. The people are strange, it’s noisy, it’s unfamiliar and—

There’s a familiar presence. Though Harrow doesn’t quite understand why she can sense it so well.

She turns around. Across the street, clipping his lightsaber back on his belt, is Anakin.

Anakin senses her in the force and has a “bitch wtf” moment before spotting her. He quickly crosses the street to get to her.

He grins and goes in for a hug, Harrow doesn’t have time to react so she just awkwardly accepts it, standing all stiff like a stick bug.

“Anakin? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here?”

“Wait— where am I?”

“Coruscant,”

“That weird ass planet you told me about? Ima be honest I kinda didn’t believe you,” (out of character dialogue but shhh,”

“Rude,”

So basically, they talk and figure things out and realize that, hey, Harrow maybe probably doesn’t have a way to get to get home.

So Anakin is like, “You know what, I’m on leave and heading home from uh Jedi stuff (meeting with Padme), so why don’t you come back to the temple with me and we’ll get everything sorted out in the morning,”

Harrow cautiously agrees.

When they get there, Harrow hates to admit it and won’t say it, but the Jedi temple is very beautiful. She’s not one for pretty sights, but she is one for long hallways full of ambiance and the Jedi temple at night is full of that.

They continue down the halls, having pleasant conversation and catching up. Anakin takes that time to casually drop that he’s been in a war for the last year or so and that’s why he hasn’t been able to visit. Harrow acts nonplussed.

They’re about to head into Anakin room when they encounter Rex walking towards the exit (he’s probably in the temple to help out with smth)

Rex decides he is way to Tired™️ for this shit and promptly keeps walking, only having an “o shit, what the fuck” moment when he’s out of the temple.

Anakin tells Harrow to crash on the couch he apparently has. Harrow does and lays very stiffly while Anakin goes to sleep in his own bed. Harrow doesn’t expect to get any sleep at all, but again that weird thalergy seems to surround her, stronger than ever, and lulls her into a sleep like a mother rocking a child.

The next morning, Harrow wakes up before Anakin. She leaves one of her notes with the cramped handwriting and goes to walk around the halls.

The gremlin sticks to the shadows, trying to be as subtle as possible. But of course someone (Obi-Wan), can sense her.

He approaches silently when her back is turned. Curiously, he tilts his head, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before,” he comments.

Harrow jumps out of her skin. She whirls around and nearly conjures a skeleton or two, but Obi places his hand out placatingly.

“Calm,” he soothes, “Captain Rex informed me he saw you with Anakin, if you were at all threatening then my Palawan would have done something. I only want to talk,”

Harrow tilts her chin up, leaning her weight in her back most leg and crossing her arms, “So it’s you,” she sneers, lip curling in a nasty way.

Obi steps back, “Excuse me?”

“You’re the mysterious mentor Anakin always complained about—“

“Ah- when I was younger!” Anakin cuts in, rushing down the almost endless halls of the temple. He lands on a heavy foot next to Harrow, “Harrow,” he hisses, “this isn’t really a place where you’re supposed to be, so keep your existence on the down low,”

And then Anakin drags Obi and Harrow to his room and explains everything. Obi suggests that Harrow speaks with the council, Anakin nearly choked and bc of that, Harrow shakes her head no.

So Anakin convinces Obi to let Harrow stay in contact with and be around him (Ani) until they can send her home. This does mean she has to tag along for any missions and campaigns and, when on leave, have a small apartment.

So this begins Harrow going on many clone wars style adventures and also Gideon joins the verse at some point and I have a whole plot planned out and so many other fun things.

Also a side note: Anakin teaches Harrow how to do engineering and stuff and Harrow turns out to be a HUGE techie and embués her necromancy with tech. She creates a ninja star/bone trap weapon that she used.

Let me know if you want to see more!

#Star Wars #star wars the clone wars #captain Rex #anakin skywalker #Anakin #obi wan kenobi #Obi wan Kenobussy #crack crossover #the locked tomb #Gideon the ninth #harrow #harrowhark nonagesimus #bone gremlin #the force #clone wars #Padme #the locked tomb x Star Wars #tlt sw crossover

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pparkerpoetry · 4 years ago

Text

Hold the Pieces of a Shattered Heart

Summary: “What happens to him?” Tommy asked.

“He dies.” Death said. “He comes into my realm, broken. No one knows he has died, and no one bothers to learn.”

-or-

Tommy was killed by Dream. When Dream tries to resurrect him, he doesn't want to go back- but Death shows him what happens to all of his friends should he refuse.

Ironic, isn't it. Death herself trying to convince Tommy why he needs to live.

_________

Tommy opened his eyes.

The fact that he could open them was a miracle by itself, because last he remembered he was in the prison cell with Dream, on the ground, being hit over and over and over-

Tommy didn’t want to think about it.

He wasn’t there anymore, it was pretty clear since instead of the dark walls that had seemed to close in on him whenever he looked away, there was a comforting landscape of rolling hills and twittering birds. Where was he?

From down the hill he was sitting on, he heard voices, and though some part of him knew who they were, he still hoped it was Tubbo. That Sam had let him out and he’d just taken a nap, that he was real, and there, and alive.

His feet didn’t make any noise on the grass, however real the place looked. It was unsettling, it was, but he still walked towards the voices. His search led him to a quaint little cottage, out of the way and nicely built, the opposite of everything that Tommy had ever made. He liked it, though. Or maybe the laughter from inside seemed better than the silence that he was forced to listen to. When had the birds stopped singing? Had he been imagining it?

He couldn’t be sure of anything. He didn’t even know where he was.

Tommy stepped up to the door and knocked. The laughter stopped abruptly, and from inside a rumbling voice groaned, “I swear if it’s that green bastard again-”

Another voice made itself known, this time so heart-achingly familiar. “Mex doesn’t knock.” The voice was filled with sadness, and it made Tommy sad. That voice wasn’t made to speak in soft tones and sorrowed lilts, it was meant to soar and to sing and to lead.

The door opened.

Wilbur stood there, real Wilbur, not some half-assed ghost of his brother. His eyes were filled with shock, and Tommy knew his heart had dropped from the expression on his face and the way that Wilbur raised a hand to search its way through his curls. “...Tommy? What are you doing here?”

If Tommy tried to speak, no noise left his throat the first time. He tried again, this time over the shock of seeing his brother again. His voice was also flooded with emotion and hurt, something that he’d kept hidden from everyone else for so long so that they wouldn’t treat him any less. “What do you think? The bitch killed me.”

