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loveislattes · 3 years ago

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Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Talk of depression and stressful life, mentions of unnamed character death, mentions of beheading/dismembered head and some minor blood/gore (not too detailed), cursing, mentions of family in the hospital, demon!Dark (akin to jinn or genie), and pet names.

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! This first chapter is allllll story setting. Part two will have the good ol' rough and dominating Dark fucking.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

“Look, I think it’s just best if you take some time off.”

Though worded nicely, you instinctually felt the pang of panic and anger already bristling in your chest.

“Time off…” you murmur, eyes sliding down to your boss’s desk in thought, “As in, a week or two or…?”

You let the implication hang heavy in the air. There was a telling silence that followed your question. When you finally met his gaze again, your boss let out a hefty sigh. Before he even said anything, you knew what his answer was by the sympathy on his face alone.

“We won’t fight your unemployment for the first few months, which hopefully will be enough time for you to find another place of employment. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N, but between the company making cutbacks and your recent drop in productivity, I had to-”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed sharply, interrupting him before he could finish the excuse.

Rage fueled your motions, forcing you to your feet while your eyes narrowed on the man you’d once thought a decent person.

“A drop in productivity?” you scoffed, “My apartment building was just destroyed in a freak fire two weeks ago that, of course, my insurance refused to cover. I’ve been bouncing place to place between motels and friend’s homes until I can afford another deposit on the measly pay you give us. My mother is in the hospital, in the ICU, after a freak hit and run. My car broke down yesterday and I walked thirty fucking minutes in the pouring rain today just to make sure you assholes weren’t a man down with all this work. And you knew all of this, but you still decided to fire me? I can’t- You know what, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck this place! I hope this whole company shuts down and you get to experience even a modicum of the instability I’ve had to!”

Before he could respond, you slammed the chair back into place against the desk and stormed from the room. You could feel the confused gazes from your coworkers as you marched to the door but didn’t dare spare them a glance. Most of them you considered to be your friends and you knew you’d have to explain everything later, but you couldn’t allow anything other than anger to inhabit your body at that moment. One bit of sadness and you would crumble. Rage would keep you safe until you made it to your temporary home for the night.

Little curses and fury-filled resentment spilled from your lips as you stepped out into the dreary public. Of course, it was still raining. You hadn’t even dried off from your trek to work and now you were thrown right back out into the storm. A timely crack of lightning rumbled across the sky as you shot one last middle finger back at the door.

“I can’t believe this shit,” you grumbled.

Pulling your raincoat up over your head, you kept your gaze down and began your journey back to the hotel. The one upside to all the rain was that the sidewalks were nearly barren. Cars sped by on the busy roads but you were alone on foot. In fact, you didn’t see a single soul until you were on the block housing your hotel, and somehow that lonely occupant still managed to slam into you.

“Excuse you,” you muttered.

“So sorry, please excuse me.”

The person’s voice sent shivers down your spine and every last hair stood up on your arms. Reflexively you pulled back as a hand touched your side, ready to give them a mouthful, but they were moving on by the time you could gather your wits about you. All you caught was a tall form in a black business suit striding off in the opposite direction.

With an irked tsk and a mutter of “Fucking asshole”, you rushed into the lobby, stomping the rain from your shoes along the rubber mat. Sure you were pissed off but you still had the human decency not to create more work for others.

You managed a little nod to the desk clerk on your way by to the elevator. As you watched the numbers climb slowly down, you mentally questioned the fates if the world was against you. The elevator stopped on literally every- single- floor; All 25. Trying to maintain your composure, you leaned up against the wall and let your eyes flutter closed, slowly breathing in and out rhythmically. Just a little longer and you’d be in the safety of solitude. You could let it all out.

The ding of the lift doors opening pulled you out of your little meditative session and you immediately let out a grateful sigh of appreciation upon realizing it was empty. Being stuck in a small metal box with others for an undetermined amount of time made your skin crawl, much less when you were already on the edge of snapping. You mashed the close button repeatedly until the metal doors finally sealed shut and the elevator began to move. The rest of the journey was a blur until you stopped at your room door and fished your card out of your pocket, coming out with not only the plastic key but a large silver coin.

“The fuck?” you muttered.

As the door buzzed open, you flipped the coin over in your fingers, trying to think back on when you had gotten it. You were pretty sure you’d never seen anything like it before; completely void of any details on one side but the other filled with finely engraved words.

The loud startling thump of your keys as you threw them on the nightstand wasn’t even enough to draw your concentration away from the interesting little trinket. It took a few minutes and some good lighting but you eventually figured out what was written; the discovery only confusing you further.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“Yeah… that’s not creepy at all,” you sighed.

Tossing the coin on the nightstand next to your keys, you sloughed off your wet clothes and tossed them in the small hamper next to your duffle bag. After this horrid morning, you needed a long hot shower before you pondered on any strange coins or the mental shithole that had become your life.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you spent under the burning water but, by the time you exited, you were both hungry and in dire need of some caffeine.

“Or a nap. A nap could be heavenly,” you murmured to yourself.

Towel around your head, you dropped into the bed naked and took a moment to revel in the sheets against your freshly lotioned skin. There was hardly a better feeling. Thank god you had the good sense to buy some of your own sheets rather than rely on whatever the hotels had to offer. It made your day the tiniest bit better.

As you leaned back against the headboard, you snagged up the coin once more. The metal was cool against your warm fingers as you flipped it around and around. Did you dare give it a try? What was the worst outcome: You felt silly for believing a random coin and no one would ever know? Although, what if it was legit...?

Now that thought made you feel silly. A little chuckle passed your lips before you clasped the coin between your hands and brought it to your chest, closing your eyes as if about to pray.

“Alright, I don’t know how this works so I’m just gonna state my wishes out loud. I hope that works for, well, whoever you are. First off, I want that backstabbing business ruined. They fucked me over after I bent over backward for them, now they deserve to feel the same. Please. Second, I don’t know how you could do it, but I’d really like my insurance company to finally approve my apartment claim so I can find another place soon. Third-”

You trailed off as emotions immediately welled up behind your eyelids, the burning already tingling in the back of your throat from holding them in.

“My third and most important wish, please, if nothing else, find the one that put my mom in the ICU and make them pay. Those idiots down at the police department couldn’t find them, or so they say anyway, so just… give them what they deserve, please.”

With a stifled sniffle, you wiped away the few tears that had escaped and fell back against the headboard, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling as you let the pain wash over you; Rage, dread, hope, apathy, desperation. Eventually, the unending barrage became too much to deal with. This wasn't a new thing in your life, but it had certainly culminated into something worse with everything going on in your life; clinical depression exacerbated by a series of unfortunate events.

With no other plans for the day and the weight of your heart heavy in your chest, you chose to simply roll over and bury yourself, and your troubles, in the fluffy comforter. You’d feel better after a nap. You were almost certain of it.

Even as you drifted off into sleep, the tears didn’t cease.

When you first woke, you weren’t sure what had roused you but you knew it wasn’t good; All you could feel was bone-trembling terror. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, felt frozen in place with only the ability to stare at the now dimly lit wall; watching the shafts of setting sunlight ever so slowly creep down by the minute.

“Come now, darling,” a low voice crooned in the void behind you, “I know you’re awake.”

Like a rubber band snapping, the grip on your body suddenly released and you shot up in bed, immediately turning around to find out who had spoken. You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t the devilishly handsome man that was seated next to the window. The sunlight pouring down on him made it very obvious that his skin was lacking any range of melanin, rather being pallor shades of whites, blacks, and greys, but that didn't detract from his appearance at all. In fact, he looked like something out of a Gothic romance novel or a Tim Burton movie. Once the enchantment of seeing him began to wear off, you finally noticed what sat on the table next to him.

A human head.

“Holy fuck!”

A hellish screech escaped your lips as you hastily scrambled backward, trying to get as far away from him as quickly as possible, only to go careening off the edge of the mattress. The pain of impact on the floor couldn’t even deter you. As your back hit the wall, you kept your eyes pinned on the intruder, watching for any sign that he was going to follow you or attack.

“While I’m certainly not minding the show, don’t you think you’re rather underdressed for this occasion?” he spoke suddenly.

It took a few moments for his words to sink in but the moment they did, you launched yourself back at the bed with a hushed curse and promptly pulled the sheets up around your naked body.

“Who are you? How did you get in here? I-Is- Is that real?”

Long clawed fingers made their way into the matted, bloody mess of hair and pulled the body part free from the table with a sickening pop.

“It is undoubtedly real, but I figured you’d believe me much quicker if I had a visual aide to my claims,” he replied, dropping the offending thing before tossing you a sharp, seductive, smile, “The name is Dark. I’m a demon and the owner of the coin you wished upon.”

Your tongue felt too heavy to move while you watched in horror as he licked the blood from his fingers like a cat bathing itself.

“I- I don’t-”

“You don’t understand,” he supplied helpfully.

As he rose from his seat, you stared at him owlishly, unable to take your eyes off his graceful form as he nearly glided across the floor to stand in front of you.

“That coin,” he hummed, pointing at the metal disc in question, “It belongs to me. When someone makes a wish while holding it, I’m able to hear them. In your case, I heard all three.”

Trepidation tickled the nape of your neck when your eyes slowly rolled over to the head once more. It was as if you couldn’t breathe. Sick crawled up your throat and it took every ounce of your strength to keep from vomiting at the man’s feet. You don’t know how long you sat there, struggling to breathe and ease the nausea but, when it finally went away, rage took over.

“I didn’t want you to actually KILL them!” you shouted.

The demon casually arched a brow in your direction before saying, “You specifically wished for the one involved in your mother’s accident to get what they deserved.”

“Yeah! Like prison! Not death!”

A soul-trembling crack resounded through the small hotel room as he slowly craned his neck side to side, ethereal pulses of red and blue emanating from his being. Some of the previous ire slipped from your hold when he moved even closer, step by step until his knees were touching yours.

“I will never understand you humans and your sense of righteousness. Would it ease your mind to know this wasn’t the first time they had committed such heinous crimes?” he asked.

“W-What?” you questioned softly.

“I will not delve into details but rest assured that your embarrassing sense of compassion was lost on them; they were vermin,” he explained, “Now, that makes three wishes fulfilled. You have two remaining.”

You thought back on exactly what wishes you had made and were immediately overcome with dismay.

“Wait, what did you do?!” you demanded, jumping to your feet and glaring up at him, “You didn’t kill anyone else, did you?!”

A twinge of disdain passed through his features. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder and you were shoved back down onto the bed with a 'tsk' of disapproval, as if scolding a misbehaving child.

“Fortunately for you, no. Your previous place of employment has simply been condemned for multiple code violations that have mysteriously come to light during a surprise investigation, and your insurance company has been informed that they’re facing a lawsuit if they don’t reevaluate your claim with a more positive outlook.”

Relief flushed through your veins and you thanked him meekly. You wouldn’t have been able to live your life knowing you had caused the deaths of so many people, let alone friends.

“So, what now?” you asked.

“You have two more wishes before your soul belongs to me.”

He said it with such finality and ease that you almost didn’t react at first. Once his words settled in though, oh, panic quickly followed.

Gaping up at him in wide-eyed disbelief, you tried to stammer out some rebuttal or plea, but nothing would come out. Panic soon gave way to defeat as you realized there was no obvious way to get out of this ordeal. It had been clear as day on the coin.

Thinking on the offending piece of metal, you looked over and snagged it up, reading the inscription once more.

“Clutch this coin to thee whilst ye make a plea

In return ye shall become my endless devotee”

“So that’s what this meant,” you sighed quietly, before gazing at him once more, “And there’s no way to bargain out of this?”

He looked mildly pleased by your inquiry, letting out a little hum before falling back into an ornate chair that definitely hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“And what would you bargain?” he purred, “What could a simple little human such as yourself have to give to me, other than your soul of course.”

You cursed his infallible logic and stayed quiet as you tried to think over your options. Truly, you had nothing else to give him; no money nor gifts. Your soul was the only valuable thing you owned, and there was no undoing what had been done. A person had died because of your wish.

With a heavy sigh, you sat up to your full height and prepared yourself mentally.

“Is there a time limit? Do I have to make my wishes today or can I think about them?” you asked.

“You’re free to use them when and wherever you wish. However, do not think this a loophole. Choosing to postpone your wishes until death does not release you from this contract. Your soul will still belong to me when you die.”

Well fuck. There went that option. If you were doomed no matter what, you might as well make use of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity... right?

“I’m going to need time,” you whispered.

“Fair enough,” he replied, finally taking a step back, “You have my calling card. You can call for me if you have any questions, otherwise, you know what to do.”

He strolled back to the window and snagged the dismembered head, flashing you a wide smirk that framed his fangs perfectly.

“I’ll just be taking this with me. Hope to hear from you soon, darling.”

#Demon!Dark #Dark/reader #female reader #PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS PEOPLE #This chapter is a little dark #heh... dark #pun not intended #two part series #Chapter 1

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

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Club Takamagahara (Part 2): Close Call

I was trying to figure out how to deal with the whole “Ship” situation and I decided to not have my MC shipped with anyone so as not to exclude anyone reading. The MC is only 18 in this rendering and in the novel’s canon she could be even younger. So honestly, following the novels, it gets weird quickly. Best to leave ships at port.

Enjoy!

“UKYO I LOVE YOU!” Someone screams from the corner of the crowded dance floor.

The man removed his white cloak and tied the sleeves about his waist to reveal his bare chest to the crowd. He takes several deep breaths, making his stomach rise and fall. The muscles of his arms were sculpted and well defined as he danced on the stage with his sword among the floating cherry petals.

“Oh my god, I’m going to faint!” The woman says next to you before she promptly plops to the floor and is dragged away by a waiter who seemed to be right behind her. You stare silent and still as she’s swallowed up by the crowd of people that parts only briefly before coming together again like nothing happened.

Everyone’s eyes were on this person so it was easy for you to slip towards the edge of the crowd. Mingfei was dressed just like the waiters and there were dozens of them moving in the dark. There was no way you’d be able to pick him out even if he was standing right next to you.

The audience thundered with applause. The man wasn’t a bodybuilder like some of the other guys but you recognize the sword art as genuine and practiced. Sword arts weren’t part of your repertoire - You specialized in hand to hand and shooting - but you knew skill when you saw it.

You squint… wait is that?

It was! It was Chu Zihang! You knew him to be a shy and quiet person, not someone who could perform on stage in front of thousands of people. That said, you acknowledge you didn’t really know him. He was a performer then? Curious, you tilt your head and get closer to the stage. But it was really hard. People were pressing in with the same intent as you to be as close to the stage as possible.to watch the performance. Eventually you had to stop because the crush of people was too great. Your arms are pinned closed to your chest and you have to watch through a window of outstretched hands with cell phones.

A black-clad and masked waiter pushed a two meter long tablet onto the stage, which was covered with ice, on which a whole fish was laid out. You’d never seen a fish that big. This is something that would be a mouthful even for the whales of Siberia! Chu Zihang waved the sword and divided the fish in strong powerful strokes. One slash! And the dark red back meat was separated from the bone. Two! And the soft white belly meat was separated!

The sword moved in a blur and the sections fell into neat perfectly sliced pieces as perfect as a picture.

You, the MC, applauded politely, but the rest of the women behind you screeched like this was some sort of frenzied and spiritual experience. The noise made your skin crawl.

Something wet splashed on you smelling of alcohol, drenching your cheongsam.

“Whoops, sorry!” The woman behind you giggled.

“No… no problem…” You mutter, too quiet to be heard.

The cut fish was placed on small plates that were sent down a glowing river of water suspended from the stage. The river floated the plates down to a bar where women on translucent stools lit in many colors. They delighted in picking the fish off the plates with delicately carved chopsticks made out of coral.

In the crowd, at the same time, money was being held up in the air, as well as fingers and fans. They bid on the price of a particular large piece. As the bidding ended, the winning woman was invited on stage and she held up a large rectangular piece of fish over her head like a champion wrestler holding her belt. Meanwhile, Chu Zihang was still busy carving up the rest of the fish.

The crowd has thinned slightly and you’re finally able to get close enough. You look at him, trying to catch his eyes but he’s too focused on slice after slice. Finally he finishes the section and slides it onto a tray.

“Zihang!”

Even though your voice was not that loud, he looks at you wide eyed and shakes his head in a quick jerk. A clear message of “Not now.” And goes back to work.

Just then an excited woman rushes the stage with a bottle of champagne and dumps it down his bare back and shoulders. The crowd roars in delight and Chu Zihang doesn’t move a muscle other than his eyes down to you.

Your eyes are as big as saucers. Champagne is dripping down every muscle like golden rivers through valleys of pale skin. Both hands cover your mouth in clear horror. But then he looks away from you and you relax. Was this part of the show too?

You back away from the stage and decide maybe you should get out of here. As you’re backing up, you run into what you think is a wall but you turn around and someone in a bright purple suit grabs your shoulders. Your body reacts and elbows him hard in the ribs.

“Oof! Easy there, princess.”

That voice! You look up and immediately rear back, stumbling and staggering over your unwieldy heels and falling to the floor.

“Looks like someone has had a bit too much.” Caesar says.

A waiter comes by to pick you back up, before whooshing away like some suited fairy.

“Basara King! Please tell me you’ll stay!”

“Only if you vote for me sweetheart.” Caesar fondly leans over and kisses the woman’s hand.

“I’ll vote for you every night! The world won’t be the same without you in my life!”

He is in the purple suit, like the color of a bright purple dinosaur named Barney you remember seeing pictures of, but his hair is permed and draped over one of his eyes… eyes that are painted in purple eyeshadow. He was even wearing lipstick, bright red too. The woman goes to find a waiter. She shouts, “Fifteen tickets for Basara King!”

Once she’s gone, he asks. “Where’s your caretaker sweetie?”

You’re gasping in silent horror. “What did you do to your f-”

“Aaaah! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” Mingfei grabs your arm and drags you away. “I told you to stay in your room!”

“Someone came in there! Lu Mingfei what happened? Where are we?” You gasp. You turn back but Caesar is already occupied with more women.

He yanks you back to the elevator and mashes the button repeatedly. “Shh! Shh! Stop! Quiet or you’re going to ruin everything!”

Lu Mingfei looks truly desperate as he pushes you into the elevator and mashes the close door button. He presses his hand firmly against your mouth. “Listen. Swear to me that you won't say a thing about what you just saw in there. Got it?”

You blink at him. He releases your mouth and you tell him, “You’ve got a little… lipstick right…”

Mingfei furiously rubs his cheek - the wrong one - “Look… Look. I know what you’re thinking but just stop thinking! Don’t think! We have to be here. This is the only place we can hide out! We don’t have any other place to go! We lied and said we were illegal immigrants smuggled into Japan to get treatment for you. They don’t care that we don’t speak Japanese so long as we look good and make the clients happy!”

The elevator dings but he holds the “Door closed” button. “But you’re, first of all, not old enough to be allowed in, second of all, you have to stay with us in the men’s area. Also not allowed! And you’re a woman, third not allowed! But Caesar has a plan to get you to stay but everything has to work out, so please just please…”

You’ve never seen him shaking this much. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, still against the wall.

“No, it’s just… These women are crazy!” He puts his hands over his eyes and leans his back against the wall of the elevator. He looks seriously like he’s about to weep.

You pat his shoulder. “There, there.”

“I don’t want to lose my good standing at the college and how will I ever face Nono if…” He lowers his hands. “N… never mind.” He hangs his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s okay. You’re stressed out, but I really did have to leave the room.”

He sighed. “It’s my fault. I forgot to put the Do Not Disturb sign on…” he said glumly and allowed the elevator door to open. You hear the roar of the crowd above you and it sounds like a man is on a megaphone hyping them up. Mingfei pauses and continues to lament. “You must be so traumatized by what you saw.”

“How long do we have to stay here?” You ask as he leads you by the hand.