“Dream? Dream killed you?” Wilbur lifted a hand to cup Tommy’s cheek, but the teen flinched away. Hands near his face brought too many bad memories.

“Yeah.”

Wilbur’s eyes were glassy with tears that he’d never let himself shed. “Oh, Tommy. You never deserved this. Not when you’re so young.”

“And you did?” Tommy asked, the pools in his eyes reflecting the pain that he’d buried deep inside of himself. “You deserved to die, all while we were forced to make a world for ourselves with no one to guide us?”

“You had Phil-”

“Phil?” Tommy laughed, but the giggle died in his throat before it could worm its way out. “Phil killed you and dipped. He doesn’t know me. I’m just some teenager that got in the way.”

Wilbur’s eyes furrowed. “That’s not right- I wrote to him,”

“And he never read the letters.” Tommy ground out. “It was just Tubbo and me. And Dream. Where have you been, if you don’t even know that?”

“Ghostbur was supposed to tell me what was going on,” Wilbur said quietly. “He came back a bit ago with the last message, and now, it’s just me.”

“And me!” Called a voice from inside the cottage, slurred with the memory of liquor. “I’m the best part.”

Tommy laughed, a real laugh, not some half-assed exhale like when he couldn’t bear to force one out. And then Wilbur laughed, and it suddenly hit Tommy that he was here, he was with Wilbur- and suddenly he launched himself at his brother and they were both crying, wrapped in the first real hug that Tommy’d had since before his second exile.

“I missed you, Wil.”

Wilbur held Tommy closer. “I missed you too. I just wish we hadn’t met like this. God, Tommy. You’re so young.”

“So are you.” Tommy reminded, turning to look up at Wilbur. “So is everyone on the server.”

“Not Phil.” Came a voice from behind the two. A feminine voice. A new one. “Phil is much older than you can fathom.”

Tommy brought himself away from Wilbur’s arms and looked at the woman who stood a ways away. “And who are you?”

“I’m Death.” She said simply, and Tommy knew it was true.

He wasn’t sure which part of her exuded the confidence of the only being who was at the beginning of creation and would be there at the end of it all, inevitable- was it her dress, long and soft, the folds of it whispering of the victims who’d dared to challenge her? Was it her hair, pulled back in a facade of relaxation, but intricately braided and ready for battle? Was it her scabbard, encrusted with jewels and riches that only one of immense power could have, holding a sword of flames and fire? Or maybe, was it the wings? Was it the dark wings that grew from her back and stretched past what she should be able to hold up, a menacing wingspan that could nurture and protect as well as smite down, that let Tommy know that she was nothing other than Death?

“I’m Death,” she repeated softly, walking towards Tommy, reaching out a hand that he trusted for once, “and Life hasn’t been kind to you, I see.”

“Phil hasn’t helped, either,” Wilbur grumbled, and Tommy’s face twisted in confusion.

The woman sighed. “Don’t speak ill of my Angel. He may have his flaws but that was why he was cast down in the first place. I have claimed him, and you would do well to remember the power I hold over this realm. I may be kind to you for your connection to him, but softness has no place where I am from.”

Tommy knew her words were true, but still, he trusted her.

“Tommy,” She clucked her tongue and met his gaze. “I need to bring you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?” He asked, voice breaking. “What if I want to stay here?”

“I can’t let that happen.” She frowned. “What has happened that Life turned on you so harshly?” Her hand touched his forehead, and for a second, her eyes closed. When they opened, no tears filled them, just anger. Not at him, but at all that had broken him.

“I don’t want to go back,” Tommy whispered, tears streaking down his face. “He can’t hurt me here.”

“You were never meant to stay here.” Death’s wings circled him slightly. “This was never permanent. Just a play of power by the man who has delusions of godhood.”

“Then why let him win?” Tommy’s voice grew a little louder. “Why let him control me?”

“Though he isn’t a god, he’s got one on his side. As I have chosen my Angel, Life has chosen his Runner, capable of outrunning even Death. He has forced my hand- I cannot interfere or he will learn of my existence. He has yet to know of the power he could hold, and should he, your existence would be much worse.”

“Please don’t make me go back.” Tommy tried again. “Please, don’t make me go back.”

Death held out her hand for him to take. “Then let me show you what will come to pass should you stay here. Let me show you how they suffer.”

A bright flash of light made Tommy close his eyes, but he opened them once he could tell it had faded. Instead of endless, rolling hills, the landscape of L’manburg was there instead. Jack was there, and Quackity, speaking of a business deal.

“What do you mean, Tommy’s dead? When did this happen?” Quackity asked, voice vulnerable and open.

“Today,” Jack said, looking down. “In the prison. Dream killed him.”

Tommy turned to Death. “This is just now, right? This is normal. Grief, n’ shit. They’ll be fine.”

Death sent him a look, before flicking her hand. They were now in a land Tommy hadn’t seen before, in a house that he’d never had the pleasure of visiting. “They’ll be fine?” She asked, gesturing towards a chair in the corner of the room.

Quackity was there, with Sapnap and Karl. They all looked broken. George was there, a little bit away.

“He’s dead,” Quackity said, letting a few tears fall. “Dream killed him.”

“Say it again,” George demanded.

“Dream killed him, George,” Sapnap yelled. “Don’t you get it? I told you before, and I’ll tell you again- he doesn’t care about us. He’s not the same Dream we knew, and you need to face it! You keep defending him, but at some point, he’ll come after me, too. I threatened him. What’ll you do, then? You’ll go to my funeral and try to convince yourself that Dream still cares? What’ll you do when Dream goes after you? Are you going to die trying to convince yourself that he won’t kill you?”

Karl spoke up. “Let it be, Sap.”

George stared at the crackling fireplace. “Yeah.” He whispered. “Yeah, I’ll die trying to convince him that he’s still in there. I’m not giving up on him. He deserves a second chance.”

“He just murdered a teenager!” Sapnap exploded, barely contained flames spreading across his skin. “He stopped deserving a second chance when he made it clear that he’d want a third. And a fourth. And as many as it would take for us to realize that he’s taking advantage of us,”

George shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you aren’t seeing reason!” Sapnap broke, tears sizzling as the flames made way for them.

“Sap,” Quackity said softly. “Let it go.”

George left the house as the three lovers broke into tears over the one that had held the server together. He didn’t return.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked, watching the blue shirt fade into the distance.

“He dies.” Death said. “He comes into my realm, broken. No one knows he has died, and no one bothers to learn.”

She pulls Tommy along by the arm to another scene.

Tommy saw Fundy, sitting on the docks that had been through so much and seen more. His ears were down, his fur not quite as pristine as he always kept it. The fox was swinging his legs and splashing the water with his feet occasionally, but overall, looked okay.

When Tommy went to speak, Death silenced him. They watched.

Fundy stayed there until night had fallen. Then, he let the tears fall. They flowed in abundance, for he’d lost not only his father, not only his grandfather, but his uncle and friend. He’d lost everyone, truly everyone, for the others were strangers to him now. He was all alone, and as he sobbed and screamed into the cool night air, no one answered. No one lived near enough to the docks to hear him, anymore. They’d all moved, leaving him stranded by himself.

“Tell me he’s okay,” Tommy begged, turning to Death.

“He searches for his mother,” Death said, and Tommy thought he caught a hint of softness in her voice, “He searches for his mother, for she is the only one he hasn’t given up on. He gets in a boat and though he must search all of the vast oceans, he does not give up.”

“And does he find her?” Tommy asked, hoping for good news.

Death almost couldn’t bear to continue. “He doesn’t. He can’t, for though he does not know it, she is gone. He thinks that he gets close, though, until…” She thought about how to phrase it. “I am one of the more forgiving gods.” She said instead, “the god of the ocean didn’t take kindly to Fundy intruding.”

As Tommy is pulled from the view, his mind echoes with thunder and crashing waves, the light showing a silhouette of a small boat, with no one in it. Tommy doesn’t want to think about how Fundy dies alone.

Death beckoned him further, this time to watch Niki.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” She said to herself, sitting on the edge of a giant crater. There are no buildings nearby, so Tommy knew it was the nuke crater. “I failed, and someone else did it. I got the ending I wanted. I am glad that he’s dead.”

Tommy doesn’t like how this was the first time he confirmed Niki was trying to kill him. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now, he had no choice.

Niki began to cry. “I just want Wilbur back. I never wanted L’manburg, or Pogtopia, or wars, I just wanted my friendships to survive longer than a betrayal. I wanted to live in peace, and I wanted Puffy to love me.”

The hole echoed with her cries, not mourning for the death of Tommy, but for the loss of Wilbur that still controlled her heart. Tommy understood her hurt, but he still hoped that Niki would have regretted his death at least a little.

Death altered the vision again, but it was still Niki. She appeared to be fine, but Tommy knew that it couldn’t be true. He used to think of Niki as his older sister, surely she missed him, as time went on.

“Tommy was the source of all our problems,” Niki explained calmly. To who, he wasn’t sure. “He had it coming. I miss him a little, but it was for the best.”

And damn, if that didn’t hurt.

Niki had been talking to Jack, who spoke next. “But don’t you see? Revenge wouldn’t have helped us. We’d have been hunted down by everyone else anyway, but revenge wasn’t the answer.”

“Not for us,” Niki shrugged, “But for Dream, it was.”

Jack was silent for a while. “You’ve changed, Niki.”

“And is that a bad thing? I spare myself the hurt of relationships this way.”

“It’s not a good thing,” Jack mutters. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Did you ever?” Niki asked, walking away.

Death looked like she was mourning something.

“What?” Tommy asked bitterly. “What’s so sad about Niki’s ending?”

“She lives in isolation,” Death said, “And dies that way. There was no one to warn her of the red vines, and there was no one to mourn her passing.”

Tommy couldn’t help but feel a deep pang in his chest when he thought about Niki dying.

Death waved her hands again, and this time, he saw Ranboo.

He was walking slowly, posture curved more than usual.

“He’s got worse posture than I do,” Tommy smiled, pointing.

Death did not laugh, instead just staring. Tommy turned, too.

He watched as Ranboo planted flowers on his stupid dirt house, crying. The hybrid made no movement in acknowledgement of the burns that the tears caused, sniffling as the soil got caked under his claws. His warbles and sobs grew louder, but no one was there to hear them. No one but the two ghosts, invisible to his eyes.

They watched as Ranboo stood up and walked away.

“Just a bit of acceptance,” Tommy tried lamely.

Death sighs, and suddenly he sees Ranboo in the arctic. It’s snowing, but the hybrid is standing in the open, whimpering each time a snowflake melts on his skin. There is a chest in front of him, open, and when Tommy moves, he sees a note attached to it with a single smile. In the chest is one piece of TNT.

“Oh, god-” Ranboo cried. “I caused that. I- I made the lockdown happen-” Ranboo stands up and stumbles back, in shock. Tommy could do nothing but watch as he grew taller and his eyes changed to purple. He’d entered the enderwalk, and Tommy could do nothing.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked softly, and Death smiles with a hint of sadness.

“He loses himself,” She says, “to the side that he hated.”

Tommy had the feeling that the ending wasn’t finished. “Is there more?”

“He always was one of Life’s most selfless creations,” Death pondered. “He stops himself from harming others, forever.”

Tommy was going to ask how, but his mind flashed with the image of Ranboo, alone in his house, bleeding out on the floor with a blade in his hand. Tommy has the sick feeling that he knows how he died.

Death sends him a knowing look before the scene changes again.

This time, Tommy saw Tubbo.

“Tommy isn’t dead,” Tubbo said as if it’s a fact. “There’s no way that Sam would let that happen- no, there’s no way. Tommy isn’t dead. This is some sick prank.” But, there was no one there to listen. Only the snow as it fell, cutting off the boy from the rest of the world.

“Tubbo’ll be fine,” Tommy said weakly. “He’s always been the stronger of us.”

“But was that simply because you were there to make him feel strong?” Death asked, pointing to the house that Tubbo had been in.

It was older now, much older. Cobwebs grew in the corners as the roof fell into shambles and dust settled. They moved inside and still, Tubbo was there.

“Has he moved?” Tommy asked, horrified.

“Sometimes.” Death said quietly, watching Tubbo as he sat, curled up against the cold. “If someone makes him.”

“And what happens to Tubbo?”

Death looked at Tommy, and he saw his reflection in her eyes. “Well, what would happen if you lost Tubbo?” When Tommy made no move to answer, she did, instead. “He sits, waiting for me or you. When he hears of the death of his husband, he has nothing left to live for, and does not try to keep me at bay.”