“Right now, it’s a temporary arrangement. We’re intern performers. This is one of the best places in town for this sort of thing so you have to pass muster and win enough popularity. If the people in the crowd love you and want you to stay, they’ll buy tickets with your name on them. You have to have at least 800 tickets and pass an interview with the club owner. Until then… anything we screw up on could get us thrown out and we can’t get thrown out, MC.”

You immediately nod. “How many tickets do we have?”

“Not enough yet. Tonight is the moment of truth.” Lu Mingfei said seriously. He leads you back to the room with the barrels.

“Oh.” You purse your lips. “Right.”

“And even then…”

“Interview.” You said. “Got it. I’ll behave.”

“I gotta go…” Mingfei sighs and leans on the door a bit.

“Can I get something to eat? Sorry…”

Lu Mingfei softens at your earnest expression. “I’ll get you something.”

The sound of popping interrupts and you startle and gasp.

But Mingfei smiles and looks down the hall. “Oh! Firecrackers! That’s good! I think Zih… I mean Ukyou got enough tickets! That also means… every table gets free champagne… damn…” He hangs his head again and blinks away tears. “I’ll bring you some food when I can, okay?” He closes the door and dashes out. Even though you wait for him, he doesn’t come back at all for hours.

You wait, sitting in the closet, your stomach growling loudly. You hadn’t been this hungry in a while but it wasn’t completely alien. The smell of rich foods was wafting down and not being helpful though. The best remedy for hunger was sleep so you shed the boozy cheongsam, shower again and go lay down.

You don’t remember falling asleep but you wake up to voices. Hunger pangs were seriously gnawing at you now and you got up to approach the door The space is full of the fragrant steam from baths mixed with the scent of cigar smoke. They must be bathing, but you’re so hungry.

“All that’s left then is to interview the owner… Do we have an appointment or something?” Lu Mingfei asks.

“No. It’s up to them when they see us. And they still have to agree to let MC stay here so you need to do better, Mingfei.”

“I know… I just didn’t expect her to wake up today.”

You’d never heard them sound so exhausted before, as if they’d gotten no rest at all since the battle of the streets of Chizuru. Lu Mingfei said that they’d been forced to work here. You don’t know the hours from the looks of things, they wouldn’t be able to ask off because their tenancy depended on performance. But if you hadn’t eaten in three days then you need to eat now, even if it inconveniences them.

You knock gently. “Can I have my food please?”

You’re answered by splashing around, and Mingfei yelping. “MC! Don’t open the door!”

Caesar’s voice. “Will you relax? We’re in the bath. She’s already seen Chu Zihang’s body and she was fine right? Sure, MC… come on in.”

You crack the door open. The three barrels are now occupied with Caesar, Zihang and…only Mingfei’s bubbles appeared to pop on the surface of the water. After a few seconds, Mingfei’s head came up, open mouthed and gasping. “Don’t look! Don’t look! You have to preserve what innocence you have left!”

Caesar pulled his cigar out of his mouth. He was reclined, covered in hickies and other miscellaneous marks all over his broad muscular chest. The makeup was thankfully gone. “You’re assuming a lot. How do you know she’s innocent?”

Mingfei was still gasping. “We should assume all young ladies are innocent!”

Caesar nods to the bag on the TV and you hurry to it. Inside is some of the leftover sushi, some rice, and a few pieces of cheese. “Sorry it’s not much but we can’t exactly be caught pilfering food for someone who’s not supposed to be here.”

Chu Zihang was sitting back, eyes on a newspaper.

You grin at him. “Congratulations, Senpai on your tickets.”

“Ah…” He muttered as the only acknowledgement..

“Little sister, I’m sorry you had to see Senpai like this. You must have been so shocked. This isn’t normal I swear.” Mingfei was still just a floating head in a barrel, determined to keep his body below water.

You stuff your mouth with the sushi. It was fresh and still tasted of the sea. You hum with delight. “This is good!”

“I mean you must feel like… seeing him like that… you… I mean … even the girl’s in the college, they go crazy even when he has his shirt on.” Mingfei peers at you as you’re digging through the bag for the cheese. It’s so fancy it’s wrapped in black cloth and you can smell it through the fabric.

“Don’t eat too quickly.” Chu Zihang murmured.

“MC, can you be a doll and throw some more wood on the fire?” Caesar asks.

You chew the cheese and get a log from the rack and take it to Caesar’s bath. You bend over, open the old furnace carefully and toss it in, quickly shutting the door. Mingfei watches you, quiet. Then you suddenly straighten. “Boo!”

“Ah! Don’t look!” He ducks down, inhales water and starts choking.

Caesar massages his temples.

You giggle at his distress and simultaneously ignore it. “If Senior Brother has never done this before, that makes it three times as impressive.”

“Hey, don't compliment Zihang and not me.” Caesar grumbles.

You rub your chin, “Then, Caesar must work hard to keep up such a muscular chest! I don’t think I’ve seen one like it since the bear hunters passed through the port!”

He bit his cigar and smiled. “Thank you!”

Chu Zihang lowered his paper a moment, glared and then lifted it.

Mingfei moaned. “All of this is so wrong.”

“If it bothers you that much I’ll leave.” You say, grabbing the bag.

“It might help if you answer the question simply, MC. Are you innocent?” Asks Caesar, blows out a puff of smoke.

“Boss, why are you being so direct?!”

“Yes,” you reply, “But I don’t feel that way about any of you. You’re my Senior Brothers.” You pause. “...quite senior in fact. You look nice but we’re not a good fit” You turn to Mingfei with a pointed glare. “And you’ve made it very clear that you’re not attracted to me at all and I’ll let you know that the feeling is mutual.”

“Good it’s settled. Happy now?” Caesar asked, grinning at Mingfei.

Mingfei groaned.

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, tucking into the rice. There was both a spoon and chopsticks. You suspect Chu Zihang had prepared this. Mingfei wouldn’t have thought to include alternate utensils.

“This place is called Takamagahara… as you saw… women come here to spend thousands of yen a night just to support their favorite ‘ikemen’ on the stage.”

“Ikemen?”

“Like an idol… a fantasy guy.” Mingfei grumbled. Still neck deep in the water.

“Both Chu Zihang and I were instant hits. There’s no problem for us. However, there’s no place for a female performer.” Caesar taps the ashes into a golden buddha statue that’s holding a bowl to receive them. “My goal is to have you stay as a planted guest to help coax more money out of the clients.”

“What? That’s your plan?” Mingfei exclaimed. “She’ll be out there in all those … those guys!”

“That’s called ‘shill bidding’.” Chu Zihang turned the page in the newspaper.

“You saw the auction right? I’m sure that piece of meat could have gone for more. If we had someone who can bid the price up, the club makes more money, and there’s no losing it because she’ll be bidding with the club’s own funds.” Caesar explained.

“She’s still too young to be here?” Mingfei continued to object.

“She’s calm enough. Calmer than you in fact.” Caesar sighed. “For that I’m grateful. None of the men here will touch her. It isn’t that kind of place. She’s safe here. I’m not worried.”

“It’s a good idea, Caesar.” You say. “I’ll do my best. I’m not used to cheering that loud though.”

Caesar’s eyes turn sharkish. “Money speaks louder here. Don’t worry.”

You’ve finished the rice already and put down the bowl. “I know you’re upset, Senpai Lu, but you have no say in this matter. What Caesar says goes.”

“Senpai Lu? When did this happen?” Caesar’s eyebrows raise.

You’re not sure how to answer. “He is, isn't he?”

Caesar regards you for a bit but then shrugs. “Thank you for cooperating. We tried to find a hospital but the Hydra had them all blocked off.” Caesar's expression darkened considerably. “No matter how far we traveled, there was just more and more police. Meanwhile, you were bleeding out! Not only did this place offer to help, but they ordered a private doctor for you. If it wasn’t for them, you’d be dead now.”

A cold silence fell over the group and you could almost feel the breeze from the dream of Black Swan Bay and hear Z’s voice.

You had a very close call.

“Z…” You whisper.

“Hm…?” Caesar asked. He’s staring at you with a little concern.

“I… I’m tired. I need to lay down.” You hurry back to the closet and shut the door.

#Dragon Raja

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Female orc (Rakasha) x male character (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Yes, her name is Rakasha, not rakshasa. Sorry if that’s confusing for those like me with some form of dyslexia! Why do I do this to myself. Anyway, folks, this is a story reward for one of my higher tiers, featuring a snarky orc, a Tired(tm) healer, and a pair of cursed rings...

I really hope you enjoy it!! Don't forget to let me know if you did by reblogging it! It means the world, but if you're shy, a click on the heart button is also great :)

Content: past family deaths, nsfw, and fluff. :) Word count: 9206

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Virion stepped through the bazaar, trying not to gaze around him and gawk at everything as if he’d never been in a town before. That was a sure-fire way to stand out and attract a cut-purse, or perhaps worse. Trinkets here and there caught his eye, but he never lingered long, slouching along with his hands in his pockets.

Taller than many of the humans, he nearly tripped over a tiny fae creature as they scuttled along after a what he had thought was a puppy at first, but when he saw it had six legs, and scales mixed in with the fur, he blinked, shook his head a little, and moved on. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, and just let the current of people pull him along through the bustling, tightly-packed stalls until he came to a tiny, extremely narrow shop crammed into the space between two larger facades, almost as though it had been deliberately stuffed into the gap between two buildings. On closer inspection of the roof line, he saw that that was exactly what had happened.

Equal parts amused and intrigued at the odd little place, he pushed the door open, his palm pressed flat to the cool, warped glass panels, and stepped into the fusty old shop. A smell of damp paper and slightly mildewed leather filled the air, and despite the apparent narrowness of the space from the outside, a huge amount of ‘stuff’ was crammed into the shop. Cabinets of curiosities lined the right hand wall, while various trinkets and pieces of mismatching armour were aligned along the left. A helmet with a completely bashed in faceplate stood proudly on a small wooden pedestal on the table, and around it were an arrangement of bronze arrowheads etched with runes. Down the centre of the room were piled trunks and boxes and crates, right up to the spider-webbed rafters.

It was only as a shadow moved further down the shop that he realised he was not the only customer.

A tall, well-built, female orc wearing a studded, leather travelling jerkin moved idly to examine some daggers arranged in a stand, and Virion found himself drawn down the narrow corridor of space between the wooden crates and the left hand wall. He’d always found orcs a strange people, and one he knew very little about despite having travelled a fair bit. She had a lethal looking re-curve bow strapped to her back, and a number of other weapons glinted and caught his eye the longer he looked.

From behind a nearby box, a tiny, stoop-spined old man suddenly and rather gleefully croaked, “Visitors!” and both the orc and Virion startled, whipping round to face the source of the exclamation.

The orc growled softly to herself, fingers gripped around a knife at her hip and muttering under her breath in a language Virion didn’t recognise, but he knew softly-hissed curses when he heard them.

“Peace, peace,” the ancient little man laughed - a sound like a piece of dry, crumpled parchment. He poked his half-moon glasses back up his bulbous nose with an arthritic finger and grinned toothlessly up at the orc. “Ah,” he said. “I see you have found my collection of daggers. I would direct your attention to this one, with the hilt made of-.”

“I’m not interested in those,” she said, bluntly cutting him off. “I need some more arrowheads. You got any?”

“Hmm,” the shopkeeper said, bobbing his head repeatedly like a child’s toy and seemingly unperturbed by her rudeness. “Yes, yes. Finest goblin forged steel? Or perhaps you’re looking for something a little closer to home? We have orcish wares too…”

“I don’t care. It just needs to be about this big -” she held up her finger and thumb and Virion glimpsed scars and some dotted tattoos across her knuckles before she lowered her hand and shot him a nasty look. “And I need them sharp. I can’t be bothered pissing about sharpening them. I’ll take about twenty.”

“I’ve only got ten goblin forged -”

“Whatever. I’ll take what you have then.”

Virion’s brows knitted but he decided to keep back and mind his own business. Traditionally, as far as he knew anyway, orcs were quick to anger, and not the kind of creature you wanted to piss off.

Turning his attention back to the plethora of things arrayed along the wall, he found his eyes resting on a pair of rings in a simple wooden box. He’d always been curious as a child, and suddenly a very child-like urge to pick one up and try it on overwhelmed him. Unable to stop himself - after all, what was the harm in trying on a simple band of tarnished silver? - he reached for it and slid it onto his right index finger.

Holding it up in the dim light, he saw that it wasn’t a plain ring after all. Engraved into the band was the design of two dragons, their snouts almost touching, their wings outstretched along the middle of the band, while along the upper and lower extremities seemed to be some kind of text, ancient and unreadable to him at least. It caught the light in a pleasant way and he smiled, considering asking the shopkeeper how much he wanted for it.

The wizened old man, however, had disappeared to fetch the small batch of arrowheads, the orc wandered over and picked up the other one, turning it over in her jade green fingers. Her expression softened somehow, the tension melting from her brows, and she reminded Virion of his late sister trying on their mother’s jewellery. Not that she’d had much, but Clara had always held it with a wondrous kind of reverence. It brought a smile to Virion’s face to see the tough woman enjoy something so frivolous and harmless as trying on a ring.

The shopkeeper returned and handed her the arrowheads, and when he saw what she was doing, his blue eyes lit up with joy and he clapped his hands together.

The orc didn’t seem put off by his odd reaction, but then she actually slid it onto her finger and everything happened at once.

A light flashed between Virion and the orc, bleaching his vision blank, and a burst of energy exploded from its epicentre. Objects went flying from the shelves and rained down onto the flagstone floor around them. Virion was knocked back, landing heavily on his backside, while the orc reeled and staggered into what sounded like a tower of wooden crates.

Virion rubbed at his eyes, blinking furiously, and gradually his sight began to return to him. From the way the orc was mashing the heel of her palm into her own eye sockets, he assumed things were going as slowly for her as they were for him.

“What the fuck?” she rasped a moment later. “I… I can’t…”

Still blinking, his ears ringing a bit from the release of whatever force had been cooped up in the two rings, he tottered to his feet and looked down at his hand. The band, which had been darkened with age was now bright as a newly struck coin, but what sent a jolt of real, ice-cold terror through him, was the fact that it wouldn’t come off. It wouldn’t even budge. Somehow, a ring that had been a little bit too big for his finger when he’d first slipped it on, was now nestled snugly around it, and was refusing to come off.

The orc, he saw when he glanced over at where she still sat on the floor, was in the same situation.

“Where’s that little fucker?” she snarled, pushing herself up with the lithe speed of a panther and looking around for the shopkeeper. “He’d better not have been a fucking fae… I’ll rip his head off his scrawny neck if he can’t fix this…”

“Easy,” Virion murmured levering himself more carefully to his feet. “There has to be an explanation. He must be here somewhere. Perhaps he was knocked over by the explosion as well?”

The orc fixed him with such a derisive look that he actually took a step back, her amber eyes glowing in the dim light of the shop.

But the little man was nowhere to be found. They searched the entirety of the shop, finding nothing in the back but spiderwebs and the dry skeleton of what might have been a rat. When they emerged from the storeroom at the back, they passed through the shop - careful to touch nothing this time - and the orc growled, “Listen, there’s a goblin who runs a jewellery shop back up towards the town square. He might be able to get this off.”

Virion nodded, still shaken and feeling a little wobbly in the knees. Magic wasn’t something he wanted anything to do with, and yet here he was, with some ancient ring stuck on his hand. Just like him to barrel headlong into trouble without a care in the world.

“Since we’re in this predicament together,” he ventured amicably as the orc led the way through the street without looking back at the shop, “I’m Virion.”

With little more than a fleeting, sidelong look down at him from her impressive height, she grunted, “Rakasha.”

She seemed to have little interest in further conversation, so he simply strode along beside her, keeping pace easily enough, and occasionally bringing his hand up to stare at the ring in the sunlight.

The goblin, however, had no good news for them. He tried to cut the rings off using some beefy looking wire cutters, but they glanced off the surface without leaving so much as a scratch. “I suspect a saw wouldn’t do any better either. Might lop your finger off, and who knows what that would do to you…” He rubbed his long ear thoughtfully with gnarled fingers and said, “Mmm… these are magic, for sure. You’d be better off going to somewhere like the University up at Grantbridge. They’ll have mages there who’ll be able to help you. I’m sorry.”

Rakasha snarled and stormed out without so much as a thank you to the goblin, and Virion turned back to the tiny creature with a sigh. Before he was able to articulate even the first syllable of his thank you, blinding pain erupted in his stomach again and his knees buckled. Clutching his middle, he went down like a felled tree as white heat burst through his skull and he could barely think through the sudden shock of agony.

The goblin scuttled around the counter and crouched beside him, just as Rakasha lurched back in through the door. As she did, the pain eased, and Virion opened his eyes, panting. “What the…?” he wheezed.

The jeweller looked from one to the other of them and his black eyes widened. “I’ve heard of enchanted objects like this,” he said, his reedy voice grim and hushed. “You can’t go further than a short distance from one another…”

Virion chuckled mirthlessly. “You might have mentioned that sooner, friend,” he said, and the goblin shot him a sheepish look of apology.

“Oh fuck this,” Rakasha rumbled, still holding onto the open door for support and looking a little paler than she had done a minute ago. “As if having a cursed ring stuck to my hand wasn’t enough, I end up tied to a pathetic little human? How far is it to Grantbridge from here?”

Virion wasn’t exactly a hulking tower of warrior muscle, but neither was he small or weedy, and he scowled openly at the orc.

“Three weeks on foot?” the goblin hedged, steadying Virion as he clambered to his feet for a second time since putting on the ring. “Maybe a bit less for you two,” he added with a wry grin down at his own small boots.

“What if I just kill him and cut the ring off his finger?” she growled.

The goblin’s mottled grey-green skin blanched a little at that, and he held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, as if he thought she might just gut Virion then and there in his shop. Virion too took a step back, eyes fearful. The jeweller stammered, “M-Most of the time, or so I’ve heard, with such objects… if you were to do that, you’d only kill yourself as well… Your… Your life forces are linked, somehow… I’m not a mage though, so I… I don’t know the consequences of such extreme action…”

Rakasha looked at Virion with her amber eyes blazing like the setting sun, and said, “Tell me you don’t have some pressing business you need to get done first, right? Some wife and a brood of whelps you need to tend to…”

He shook his head sadly. “Just me,” he said. She seemed so full of anger, so defensive, so short-tempered and quick to dismiss others. This was going to be a long few weeks, he was sure of that.

After a brief stop at the tavern where he’d been staying, to collect his belongings and settle up, the two headed to the western corner of the small trading town, and began their journey up to Grantbridge. They would have to cross the Whispering Plains, a vast tract of grassland inhabited by centaurs, minotaurs, a few cervitaurs, and the bison folk, before hitting the Granta river, where they hoped to take passage on a barge, at the suggestion of the innkeeper at Virion’s former lodging. It should shave a few days off their journey time.

That first day as they trudged in almost complete silence along the Queen’s Road, through lush copses and gentle rolling hills, Virion thought Rakasha might still risk lopping his head off with the axe at her belt. She spoke no more than a few words to him, and by the time the sun was tipping towards the horizon, he had given up trying to make conversation with her. She just ignored him, as though he were some kind of yapping stray puppy who had decided to trot along at her heels for a while, and who would soon grow bored and go away.

Rakasha was tense, her shoulders set, her pace relentless as she marched along, and every now and again she would cock her head to one side, as though listening to the woods on their left for trouble. The sun grew warm in the late afternoon, and she shucked her long sleeved leather jerkin off to reveal her impressive torso, wrapped only in the bindings around her muscular breasts and leaving her smooth stomach and muscled arms bare. Virion, despite being more than wary of the orc and having only encountered her kind as vicious raiders in the past, couldn’t help but admire a being in the peak of fitness and conditioning. She was gorgeous too, he supposed in her powerful way.

Some time later, taking his eyes off the dirt track immediately in front of his boots, Virion glanced up and scowled. Up ahead there seemed to be a young looking cervitaur, lying limply on the side of the road. The two of them spotted him at the same time. Rakasha’s hand eased her axe in its holster while Virion immediately darted forwards, his mind already trying to evaluate his condition, even from that distance. The creature looked half-starved for a start, his hips standing out and his cervine and human ribs obvious as his chest heaved weakly.