Tommy’s soul ached.

Death kept speaking. “He enters my realm, shattered, and it’s too late for you to put together the pieces.”

“Stop showing me these,” Tommy said, tears welling up.

“You need to learn what happens.” She said firmly, and suddenly all Tommy sees is flashes, flashes of Karl Jacobs, the protector of time, though he does not know it.

Karl tries, hundreds of times, to prevent Tommy’s death. It still happens, regardless, no matter what he does, in worse and worse ways. Karl dies in some of them, but it never sticks. Karl tries so hard to fix it, at the expense of himself, and Tommy swears that once, their eyes meet.

Nothing good lasts forever.

Eventually, Karl gave up and succumbed to the fact that there was nothing he could do.

“What happens to him?” Tommy asked, broken.

Death spares Karl a pitying glance. “Without someone to monitor the server, it falls apart. This might be the largest tragedy of all of them- without the warrior of time, the vines fill the server, and everyone dies.”

“Everyone?” Tommy asked, voice quiet.

Death looked him in the eye. There is no escaping that look. “Everyone. They all enter my realm, including Life’s Runner, and the story happens over again. The same show, a different stage. And this time, no one can escape him. Not even my Angel.” She put an arm around Tommy, but he shrugged it off.

“I don’t want to see any more,” Tommy said firmly, but he had no choice in the matter.

He saw Puffy. Puffy was angry, more than he had ever seen before. She’s staring down Dream, and Tommy can sense her fury.

“You killed him, Dream!” She yelled. “How could you?”

“He called me a liar.” Dream shrugged. “He’ll be back.”

Puffy glared at him. “You don’t get it, do you? You are a liar. Every time you’d come home from school and come up to me, all excited, and claim that you loved me, you were lying. Every time you promised that you’d remember all that I’d raised you to hold dear, you were lying. Every time that I looked my little duckling in the eye as you told me that you wouldn’t forget me, you were lying.”

“I do love you, though.”

“No,” Puffy snarled. “You loved me. The only thing you love now is power and chaos- and I know that I didn’t teach you that. I never taught you how to be selfish or how to kill just for the fun of it- I never taught you any of the things that landed you in this cell.”

Dream looked up at her. “You did your best. It’s not your fault that your best wasn’t enough.”

Tommy tried to not let the voice get under his skin. “Just get it over with. What happens to Puffy?”

Death looked almost regretful. “I sympathize with this one. Her ending is the one of a mother, but there is no glory in it, and there is no point. She tried her hardest before the end, but her love was a weakness. She was one of the only adults who had recognized the proper severity of your passing, and though she was rewarded accordingly after her’s...”

Tommy could only watch as the red vines crept as the time passed. Death beckoned Tommy closer to a different scene, and Tommy could see two people. Purpled was one of them, and the other was Puffy.

The vines had grown until there was almost no space.

Puffy shielded Purpled from them. “Run, Purp. You’ll have time to escape if I stay behind.”

“But then you’re going to-”

Puffy interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. Go, or neither of us will make it out alive.”

Death stopped the scene. “It gets rather ugly. I don’t think you should see it.”

Tommy objected. “But what happens?”

“You know.” Death sighed. “The vines encompass the server. Everyone dies. It doesn’t matter that she bought the boy a few more days, the ending is inevitable.”

Tommy hurt all over, but Death still led. “I don’t want to see any more, please,” Tommy begged, but Death has never been the certain type of kind that he calls for. Death does what is necessary, and right now, the visions were.

The next one was Eret, all alone in his castle, as the walls crumbled around them. They sat on their throne, with no one to follow them and no one to care. Tommy knew what Eret was thinking of- how they’d failed everyone and how Tommy had been so young, and maybe, if they hadn’t betrayed L’manburg in the beginning, they’d still all be a family.

Defeated, Tommy asked what Eret’s end was like.

“They died to a creeper that found its way into the castle while they were asleep.” Death said. “No one expected it, but then again, no one expected your’s, either. They are mourned, but not as much as they should have been.”

Death paused, and Tommy swore he saw a tear in her eye before she wiped it away.

The next scene plays, and Tommy sees Phil.

Phil and Techno were sitting at a table, quiet. There’s a paper lying on the table, a letter about Tommy’s passing, but they don’t speak about it. They just sit.

Death spoke softly. “My poor angel, with his clipped wings. His ending is bittersweet, Tommy. He’s lost his wings, his title, his status, but he gets to be reunited with his son. With me.” Death stopped, reconsidered, and fell silent.

“Are we going to watch it? This isn’t really-”

Death turned sharply. “We won’t be watching his. The warrior’s, however? You may want to see.”

Techno stood on a stage, cornered. Vines were creeping and mobs were everywhere. The world was lonely, and he was alone. They shared that. Technoblade, Tommy realized, was broken.

No longer was the fiery fighter with a catchphrase, all that remained was a shell.

Death spoke up. “Technoblade lingers when all others have passed. He never dies, at least, not at first.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, but he was hesitant to.

“There is a reason that the enderman and Technoblade are so similar, I suppose.” Death mused, and she ushered Tommy along.

“How many are left?” He asked, and Death nodded.

“Just one. The worst of all.”

Tommy stared in horror as he watched Dream stand over him- his corpse- and laugh. He stared as the lava parted to show Sam and Puffy, armed and angry, only to stop in shock at what they had been too late to prevent.

“What did you do?” Puffy demanded, but Sam had already crouched down by the body.

His body.

Sam gathered his body in his arms. The blood-stained the green of his fur, but Sam didn’t care. He felt numb, and he looked it.

“I’ll come back for you, Dream.” He said coldly, as he carried the body of his son out of the cell that he’d begged to be let out of not even twenty minutes before.

“It’s fine,” Dream laughed. “I’ll bring him back and all will be fine and dandy. You worry too much, Sam.”

Tommy looked at Death. “I think I know what happens. Don’t make me watch.”

But Death did not care.

So, Tommy stood as Sam waited for the resurrection to work, waited by his grave, waited by the door of the prison. He blamed himself, he lost himself to grief and to shame, and he fell deeper and deeper into a hole that he’d never escape.

Tommy was forced to watch as Sam Nook tore down the entire Big Innit Hotel and stood, waiting for him, until his battery ran out and he died on the side of the Prime Path, a memory of laughter and learning. He watched as Sam couldn’t handle it anymore and let go, exploding landscapes and builds that he’d once cherished, leaving a lingering smell of gunpowder wherever he went. Someone he’d considered a father figure lost himself as Tommy could do nothing but bear witness, until finally, he turned to Death.