Before he’d made it two paces down the road, Rakasha grabbed him by the top of his travel pack and hoiked him back as if it were the scruff of his neck, and growled at him to be careful. Biting back a hot flare of irritation, he batted her off with a carefully aimed swipe of his forearm. She released him more from surprise than his own martial arts skills - which were admittedly very limited. He’d just gone for the vulnerable bit where the muscle was thinnest and the bone unprotected. Who needed martial arts skills when your grasp of anatomy was as good as his…?

Kneeling at the dirty looking cervitaur’s side a moment or two later, he saw how thin and weak he looked.

“Help me?” he rasped.

“What happened?” Virion asked, wanting to run his hands over the cervitaur to check for injuries, but restraining himself to get permission first. “What hurts?”

Before he had the chance to hear any more, the cervitaur’s hazel eyes darted to a point just behind Virion’s head, and the man frowned, ducking sideways instinctively.

A gnoll had sprung silently out from the rocks above where the scrawny cervitaur lay, and launched himself at Virion. With a roar, Rakasha launched herself at a second bandit and at the same time, ripped the attacker back from Virion with her free hand. She cracked their skulls together, leaving them staggering and concussed, before knocking them out with the back of her single-bladed axe and turning to face the last bandit who had rounded a huge boulder just down the road.

Her hair fell down her back in its loose ponytail, and as she squared off, Virion’s eyes widened. The cervitaur she was facing now was huge, almost as powerful and muscular as a bison taur. With his stag’s antlers held high, he pawed the ground, and then lowered his torso a little and charged her.

Virion crouched beside the younger cervitaur, frozen with a kind of fascinated horror as the two fought. She was a complete force of nature. The cervitaur’s hooves lashed out but she ducked and dodged them, his antlers swept from side to side, but eventually she locked him in a wrestling move and tipped him onto his side, slamming him into the dirt of the road so hard he was left stunned and winded. Her axe blade hovered mere inches from his throat and he fell still.

From beside him, the younger cervitaur gasped, “Uncle…”

“That’s your uncle?” Virion blurted, horrified that the kid was so young and malnourished compared to his relative.

Rakasha still had her axe blade to his throat and was snarling something in his ear. The cervitaur nodded in response, and suddenly she’d bashed him on the side of the head too, leaving him unconscious as well.

“He’ll be fine,” she growled as she prowled over to the pair of them. Virion suspected that all three of them would need to see a healer though; concussions like that didn’t just go away. “I take it you were bait, kid?” she said and the cervitaur nodded. She shot Virion a look that told him quite plainly what she thought of him for falling for the ruse so quickly. “Can you stand?”

Shakily, he staggered to his feet and accepted the water skin that Virion handed him. “Thank you,” he said.

“You should run while you can,” Virion said. “Get to the town… This is no life for you, kid…”

“I’m not a kid,” he said with a watery smile. “I’m nineteen.”

“You need to get some meat on your bones,” Virion murmured. “There’s lots of work in the town, and it’s only eight miles or so that way. You’ll have to be careful.”

“I’ll be alright,” he shrugged.

Virion grinned at him, though it was hard not to feel deep concern for the underfed and malnourished young cervitaur. Virion had been there himself: alone, aimless, adrift from his family. He offered him the knife on his belt, but the cervitaur refused him gently. “Alright, well… take care,” Virion said, scratching the back of his head.

The two of them watched him trot off down the road, and Virion shot a glance over the three unconscious bandits. The male gnoll who had attacked him was still out cold, but the female flicked an ear groggily.

“Come on,” Rakasha snarled, and he turned to face her.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, only just noticing a bruised-looking gash on her upper arm, presumably where the stag’s antlers had got her.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” he said, picking up his pack from where he’d slithered out of it during the scuffle. Rakasha continued down the road, and when she hit about twenty five feet from him, she grunted, staggering. Virion, however, experienced blinding pain in his gut and head and was not ashamed to howl in protest. “Fucking shit, Rakasha, at least let me grab my stuff will you?”

The orc grudgingly let him catch up and then grunted, “We should make camp for the night soon… while there’s still enough daylight.”

With a glance over his shoulder at the still-prone bandits, Virion added, “Let’s get another few miles first, eh?”

He couldn’t stop fussing - silently and only to himself, however - about the cut in her arm, and when they finally turned off the road perhaps only twenty minutes before sunset, she surprised him by allowing him to tend the wound. It wasn’t deep, and hadn’t needed stitches, but he fished out some alcohol and a clean cloth from his bag and wiped it down, eliciting a hiss from her, and a softly spoken curse in her own language.

“You know,” he said, “I… I feel like I have an apology to make to you…”

“For that?” she snorted, jutting her chin towards the freshly-tied bandage around her arm. “Please. That didn’t hurt.”

“No,” he laughed softly. “No, for assuming you were just a brutish thug, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he flushed hot. “Care to elaborate?” she laughed.

He swallowed thickly. “You could have killed those guys today…” he said. “But you didn’t.”

Rakasha shrugged and stood, moving over to a log and rolling it a bit closer to the fire pit before plonking down on top of it and inspecting the bandage curiously. “I was going to, but I don’t want the law on my hands for murder. I’ve already got enough shit to deal with, being tied to you and cursed with this ring…”

Virion’s shoulders dropped a little bit and he caught Rakasha’s amber eyes watching him over the flames, glowing in the dim light.

“I’d be halfway across the plains by now if it weren’t for you,” she added, her voice gritty and harsh.

“What? How?”

She laughed, and while wasn’t exactly cruel, it was gruff and spoke of a tougher race than his own, for sure. “You can’t run beside an orc all day, human. Get some rest. We’ll start before dawn.”

He shook his head, fighting the disappointment that had bloomed in his chest. After so long on the road alone, he’d half hoped that this might turn into a tentative friendship, but the orc clearly regarded him as little more than a bothersome parasite. Honestly, he was tired, and although he was fairly fit and lean, his muscles ached from the pace she’d set that day. The orc was right - there was no way he could have run all the way to the ferry crossing on the Granta. Self-doubt and misery began to crowd into his mind, bringing with it memories of the most painful night of his life; the night he’d ended up alone and wandering the roads of this corner of the kingdom.

Needless to say, what with the creaking of the woods and the roots digging him in the back, and the nebulous unease that clawed at the inside of his mind, he didn’t sleep well. When he had sat up and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, he found Rakasha staring at him.

“What?” he grumbled.

“You look like shit.”

“You’ve got leaves in your hair,” he retorted immediately, oddly reminded of the repartee he’d had with his sister for a moment. The sudden reminder and pain of Clara’s loss lanced through him and almost brought tears to his hazel eyes.

Rakasha, perhaps more curious than concerned, grunted, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, though it came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. “You ready to make a move?”

She nodded but didn’t speak.

“How’s your arm?” he asked, standing and feeling the need to answer nature’s call.

She shrugged her beautiful, bare shoulder experimentally and pursed her lips. Her tusks were thick and short, her jaw heavy, but there was something monumental about her that he found strangely beautiful, especially in the dim pre-dawn light between the birch trees. “It’s good,” was all she said.

As he’d returned - not going all that far because he didn’t want to risk the flaring hot agony of getting beyond the permitted range of the rings - drawing closer to the campsite, he felt something odd tugging at him on the inside with each step. It reminded him of the intense pain he’d felt in his gut the day before when she’d gone on ahead of him. If he concentrated on it hard enough, he realised that it was drawing him towards her.

“You felt that too, I take it,” he said when he returned and saw that she had paused, halfway through scuffing out the embers of the fire. In answer, she simply shouldered her bow, axe glinting softly in the loop at her belt.

Stepping out onto the road, Rakasha rolled her shoulder again and said, “Where’d you learn medicine like that?” she asked. “You’re not a mage, are you?”

He shook his head, secretly pleased that he’d helped with the already-advanced healing process orcs possessed. “Nope,” he said, letting the consonant pop. His chest fizzled as he felt the conversation steering around towards his past, but he didn’t shy away from it. If they were going to be travelling together, he didn’t mind trying to forge some kind of relationship with her this way. And besides, her curiosity was better than her contempt from the previous day.

“My father was a physician,” he said, voice catching on the tense of the verb. “My older sister too.”

“Was?”

“They’re both dead.”

“Spirits shelter their souls,” she murmured reflexively, and he smiled at the unexpected sentiment. “What happened?”

Virion swallowed thickly and ran his hand through his scruffy brown hair. “I used to travel all over with them… helping people here and there, you know. Setting broken bones, stitching up cuts, that kind of thing. But I didn’t take it all that seriously. Not like they did.”

A stone scuffed beneath his boot and he kicked it along the path, watching it bounce off the ruts in the road.

“I… I was much younger than my sister, so their work always seemed like ‘grown-up stuff’, you know? I felt like an outsider a lot of the time, and even when I was seventeen or eighteen, I would usually go off and drink or show off for the girls or whatever instead.”

As lighting runs ahead of thunder, amusement flared in her golden eyes and Rakasha tipped her head back and laughed heartily this time, and Virion caught sight of a bead in her ponytail that was quite obviously made from an orc’s tusk. He immediately burned to ask her about it, but it felt like an extremely personal question, so he refrained from voicing it.

Instead, he asked, “What’s so funny about that?”

“Did it work?” she said, still chuckling. “Did you impress any of these soft human women into bed?”

“What do you think?” he grinned, encouraged by this more playful side of her.

She shook her head. “I can’t see anyone swooning into your lap, human,” she said, punching him on the arm. “But I’m an orc, so…”

“What’s impressive to an orc then?” he asked, trying not to show that her words had stung more than the punch had. “Rippling muscles and a bellowing war-cry?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said. “But I bet a mouse could fart louder than your war-cry.”

“I don’t even have a war-cry,” he said. “I’m a healer, remember?”

“True,” she hedged. “Maybe you don’t need one.”

They lapsed into silence after that for a bit before he continued his story. The sky above was cloudless and the pale blue of courtly silk, much like it had been that day when he’d walked into the village, heart heavy with dread and found them. The trees became sparser as they walked, and up ahead he could glimpse the sea of shifting grass that was the Whispering Plains and the start of the White Road.

“There… There was a report of plague and they… uh…” he cleared his throat, ignoring the prickling in his eyes. “They went to see what they could do for them.” He didn’t need to articulate what had happened next. “I didn’t hear from them in weeks, and eventually I went to look for them.”

Bodies bloated in the sun, the stench of death that the cloth around his mouth couldn’t mask, the withered remnants of his only family… He closed his eyes briefly, stilling his churning stomach, and then said, “I burned them and promised them I’d do better, that I’d be better.”

Rakasha blinked as he finished his story, looking down at him from her height, and tilted her head slightly. “That’s a terrible fate for anyone to meet,” she said respectfully. “And you risked bringing it on yourself as well to honour them…”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t leave them like that. They were all I had left.”

She nodded and returned her eyes to the road ahead. Something seemed to have shifted between them, like the stirring of a breeze after a week of stagnant calm.

In the two days it took them to cross most of the plains, using the White Road, so called because it had been cut into the chalk downland of the plains to leave a gleaming white ribbon across them. Virion learned something about Rakasha in return. She was the daughter of the chief of a big clan, came somewhere in the middle of eight siblings, and had set off on her own with her clan’s blessing to see a bit more of the world.

“It’s becoming more common,” she said, swatting a fly out of her face as they traipsed along. In the distance, a herd of centaurs looked up, sounding a short blast on a horn at their presence. Rakasha didn’t seem bothered, and the centaurs in these parts were not known for attacking travellers. “Younger orcs are almost taking it as a rite of passage. We’ve come to call it the Wandering.” She scratched at her tapered, pierced ear and shot him a look that was surprisingly self-conscious.

“What have you learned so far then?” he asked. He inferred from something about her manner that she’d found it a bit of a culture shock, but he was curious to see what she’d say.

The centaurs made no move to come any closer, but they were now all watching them now, perhaps half a mile away.

She shrugged. “Not to pick up shiny bits of jewellery in back-ally shops for a start…”

Virion chuckled and said, “Well, it’ll be a tale to tell when you get back to the hold.”

Her face darkened. “I hope this mage can help us,” she said, twisting the band of the ring on her finger.

“Tired of me already?” he quipped. He found he liked the challenge of trying to make her laugh, but the look she gave him this time took him by surprise; it was almost fond, behind the scowl.

“You’re like a stray dog that’s growing on me,” she said.

With an easygoing shrug, he laughed, “I’ll take what I can get.”

The centaurs turned out to be traders, and they exchanged a few objects and coppers for some roasted seeds and nuts, way-bread, and dried fruits to sustain them on the final stretch of the plains. It took a week to cross the plains, and in that time Rakasha opened up to him a bit more. She explained the meaning behind the dotted tattoos on her knuckles and when he dared to ask about the tusk bead in her hair she smiled and said it was in remembrance for a dear friend she’d lost in one of the raids.

Finally, on a swelteringly hot afternoon, they made their way down through the sun-bleached and -blasted grasses towards the Granta river. A modest, wooden jetty stuck out a few yards into the slow-moving water, half hidden by tall, rustling reeds.

They only had to wait overnight for a river barge going downriver to come by the empty dock, and after bartering with the harpy captain for passage, the two were welcomed aboard. At the stern of the wide, flat river barge was a structure a bit like a shed, built to shelter the travellers and crew from inclement weather, but the rest of the deck was full of cargo boxes, crates, and barrels.

“There’s not much room for you to lodge,” the harpy said, as they stepped aboard, “But we’ll be there in three days and the weather’s set to stay fair.”

“Thank you,” Virion said with a deliberate smile that ruffled her feathers a little.

She scowled at Rakasha though and croaked, “You keep your weapons sheathed and cause no trouble, orc.”

To Virion’s surprise, his companion only bowed her head and strode to the other side of the barge to stare off into the water as it sloshed past.

He joined her briefly and she turned her head a little as she admitted, “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Hope you don’t feel sick,” he grinned. “If you do, I think I have some ginger somewhere in my pack.”

“I’d rather not chew on a tuber that’s been rolling around the bottom of your bag for spirits-only-know-how-long,” she snarled, but there was no venom in her tone now. “It’d probably make me sicker than the water.”

Their fellow travellers were not numerous, it being a cargo barge after all, but a small group of musicians was headed to the university town as well. Virion immediately settled down in their midst that evening after a day of reading one of the books he’d picked up in Sycamore Gap - the town where he’d first met Rakasha. He found himself welcomed by three tieflings, all with different skin colours and horns, and an enormous and extremely friendly firbolg. Rakasha kept very much to herself, but on their first night, when the group pulled out a bodhrán, violin, a small harp, and a flute, and started to sing, she looked up from the crate where she’d been seated for most of the day.

On the second night, the firbolg, named Aeqen, asked her if she’d like to come and have a drink with them, and she nodded gruffly, sitting cross legged on the deck beside the small barrel where Virion been perched.

Glancing down at her, he saw the way the fae-light in the lamps highlighted her cheekbones and glinted on her unadorned tusks. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, she looked up at him, and scowled. He laughed and handed her a beer from one of the tieflings, and she downed half of it in one go.

“Ready to make port tomorrow?” Aeqen asked conversationally, and began to beat a rhythm on the bodhrán in his lap. Liliana, one of the tieflings with freckled blue skin began to trill out a quick tune on her flute and in no time the other two tieflings were dancing.

He nodded. “It’s been a nice change of pace on the water though,” Virion said.

They sat finishing up their beers for a while, but every time Virion looked over at the firbolg, he saw the way the creature’s large eyes lingered on Rakasha as she sat there thoughtfully, her eyes on the dancing tieflings as if she’d never seen anyone dancing before. Assuming it was interest on the firbolg’s part, and that if anyone might have the physique to impress the orc, it would be him, Virion found that the dregs of his bottle tasted bitter, and he set it aside and stood, silently excusing himself and stalking to the back of the barge.

He was still sifting through the roiling emotions when someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned around to see Rakasha standing in the shadows, back lit by the fae-lamps further along the deck. “You alright?” she asked, her already husky voice gruff and quiet.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his back on her. “Just… wanted some air.”

“You want me to go?”

When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer to him, and they both felt the draw of their cursed rings. She put a hand on his lower back and tension ratcheted up his spine, one vertebra at a time.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her touch fluttering slightly.

Virion shook his head and the pressure of her warm palm returned for a moment before disappearing completely.

“I wish I understood you humans,” she said, chuffing a soft laugh and leaning her forearms on the railings, mirroring his posture.

“Let me know if I can help,” he said. “After all, you are leashed to one…”

She nodded but didn’t go any further.

The water slid by in a river of inky blackness, the reeds whispering at the edges.

Rakasha broke the silence again a few moments later and said, “I wonder if there are merfolk in these parts…”

“Probably,” he said. “They’ll be upstream of a city, for sure. I think I saw one of the alligator folk earlier. Their eyes reflect in the dark a bit like orcs’ do…”

He shot her a sidelong look and found that her golden eyes were indeed flashing in the dark like a predator’s as she stared at him.

“I was wrong about you,” she said quietly.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. Remember when I told you that I was doing my Wandering when I first met you?”

Virion nodded, but didn’t dare move a muscle in case he spooked this new, gentler side of her.

“I’ve not mixed with other species much,” she said.

That much was obvious, but he kept that to himself.

“I… I guess you could say I was - am - pretty naive…”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” he said with false politeness and they both laughed.

After a moment she continued. “I thought humans were… honestly pathetic. Most of you have so little muscle and you’re so damned fragile… but… you’re not, are you?”

“There’s more than one way to be strong,” he murmured, watching the reeds slip by in the dim glow cast by the barge’s lamps. “You want to go and dance?”

She laughed, and perhaps her cheeks darkened a bit, but it was hard to tell in that light. “I think I’ll just watch for now, if that’s alright.”

They returned to the small party, and while Virion sat on his usual barrel, Rakasha decided to lean her body up against it so that her head was almost touching his thigh. He found it hard to get to sleep that night, with thoughts of what her long, dark hair might feel like and what her skin might feel like against his. He thought that he should have been surprised to be thinking like that, to be seeing the orc in a new light, but if he were honest with himself, he’d admired her physically from the beginning. It was only now that he was starting to get to know Rakasha that he found himself fantasising about her a little though.

Grantbridge, the city that cradled the university in its midst, was vast. Rakasha was obviously completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of people, the chaos and noise, the bustle, the clatter, the shouting and the smell of it all, but she never flinched or backed down. Perhaps surprisingly, however, she did follow Virion’s lead as they found their way - eventually - to the university, and at last were admitted to the professor’s study.

“Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,” Virion smiled, and the tall woman in a long, white robe grinned at him. Her skin was dark and flawless, and her black eyes glittered with warm intrigue. “I thought we might have to make an appointment and come back another day.”

“When the clerk informed me that we had a case of cursed rings on our hands - oh, please excuse the pun - I couldn’t refuse you, my dears,” she said. “Now, if you’ll let me examine them?” she asked, stretching out her hand, palm up.

Virion cautiously obliged first, and she turned his finger over, examining the markings on the band.

“Oh, yes,” she crooned delightedly. “I’ve heard of such rings! These are incredibly rare. See this inscription?” she said, pointing at the writing that neither of them had been able to read. They both leaned in and then nodded. “It’s in Ancient Telvhen - a precursor to modern High Elvish, which in itself is a very old language. Fascinating. And the dragons - I believe this alludes to a very old story from the Telvheni empire about a prince and a beautiful dragon shifter… Oh, I’d love to hear where you got them from, but that’s a story for afterwards perhaps. Let me translate the inscription for you.”

She slid a pair of half-moon spectacles onto her nose and cleared her throat.

“It is more or less as follows: ‘Each with different heart, together shall they part.’”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Rakasha asked, a heavy scowl weighing down her dark brows.

“Let me see yours, my dear,” the mage asked, not even batting an eyelid at her coarse language, and Rakasha obliged with a wary glance at Virion. He nodded and she gave him the ghost of a reassured smile. “Ah yes, look, the same inscription. And you’ve travelled together from Sycamore Gap to get here? Impressive.”