“Just tell me how it ends. It’ll be easier than being forced to watch this.”

And, as Death looked at the child that she was so familiar with, she took pity. “Sam never forgave himself. He waited for you, but once it was clear you wouldn’t return, he turned away. He resorted to destruction, and eventually, it destroyed him. Your cries to be let out of the cell never left him. They played on repeat until it drove him mad, and he had to be dealt with.”

“Dealt with?”

“He threatened the safety of the server to such a degree that outside help was brought in.”

Tommy turned away, but not before he saw a flash of pink hair and the glinting of a sword.

Death stood before him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to go back, now that you know what happens should you not?”

Tommy sighed. “I haven’t got much of a choice, do I?”

Death offered him a smile as she brought them back to the landscape of rolling hills. Wilbur stood, waiting, but squinted into the distance.

When Tommy turned, he saw another being, hovering over the ground. It was wearing flowing robes of light blue, and had no head. Instead, a globe of white floated above where a neck should have been, and on it was written ‘XD’.

“Who are you?” Tommy shouted at it, as it got closer.

When the being spoke, it sounded like Dream. “I am Life. I made you and everything around you, so you would do well to show some respect. I have come to take you back.”

Death stepped forward. “You may take him, but know that he no longer bears your seal. He is one of mine, now, since you have turned from him. He is under my protection.”

Life scoffed. “As if that matters. His story is written, and he will live it.”

“His story is a script,” Death shrugged, “and scripts can be improvised. I will be watching from the shadows, should your Runner step out of bounds.”

“Then keep your Angel in line,” Life snarled. “I had to keep him from the portal.”

“I saw,” Death smiled calmly. “But that’s what happens when you mess with their coding. Memories still linger.”

Tommy sighed loudly. “Just take me back already. I’m getting bored.”

Life turned to look at Tommy, dead in the eyes, and suddenly, Wilbur’s singing that had been in the background was fading, as were the fields around him. He closed his eyes as a bright light started shining, and then, he opened them.

People surrounded him, and he made it his first priority to fall into Sam’s arms, partially to assure himself that this was real, and partially to assure Sam that he was okay. Everyone got some form of affection, except for Dream. Except for those that hadn’t bothered to show. He’d make amends with the others later, once Dream was back in prison to stay until the ends of time.

He was home, and that was what mattered.

He was home.

106 notes · View notes

that-fallen-child · 3 years ago

Note

5, 7,19, 20, 21, 37, 41!! i know thats a lot but im 👀 curious 👀👀

the more questions the merrier >:))) thank you hyper dearest for all the hyah questions, i shall hyah back once i go and. look back at the questions because i forgot what they were LMAO

5. Do you prefer enjoying the roses as you ride/walk to your destination, or teleport everywhere as soon as you get the chance?

hmmmmm it kind of depends!! sometimes i enjoy walking around and exploring the lovely world of hyrule, and sometimes i'm way too impatient for that (a link's gotta go places yk), and/or there's something that wants to kill me and i don't want to deal with it. though i have been known for travelling across the map (usually on horseback) with distances usually as long as from kakariko village to tarrey town, or gerudo desert to the korok forest. and when that happens that's usually because i'm bored and riding on horseback sounds way more fun than just teleporting. so make of that what you will :)

7. How do you usually make rupees?

good question. i dont

JK i tend to sell a lot of stuff i dont need and can easily replace, like monster parts or gems. the only reason i said i don't is because currently i uh

i have 16k rupees in my back pocket and i dont remember why (probably sold a lot of stuff and forgot about it)

so i dont need to sell stuff all that often HFSFK

19. Who’s your favourite Champion?

how dare you make me choose. how dare

nahh its okay, i just really like all of them. though if i had to choose if you asked this question (wait you are asking this question im dumb), i would go with urbosa. she's so cool askdfkaskd <33 kicks ass in high heels and can literally call lightning from the sky to smite her enemies. we love to see it

fun fact, the nickname i've given her is "gerudo mom" cause she's kind of a mom figure and ykyk. it's also lowkey a reference to toriel from undertale with how people refer to her as "goat mom" so :]

20. Who’s your favourite New Gen Champion?

ah im assuming by new gen champions it means the 4 currently taking the place of the champions? riju, teba, yunobo, and sidon? in that case, i have to say, again, this is a close call between the 4 of them, but i have a soft spot for teba. he's just a sliiiightly milder revali and i love him for it. also the part of the vah medoh fight where you bust down the protective shield of the giant robot bird is lowkey so cute cause at the end he says "its all you!" and gives link a wing thumbs up and alslafkdkflsfk he <3

21. Who’s your favourite side character(s)?

welllll, if i talked about them all we'd be here all day. but i love that old gerudo woman who sits by the goddess statues. she contains the wise swagger of an old gerudo lady and is just pretty awesome in general :) i like talking to her when i visit gerudo town

...even if she just has the same dialogue every time LSDFKFDLS

37. Favourite/notable battle? [Boss battle or otherwise]

you just flooded my memories with like 3 different battles at once. and so since they were notable enough for me to remember them ill talk about each of them in detail >:)

first is a boss battle, since the question wants that! this one goes to my early days of botw when i was fighting vah ruta with my cousins. we were riding on sidon's back and trying desperately to avoid the ice blocks. what we didnt know at the time was that you could use stasis to knock back the blocks at ruta, and so we just took the heavy hits and wasted a lot of food for literally no reason.

second one! a mob battle. i forgot where this was located, but i was fighting off a group of red bokoblins on a slope. i had finished off the last 2, and when i got to the 3rd one, he yelled at me and picked up a mop, but before he could do anything i just shot him in the head and k.o'd him. i swear it's funnier if you see the in-game footage, but that's all i can really do to describe it ;3;

and finally, the third one! another boss battle. this time it's in gerudo, by the southern oasis. i was out collecting loot when all of a sudden the molduga in that area gave me a jumpscare, and i ran over to the elevated oasis and climbed up as fast as i could. and now, since i felt like i was basically stuck there until i got rid of the molduga, i kept throwing bombs at the ground (i didn't want to waste my arrows) and discovered that you could wait for the molduga to take it as bait. and so i continued to do that until it died. i felt so accomplished afterward LMAO

and. that's it. WESKJDFLS there was a 4th one but i felt it was irrelevant cause i just kept dying and at that point it wasn't really a fight so i decided to leave it out oops;;