“Fuck how far we’ve come,” Rakasha snarled. “How can we get them off?”

Bile rose in Virion’s throat, fearing that if the orc continued to insult the mage she would refuse to help them, but the woman only laughed brightly and said, “Have you tried just taking them off?”

“Of course we did, you -” she began, but Virion cut her off with a thwack across her stomach. She turned to look at him, about to snarl something at him for hitting her, but when she saw the look on his face, she cursed in orcish.

“That, my dear,” the mage chuckled, “Is a phrase I will have to remember for the next time I’m in the company of the necromancers from the Chapter at Arlesford…”

Rakasha didn’t even respond as she watched Virion slide the ring easily off his index finger. “How?” he breathed, staring at her with his hazel eyes wide. “We couldn’t… We… They were…” Astounded - and a bit embarrassed - he couldn’t fathom it.

The mage smiled. “‘Each with different heart, together shall they part’” she quoted. “Might I be wrong in suggesting that the two of you have come to see things differently during the course of your journey here?”

At that, Virion and Rakasha exchanged a look. “Well… yeah,” he said, “But…”

“You mean we didn’t have to come all this way here?” she said. “That we could have just taken them off before now?”

“It’s hard to know when the magic left the rings,” the mage replied, turning back to her desk with a twinkle in her eye. “But I believe they have done their purpose…”

“And what purpose is that?” Rakasha asked. Virion noted that she had made no move to take her own ring off, but he thought that perhaps she was still too stunned.

It was Virion who answered. “To bring two people with different views together.”

“It’s a famous past-time amongst the meddling fae,” the mage said as she sat back down at her desk. “I might suggest that if you were to go back to wherever you came across these, you would not find things quite as you left them.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough gold to go back to that place,” Rakasha laughed. “So we’re free of the magic completely now?”

“As far as my not-inconsiderable abilities can tell, there is nothing left in those rings. They are but ordinary bands of silver. Do with them as you please, and go where you will. Though I suspect that if you take them off, you will not find them in your possession for long. These things have a way of finding new owners and new people to help…”

“Interesting way of helping,” Rakasha grumbled.

“Thank you for your time,” Virion said, his voice a little shaky.

“Pleasure,” the mage said. “Though I suppose I should be thanking you for helping delay the inevitable…” she eyed a stack of papers at the corner of her expansive desk and groaned, “First year exam papers…”

“Good luck!” Virion laughed, and they left her to her marking.

Outside the university, in the wide square directly opposite the main building, they stood and watched the stalls and stages going up for the festival which began that very night. Too stunned for conversation, they just stood there like additions to the statuary that lined the walls of the old university. A short while later, in a far corner of the square, they glimpsed the musicians with whom they had travelled downriver, and the giant firbolg even waved at them across the open space.

Rakasha waved back and Virion nodded.

“What now?” the orc asked as the musicians returned their attention to their preparations for the evening. It was the first time either of them had dared address the issue.

Virion shrugged. “I guess we could go our separate ways… no need for you to delay your Wandering by - what did you call it? - ‘babysitting a stray puppy’?”

Rakasha’s cheeks did darken to a beautiful olive green at that, and she kicked at a pebble beneath her feet, sending it skittering under the iron rimmed wheels of a passing waggon. Her fingers twisted the band on her finger as she said, “I think you know I don’t see you that way anymore…”

With a grin, he said, “We could stay here for a bit then?”

She nodded.

The first inn they found charged outrageous prices, so they went a little further back from the market square and found a boarding house run by a drider who was friendlier to non-humans and offered them surprisingly reasonable rates for her one remaining room. A double, as it happened.

“You mind sharing?” Virion asked and she grinned.

“Do you?” she fired back.

The festival was beautiful. Mage-crafted fireworks soared into the sky from the crenellations of the university building, and music played and people danced. There was a play that utterly entranced Rakasha, and after they had sampled from a number of stalls selling food from all over the continent, Virion even managed to coerce Rakasha into dancing with him, the two of them slotting into line at the end of a simple partner dance before it started.

It wasn’t complicated, and he found himself entranced at the way her eyes glittered in the low light and how her tusks glinted as she laughed.

They caught up with the troupe from the barge some while later, but Virion could hardly take his eyes from Rakasha. Her skin gleamed with a slight sheen of sweat from dancing, and she seemed almost a different creature now.

“Here,” Aeqen laughed, putting a flower crown around her head. “Perfect.”

She blushed like a temple virgin and tried not to look at Virion, which only made them all laugh.

Eventually, when they’d had their fill of festival sweets and vigorous dancing, they shared a look that said the same thing, and they left the square, heading through the streets to their little boarding house room. Rakasha took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

“You enjoy tonight?” she asked, and he nodded. The rings clicked softly together as the bands connected briefly in their intertwined hands.

“Yeah. You… uh…” he said awkwardly. “You looked…”

“What?” she laughed, her long hair loose and flowing down her back. She was still wearing the flower crown.

“Honestly… gorgeous…” he finished rather lamely, and she grinned, halting.

They’d paused in a tiny little square with barely enough room for a stone fountain in the space between the houses, but she drew him close and leaned down, tilting his chin up. His jaw bore the scruff of more than a few days without shaving, but she didn't seem to object as she tilted his face up and lowered her own towards him. Her eyes were incredible and he forgot how to breathe as she began to kiss him.

He reached his hands up into her thick, dark hair and gripped her so tightly she growled and drew back.

She quirked a questioning eyebrow and he nodded.

The two of them made their way back to the boarding house without stopping again, though Virion’s dark leggings definitely seemed a size too small.

Inside their room, Rakasha backed him into the door by way of closing it, and ground herself against him. He wasn’t short, but he felt more than a little dwarfed by her size and strength. Exhilarated by that, breathless, dizzy, and thrumming all over, he kissed her back, his hands wandering over her body, desperate for a touch of her skin.

He pushed her back, and she obliged curiously. Virion’s fingers slid under her loose tunic and she shrugged it off, bearing her muscular torso for him. He jutted his chin towards the bed and she backed slowly towards it, coyly undoing the laces at the top of her loose trousers. He sank his teeth into his lower lip and watched her slide the fabric - trousers and undergarments as one - free of her wide hips. Next came the fabric binding around her breasts. The muscles of her abs clenched as he reached for them and with a feather-light touch, he pushed her back onto the bed.

She parted her legs invitingly and he struggled out of his own clothing, abandoning it all on the floor beside the bed.

When he returned his attention to her, her fingers had slid between her legs and she was slowly circling her swollen clit, her golden eyes locked on him. Her other hand had cupped her breast and she pinched her hardening nipple between finger and thumb and he felt his cock twitch and swell.

Her eyes tracked the movement and she jutted her chin, trying to get him to come closer. He obeyed and ran his hand over the clearly-defined muscles of her thighs, watching the way her breath hitched visibly, her back arching at the drag of his fingertips over her dark green skin.

“Rakasha,” he said, voice husky and a little deeper. “Tell me what you want?”

“You,” she snarled. “I want you.”

His hand closed around his cock and he worked himself to full hardness while he watched her teasing herself. She was slick and wet and so inviting that it didn’t take long for him to kneel between her legs and line himself up with her entrance. Her lips parted and her jaw went slack, and he watched her throat work as she swallowed. He wondered what it’d feel like if she did that with his cock in her mouth, and it responded accordingly, twitching and leaking pre-come down onto her clit.

“Hurry up,” she snarled, bending one leg at the knee and shifting her hips invitingly. He didn't need telling twice.

As he slid slowly inside her tight heat, he rested his left hand on her bent leg, stretching her as he entered her, and she let out a deep, guttural moan. Her muscles clenched around him and he fought the urge to come like a virgin inside her already. Breathing deeply, he sank hilt-deep into her and paused.

“You’re so tight,” he gasped, leaning forwards head bowing.

Reaching for him, she grabbed his hair and snarled, “Move…”

Unable to deny her request, he rolled his hips back and forth, breathless at the sensations of her body around his, the slick heat of her. Sounds began to roll out of her as her chest heaved and she played with her breasts. She never took her eyes off his face though. He moved his thumb to her clit and circled in time with each thrust, and he felt her react to his touch immediately.

Her breathing quickened, chest heaving, and she arched and thrashed as he took her closer. White hot pleasure coiled in him and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Picking up his speed, he altered his angle a little and caught that place inside her that made her cry out. Her tusks jutted upwards, her hands abandoned her chest and grabbed the sheets as she arched and writhed beneath him.

“Come for me,” she demanded, opening her eyes again, and as her gaze met his, his release ripped through him like a landslide. A second later, she followed him, and the clenching of her muscles around his cock drew out his own pleasure until he was shaky and weak all over. He fell forwards onto his elbows, breathing hard, barely missing her face as he collapsed on top of her.

Her hands found his back and began to trace idle lines over his skin while he panted, heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Playfully, she squeezed her inner muscles around him and he grunted a half-hearted complaint, which only made her laugh.

Eventually he rolled onto his side, grunting softly as he slid free of her, and she followed and tucked his body gently against her side. Her lips landed softly on his sweaty temple and she whispered, “Little human, did I break you?”

He shook his head, unable to form words just yet.

“You sure?”

“Shut up,” he grinned, considering elbowing her in the ribs, and she laughed.

“If someone had told me back at that bazaar that I’d be lying in bed with a human who had just made me come like that,” she said, “I’d have sunk my axe into them… probably…”

“Funny how the world works,” Virion said, his words slurring a little as an immense exhaustion washed through him.

He barely noticed Rakasha slipping free of him and cleaning herself up, only to return and draw the sheets up over them both. She curled up on her side, facing away from him, and he rolled over and nuzzled up against the bulwark of her back, inhaling the scent of her thick hair and the expanse of her soft green skin.

He let his hand play over the dip in her waist for just a moment longer, and then hugged himself a little closer before sleep claimed him and he sank willingly down into it.

—

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#female orc #orc #exophilia #monster girlfriend #orc x human

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zigtheeortega · 5 years ago

Text

day 6: pets | ethan/bryce x mc

pairing: ethan x mc & bryce x mc

@choicesfebruarychallenge | @bi-cookie ; @cxld-play

word count: 1,712

author’s note: this fluffy fic was inspired by the john mulaney bit where he jokes about american politics and compares it to a “horse being loose in the hospital”. i took it literally! hope you enjoy - i still think it might be a dumb idea but i’m hope it makes you laugh!

Spencer’s phone buzzed in her scrubs pocket, taking her out of the intense reading she was doing on Ms. Martinez’s file.

EMERGENCY. MEET AT THE SIDE ENTRANCE OF THE BUILDING. BE SNEAKY. Sienna’s text in the group chat came as a shock to Spencer. She’d never seen a message quite that serious from Sienna before.

She power walked down the hallway, trying to make it to the elevator unnoticed. Just as the doors opened, Dr. Ramsey rounded the corner.

She stepped in calmly, then mashed buttons as soon as she was safe. “C’mon, c’mon close,” she muttered to herself, clicking the close door button repeatedly.

“Hold the door, rookie,” he called, and they locked eyes through the slit of the closing doors.

“Sorry,” she mouthed, tapping her watch and shrugging.

His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, the elevator’s numbers lowered, quickly bringing Spencer to the first floor.

She blew air out of her cheeks. Avoiding Dr. Ramsey since the night they’d nearly had sex at the convention had been hard, but worth it for Spencer’s sanity. She couldn’t take much more of the “will they, won’t they” sexual tension between them.

The doors opened, and she snuck out the side door, almost running into the back of Elijah’s wheelchair.

The whole group was assembled, talking in hushed voices.

“What’s wrong? I came as fast as I could,” Spencer panted, eyes darting between her friends’ concerned faces.

“We have a huge problem,” Sienna frowned.

“Okay, bring me up to speed. What can I do to help?” She said, already putting her game face on, ready to rack her brain to help Sienna diagnose a patient.

“There’s a dog loose in the hospital,” Sienna grimaced.

She squinted her eyes, confused. “Is this a prank? I really don’t know if I’m in the mood to joke around, guys.”

“Unfortunately, Sienna isn’t lying. I saw the dog when his owner brought him in,” Jackie said, her arms crossed firmly across her chest.

“You’re telling me a service dog is roaming around, not listening to his owner? Did they lie about him being a service dog?” Spencer wondered aloud, trying to piece the story together.

“No, he’s definitely certified,” Elijah said, shrugging. “I asked to pet him and his owner’s mom declined. She said he was working.”

“I guess she knew taking his vest off wasn’t a great idea,” Landry added, eyeing Sienna.

The door behind them opened, revealing Bryce. “Thanks for including me. This is the most action I’ve gotten all week. Appendectomies just weren’t cutting it today,” he grinned.

“Okay one, weak, and two, thanks for finally joining us,” Jackie rolled her eyes.

“I can’t help that I’m not in your roomie group message,” Bryce shrugged.

“Can we get back to the story, please?” Sienna asked quietly, worry written across her features.

“Okay, so you took the vest off the dog, he thought he clocked out, and he’s just doing what a normal dog would do?” Spencer said, rotating her wrist so that Sienna knew to speed it up.

“I’m not that careless, Spencer. His owner is here for a routine checkup for her epilepsy. He was looking kind of sad while I was going through her chart with her mom, so when they went back for an MRI I thought it’d be a good idea to let him be free for a few minutes,” she said, regret written on her features.

Spencer’s look of disapproval prompted her to continue. “I know it was so dumb of me. I didn’t see him as a service dog on duty, just a sad pet that wanted to take a break and play. I need everyone’s help to find him.”

“Where’d you lose him?” Bryce asked.

“Well, I was near the construction… you don’t suppose he managed to go back there or down the stairs?”

“Let’s hope not,” Landry said nervously, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Okay, we’ll split up in pairs to look for him. It’ll definitely be quicker that way,” Spencer said.

“Elijah and I will check the ER,” Landry volunteered, already heading towards the door, Elijah tailing him.

“Jackie? Sienna? You okay with taking the next couple of floors while Bryce and I look through the labs, the construction, and any other restricted areas?” Spencer asked.

“You got it, boss,” Jackie smirked, walking inside.

“I guess it’s just you and me,” Bryce smiled, his hand on the small of her back, coaxing her towards the door.

----

“Goddammit, where is that dog?” Spencer muttered, frustration creeping into her voice.

“Hey, if you look on the bright side, we’re kind of like Mystery Inc. and we’re looking for Scooby Doo,” Bryce said, as you both jogged down the hallway, peering into the labs.

“What, did you say that because you want me to say you’re Fred?” She laughed, glancing back at Bryce’s smirk.

“And you’re my Daphne,” he said before checking the largest lab on that floor.

“I’m definitely not Daphne. Sienna is more of a Daphne-type than I am,” Spencer smiled, running into the elevator. “I’m definitely Velma.”

“I guess that makes me Shaggy, huh?” He said into your ear, and you became acutely aware of the heat from his body.

“So who’s Fred now?” She said, pushing a numbered button to head towards the wing under construction.

“Elijah, hands down,” Bryce chuckled, his arm propped up on the bar on the wall of the elevator, his skin grazing her scrubs.

“What about Landry and Jackie?” She said, glancing at his face, so close to her own.

“Probably the people they unmask at the end. They’re too competitive to have everyone’s best interests in mind,” he shrugged.

“Awe, that’s no fair. I wouldn’t guess a scalpel jockey would understand our competition,” she teased, turning to place a soft kiss on his jaw.

He leaned in with his eyes closed, but Spencer put a finger on his lips. “We’re getting distracted. We gotta find this dog first.”

“What’s its name anyways?” He said, stepping out into the hallway as the doors opened.

“Huh, good question. I’ll ask,” she said, typing a quick text to Sienna.

She replied immediately. I don’t know. I know she said it, but I was so focused on the patient’s charts and the mom being so stern I forgot.

“Sienna doesn’t know the dog’s name,” she said to Bryce, and he shrugged.

They slipped into the construction side unnoticed, eyes scanning the hallway. Spencer already had a distraction ready in case he wanted to check the rooms and stumbled across Naveen.

“Here, boy,” Bryce called repeatedly, making kissing noises.

“I don’t know if that’s going to work. He should only respond to his name, right?” Spencer mused.

The golden retriever bounded around the corner before they scan the rooms, mouth open, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Bryce eyed her up and down. “I told you so.”

He ran to meet the dog, and fell on the ground, cuddling the wiggling ball of fur as he happily lapped the side of Bryce’s face. “Hey, boy, awe, you’re so good,” he laughed, scritching behind his ears.

Spencer enjoyed the sight of the hot surgeon and cute dog playing for a few more seconds before texting the group.

“Okay, so Sienna’s going to meet us with his vest, and we’re sneaking him back into the waiting room on this floor. The mom should be showing up there soon since they’re almost done with her brain scans.” She shoved the phone back in her pocket.

Bryce laid on the ground, spooning him and completely ignoring her. He hugged the dog to his chest, kissing his head.

“This is really cute, Bryce, don’t get me wrong, but we have to bring him back right now,” she said, extending a hand to him.

He grabbed it, and pulled her down on top of him. “Bryce! We have to go –”

He pressed his lips to hers, cutting her off. She sighed contentedly against his lips.

She knew she was falling for Dr. Ramsey, but she couldn’t see him defying the rules to be with her. Even if she was just fooling around with him and didn’t plan on anything serious coming from it – regardless, Bryce made her feel good.

Things were much more simple with him than with Ethan.

She pulled back, and he gazed at her, smirking. “You have to admit that was smooth.”

“Alright, if it’ll get you to get up any faster, then yes.”

They stood up, walking with the dog towards the entrance. Sienna burst through the clear tarp, followed by the rest of the gang.

“Hi doggy! We’re gonna get you back to your owner now. Please don’t tell them about this,” she whispered to him, clasping the buckle on his side, fastening the vest to him.

“Okay, now if that’s over, I’m gonna get back to my patients,” Jackie said, and stalked off without another word.

“Me too,” Landry said nervous, scuttling away.

“I’m happy Horse is back safe. Hopefully they haven’t noticed –” Elijah said, but Spencer and Bryce were quick to cut him off.

“His name is Horse?” Bryce asked.

“You’re telling me there was a Horse loose in the hospital?” Spencer asked.

“That’s what his name was! I remembered it being weird, but I forgot it was the name of another animal,” Sienna said, smacking the side of her head with the palm of her hand.

“Is there a story behind it or something?” Spencer was dumbfounded, and Bryce couldn’t stop laughing at the situation. HIs laughter was infectious, and before she knew it, she was doubled over, and Elijah and Sienna followed soon after.

When they caught their breath, Elijah explained.

“She named him when she was young, before the seizures started. Her parents sent him off to be trained as a support animal so they wouldn’t have to get another dog.”

“On that note, I’m gonna head back to my patients.” Spencer headed off, waving at her friends.

She knew that she couldn’t avoid Dr. Ramsey for much longer, and the situation stressed her out to no end; Regardless of it all, she still had the ability to laugh, so she knew she was going to be okay.

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#choicesfebruarychallenge #open heart #bryce lahela #ethan ramsey #playchoices #jade writes choices fics

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rockisagirlsbestfriend · 5 years ago

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The Isolation Journals: Glorious Awkwardness

April 4, 2020

Today’s writing prompt proved a challenge because what was once my most glorious awkward intrinsic trait is currently a way of life for a vast number of people globally. I agonized over the topic longer than I should have.

It felt “too easy” – choosing to write about a “glorious awkward trait” that is so widely accepted now.

It felt “too hard” – would people relate to this as “awkward” now? Could anyone imagine the feeling of hundreds of people staring at them as if they were a freak when they walked down the aisle of an airplane? Would people be able to relate to the experience of returning to the box office, 10 minutes into a movie, to request a new seat assignment; or asking the manager at the gym if they could move to a different cross-training workout station? As many people embrace this trait now, would they be able to imagine their co-workers and friends repeatedly teasing them about this awkwardness and questioning their sanity?

On the idea of it being “too easy”: I thought about some of our most brilliant artists, inventors, designers, musicians, and filmmakers. Stories of being “misunderstood”, “an outcast”, or feeling “different” are commonly shared in interviews. However, once a certain level of fame or recognition is achieved, people celebrate and often emulate their “glorious awkward traits”. But it wasn’t easy. Sometimes that recognition came after decades of taunting by peers, sometimes after death.

On the idea of it being “too hard”: Just this morning, I opened the front door, and saw the grocery delivery driver, in his N95 mask and latex gloves, jump back to the required social distance of 6 feet. Yes, even though this trait is now widely accepted, it still feels awkward. Each of us shrouded in masks as a way to protect each other and ourselves from a dangerous virus. While we both understood it as a necessity, it felt surreal, removed from humanity.

The delivery driver was visibly nervous and anxious to leave. I’d ordered some wine so he needed to scan my ID. With our feet firmly planted on their 6’ marks, our bodies stiffly upright to remain out of the no-fly zone, we extended our arms just far enough that his scanner could read my driver’s license, and retreated as soon as we heard the confirming “beep”.

The writing prompt Jon Batiste offered this morning asked us to describe our “glorious awkwardness”. Well, my glorious awkwardness is: early onset Germaphobia.

I first remember consciously being disgusted by people’s hands in middle school. It wasn’t about the person. I simply saw all the things they touched, could envision dirt and bacteria piling up each time they picked up a pencil, touched the desk, tied their shoe, or twirled their hair. I hid it well (I think), but inside I cringed seeing them raise their unwashed hand to their mouth to eat a sandwich, a healthy snack, or a cookie.

My friends would get sick and brush it off. Their congested nasal passages trying to intake air as they argued, “Agh, izzz jus uh hedddd cold” when I’d decline their request to “try a sip” of my soda. I didn’t want a cold, a head cold, the flu, their mouth on my straw, their breath droplets on the lid.

And it never went away. I thought about it during sex (this was after middle school, for those tracking chronologically). “He didn’t wash his hands when we got home and now they’re where. . . and then. . . ?”

The 3-second rule… or 10 second rule… I don’t remember how many seconds it was, but if a thing fell on a table, the floor, a counter, my shirt, it was not going in my mouth.

In order to have any semblance of a social life, I did the best I could to hide it. Unlike the arbitrary “x-second rule” which never worked for me, I tried to appease my anxiety with “the alcohol will kill it”, which worked for me if I’d consumed enough alcohol.

I’m active, physically and socially. I like to run half marathons, am competitive in a circuit training class, go to rock concerts surrounded by thousands of sweaty people, eat meals out, bump elbows at a crowded bar, travel. The longer I was out in the world, the more I witnessed the repulsive and inconsiderate trait many people - adult people - had of not covering their faces when they sneezed or coughed.

As recently as February – when we were well aware of COVID19, but before we were ordered to stay home – I saw a man sneeze all over the self-service ticket kiosk at the movie theater, as he retrieved his tickets. It was a busy Saturday night. I envisioned all the people who would touch that kiosk after him, print their tickets, go buy popcorn, and put that popcorn directly in their mouth to determine whether it would be salty enough a third of the way through the bucket, before leaving the concession stand to take their seat and perhaps wash their hands on the way. Perhaps.

I alerted an employee, who politely responded, “Thanks for letting us know!” As he continued to address the needs of people in line, the thought of a deadly virus on a high-touch public surface was now trailing off in the distance, unattended.

I’ve been wearing a mask on airplanes, trains, and in all forms of public transport, for more than a decade. The most accessible photo of it I have (meaning I don’t have to sift through 8 hard drives to find an older one) is from 2018 and is posted at the end of this story.

First, it was the looks on the faces of the gate agents, followed by the flight attendants who strained to hear my replies, muffled by the mask. Then, of course, there are the looks other passengers give you, followed by their sighs of relief that you’re not sitting next to them, until you do. Sit. Down. Next. To. Them.

At dinners, my friends would sit waiting around the table, while I washed my hands for well over 20 seconds. Often, depending how long we’d been friends, people would say, “C’mon. It’s ok. The alcohol will kill it!”

Their children would ask, “Can we just start eating?” Sometimes, they could.

Business meals were equally complicated. A coworker once wiped her nose on her napkin, put her napkin on the table, and it touched my fork. I tried to hold it together, to not request new utensils, which would likely be uncomfortable for at least two of us during this business lunch. But I was eating chopped salad. I needed a fork. And I could not use that one. I tried to flag down the server as inconspicuously as possible.

“M’am?” he said.

Fuck. I’m a “M’am” already. Fuck. “Could you please bring me another fork?”

The server picked up the fork, raised it toward his eyes, and twirled it around until nearly every part of it had been touched by his fingers, and declared, “This fork is clean!”

To which my colleague added, “It’s fine. It’s just my allergies.”

Allergies… COVID-19…. the mucus oozing from your nose… whatever hepatitis may now be smeared all over that fork… I’m not using it to place things in my mouth.

This text message regarding COVID-19 is from that co-worker:

To me, for as long as I can remember, this trait wasn’t awkward. It was sensible. I could see how we moved through the world - and we weren’t clean about it. How many things do you do, and surfaces do you touch, between using the ATM and washing your hands? Even if you wanted to, there’s no mechanism for hand washing directly adjacent to the ATM (yet). How many other people pressed those buttons with their dirty hands? Those of us who carry hand sanitizer still have to reach into a pocket or a purse to get it out, mash our dirty ATM hands all over the lid to get it open, splatter it on a hand, close the bottle, brace it between our non-dominant forearm and our ribs, and then rub our hands together vigorously without having it splash in our eyes.

Put the bottle of sanitizer away. Feel victorious. And then hear the parking lot attendant decree, “You’re safe!”

One of my favorite observations came from my friend’s son. He was only 5 at the time, but he’d been witness to my glorious awkwardness for most of his life.

“Colette? What happens if you run out of hand-sanitizer?”

“I have more hand-sanitizer.”

“No, but say you’re out - like now - and that bottle is empty… “

“I’ve got a backup bottle in my purse,” I responded, waving the evidence before him.

“Ok, but what about if you’re in the car. . . and you run out of hand-sanitizer in the car??”

“I have a backup bottle in the car too…”

“Can we get ice cream?”

In January and February, people freshly returned from their global voyages and large family dinners, would come to circuit training class sick. Coughing, sneezing, sick. “After this workout, I’m going to urgent care,” one member told her friend as we waited in the lobby for class to begin. “I haven’t been able to get rid of this cough for weeks!”

I’d speak with the manager or guest services (they have a fancier name for it, but whatever) people at the front desk. “I come here to be healthy, to stay healthy, to keep my immune system strong. There are visibly sick people about to get on the treadmill adjacent to - and touching - my treadmill, while we breathe heavily, running 8 miles per hour, for 23 minutes, in a steamy enclosed studio. Do you think you could send out an email alerting members that if they’re sick, they should stay home?”

“No, we can’t ask our members to stay home,” they’d respond, while simultaneously – and at my request - reassigning me to a station further away from said sick people. By the way, it wasn’t up to the lovely people at the front desk. They had been told or, at minimum, believed it to be a corporate policy that sick people could workout there.

Fast forward to April 2020: my glorious awkwardness is your glorious awkwardness.

My friends now call me for advice. Colleagues ask where I got my reusable mask (the one pictured below in 2018). “Where did you get that bottle of hand sanitizer?” someone will ask, unaware there’s backup.

But it’s still awkward, isn’t it? Not being able to see the smile of a stranger, clutching the wall as your neighbors cross paths in the narrow walkway, flinching anytime someone sneezes during a ZOOM call. It was one thing when a handful of us felt this way. We understood it to be odd, but we couldn’t escape it, and everyone else seemed to balance it out with their carefree spirits. But now we’re all fumbling through space, with as few points of contact as possible.

Back on the subjects of “easy” and “hard”: in many ways, the new CDC guidelines and local safety mandates have been exceptionally easy for me. It’s my “glorious awkward” moment in the spotlight. I haven’t had to change my behavior at all. I didn’t have to rush to the store (though, on the subject of toilet paper, I am living roll-to-roll).

I have had to change my activities. I miss going to the gym, the crowded bars, the packed arena concerts. I miss running on the beach. I miss traveling. I’ve become numb to the notices of concert cancellations and postponements. Are the days of being at a music festival, with 100,000 people, crammed into sweaty tents, over?

The active part of my life coming to a standstill is hard. But that, I’m still hopeful, is temporary. The hardest part, for me, now that everyone shares this glorious awkwardness, is wondering how we regain that sense of safety in physical space. Will we become afraid to do the things that used to make us feel so alive? Hopefully, we’ll remind each other, “The alcohol will kill it!”

TODAY:

#Isolationjournals #JonBatiste #the isolation journals #theisolationjournals #creativewriting

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crue-sixx · 5 years ago

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Hungry Like A Wolf

Title: Hungry Like A Wolf

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: The reader is bitten by a big dog, but she's in for more than just an infection.

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Gore, Sickness, Smut. Animal Death, Werewolves

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It was Halloween, the band's favorite holiday. You guys went all out, decorating the apartment, making your costumes with whatever you could find and throwing them together last minute. Of course you stocked up on candy-both for you all to eat and to pass out to the kids in the building. You and your boyfriend Tommy were handing out the candy, and when the trick-or-treating hours had concluded, the real tricks would start.

Nikki had bought five dozen eggs a month ago and let them rot, planning on having you all throw the putrid stink bombs at adult passerby who happened to be roaming around. You all had it planned out-two on the left, two on the right and one sitting in a tree or on the roof. You were with Tommy on the right, Mick and Vince to the left and Nikki up high. You bombarded a few groups of teenagers who were bullying younger kids for their candy. The little bastards deserved it.

The stink exploded on impact, causing the pizza faced boys to gag and scatter. "That's what you get for bein' mean to little kids, assholes!" Nikki shouted from up top. The teenagers all cursed and vowed revenge, but you all knew it was an empty threat.

When all the eggs were spent, you kissed Tommy on the cheek and said "Go on back to our room, Babe" you said winking "I gotta go pick something up for your treat tonight" he grinned, knowing full well that he was getting a special sex session tonight.

"Why didn't you just have it delivered or pick it up earlier?" he whined, not wanting to wait for his Halloween Treat.

"Because" you eyed them all "Most of you guys like to try and ransack my drawers for my underwear" except for Mick, they all nervously laughed and glanced down. "And I didn't want the surprise to be spoiled" you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly. He of course returned the gesture with aplomb.

"Hurry back, Y/N" he said, not wanting to let you go but he had to.

"I will, Tommy" you blew him a kiss, to which he caught it and sent it back. Nikki and Vince made mock gagging gestures and Tommy laughed at that.

You were on your way to the shop that was open late tonight when you had to cross the park to make a short cut. It was like Central Park in New York, but considerably smaller. You could see your destination just on the other side when you heard a rustling in the bushes. You turned and saw a rather large dog, you didn't think anything of it and tried to go on your way, but a supernatural force pulled you back to stare into it's eyes.

Your heart rate slowed down and you entered a dreamlike state. The dog's eyes were yellow and looking at you like you were it's next meal. You were in a trance, the creature having reared up and walking on two legs like a human. You knew you should have been terrified and run off, but the power keeping you there made that impossible.

You could smell and feel it's hot steamy rank breath as it exhaled on you. It's fangs were dripping with saliva and you could see it's mouth twisting into an ugly snarl. It then howled and lunged at you, knocking you over. The sudden movement snapped you out of the trance and you screamed for help. The thing clamping down on your arms with its jaws and scratching at your belly with claws so sharp it could cut diamonds.

It would have killed you if someone hadn't blown it's brains out just as it was going in for the kill. Your neck was exposed and it was about to bleed you dry when you heard a crack of thunder and then a pink misty cloud of blood and brain matter splattered the white rose bushes, painting them a brilliant red. The shooter stepped forward, a young teen boy right after him. "What should we do about 'er Pa?" asked the boy in a nervous tone.

"Let's put 'er outta 'er misery" the older man cocked the shotgun and pointed it at you.

You had tears running down your face as you tried to speak "Please no..." when you heard more people coming your way with flashlights.

"Damn it!" the older man cursed "Grab the beast boy and hightail it outta here!" The son did as his father bade, and they left you to bleed. It wasn't long however when a group of police officers came to your aid and radioed for an ambulance.

In your blood loss induced state of delirium, you asked "Why did they paint the roses red? They're gonna lose their heads..." before you finally passed out.

Back at the apartment, they were all getting worried. They knew where the sex shop was-they all frequented it for condoms and various other sex novelties. It didn't take two hours to get there and back. Tommy was pacing around in circles cracking his knuckles."Where the fuck is she?" he felt the worry puke coming on.

"Relax" Nikki tried to reassure him "Maybe there's a long line at the check out counter or something..."

Then the phone blared. An ominous pressure filled the room as they all stared at it. When the phone rights at two in the morning, nothing good ever happens. Tommy picked it up and said "Y/N?"

"No" an unfamiliar voice answered "Is this Tommy Lee?"

"Yeah" he had to steady himself on the table. From the expression on his face, they all knew it couldn't be good. They waited in uncomfortable anticipation for more information "Who're you?"

"I am Doctor Finkle from L.A. General. Do you know a woman by the name of Y/N L/N?"

"Yeah she's my girlfriend" his voice cracked "Is she okay?"

"I cannot say exactly" the sound of papers shuffling "from the police report, it states that she was attacked by a large animal in the park and was just bought into our operating room for emergency surgery. Please get here as quick as you can..." it sounded like you didn't have much time left, and Tommy bolted for the door without even hanging up the phone or putting shoes on. The rest of the guys followed him and he filled them in on the way in the car.

When they finally got there, Tommy ran in, knocking over a nurse with a cart full of medicine. "Y/N L/N!" he wheezed, out of breath "Is she still in surgery?!"

The receptionist typed in your name and your status was stated next to it "Yes, she is. The O.R. is on the fourth floor. Please fill out a visitors-" he wouldn't let her finish, him sprinting to the elevator and pressing the buttons repeatedly. His rational mind knew that pressing the same buttons over and over again wouldn't make the damn thing go faster, but his emotional side was nervously twitching.

"Come on, damn thing..." the others caught up to him as the doors opened and he went in, repeating the previous motions of button mashing the fourth floor button.

A passing orderly was unfortunate enough to be within reaching distance of Tommy's arms. He grabbed the poor unsuspecting young man and shook him violently "Y/N L/N! Where is she?! Where's the fuckin' doctor?!"

Dr. Finkle heard the voice he had spoken to fifteen minutes ago and came out in scrubs, fresh from surgery "Mr. Lee?"

Tommy's head snapped to him and he said "Dr. Finkle?!"

"Yes, that's me. If you'll stop terrorizing my orderly I can fill you in on your lady friend's condition" Tommy let the trembling man go, offering him an apologetic look. "The consultation room is this way" he motioned with his hand to a small room that could only fit two maybe three people.

Tommy went in and sat with him while Mick, Vince and Nikki watched from the waiting room trying to read their lips. Dr, Finkle looked haggard, he had been working all day on idiotic drunkards who had gotten themselves into ridiculous situations. Most of them were minor injuries, cuts and scrapes that the patients INSISTED were broken bones. But this woman was the real deal, her blood tests showed no alcohol or any other substances in her system. She was just a poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"How is she, Doc?" Tommy's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

"She's stable" the doctor answered. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. "She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop the bleeding and replace what she lost. She'll be alright, she just needs a few days in here to recover and to make sure she didn't get any diseases of whatever animal attacked her" he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"What's the damage?" Tommy wanted to be ready for what he was going to see.

"She has extensive bite marks on her arms-most likely defensive wounds-some deep. She also has claw marks on her chest and abdomen, but those are superficial. They're not much concern at this time."

Tommy swallowed hard and asked "When can I see her?"

"In about ten minutes. She's being settled into her room right now. The anesthesia may last longer than that, but that's to be expected" he took off his glasses and added off the record "you can stay as long as you want. I recon that you'll be the first person she wants to see when she wakes up..."

"Thanks Doc" he was very appreciative and shook his hand "For taking care of my girl..."

"She's in room 509 on the recovery floor" the doctor added. She should be settled by the time you get up there" they then parted ways, Tommy grateful for the man who saved his lover's life.

The others got up when they saw him come out, the waiting game being too much for them "How is she?"

"She'll live" Tommy said flatly "Go on back to the apartment, I'll stay with her" they looked at each other uneasily and agreed.

"Do you want us to get you anything before we go?" Mick asked, being uncharacteristically empathetic.

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just have the shitty coffee and snacks to hold me over" he tried to smile, but it was very weak and unconvincing. They reluctantly left but they knew he needed alone time with his girl.

You were still in your drugged sleep when he came in. He thought he'd mentally prepared himself for what he might see, but he was wrong. Most of your upper body was bandaged up like a mummy, but your head was still visible. He let out a few whimpers before breaking down like a lost child. "Y/N...Baby..." he took your hand and held it. "I'm so sorry...I never should have let you go alone..."

You were starting to wake up then, saying "Don't beat yourself up, Tommy" he jumped, startled at your quick recovery.

"Y/N!" he was both happy and perplexed "How are you awake so soon?!"

"I heard you crying and thought I'd wake my lazy ass up and see what's going on" you smiled at him, still groggy from the drugs. He was just so happy that you were okay, that he leaned down and gave you the sweetest, softest kiss he ever did.

"I love you" he confessed through his sobs, snot dripping down his face.

"I love you too, Tommy" you reached up to try and clean his face, but you were seeing triple and couldn't tell which Tommy to wipe.

"I got it, Babe" he laughed and wiped his face.

All the tests came back negative for any animal borne diseases, and you were clear to go back to the apartment. Tommy was there by your side all the while, the guys bringing him clothes and toiletries so he could be clean. He hated being able to smell himself and it was nasty.

The guys had a small party when you came home, just the five of you and a little welcome home cake. You thanked them and had a few beers, Tommy leading you away from them to make love to you in a proper fashion. He gingerly touched your scars and kissed them, You tried to shy away from his touching them but he insisted "They're a part of you now, and I love everything about you..."

"Tommy..." you sighed a ragged breath of carnal desire. "Fuck me..."

"Don't gotta tell me twice" you were already so wet from just him touching you that he didn't need to do anything like oral or fingering. He was rock hard too, so he just slid inside easily. He let out a gasp of pleasure and commented "Oh fuck baby you're tighter than usual..."

"Well, I have been out of practice for a week" you whispered into his neck before kissing it. You then felt a strange savage second nature begin to wash over you. You smelled his blood pumping through his veins. You wanted him. His flesh. His meat. You were able to push the urge down and he continued to fuck you.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ" he moaned into your mouth "You feel hotter too..." he grunted loudly "my dick's on fire...fuck" he had you against the wall, holding onto you tightly. You turned your ass to him.

"Do me from behind Babe" you groaned and dug your nails into the plaster. He happily obliged, liking this new angle. You could hear his balls slapping against your ass gently, serving to draw the both of you closer to your climax.

"Oh God" Tommy gasped, bucking his hips wildly "I'm gonna fuckin' cum..." you quickly pulled away from him and took him into your mouth, deep throating him as he pumped his seed down your gullet. He held your head in place, his own falling back in exhausted pleasure.

After you had swallowed his semen, you looked up at him and said "Was that hot for you baby?"

"So fuckin' hot Y/N" he was panting "I could feel your nose against my stomach..." he gulped hard "I love it when we try new stuff in the bedroom..." he picked you up and kissed you tenderly. He was spent, but you hadn't finished. You didn't care about that, you had your man with you and that's all that mattered.

The next morning, you smelled the sweet aroma of frying meat. It lulled you out of bed and into the kitchen where Tommy was making breakfast. "Mornin'!" he greeted, but you didn't answer. You smelled the raw bacon on the counter and couldn't take your eyes off it. Your mouth began to water, just the thought of tasting fresh meat driving you mad with ravenous hunger.