41. What weapons, if at all, do you hang in your house?

CHAMPION WEAPONS AND OTHER COOL STUFF!!! :D

for melee weapons, mipha's trident is in the middle, daruk's crusher sits on the left, and urbosa's scimitar sits on the right. for bows, revali's bow is in the middle, with a phrenic bow (i think?) on the right, and a falcon bow on the left. and for shields, urbosa's shield in the middle, hylian shield on the left, and shield of the mind's eye on the right.

i used to hang thunderblades, flameblades, and frostblades on the melee weapon stands before, but as i progressed i eventually decided to keep the champions' weapons (and shield) there instead, as i felt it was important to preserve these literal ancient weapons (and shield) because. well. the champions used them, once upon a time. and sure, you could use them to exhaustion and get a new one, but like. sentimental value. if you get a brand new made-to-order one from a smith, it just wont hold the history that these weapons had. does that make sense

i hope so lmao. either way that's just how i roll 😎 it kind of sucks you can't get duplicates from smiths if you have the original champion weapons, as their excuse will be "oh, you have one already. come back when it's broken and i'll make you a new one." like please hello can i just get one so i dont break the originals please im begging you

maybe it has to do with these weapons being "rare?" and if there's duplicates, people could just come up and get one for themselves. though i dont really understand that because like well so what if they do? now everyone has cool ass weapons. whats the problem here sir.

anyway that's enough from me :))!! i shall take my leave now, goodb- *gets hit by a stray octorock rock and rolls off a mountain, screaming in the process, and dies right at the base*

#ask #breath of the wild #zelda #heeh thanks again for the ask hyper!! <33 #this was fun to do :0 man i should find some more asky things sometime. and then become popular so people can ask me those things /hj #anyway yeah hyah >:)

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grailfinders · 3 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #165

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re taking a break from the Sakurafaces to build Suzuka Gozen, funloving JK gal and world-renowned Tamamo provoker. Suzie G is a Kensei Monk for some ungodly sword skills as well as a Fey Wanderer Ranger for her beguiling ways and eventually, her noble phantasm. Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Hey senpai~!

Race and Background

Suzie is a fox right now, but she isn’t one naturally; she just couldn’t resist the urge to ruin Casko’s day. That’ll make her a Swiftstride Shifter, giving her +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma. She also has Darkvision to dunk on normal humans, Keen Senses to bump up her perception, Graceful to boost her Acrobatics, and a Swift Stride for an extra 5 feet of movement. She can also Shift as a bonus action to become a bit foxier, giving her temporary hp, even more walking speed, and the ability to move away from enemies as a reaction if they end their turn near you without provoking attacks.

As a humble shrine maiden, Suzie’s an Acolyte, giving her proficiency with Insight and Performance (or deception, whichever one you think the JK girl act should be under). We’ll be getting religion later, but you can’t get either of the latter two from monk levels, so we’re starting with them here.

Ability Scores

First up, make Suzie’s Wisdom as high as possible. Divine servants tend to have solid saves, and you have to read people to fool them with that gimmick. Second is Dexterity, because you’re a saber, you’ve gotta be good with a sword. Your Charisma is also pretty solid, because you can’t fool people without, y’know, fooling them. Your Constitution isn’t bad, you can take a hit with the best of them. You don’t really need Strength, but we’re dumping Intelligence. You’re not actually stupid, but you’re actively pretending to be dumb, so it’s not much of a difference.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Starting off as a monk gets you that Religion proficiency we skipped on in your background, as well as History. You also get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves. You also get Unarmored Defense to kick ass in a schoolgirl outfit or dress by adding your wisdom modifier to your AC while not wearing armor. You also get Martial Arts while unarmored, using your dexterity instead of strength to attack with monk weapons, attack as a bonus action with your fists, and you deal a minimum of a d4 in damage while using monk weapons that grows as you level up.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Ki points Monk Levels per short rest that you can spend to dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action. Your Unarmored Movement as helps you get a little bit faster to show up that Cat as well. You also get a Dedicated Weapon, letting you spend a short rest with a non-monk weapon you’re proficient in to turn it into a monk weapon. That’s a tool for next level though.

3. Ranger 1: Bouncing over to ranger gives you proficiency with martial weapons, so now you can dedicate your Longsword into a monk weapon no problem. You can also focus on a Favored Foe after hitting it once, letting you deal an extra 1d4 damage to it once per turn for up to a minute or until you lose concentration. You can mark enemies Proficiency times per long rest, and the damage grows as you level up. You’re also a Deft Explorer, making you Canny in performance, doubling your proficiency bonus on performance checks. (Or again, deception, depends on you.)

You also get Perception proficiency. It takes hard work to make your outfits look just right!

4. Ranger 2: Second level rangers get the Thrown Weapon fighting style, adding +2 to damage damage caused by chucking weapons at people. Most people prefer to not throw their swords, but you make it work, somehow. You can also cast Spells using your Wisdom to cast it. Zephyr Strike is another concentration spell that lets you deal extra damage and speed yourself up once per casting, and you can avoid opportunity attacks for the duration. You can also cast Hail of Thorns to turn one thrown sword into several, dealing extra piercing damage to creatures within 5′ of the original who fail a dexterity save.

5. Ranger 3: At third level, rangers pick their conclave, and the Fey Wanderers get a bunch of neat goodies that make you more charming. Not like you actually need it tho lol. Your Dreadful Strikes add a bit of psychic damage to your attacks once per turn, you get Fey Wanderer Magic, which means you know Charm Person now to act as your mystic eyes, and your Otherworldly Glamor adds your wisdom modifier to your charisma checks. You also get proficiency wit a social skill, so I’d suggest whichever one of the deception/performance duo you didn’t get level one.

On top of all that, your Primeval Awareness helps you sense otherworldly creatures nearby, and you also learn Searing Smite to make your blades a little hotter.

6. Ranger 4: Your first Ability Score Improvement is going towards the Resilient feat to bump up your Wisdom score by 1 and to make you proficient with wisdom saves. You have pretty strong Divinity, so you shouldn’t be getting jerked around by illusions that much.

7. Ranger 5: Fifth level rangers get an Extra Attack each attack action. You can also cast Misty Step to move even faster than usual, and your can Enhance Ability to make you or a friend better in any one kind of ability check for the duration.