You scooped up the raw meat and tore into it like a wild animal, your teeth making it easier to shred than before. Tommy watched you in amazed horror, then put a hand on your shoulder to stop you from eating raw meat. You snarled at him, your eyes full of pure rage at having your meal interrupted. "The fuck you want?!" your voice wasn't just your own, but a deep throated. rolling growl. You were so pissed that he'd interrupt your meal like that! You imagined ripping out his esophagus and making his intestines your meal but you realized how fucked up that was and calmed down.

He was actually scared to respond at first but he said "Dude, you're eating raw meat...that's got bacteria in it..."

"Erm...right..." you put down the raw meat and looked down "sorry..."

He gave you a strange look, but let it go.

Things went back to normal for a few weeks, then exactly one month after the attack you fell ill. First, you were burning up and sweating buckets. Then the vomiting when you had nothing in your stomach. Everyone thought it was just the flu and they stayed clear of you, Tommy bringing you soup and some crackers.

Then your insides started burning, and the vomiting turned more violent. It was when you saw blood in the toilet that you started to panic. "Tommy! I need-" a new round of blood vomit came but this one actually hurt. It was then your skin started to itch-like tiny bugs were crawling all over the surface. You started scratching.

Tommy had heard you call for him, and when he came in the bathroom, he saw you clawing at your arms "Y/N, what the fuck?!" he grabbed a towel "You're bleeding!"

"I'm just so itchy..." you brushed him off and continued to scratch, drawing more blood from your body.

"Fuckin' stop!" Tommy grabbed both your hands to keep you from doing more damage.

"Tommy what the fuck's going on in there?!" Nikki shouted.

He didn't have time to answer, you had stood up, whipped your head back and headbutted him, breaking his nose. Nikki and Vince burst through the door when they saw the carnage. They stared speechless, Tommy knocked out on the floor and you bloody with your muscle meat on display. "T-Bone!" Nikki went to his fallen friend, and you had thrown up blood all over him.

You were then on the ground twitching. They thought you were having a seizure and Tommy was trying to help you, but then they saw your features begin to change. Your bones began to break on their own, your skin tore away from your frame, the largest organ of the body unable to contain the new growth. In it's place, coarse fur and animal skin grew. Your nose elongated into a snout, fangs protruding where your teeth once were.

Nikki and Vince didn't wait around to see what was happening next, instead grabbing Tommy and dragging him out of the apartment and hauling ass out of there. You-or whatever version of you that was followed them down the hallway on all fours. "Holy shit!" Tommy had woken up and was staring a behemoth of a dog in the face.

The thing had leapt up, ready to completely devour them all when a soft whistling was heard, then a yelp from the animal and then the thing skidded across the floor. They looked up and saw Mick with a hunting rifle, but a tranquilizer dart in the animal's thigh. "What the fuck was that?" Tommy asked.

Nikki and Vince looked at each other, unsure to what to say. They knew what they had saw and weren't on anything that would make them see that. Mick spoke up and said "That's Y/N. She's a werewolf" as easily as saying "Pass the fuckin' potatoes".

"What the fuck?" Nikki whispered.

"How do you know?" Tommy looked at Mick.

"Shut up and watch, Drummer" he said, and you started shrinking back to normal size.

"H-how is this possible?" Tommy stumbled back, his broken nose the least of his worries.

"It was on Halloween when she was attacked. A few of my buddies heard about werewolf activity in the area and decided to check it out" he pulled the dart from your thigh, you giving a small yelp of pain as he did so.

"How do you know all this shit?" Vince questioned "Werewolves and all that crap are just myths!"

Mick took a long while to respond, but when he did "There are things that go bump in the night, boys. I'm one of the ones who bump back" he grabbed you by your foot and began to drag you across the floor.

Tommy got up and shouted "Hey! Where you takin' her?!"

"To a place where she can turn and not hurt anybody" he took you down the stairs, being careful not to smack your head against them.

"You're not takin' my girl anywhere without me!" Tommy grabbed a hold of his arm, but Mick gave his signature glare and he backed off.

"You really want to be around the thing who just tried to eat you?" he asked sarcastically.

"She's not a 'thing' Mick! She's my girlfriend!"

"Get that nose looked at first, then I'll come back and take you to her. I promise..."

Tommy let him go, Nikki and Vince having been shell shocked into silence. After he got cleaned up, Tommy waited for Mick to come back, When he did, he kept his word and took him to the police station. "Mick why the fuck are we here?"

"To see Y/N" he gave an unfamiliar hand gesture to a guard and he let them in a secret passage. At the end of the passage, there was a group of fortified cells with all sorts of giant dogs in them of varying colors and ferocity. Then at the very end, they saw you in your human form, still knocked out from the drugs.

"What did you shoot her with?" Tommy asked, caressing your face.

"Wolfsbane" Mick answered "It reverses the transformation and makes them sleep it off. Too much will kill them though" he slipped a freshly dead goat into your cell, to which Tommy gagged.

"How do you know about this Mick? I mean really?"

"My family have been monster hunters for generations" he washed his hands of the blood "Going all the way back to Abraham Van Helsing and Dracula" he loaded his shotgun with a round of silver bullets and waited.

"Hey, what are you doin'?" Tommy protested.

"If she wakes up and turns again, then there's no hope for her. I'm going to put her out of her misery" he cocked the gun.

You woke up a few hours later, still your normal self. You were confused about your new surroundings. "Good! You're awake and you!" Mick smiled warmly.

"What happened?" you asked "Why am I in this dank cell?"

They had explained what happened, you not believing them until you talked to Vince and Nikki, then seeing the damage of the bathroom for yourself. You certainly didn't want to die or kill anyone, but you couldn't resist the transformation. "What do I have to do?"

"Keep track of the lunar cycle and lock yourself up in the cells when the full moon comes around" Mick answered "eat all the raw meat you can get to control the hunger."

You looked at Tommy and started to cry. "Baby what's wrong?" he hugged you close to him.

"I tried to kill you guys" you sobbed into his shirt "I can't be around normal people anymore!"

"Are you breaking up with me?" Tommy whispered quietly.

"No, but I understand if you want to break up with me..."

"Babe, the thought never crossed my mind" he pet your hair.

"You sure?"

"Of course! If I wanted to leave, I'd be gone by now!" he smiled down at you. "We just got to get used to the new you..." he grinned into a kiss. You remembered how great the sex was the last time you did it with him, and that seemed to quell the beast inside you for a moment, but you knew that at any time, your inner wolf could strike and you counted on Mick to put that silver bullet in you before you could harm anyone.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #tommy lee #mick mars #nikki sixx #vince neil #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #tommy lee imagine #submission #not mine

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general-loki · 6 years ago

Text

Premonition in Decaf Ch2

Title: Premonition in Decaf

Chapter 2: Perfect Shot

Series: Persona 5

Ship: Akira(Joker)/Akechi

Rating: T

Warnings: No direct spoilers, but things are alluded to. Takes place Mid Palace 6. Was once a one-shot. Vague flirting and phantom thief/rival detective vibes.

Summary: The Phantom Thieves continue their trek into the Palace with Crow--awkwardness and all after Ryuji gave everyone the wrong idea about an innocent diner outing. It falls on Joker to keep things in order and keep the team together. Even if they were all going to grill him endlessly about keeping company with the detective the second he was out of sight.

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The fallout was swift, unforgiving.

Ryuji had clearly meant to send the message privately to Akira, but it was a death sentence that the Phantom Thieves Exclusive Chat* (*No Crow Allowed) group took to repeatedly guillotining their leader with. Akira actually couldn’t keep up with the rate messages flooded in at--everyone typing at once into messages that essentially distilled down to “What” and “Why.”

After trying and failing to find a good way to butt in Akira just let the messages go for a minute or two until everyone had it out of their system enough to actually get a word in and not have it lost in the multi-message spam flow. Ryuji had, in the meantime, only made matters worse.

“I only saw them alone at the diner! I mean Akechi ran out of there totally red in the face. Assumed you know??”

“Akira’s always taking people out but he had THAT LOOK.”

“The LOOK.”

At that point even Akira didn’t know what the hell Ryuji was on about, but he was doing a fine job of misleading everyone. Still, Akechi was that worked up? He assumed it was probably that the detective was pissed and unable to hold it back anymore now that Akira got under his skin. Ryuji was sort of an idiot at matters of anyone’s heart. Of course he’d misread it. Probably.

Meanwhile, his comrades were trying to understand what the hell “The Look” was and arguing about that. Ryuji settled for expanding his description to “that look on his face when he’s serious and sees right into your soul” however that did little to ease everyone’s worries. Futaba claimed he’d probably just hit a Flag with Akechi by mistake and he could avoid the Bad End still and that made matters worse.

Akira sunk into his seat and sighed, running a hand through his hair. None of them had stopped long enough to even ask him what actually happened yet--the conversation derailed as it always seemed to. He had to probably straighten it out sooner than later.

“Do I really take people out that much?” Akira messaged after not saying anything at all.

“Yea”

“You do a LOT.”

“How do you even afford that?”

“Buy me ramen next time.”

By then Ryuji probably had already fled the scene, but Akira couldn’t help but look after he paid and went on his way. He looked up and down the city streets still busy with foot traffic for that familiar form, but didn’t immediately spot him. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and went back to the messages still going off on his phone. He missed a tangent from the group about all of them planning to have him buy them ramen at some point very soon. Ann remembered to disinvite Akechi (the jerk) and the conversation circled back to the start.

“I only spent some time with Akechi just like I do with any of you. I wanted to see how he would react.”

Akira’s answer only stalled the mess of messages briefly before it all came to new questions. They were fair ones though. None of the Phantom Thieves wanted anything to do with Akechi more than they were already forced to deal with. From a distance he seemed like a normal enough person, maybe even pleasant, but prolonged contact was like a slow boil. That fake niceness oozed a rankness every Phantom Thief had sussed out on their own and each took the liberty of sharing now that the time had come. Maybe they needed a session of complaining to help get it out of their systems for later so Akira let it go, sitting back and at least learning about the gut feelings of his comrades. By his own admission, they were probably right. He too sensed something deeply off about Akechi.

But that was the point of hanging around him. Akechi wasn’t going to unravel in battle, he wasn’t going to from debate, but he might if Akira could find his buttons mash all of them.

“I don’t know if he can be won over, but I won’t know what’s going on with Akechi if I don’t try.”

Answers to this were mixed. It probably looked and felt like a hopeless cause, even Akira didn’t believe in it. But telling them he wanted to mess with the guy and figure out what was going on his head probably wouldn’t sell any better. Finally Yusuke, who had been somewhat quiet, sent a rather affirming message.

“If you feel safe in this endeavor and think it may help us to any degree, I trust how you might use your time.”

He had wondered if Yusuke had felt something off in the same way Akira had. He was at times sensitive and at others living on a completely different planet. But when Yusuke was right often it was doubly so.

Akira continued on his path home while watching the conversation between his comrades, each a bit more turned to the idea after Yusuke’s answer. Perhaps that was clear enough to the point to work for all of them. It was Akira’s time to use--however heavy that felt to think about. The Phantom Thieves counted on him to support them and lead with some degree of certainty. The bonds he made gave them all strength in one way or another--either in trust built or with supporters outside. Putting it into words eluded him, but Akira did know these connections mattered.

But would a connection with Akechi actually matter?

The detective himself seemed unconvinced with the way the group functioned or what the Phantom Thieves even stood for. For Akechi it was a puzzle to pick apart. A Thing of Interest, not a group of friends with goals in their hearts and the means to reach them.

Or at least, maybe that was it.

Akechi seemed plenty thrilled to take part in this mission. Thrilled to be in combat. Thrilled to be a temporary Phantom.

What did he get out of this exactly? The deal waited for him at the end, but until then, what was this?

Akira leaned heavily into his seat on the train, eyes starting the glaze over the screen in his hand as his friends’ chatting started to slow. They were all people with things to do, their time to spend. If Ryuji ran off on a date everyone would surely mock him for it (it was impossible anyway) but that was his time to spend. Did it matter so much if Akira were on a date? Or was really all about Akechi? The group’s complaining told him Akechi, but between the lines he was sure his friends were well invested in whether or not he was dating and who. He hadn’t exactly been one to be free with that kind of information--that probably fueled it.

The stroll from the station back home back him a little more time to sort it out but not much. He didn’t much want to face the Boss with a tired look so he picked a vending machine on the way and hung around it, like he meant to pick something to drink. Rather than linger on all this it would be easier to focus on what needed doing. They were returning to the Palace tomorrow after all. He could spend a little time making tools or probably, more likely, just fall asleep. Keeping clear headed was going to be the only thing that would help them get through a Palace so loud and dangerous at the same time. Sleep would help probably.

Akira fed the vending machine and punched in a button without thinking about it too much. A can rattled to the bottom and he picked up, at least satisfied he’d gotten something decaf. Getting all rattled up on top of all this wasn’t going to help.

One slow breath in and back out.

He cracked open the can and carried on home, sipping and watching the neighborhood through streetlights. A level of his responsibilities he took in stride--it worked out and he kept calm under pressure and always had. They, his friends and now comrades, needed that energy when things got hot--as they always did in a palace. He absolutely had to overthink Akechi just because of the element he was, but not so much he put the others ill at ease.

“If you feel safe,” Yusuke had said. He didn’t feel all that safe, for various reasons, namely because however this was going to play out at the end didn’t look good. The ugliness of that should have put him down, but instead it just harden his resolve. There was a way out of this and to put Akechi on the ropes too. Akira gripped and crushed the middle of the now empty can in his hand before chucking it in a bin.

Okay.

To whatever end this reached, he was going to give it a shot. The Phantom Thieves didn’t get anywhere being weak-hearted after all. Steeled and ready, he fixed his posture by the time he opened the door to Leblanc, giving Sojiro the usual greeting and carrying on his way. He had time to set up a couple things still…

***

Joker would have described the mood in the Palace the next day as “weird.” Everyone was there and working hard, but he felt all eyes on him more than usual. Maybe he was just paying it more mind than usual. This was his job here after all--he took point and made way through the casino maze backrooms again. That pressure of course on top of the mood exuding from Crow as he took to staying close near or behind Joker the whole time. He was obnoxiously chatty as usual--to the point it was probably too much for him. It made Joker wonder if he were covering for the day before because he was embarrassed or still angry.

He couldn’t exactly rule anything out.

A room they needed to break into lead them into combat in close quarters, some of the group out in the hall holding off any support called as Joker and anyone else in the lead took out those in the backroom. Fox sliced through an enemy who had broken out behind another Joker just finished--his katana ripping through and enacting the first and final blow together. With that enemy down the room was cleared, but the hall was another issue. It was quiet but not enough. Crow lowered his blade first, starting to look over the room with some interest. Fox sheathed his blade but looked out toward the open door, swinging loose from the way Joker had kicked it open a little too hard. Panther took a few steps that way, clearly holding her breath. The others weren’t calling out the clear like they usually did, but further down the hall it sounded like combat might have been happening.

“How far did they go?” Panther said, starting to go out, but swinging back inside suddenly, her eyes wide. “Joker,” she whispered urgently.

Joker understood the cue, but from his position Crow was directly in the way. He could deal with the consequences later. “Move,” was all he said to the outsider to the group at his side. The detective stood back up to face him only to find Joker’s arm stretched out horizontal to the end of his mask until the recoil from Joker’s shot made that uneven. However, Joker’s shot hit the mark exactly--taking out a guard enemy patrolling but one that had not yet made a call for further back up. Panther checked around the corner again and took off for their allies clearly at the opposite end of the hall their visitor had come from. Fox follows shortly after, leaving Crow at Joker’s side, his eyes wide and confused.

“You almost shot me,” the detective got out somehow, like his tongue twisted in a knot.

“I said move,” Joke said dismissively as he ran after his comrades, no mind for the dumbfounded Crow left in the room alone. Crow hesitated a moment before grabbing the treasure he’d spotted and chasing after.

Further down the hall Skull and Noir were cracking heads to hold off a slew of enemies that had come seemingly out of nowhere. The two traded places, covering one another as enemies fell into shadows at their strikes. Queen and Mona were on support from behind--another layer of cover less necessary as Fox and Panther moved in to weed out the rest. The worst of the combat seemed over as Joker made it to the scene.

Queen stood more at ease as the hall was cleared, turning to Joker to report. “Sorry about that. More than we expected kept coming out, we didn’t want to get pinned in by any fire,” she explained with a slight smile. Crow made it last behind Joker, her smile clearly falling.

“As long as everyone’s alright,” Joker said, keeping it short.

Mona gave him two paws up. “No problems! But this place is more of a maze than I thought it’d be coming in. It feels like we’re making very slow progress,” he noted now that he had everyone’s attention anyway.

Oracle adjusted her goggles and had a look out. “We are making our way through, but I’ll agree it’s slow moving. There are a lot of enemies and the corridors loop so tight sometimes it’s hard to be sure if they’re in this hallway or the one just wrapping outside it.”

The group fell silent as they thought on it--quiet enough the ringing of the casino main floor could be heard echoing through the back halls. Joker raised his head first.

“We’re close to making a good dent in this section. A bit further before we wear ourselves out,” he said decisively. “We’ll call it a day there.”

“You got it, Joker. Lemme join you on the front,” Skull answered with a sure grin. He strode right up to Fox, putting up one hand like he intended to give him a high five. Confused, but still able to manage comradery, Fox clapped his hand with Skull’s.

“Tagged out. See ya,” Skull laughed, stepping up to Joker’s side opposite of where Crow was not--who had still not seemed to come out of his stupor.

Fox looked to his own hand like it had betrayed him. “I wasn’t ready…” he said defeatedly,

“You’re really giving it your all today, Fox. You’re pushing yourself,” Queen said as she gave him a short look over. “Even if you’re motivated you can’t do it all alone.”

“Wanting to look cool today, Inari?” Oracle teased and snickered.

Fox stood up a bit straighter--too straight with just how tall he was. There’s a certain glow to his face, like he was at peace with himself and his efforts. “I keep thinking of the ramen our leader will soon be taking us to. I can’t help but feel already energized dreaming of a full bowl of warm, salty broth and noodles. Perhaps with an egg…”

“This is about food again?” Queen sputtered, somehow still surprised with Fox’s behavior after this long.

“When isn’t it?” Panther said with a sigh.

“When it’s about artsy stuff,” Oracle filled in, no hesitation.

“Oh yeaaaaah,” Skull blurted suddenly, like the thought hit him on the head. “You DO owe us ramen,” he said Joker’s way accusingly.

“I do?”

“You do!” Skull insisted, waving his weapon in a somewhat dangerous manner to emphasize his point.

Crow finally snapped out of his thoughts, tilting his head. “You treat them all to ramen too?”

Panther nearly jolted when Crow snapped out of it. She made a threatening gesture Skull’s way, whispering harshly for him to shut up. The two bickered for a moment.

“Something like that, apparently,” Joker answered with a more casual tone. Hopefully that would stave off any questions and keep his nose out of this group outing for the time being.

“I can’t remember the last time I had ramen,” Crow commented, like it were an opening for Joker to invite him. The pair exchanged looks but neither budged.

Oracle fiddled with her screen views for a while doing a search, no one else brave enough to say anything or move while the other two kept up their tense standoff. Eventually she spoke up. “You blogged about ramen like two weeks ago. If you can’t remember two weeks ago how are you a detective?”

Crow took a step back in shock, like her words shot him directly in the gut. He groped at the air for a second, mouth open but no words yet.

Noir peeked at Oracle’s view, leaning in to have a look. “Oh I’ve heard the girls in class talking about that place. Is it really so good?”

“Fancy fancy, trendy trendy,” Oracle added in a sing-song voice. “What kind of ramen place goes for a ‘modern’ look and spin? People line up for that?”

“Oh out the doors. I heard you could get in line at lunch and not get in until dinner service,” Noir replied still not believing it herself based on her tone.

Everyone looked at Crow for the answer since clearly none of the thieves could believe it. The full group’s attention did him in and by force he had to say something--anything at all at that point.

“It wasn’t that long of a line...a couple hours,” Crow admitted finally, slumping slightly.

“A couple hours?!” a handful of the thieves chimed in at once in shock.

Crow cleared his throat and attempted to throw himself back together. “That’s typical of a new opening. And waiting has never bothered me when there’s something interesting at the end of it.”

“I never would have guessed you were a trend-chaser,” Panther said somewhat bluntly after it was clear no one was relating.

“Not precisely…” Crow started, looking a touch flustered. Perhaps he wasn’t used to being so teased.

Joker turned his attention down the hall, plenty ready to be done with this conversation. “We should keep moving. Stick to the plan,” he said with some finality. The call sat well with the crew and Crow too as they all took up more ready stances and their usual positions to move on.

***

The group parted once they reached deeply enough, everyone saying goodbyes as they split ways down their trips home, or whatever might have been next for them. Akira intended to head back to Leblanc and relax for awhile before bed. He felt something off about his path home, even as his mind wandered a little. Even before starting Phantom Thief business, he’d gotten more sensitive to his surroundings, but letting that on would only put him in trouble. Best to play it cool and see how it went. If it was who he figured it was, he could deal with being tailed.

By the time he reached Leblanc, Sojiro was looking ready to be gone. Probably another slow day. He greeted him casually, getting the usual about locking up when he was ready as the Boss took off now that he had the chance. Akira watched after the door as it closed. He set his bag down at one of the tables, Morgana worming his way out and stretching.

“He was really on your back half that trip, huh?” Morgana mused, watching the door too.

“Yeah, you saw him?”

“Yup. Not very low key,” Morgana laughed, but soon took a more serious tone. “If he’s up to anything…”

“I can deal with it. We’ll make sure every entry is locked. I’ll block the window if need be,” Akira answered casually. They’d already agreed on a plan in case of an emergency. Being stalked was probably an emergency…

Akira took a few strides to one of the counter seats, sitting down like he might usually. Either their guest would come in soon or they were going to have to go with that emergency plan. He didn’t think he would actually make any moves. He still needed the Phantom Thieves for what he wanted after all. They would be in trouble without Joker, probably. Akira had faith Makoto would be able to keep them together, but not sure what shape they would be in. It would be too difficult for even one of them to drop off.

No, not dropping off. Too simple. Didn’t express the risk or that pounding in his chest.

Morgana’s ears perked up, blue eyes fixed on the door. Joker kept his gaze on the counter but his shoulders tight. It wasn’t more than a few minutes since Sojiro left. Couldn’t wait could he?

At the ring of the door bell Akira finally let himself gaze directly at the one who had tailed him so far. With the same sort of disarming smile as usual, Goro Akechi gave his typical greeting.

“Good evening. Is now a bad time?” he said casually as he might. He carried his case at his side, his tie fixed just as neatly at his throat, everything as typical as possible with him.

Except that he was here well after hours.

“Not exactly,” Akira answered as vaguely as he could.

Akechi smiled on and stepped up to the stool next to Akira, not yet taking it for himself. “I suppose it’s a little late for Leblanc to open and still serve anything, isn’t it?” Akechi mused.

Akira looked over the clear kitchen space--Sojiro apparently really packed it up early. He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “I guess the kitchen’s closed.”

“It’d be unreasonable to assume, wouldn’t it?”

And yet you’re here looking for service? Akira wanted to say, but he sealed his lips long enough to stave the inclination. Against his better judgement he sighed and stood back up. Akechi stared unblinkingly in shock at first, like he was ready for this to escalate to him being physically booted out.

Akira started for his bag, opening it up for Morgana to jump back into. He got the signal and hopped back in as Akira shouldered it. “You’re hungry, right?” Akira said the detective’s way.

“I guess that I am, but what are you…” He didn’t finish as Akira passed him heading for the door.

“Let’s grab something quick then,” Akira said, holding the door open. Akechi was left staring again, but soon hurried after him so Akira could shut the door and lock it.

“Are you inviting me to dinner?” Akechi asked once they were both outside, his expression hard to read in the low light, but his tone pretty bewildered.

“Sort of? Don’t get too excited.” Akira charged ahead, making way outside the usual part of the neighborhood. Akechi quickly joined at his side, too perplexed and clearly flustered now that he’d lost control of this encounter so soon.

“At this hour? You’d really do that?”

“You expected me to feed you, right?”

That answer made the detective slow his pace, one hand over his forehead. “Is that what this looks like?”

Akira shrugged and waited up for him to rejoin. “You walked in and asked me about making something. The kitchen is already all cleaned up. We might as well.”

Akechi seemed to accept that answer slightly better, walking at Akira’s side less stiffly now. “Then this is your neighborhood to guide me through. You’ll have to show me what’s good.”

Akira gave him a wry smile, too amused. What did he think he was getting? A 5 star meal in the middle of the night? Not likely. Akira kept a decent money supply running, but he wasn’t that good. He still owed everyone ramen (apparently). “You’ll get the best I’ve got right now.”

There’s a big “ooooh” of awe from his bag on his shoulder, Morgana poking his head out. “I want sushi if we’re getting something good.”

“Alright, sushi it is,” Akira agreed with a short laugh. There’s a whoop-like meow of joy from the bag as Morgana ducked back inside, half-singing about his sushi dreams. At least someone would be happy at the end of this. Maybe.

“Sushi? For me too?” Akechi asked in disbelief.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Akechi seemed to have just a bit more of a spring in his step too, a smile back on his face. A face that Akira would note looked very slightly pink. Once the encounter was on Akira’s path, Akechi got worked up pretty easily. He was at least not that instant tv-personality Akechi at the moment. He thought briefly about the very depressed Akechi he’d met in Leblanc that one day before decidedly putting that Akechi out of his mind. He had this one to contend with for now.

There was a little chatter on the way, but hardly too much. It wasn’t like it was a far trip. Akira eventually came to a stop in front of the yellow-bright lights of the convenience store, his hands still in his pockets as he turned back to glance at Akechi.

“Dinner’s on, dear. You just take what you like,” he said through a grin he had to tamp down very carefully. If he looked too obviously like he was just messing with Akechi, he was bound to lose this whole game. But the work seemed to pay off as all the detective could do was gape for a solid minute. He fumbled with his briefcase, especially as he laughed awkwardly.

“Right, of course. I guess I shouldn’t expect another student to be able to afford late night sushi much more than this,” Akechi said like he could catch himself on such a flimsy reply. It was hard to see with Akechi’s face mostly backlit by the store lights, but he looked a touch pink in all that flustering mess. It was ordinary. Akira wondered if Akechi’s fanclub was into that sort of ordinary look--nothing cool or collected here--just a typical human caught in that sort of dance that came early flirting.

Akira pinned himself in that thought. He cursed that it formulated that way in his head and veered back toward the doors, not yet stepping close enough to cause them to open. “You can really get whatever you want. I can afford that much,” he said with some finality before leading the way in. Akechi followed behind some short strides, but soon caught up. He didn’t seem to have the guts to simply follow Akira down the aisle, appearing distracted or considering other things before eventually meeting up to look at the remaining selection.

Morgana peeped out of the bag and tapped one paw on Akira’s shoulder incessantly. “Get me the good stuff. I want a whole box for me. Get me a whole one,” he whispered, papping paw pads down at each word.

“Hush. You’re getting a box your own, fine,” Akira relented in a low whisper back, if only to make him stop so they wouldn’t get in trouble for bringing animals into the store.

Akechi watched the exchange with wide eyes, eventually cracking a small laugh behind his hand. “Dinner and a comedy routine. Maybe I’m being spoiled after all.”

It came as a surprise that Akechi would bounce back, but perhaps he’d had just long enough now to pull himself together. Something remained of his earlier look; something relaxed and typical about him. Pleasant. Nothing lingering of that plastic smile he did for TV. Who was this Akechi exactly?

Akira snapped out of his thoughts to give the detective a wry smile. “Normally we’d charge, but it’s on the house tonight.” With that he picked up his selections and carried on to the register, Akechi close at his heel. Everything paid for, the pair walked back outside. Crisp night air filled his lungs and again Akira had his head on his shoulders.

There was a weird feeling in the air. Like he was somehow walking home backwards, no matter how much it was like it was any other day. For some reason Akechi was still walking at his side. He had a feeling neither of them knew how this evening was going to end, but neither would back down first. To wrench himself out of his own head, Akira took a harder turn without much explanation, carrying on a few more blocks before an empty park came into view. This late no kids were running on any of the playground equipment so it took on that eerie vibe every empty park had at night. Not wrong exactly, but not right either.

He brushed a couple leaves off the bench at the park’s side and took a seat. Here he started up the juggle of putting containers down, getting the bag off and helping Morgana out so he could sit and eat with them. It wasn’t until he cracked the container open and put it in reach of one very pleased cat that Akechi caught on or gave up and actually joined them at the other side of the bench. This sandwiched Akira in the middle--not that he minded too much. Morgana was going to be busy chowing down for a little while anyway.

At first no one said anything. The air filled with characteristic cat chomping noises and eventually the cry of an ambulance siren in another part of the neighborhood. Akira cracked into his food first, deciding not to pay Akechi too much mind. That movement seemed to snap Akechi out of his thoughts and soon the three of them were eating away. It wasn’t fancy restaurant sushi, but maybe it would scratch the itch. They at least cleaned it up pretty quick.

Akira glanced over Akechi’s way and spied an odd look on his face. He couldn’t call it sad, but somehow melancholy through his slight smile. Akechi’s hands remained grasped around the container for his food, his gaze down on what remained of his dinner.

“Are all your days like this?” he asked like he’d been stewing on this question for quite some time.

Akira mulled it over, his gaze naturally turning up to the starry sky. “Like what? Palaces and convenience store dinners?”

Akechi shook his head a couple times. “Not precisely that. More the sort of pace you take things at. You’re quite serious when you’re at work, but out here you’re almost…” He trailed off and never finished.

With a sigh Akira rested back on the bench, both arms resting along atop the backrest. “I’m almost normal. I’m not anyone special, Akechi,” he answered for him, taking a swing at it. He wasn’t exactly special--and maybe Akechi wasn’t either. He could have preferred it that way really.

“I don’t suppose the Phantom Thieves would have come so far if they didn’t have someone so unassuming at their helm. And yet, I can hardly bring myself to call you normal. You do something when you don your mark. What that is I haven’t worked out yet. It’s more than mere leadership,” Akechi said with clarity as his hands loosened around the tray in his lap so it rested there. His eyes hardly left the light container like it held his jumble of questions together in order for him to shuffle through.

“I probably have an answer for you, but you won’t like it,” Akira admitted vaguely as he might.

“Why wouldn’t I like it? What sort of detective doesn’t like to get to the bottom of things?” Akechi countered quickly.

Wide open!

Akira half shrugged, still resting back. “Then get to the bottom of it, detective. You figure out what it is I’m doing that’s so special. We still have a way to go in this Palace. You have time,” he replied with an almost flippant tone.

There was a loud crinkle as Akechi’s hands clenched around the empty container. His tight shoulders loosened in a few seconds as he laughed dryly. “It’s like that isn’t it…? I suppose I set myself up for as much.” He straightened up and cleared this throat, this time looking directly at Akira.

“Then I’ll unravel your mystery, Akira Kurusu. And once I do, you’ll have no choice but to share all the finer details of your power with me.”

The earnestness of it caught Akira off-guard. It felt like a rival’s declaration, like in some kind of sports manga or something. Like he was going to take him out in the next game or something. Had they maneuvered into that space so suddenly? Still, there was something about Akechi’s intensity that had his attention. He meant every word. The least he could do was meet that energy properly. He grinned crookedly back at him.

“Sure. If you can get to the bottom of it, I’m an open book,” Akira answered. He tilted his head up a little, if only to try and egg him on. “To give you a hint, I don’t need the mask to do it.”

Akechi seemed flustered very slightly. “It was a figure of speech… Clearly you’re doing your work off the battlefield as well to have amassed so many supporters and comrades.”

Perhaps that would put him on the right track. But Akira was one to spoil the mood and this put him in a good spot to bring up part of what was pestering his own mind. He set his empty container aside and sat up properly again. “That reminds me. On the battlefield. Are you getting a better idea of how to take my lead yet?”

“That teamwork business again,” Akechi muttered at first. “Somewhat… But today confused me. I couldn’t believe you were the one to take the shot on that shadow outside the door.”

At least the encounter had made an impression on Akechi--at least that was the feeling Akira had. “Panther trusts my aim. She would rather I took the shot so she could take the best move for her position,” Akira said firmly, his look a serious one.

“I’m sure she could have been careful enough to take out that enemy herself.”

“She could. But it gave her and Fox an extra moment to run ahead and find everyone else. They were closer to the door.”

Akechi’s eyes narrowed on Akira--trying to see something he wasn’t finding. “It was only a matter of seconds. And there was still a chance you might have missed as well.”

He seized this chance. Right index and middle fingers pointed forward, Akira playfully pressed his “gun” to Akechi’s chest. “I don’t miss any shots, dear detective. I would have thought you’d notice by now.”

Akechi’s face burned in full--his expression a mess to read. There was some frustration going a rolling boil in his blood, but clearly the audacity of the touch and the playfulness of its delivery sent Akechi tumbling through more confusing emotions. It was like no one had properly messed with him like this. Like nobody else could bend and warp his plastic persona to anything this malleable. Somewhere in his eyes Akira could read this feeling like “how dare you” and yet all he could do was receive it with affection. How dare he indeed.

Akechi could completely undo the Phantom Thieves at his whim, but they weren’t going to be the ones unraveled here. Akira could get him first--he felt it now--especially with that confused look still on Akechi’s face. Neither removed his gaze from the either--now at the height of this game they were doomed to remain until one relented.

“This...is your way...of doing things, isn’t it?” Akechi got out eventually, glancing aside only when it felt safe.

The Phantom Thief only shrugged and settled back a moment to trade a look with Morgana. The feline looked interested, but held off his comments for now. He’d finished off his treat--now content to take it easy.

“You just don’t know me very well yet,” Akira decided.

“I suppose I’ve been studying the leader of the Phantom Thieves...but not who he is beyond that. Besides demographics and modus operandi for these cases; however this seems to be fairly different from the genuine article. I guess I never considered I’d end up treated to meals and just hanging around the arcade with someone like that,” Akechi said more honestly himself.

“And you did it anyway.”

“So I have. I don’t like not knowing the rest. There’s something fundamental I’m missing. I can see that now,” Akechi went on as he piled his empty container on top of Akira’s in between them. “As part of my investigation and for personal reasons, I hope we can keep meeting like this. Shall I call ahead next time?”

“Just shoot a text. I’ll let you know if I’m occupied. But if I’m free, I’ll be sure you hear first,” Akira said casually.

Akechi gave him one of his more usual smiles and stood up. “If I’m not due for anything else, I’ll simply have to take you up on your offer. Whatever it might be.” That said, he picks up their trash, even collecting Morgana’s and tossing it all into a nearby bin. When he returned he lifted his briefcase, looking ready to carry on like he usually did.

Akira gave him an up and down look before standing himself. As he helped get Morgana situated, Akechi went on. “Perhaps after a few meetings like this I’ll be faster on the draw to your plans. I’d rather not get my nose shot off,” he said just a bit jokingly.

Unable to help himself, Akira made another fingergun motion Akechi’s way and winked. “I don’t miss, remember?”

The combo pierced the detective’s brief moment of recovery. He took a single step back like he’d actually been shot. “I’d thought nothing of it! It would make sense to shoot well is all.”

“Like not missing.”

Akechi let out a small sigh in frustration. “Yes, I get it. I’m overthinking it. Let me take my failure with me on the road and to bed now, if you’ll free me of it.”

Akira seemed to consider that a moment before grinning again. “I’ll let you go. Don’t need someone to walk you to the station, do you?”

“I can handle that just fine.”

“If you get lost or scared on the way, you just send me a message. Or call if you have to be that kind of old man.”

This only seemed to work Akechi up more, enough that he had to turn away, his grasp tight on his bag’s handle. “And so you go on. I get the picture, I’ll be on my way before you subject me to much more of this.”

“Not so good with a little ribbing, are you?” Akira replied with an amused tone. He hoisted the back with Morgana in it back on his shoulder and stood about two strides from Akechi.

“You’re relentless. I didn’t expect that is all.”

He probably didn’t expect it at all; people worshipped his word and the ground he walked on most of the time. It would do him some good to be put down a few extra pegs. That and Akira hoped he’d be able to keep him from getting them all killed. One way or another.

Akechi took a few short paces toward his destination, pausing once again. “I’ll contact you again soon. I suppose we’ll see each other one way or another.”

“We will. You can count on that,” Akira said firmly.

Akechi glanced back his way before more resolutely continuing on his way toward the station. Despite how tired he was, Akira lingered to watch Akechi’s form disappear at the turn he needed to take. He would have to move on and get home, eventually moving that way.

Morgana poked out of the bag to chat. “I didn’t expect it to go that way, but I wonder if he trusts you a little now.”

“Even with nearly shooting his nose off?”

“I think because of it honestly. Everyone else trusts you that much, maybe he’ll feel the same way some day,” Morgana suggested with a sagely little nod. “I mean, after seeing you in action you gotta hope he sees why this whole outfit works.”

Akira let that hang before answering. “But he keeps saying he doesn’t get it.”

“I think he knows what it is. He made that jab about being around you and being able to guess your plans and all. He just doesn’t know how to do it,” Morgana insisted. “Part of everything going well is your comrades knowing what you’ll do in certain situations, but the rest of it is just trusting you with your skills and decisions.”

Akira only hummed in response with a distant look.

“If there’s something that Akechi guy doesn’t know how to do, it’s trust anybody. You can bet on that one,” Morgana went on anyway.

In the end, Akira had guessed as much himself. If this was such a mystery to Akechi, it meant he probably didn’t know it that well himself. How long had he been living like that? It was best left a thought not lingered on. It wasn’t the time to feel pity for him--or feel anything.

And yet here he was. He let out a long sigh, hanging his head.

“Good information we picked up here today though. Operation Date Akechi was a success,” Morgana declared as Akira started to fish his keys out of his pocket. Keys hit the pavement with a rattle and Akira almost choked.

“Who made this an operation? Or a date for that matter?” he got out. He only remained frozen that second. Eventually he needed those keys to pry the door open. He kneeled down for them and Morgana went on.

“I dunno. Sorta seemed like the plan. Although, I guess you can hold off on telling the others for now. They’ll just message you all night. About your date. With Akechi.”

“Stop that,” Akira whispered harshly, but did at least get the door keyed open. “I fed you sushi, don’t betray me like this Morgana.”

There came an evil little “nyahaha” out of Morgana and for the rest of their time getting ready for bed Morgana took his turn to pick on Akira. Maybe that would even things out or something.

#persona 5 #akira kurusu #goro akechi #shuake #ren amamiya #joker's name changed between the time of ch1 and ch2 #i really didn't intend to continue this lol #but life happens sometimes #my writing #p5 #premonition in decaf

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cancerianprincess · 6 years ago

Text

Birkin Bag (3)

|Part Two|

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Angst, Kidnap Mention(s), Violence

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

____

“We got movement on the sensors over at Stevens’ place,” Jay announced. He’d been in charge of monitoring the cameras they’d planted in the early stages of their operation. Tracee halted mid-swing at the news, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She looked to Trey, who was also relishing in the fact that their scheme was going according to plan.

“Well, what’re we waiting for then? Let’s send baby girl her invite to the party.” He nodded at Tracee, indicating that it was okay to pause in her task at hand. Though hesitant, she obeyed the order, releasing the death grip she’d had on the front of Erik’s shirt. Before heading over to send their demands to the girl now exploring the ransacked apartment, Tracee was caught by a firm but comforting hand.

“Don’t worry, Tee,” Trey reassured. “I’ll be sure to deliver the same level of enthusiasm in entertaining our guest of honor here while you handle that.” Faith restored after sizing him up one good time, Tracee continued on the to communications setup with a content smile on her face. A smile that derived from the sound of Trey’s footsteps echoing in the opposite direction, followed by the low grunt coming from Erik as Trey’s fist connected with his jaw.