8. Monk 3: Bouncing back to monk now for the Way of the Kensei, which gives you the Path of the Kensei, which is totally not confusing. This gives you Kensei Weapons so you can use all long swords as monk weapons instead of just one dedicated weapon. You also get a ranged weapon, and you get a couple more at higher levels, as long as they aren’t two-handed.

You can also make Agile Parries by making unarmed attacks while wielding your kensei sword in your other hand. This gives you a +2 bonus to your AC for each unarmed attack you make that lasts until your next turn.

You can also use a bonus action to make Kensei’s Shots, adding another 1d4 to your ranged kensei attacks. Notably, it doesn’t have to be a ranged weapon, so now your thrown swords are even scarier.

You also get proficiency with calligraphy thanks to the Way of the Brush. Writing’s a class in school, it’s justified.

You can also use your sword to Deflect Missiles as a reaction, reducing incoming damage. If it’s reduced to 0, you can even throw it back with a ki point.

9. Monk 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for a better AC and better swordsmanship. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction, reducing falling damage by five times your monk level. I’ve heard foxes are just dog software running on cat hardware, so I guess you can land on your feet?

10. Ranger 6: Bouncing back to ranger bumps your favored foe damage up to a new die size, and you become a Roving ranger, increasing your walking speed further, as well as giving you a climbing and swimming speed.

11. Ranger 7: Fey Wanderers can put a Beguiling Twist on your charms and the charms of others. You have advantage on saves against being charmed or frightened, and when a creature near you succeeds on a save against being charmed or frightened you can force another creature to make a wisdom save against your spell DC. If it fails, the target is charmed or frightened by you for a minute or by making another save. High schoolers generally don’t have good taste, as long as you’re charming somebody it’s probably fine.

You can also cast Magic Weapon to make your swords a little stronger a pierce through nonmagical weapon resistances. You’ll be able to do this for free later, but you’re probably running into enemies with those kinds of resistances by this point, so why wait?

12. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an extra attack that doesn’t stack, but they also gain a Stunning Strike on their melee attacks, spending 1 ki point to force a constitution save on whatever you hit. If it fails, it’s stunned until the end of your next turn.

Your Focused Aim also lets you turn ki points directly into accuracy, adding 2 to your attack roll for each ki point spent, up to a maximum of three.

Also, your martial arts dice are d6s now. Rejoice!

13. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes, and kensei also become One with the Blade. The former, plus your Magic Kensei Weapons, make your unarmed strikes and kensei weapons magical against resistances.

You also learn to deal Deft Strikes, adding your martial arts die to a kensei weapon damage roll once per turn by using a ki point.

14. Monk 7: Seventh level monks get Evasion, supercharging your dexterity saves. Failures reduce damage as much as most peoples’ successes, and your successes negate damage entirely. You also get get a Stillness of Mind that lets you end effects of charming or frightening on yourself as an action, in the rare event one of those actually sticks to you.

15. Monk 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Wisdom, making it harder to charm you and easier for you to charm others. Also, you get a better AC! Win win!

16. Monk 9: Your Unarmored Movement Improvement lets you run up walls and over water. Just make sure you end your turn on solid ground, otherwise it won’t be pretty.

17. Monk 10: Tenth level monks have a Purity of Body that makes you immune to diseases and poison. When was the last time you saw a relative of a demon king come down with the sniffles?

18. Ranger 8: Hopping back to ranger gives you another ASI, which will max out your Wisdom for super powerful charms. You also have the Land’s Stride, letting you ignore nonmagical plants while traveling through them, and you get advantage on saves against them.

19. Monk 11: Our last level of kensei lets you Sharpen the Blade with your ki points, spending 1-3 points to add that much to the weapon’s attack and damage rolls for 1 minute. Like, why bother spending all that gold on fancy weapons when you can just do it yourself?

On top of that, all your weapons now do at least 1d8 damage thanks to martial arts!

20. Ranger 9: Your capstone level unlocks third level spells, like Dispel Magic from your Fey Wanderer Magic feature, or the real reason we’re here, Conjure Barrage. Now you can literally turn that sword into a thousand and yeet them all at your foes!

Pros:

You’re mobile as hell, with 60 feet of movement speed normally, climbing and swimming speeds baked in, and the ability to go even faster by shifting or using spells, you can dart around the battlefield real heccing quick.

You’re also really good in social situations, with a difficult to save against Charm Person plus a more than maxed out charisma modifier for skill checks. If you don’t like doing math, you get +7 for most charisma checks, +13 for Deception, and +19 for Performance. Pretty freaking good

On top of that, you’re also super difficult to charm with a maxed out wisdom save with proficiency and advantage. On top of that, your defenses then get turned into more charms against your enemies. In effect, you’re making your foes able to be affected by their own charms.

Cons:

A lot of your spells use Concentration, which is always an issue, especially since they’ll be butting heads with Favored Foe. (Also your concentration save isn’t that great...)

You also have a lot of limits on your offensive options. Most of them are tied to spell slots or ki points which are few, or they only add damage to one attack per turn. Sword+Thrown Weapon Fighting+ Dreadful Strikes+Deft Strike+Zephyr Strike is a lot of dice packed into one blow, and you’ll almost certainly hit, but it would be nice to be able to add your damage after getting a crit like paladins do.

Thrown Weapons just aren’t good. Again you have a lot of bonuses that make them scarier, but you still have to deal with either picking up all your weapons to throw them again, or deal with unsheathing a dozen swords each fight.

#dnd 5e #D&D #Fate Grand Order #FGO #Suzuka Gozen #Monk #Ranger

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good-rwbyaus · 4 years ago

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Unnamed Crack Time Travel Fic. Part 3 [first] [prev]

After Salem united all four relics, the gods descended and judged Humanity to be unworthy, obliterating all. Ruby desperately activates her Semblance to avoid the blow and, as a result, becomes only one of two people remaining in Remnant. Months later, the two employ a plan to travel back through time.

Chronic!Backstabber!Syndrome!Cinder, DoneWithEverything!Ruby, transcended!Ruby, crack time travel AU. - mod lilac

p.s this thing seriously needs a name.

Everything had been a blur after Ruby laid eyes on her Mom, her Mom that had been dead for a good part of her life suddenly here in the flesh. She was so out of it that she completely missed the part where Cinder convinced her Mom and the rest of her company to go back home - and that she’d take her to Patch for a check-up with a doctor.

How Cinder knew her Mom, Ruby didn’t know. Why her Mom trusted Cinder to any degree was also something that eluded her. Nothing was right in this universe - nothing at all.

After Ruby was absolutely sure that the rest of them were out of earshot, she turned around and hissed at Cinder, “What did you do?!”

“What do you mean?” Cinder tilted her head, confused and appearing slightly hurt, “Are you okay, Ruby? I know it can be a bit confusing when you have amnesia, but trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart.”

Ruby paused at the concerned expression on Cinder’s face before shaking her head, “No. Sorry. I’m fine.” She turned around to face the forest path leading to Patch - and missed the bright ecstatic grin on Cinder’s face as she manifested a glass knife into her hands.

Cinder lifted up the knife silently. And with a single motion, she mercilessly stabbed down at her young charge’s back. Happiness lit Cinder’s eyes as the blade encountered no resistance - but she quickly paled as she noticed that she did not draw blood but a flurry of petals instead. The girl she just attacked just turned her head with a mildly annoyed look.

And then everything went topsy-turvy to Cinder as she was buffeted away by a gale of red petals.

“Best interests at heart, my cute ass!” Ruby crowed at Cinder triumphantly, “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist stabbing me in the back.”

Letting out a small pout, Cinder could only dematerialize her dagger in defeat. Her best shot after two years of planning and she blew it. “I can’t help it. It’s a nice back.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Cinder’s reply. “Does stabbing people in the back really make you that happy? Can’t you try...to like not?”

“Yes it does,” she affirmed before shrugging, “As for your other question....why mess with what works?”

“Ugh. There’s no reasoning with you,” Ruby clicked her tongue, “Also, not that I’m complaining, but why’s my mom alive? And why does she trust you so much?”

“Well, that’s because I saved her life,” Cinder responded smugly, theatrically shifting her weight on the balls and heels of her feet and not giving any more information past that.

“...And how’d you do that?” Ruby had no choice but to play along.

“Oh you know. Salem bragged about how your mom was the prototype for those talking Grimm, so I asked how long ago she’d been experimenting. Put two-and-two together and knowing where Salem would be at that time, I managed to save your mom from certain death,” Cinder smugly said, tilting her nose high.

A moment of silence fell between them.

“...Thanks,” Ruby said with a soft smile, “I mean it.”

“And then when she was all grateful and saw me having Emerald and Mercury around, I told her that I always wanted to be a godmother,” Cinder continued proudly, “And she made me your godmother. And now I’m in charge of you brats’ training.”

“Wait. Why did you want to be a godm-” Ruby paused for a moment, eyes widening in disbelief. She stared dully at Cinder. “Did you seriously save my mom just so you could stab me in the back and call it training?”

“Nooooo...” Cinder said before crumpling under Ruby’s dubious gaze, “...yeessss?”

Ruby just facepalmed at the admission and groaned in frustration. The sky reacted to her displeasure, fluffy white clouds turning into a sinister gray. The faint rumble of thunder reminded Cinder that the small twelve-year old girl in front of her was still Remnant’s goddess, even if the events that led her there hadn’t quite happened yet.

“So...” Cinder hummed as she changed the subject, “you gonna go smite Salem right now or you gonna pretend to be a harmless 12 year old kid?”

“Well I was going to run away from home and look for Salem,” Ruby admitted, “Not that I can permanently destroy her with the power I currently have but I’d get some satisfaction beating her up after all the crap she’s put me through.” She rested her hands against the back of her head, “But you know, since you did save my mom, I would like to be a normal 12 year old kid for a while.”

“What?” Cinder said in surprise, “I thought you’d be all gung-ho about saving the world as fast as possible. You know, being the hero.”

“Eh, your perspective changes when the entire world starts hunting you and your team for a promise the Queen of All Grimm would never keep. And in the end, didn’t she destroy the world?” Ruby rolled her eyes, “I’ll save the world eventually, but it’s not them I’m doing it for. Besides with me around, no one’s gonna be able to hurt my friends and family.”

“Do I count as friends and family?”

“...Did you murder anyone you weren’t supposed to?”

“I murdered my abusive stepmother and stepsisters again. Which was just as satisfying as before, might I add. And I definitely remembered that I didn’t have my Maiden Powers while I was at it too,” Cinder lifted three fingers as she recalled, “And I st-”

“That’s suspiciously specific,” Ruby squinted her eyes.

“-abbed Rhodes just to say hi. And afterwards, I pi-”

“Who the heck is Rhodes?”

“-cked up the kids and hung around Solitas and Atlas. Pretended to be a researcher for a while and stole all of Watt’s future ideas and reported them as mine.”

“How’d you do that?”

“He was pretty whiny back then about how Ironwood ignored his genius. And very vocal about his ideas and why they were so genius, so I just “beat him” to his ideas.”

“So you stabbed him in the back for something he’ll do in the future?”

“Mad about it?” Cinder rose an eyebrow.

“After what he did to Penny. Not really,” Ruby laughed, “I’m just surprised you didn’t literally stab him in the back too.”

Cinder harumphed.

“I’m not stupid. Stabbing Watts in the heart of Atlas? Even with Emerald, I won’t be able to get away. Besides... I can’t get enough of that smarmy idiot being frustrated that a woman half his age is besting him in brains.”

“Because you’re stealing his ideas.”

“Well, maybe he should’ve been smart enough to prepare for the eventuality that someone would go back in time and screw him over,” Cinder said smugly.

Ruby shook her head as she was once again reminded that she was not going to beat Cinder in shamelessness.

“Any other changes?”

“Not really. I went to Vale. Saved your mom by making Salem have the mother of all temper tantrums. And then you regained your memory by getting hit in the face by Mercury’s boot. Nothing else really.”

“Glad you didn’t change that much then,” Ruby said as she let a breath of relief, pulling out her Scroll.

“Screwing over Watts took up a lot of my time. And then saving your mother. And then screwing over Watts,” Cinder said, “And still failing to properly stab you in the back.”

Ruby blinked as she looked over her Scroll.

“...Cinder?”

“Yeah?”

Ruby held the Scroll so that Cinder could see it. A video with the headline “The Grimm vs SDC: Theories as to why the Grimm are specifically targeting the company” is seen.

“This counts as nothing else?!” Ruby deadpanned.

#cinder fall #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #mod lilac #rwby #rwby fic #rwby au

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