**********

You sat in the driver’s seat, scoping out the parking lot of the abandoned warehouse. Adrenaline had been the sole reason you reached the secluded location a whole fourteen minutes ahead of the estimated arrival time, your foot rarely letting off the gas the entire way. However, with the drive being over an hour and some change away from the city, it wasn’t like you necessarily had time to spare. Eyes darting to the digital clock on your dash, you took note of the time: 11:17.

Enough time had passed already. You still had to make your way inside and find Erik so it was now or never to get moving. Shutting the car off, you pocketed the keys and reached for the clutch lying in the passenger’s seat, reviewing the instructions on its transformation for what had to be the millionth time.

Erik swiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Are you done beating on me now? Because I still ain’t show you how to work the thing yet.”

Your own laughter died down as you furrowed your brow at him. “Show me how what works? The purse?” Your eyes fell to the bag still in your lap and then looked back to Erik.

“It’s a purse, E. I’m pretty sure I know how to use it. Put stuff in, carry it around, repeat,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah, so why is it buzzing then--and don’t say ‘because of the vibranium,’ either.”

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came to mind. Erik smirked at rendering you silent. “Exactly, so shut up and listen ‘cause this surprise ain’t gonna be as simple as the first one.”

He carefully explained to what to do; instructing you to grasp the handle firmly, actually mash the jaguar medallion with your thumb this time, and snap it out like a Frisbee when you were ready. You, still somewhat fried from the weed, glanced at him crazily trying to figure what the hell he had in store for you now. But Erik only nodded to give you the go ahead, so you merely shrugged and did as he said. What happened next looked like a scene straight out of a movie.

As the clutch launched forward, it started transforming right in the palm of your hand. The end result, was a highly advanced semi-automatic pistol, similar in color to the clutch that it had been only seconds ago. Careful not to set it off in the confined space, you turned it over repeatedly in your hands, examining every inch of it. Somewhere in the middle of doing so, you saw that one side of the gun’s handle bore the jungle cat pin, right where your thumb would rest in a normal grip. Still reeling in disbelief, you addressed Erik without taking your eyes from the weapon.

“Y-You got me a gun??”

“What the hell it look like, Niya?” Erik confirmed, flashing his canines. He watched your reaction with amusement, comparing it to that of a kid in a candy store.

“It’d be messed up for me to fight so hard in getting these sent out to the rest of the world and not even bring yo’ crazy, violent ass one back to have, too.”

“Hey! I am not violent nor crazy,” you denied. But Erik knew better. All he did was shoot you that ‘nigga please’ look of his, causing you to slightly change your tune. “I just...know how to properly channel my adrenaline at a moment’s notice when the situation calls for it.”

Erik only smacked his teeth. “Yeah okay, believe that bullshit if you want to, but I know you better than that. You know you a little messed up in the head just like I used to be and that’s exactly we became cool in the first place,” he retorted, tapping his temple.

“I’m sorry, but USED to be?” you challenged. “Nuh uh, don’t even try it. You may be doing good and all, but yo block headed ass still got a few screws loose up there, N’Jadaka.”

The exaggeration of his birth name made Erik’s head jerk wildly in your direction. “Aight lil girl,” he warned. “Better watch that mouth of yours.”

Despite the commanding tone he took, you couldn’t help but start cracking up again at knowing you’d get away with it, as you always did.

The buzz of your phone pulled you out of the daydream, and suddenly hurled you back to the harsh reality you were currently facing. Shelving your emotions with a shake of your head, you climbed out the vehicle and closed the door, checking the latest message that had come in.

‘Level 2, Workshop 4. Tick tock...your boy isn’t looking too good.’

Okay, so these bitches wanted to play. Like it wasn’t already enough that they’d taken Erik and done who knows what to him for whatever reason, but now they were mocking you?? In that split second, something inside you snapped. Not in an angry way, not in a emotional way; you’d skipped right over any of that.

At this point, you were lividt. So much so, that when you walked from your car to the side of the building, you looked squarely over top the rear entrance, and smiled calmly into the surveillance camera suspended over the door.

Because if it was games they were interesting in playing, you were going to show them that you weren’t a new player in the slightest.

You turned the knob and found it was unlocked, your arrival obviously expected. But while it may have been welcomed, didn’t necessarily mean it would be friendly. Though they may have been waiting a few floors above, your senses still remained razor sharp, inspecting the vast space as you searched for the elevator. While keeping an eye out for any unordinary movements among the abandoned auto parts littered everywhere, you successfully found it and mashed the button labeled ‘2’, initiating your ascent from the basement level. Your quick ride in the lift was spent securing the few weapons you possessed, ensuring they were well concealed but also easily accessible.

Dual pocket knives, one in the front pocket of your jeans while its twin was strategically hidden in the curly pineapple on your head, and the purse that would be preserved as a last resort, hanging on your right shoulder by its chain. As you loaded and cocked back the standardized gun that you, in fact, ended up retaining temporary custody of for Erik, his voice rang back in your head in regards to your own modified firearm.

“It operates just like any other one you’ve handled before,” he’d communicated.

“The pin only responds to your thumbprint so it’ll react to it right away. Just remember: click the jaguar once to activate the kinetic boost, twice to deactivate, and lastly, press and hold with the safety on to camouflage it back altogether.”

A jerk of the floor signified that you’d reached your destination, so you quickly double checked the safety of the pistol before the doors could open, stowing it carefully beneath your hoodie it wouldn’t accidentally blow your ass cheek off while tucked in the waistband of your pants.

“Once for kinetic, twice for traditional…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you stepped off the elevator, muttering the instructions back to yourself just to be certain they were ingrained in your memory. There were six doors in total, all evenly spaced out between the entry point and humongous floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the corridor. Thanks to the moonlight shining through the glass overlook, you singled out the one you were focused on without needed to strain your eyes against the darkness.

‘Workshop 4.’ Second door on the right, as designated by the sign perched above its banister. Waiting no longer you approached the sliding door, steeling your nerves one last time as you latched around the handle to tug it back with all your might. And boy were you subconsciously glad for the brief preparation, because if not for it, the sight in front of you would’ve turned your world upside down.

You hadn’t even wrenched it halfway open before seeing a practically lifeless Erik, sitting near the middle of the room tied to a chair. Even with his head hung low you could gage that he had taken a real beating. Your face twisted up in despair, hand covering your mouth to keep from yelling out his name. If you weren’t so eager to check on the prince’s condition, your feet probably would have stayed glued at the entrance rather than tearing across the floor of the lair.

But before you could reach the spotlight Erik had been baking under, a baritone voice echoed from the direction in which you’d just come from.

“That’s far enough,” it said. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Your sprint halted to a few staggering steps, then quickly to a complete standstill. As first the rebel in you wanted to do the exact opposite, just reach open fire with Erik’s gun. Yet it soon became clear that wouldn’t be the smartest option when a warning shot was fired into the ceiling in response to your hesitation.

“I said,” he emphasized, “that’s far enough.”

Reluctantly complying much faster than previously, you gradually raised your arms to imitate a football goal, making no sudden movements as instinct advised. When it was determined that you were done acting up, heavy footsteps reverberated on the concrete, growing louder with every stride.

As the man rounded in front of you, his appearance was finally revealed under the light. The figure had deep mocha skin, and possessed girthy muscles essentially everywhere to compliment his height of at least six-foot seven. Still, his build didn’t intimidate you in the slightest, even as his eyes intensely raked over your body. Because although strength may have been his specific attribute, speed in this moment would be yours.

And his third mistake since meeting you, was assuming it would be enough to overpower you.

“GAHHHHH! YOU STUPID BITCH WHAT THE FUCK?!!?”

The second mistake, had been giving you an unauthorized pat down, and a rather poor one at that. Not that you would’ve permitted him to touch you anyway, but if done right then maybe he would have kept his eyes trained on you as he squatted to search your lower region. And maybe avoided the slash brought down through the eye with the blade stashed in your hair. But he didn’t. So instead he paid for his faults.

Which is why a broken arm and deep thrust to the thigh was compensation for mistake number one: blocking your view of Erik when that was the only thing your brain was focused on.

You bent down over the wailing stranger, leaning close for your petty side to speak in his ear.

“Might wanna leave that in there, big fella,” you mockingly referred to the knife still lodged in his leg. “‘Cause when I yank that knife out, that artery’s gonna empty in under two minutes and you’ll have bled out cold. So just keep it warm for me ‘til then, mkay?”

Winking at him, you gave him two little love taps to the unsliced side of his face and stood up straight once more. The sensation of satisfaction didn’t remain long though, ending when you whipped your gun out at cowboy speed, and aimed it at two new voices starting up behind you.

“Damn Trey, guess you was right about her,” one chuckled venomously. “She really ain’t nothing to play with.”

“What I tell you, Tee? Told you shawty not as innocent as she looks.”

The first voice was unfamiliar and came from a woman, whose left hand was fisted in Erik’s loose dreads, while the right had a switchblade pressed to his exposed neck. And that had you seething for more reasons than you could explain. However, the second voice was one you unfortunately recognized. The man emerged from the shadows and stood in the light next to the woman and over Erik, sadly confirming your suspicion and making your thumb click off the safety.

“‘The fuck are YOU doing here?” You spat at him, pupils dilating.

What the fuck was your ex doing there???

~~~

|Part Four|

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @eriknutinthispoosy @youreadthatright @wheredidallthedreamersgo @sonofnjobu @bidibidibombaclaat @turn-thy-paige @theunsweetenedtruth @chaneajoyyy @marvelpotterlove @ayellepea @another-imaginesblog @pandigirl11 @tiava143 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @allhailnjadaka

#Erik Killmonger #erik x reader #erik killmonger imagine #birkin bag #u guessed it #mini series #n'jadaka #Wakanda #black panther #black panther imagines #Erik Stevens #fan fic #Aniya

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freshwater--mermaid · 7 years ago

Text

Ersatz Ch 18: I Died So I Could Haunt You

Johnny's eyes widened as he saw two young teens crossing the street toward him. He recognised them as people the ghost kid hung out with. He stood straight, muscles tightening as he prepared to fly away.

"Don't be scared." Sam called, raising a hand as she and Tucker neared. "We just want to talk to you."

Johnny was doubtful, but seeing as they didn't pose much of a threat, he remained where he stood. The three stared at one another in silence for several moments, each seeming to wait for the other to act. Finally, Sam stepped forward.

"Can you tell us why you tried to kill Jazz?" she asked, hands clutching the straps of her spider backpack. She could feel the impression of the Fenton Thermos against her back, and hoped she wouldn't have to use it.

Johnny's head fell, his eyes staring at the ground. His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice raspy and hesitant.

"I-I don't know." he said, not looking up. "I mean, I don't want her dead. But..."

"But?" Sam pressed.

"But I don't know!" Johnny looked at them with frustration plain on his face. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like something's missing; something important. And it felt like I had to go to that place out of town. But Jazz had to come with me. I don't know why...I really don't."

The man was clearly at a loss, not understanding his own motivations or actions. Sam and Tucker felt sorry for him, though they were still hesitant to trust him. No matter what, he had almost gotten Jazz killed.

Sam realised that Johnny must not know about his girlfriend's survival. Heck, he didn't even seem to remember her. Sam took another, small step toward the blond, thinking of the best way to give him the news.

A blur crashed down on the pavement bare inches from her, and Sam stumbled back into Tucker out of surprise. She immediately recognised the back of Danny's shirt, and stepped forward to grip it tightly.

"Danny stop." she said forcefully. "We're just going to talk, remember?"

"Yeah, like she said." Johnny mumbled out, stepping away from the trio and holding an arm up in defense. "A-all I wanna do is explain myself. I don't want to hurt your sister."

"Funny coming from the guy who nearly hurled her into a ditch." Danny's tone made clear how fired up he already was, and Sam glanced back at Tucker.

The other boy got the message loud and clear, and moved next to her, taking hold of Danny's right arm. Together they both had to nearly drag him back, hoping that an increase in distance would calm both him and Johnny.

It half-worked. Johnny relaxed, though Danny remained rigid under his friends' restraint. Both teens knew that if they could see Danny's face, he'd undoubtedly be sporting a pair of eerie glowing eyes.

"Look man, I have no idea what happened." Johnny began in earnest. "It made sense in the moment, but I don't know why. I swear!"

"Bullshit." Danny spit at him. "You're just afraid that your plan didn't work, and now you're trying to play innocent. I'm not buying it, so you'd better come up with a better reason why I shouldn't turn you into a puddle."

"What? Danny, no!" Sam said, frowning hard at Danny's back. "We said talking only-"

"Yeah yeah," Danny interrupted. "We've talked, and I don't want to kick his ass any less. So now what, you want me to just let him go?"

Danny began pulling forward against his friends' hold, only slightly, but enough to raise both teens' fear. This was definitely going to get out of hand. Sam wanted to grab the thermos, but was afraid to let Danny go.

Danny leaned forward, his eyes drilling into Johnny's. Fear could be felt in waves, coming off the taller ghost. It was enthralling, and Danny was finding less and less reasons to keep himself in check.

'And why do I have to anyway?' Danny thought to himself, fists balled at his sides. 'Because they want me to? Why? What reason do they have to protect this creep. He's the one in the wrong here. He's the one who's trying to kill people.'

Getting rid of Johnny would be like killing two birds with one stone. He'd keep Jazz safe and get rid of the annoying hunger. It was a win-win in his mind, and he honestly didn't get why his friends protested so ardently. He figured they just didn't understand. Of course they wouldn't.

"Johnny," Tucker said, looking over Danny's shoulder at the young man. "Does the name Kitty mean anything to you?"

Johnny's face blanked out, and he stood almost slack in the alley. His gaze swept straight through the three kids as his mouth hung open. A hand came up to scrape hard at his face, and soon Johnny was gripping it tightly, nails digging in as he stumbled to the side, shoulder colliding with the brick.

Danny thankfully stood straighter at this, ceasing his pulling as he watched on in curiosity.

"Who's Kitty?" he asked no one in particular.

A low moan began in Johnny's throat, rising in pitch and articulating as it went.

"No no no no." He repeated, his hands falling from his stricken face. His green eyes were glassy as he looked toward them once more.

"It was the only way." he said, voice getting louder. He stepped forward, looking clearly at Danny. "It was the only way!"

"What was the only way?" Sam asked, daring to release Danny and shrug off her bag.

"The only way to get her back!" Johnny screamed out. Anger was now coloring his expression, and he took another step forward.

Sam began hastily unzipping her backpack, hoping that Johnny would stop yelling. They didn't need to wake the entire block up twice in one night.

"Listen, you don't understand-" Tucker tried, holding a hand out toward the man.

"No you don't understand!" Johnny pointed a finger at the three, a scowl set to match Danny's own adorning his face.

"I have to get her back!" Johnny said heatedly. "It was the only way to get her back!"

"Are you saying you tried to kill my sister because you thought it would somehow get this Kitty person back?" Danny asked.

"I have to get her back, it's the only way!" Johnny paced back and forth in the tight space of the alley. He suddenly stopped and turned back toward Danny, glaring down at the boy.

"It's the only way to bring her back, I just know it." he said. "And you're not going to stop me."

"Wrong." Danny replied, and flew forward, ripping out of Tucker's grasp and causing the boy to fall flat on his face across the concrete.

Johnny ascended high into the air, Danny following, and the two were once again locked in a fight. Tucker sighed as he rubbed his sore chin, watching Danny launch balls of green at Johnny, while Johnny tried to move in and land blows of his own.

"Man, why can't they just cool it!" Tucker groaned.

Sam didn't bother to answer as she dropped her backpack to the ground, thermos in hand. Turning it on, she aimed it up at the two, waiting for a clear shot. Danny sent an arc of energy flying at Johnny, who swung back out of its path. Seeing her opportunity, Sam mashed the button, and a stream of light flooded out.

It landed squarely on Johnny, and the ghost was powerless to stop it as it pulled him down, stretching his body cartoonishly as he disappeared inside the small metal device.

Sam quickly capped the thermos, holding it against her chest as Danny landed, incredibly irate as he stalked toward them.

"And what was the point of that?" he said, glaring at them both. "He can't hide in there forever, Sam."

"Listen, Danny." Sam reasoned. "I think I know how this can all end peacefully."

"End peacefully?" Danny yelled. "Are you crazy? The only way this can end peacefully is if I fry that nutcase into dust!"

"Danny stop it!" Sam shouted back. "You have got to calm down and think for a second. This isn't like you. Wanting to beat people into dust? Not wanting to at least try to talk it out?"

"Yeah, dude." Tucker agreed. "You've changed, like a lot. It's worrying us."

"What?" Danny was taken back by their words, his anger lowering several levels as he took in their concerned expressions. "What are you guys talking about? I haven't changed. I mean, beyond the obvious."

"But you have." Sam argued, moving closer. "You never talk to us anymore, like really talk. And you're always going off alone. You rarely hang out anymore."

"And you're putting Dash to shame with your bloodlust, dude." Tucker added.

Danny scowled at Tucker, eyebrows knit together as his gaze lowered. He wasn't like Dash. He didn't pick on other people for no reason. He had a reason to vaporize Johnny. A very good reason.

"Are you seriously suggesting I let this guy go free?" Danny asked. "After what he tried? Who's to stop him from just coming back and killing Jazz while I'm not around!"

"I have an idea." Sam said. "I think I know how we can keep Johnny from running back to Jazz, without killing him."

"I don't think throwing him in the portal's going to work, Sam." Danny replied, still frowning heavily. "All those other ghosts are spilling out of it, after all."

"No, not the portal." Sam continued, looking at Tucker. "Kitty's alive, right? So maybe if we just-"

"If we take him to the hospital," Tucker finished her sentence, eyes going wide. "he'll stop focusing on Jazz and focus on his actual girlfriend!"

"Exactly." Sam smiled, hopeful that this plan would work out.

The friends began walking quickly toward the hospital. Danny was still clearly unhappy, though the other two couldn't quite figure out why. He remained silent the entire trip, giving only frowns and glances in response to any questions or comments. Sam hoped that he wasn't disappointed that he couldn't just kill Johnny. This new aspect of Danny really worried her, and she was sure Tucker felt the same.

Thinking back on her little book on ghosts, Sam decided to herself that she'd have a talk with Tucker at the earliest opportunity. There were some things written in that book that she'd never shared with them. She had honestly hoped the book was wrong.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

No visitors that were not family were accepted in the night hours. The three teens huddled together outside the front entrance, coming up with a plan to reach Kitty's room.

"I can search around for her," Danny said. "It shouldn't take long. Then I'll come back for you guys."

"Okay." Sam agreed, with Tucker's nod accompanying her words.

Danny walked to the side of the building, where deep shadows concealed him from sight. He became invisible and lifted up into the sky before phasing through the hospital wall. Sam had explained on the way that the news report stated that Kitty was in critical condition, which told Danny that she'd definitely be on a higher floor somewhere.

He ignored the pull of nearby spirits as he flew quietly through rooms and hallways. Small, faint ghosts, some lingering while others faded, could be felt all around. Danny definitely didn't want to remain here for long, lest the urge to seek one out became too strong. Eating the ghost of some dead person in a hospital was just too wrong. Danny shuddered at the thought.

After a while, Danny came upon a small room that held the familiar face of Kitty. She looked almost exactly like her photograph, if not for the breathing tube and dark shadows under her closed eyes. Several wires ran from various points on her body, all either connecting to an IV line or a large machine that beeped out her steady heartbeat.

Danny made note of the room number before returning to his friends, still standing outside and trying not to look conspicuous. With their repeated glances in every direction, they were failing.

"Guys." Danny said from directly behind them, still invisible. He had to smile at the way they both jumped.

"I know where she is." he continued, watching the two turn to look in his direction. "I'm going to have to phase us in, though. I'm not completely sure how it goes, but I think I can do it."

"Oh, great." Tucker muttered.

"Come over to the side of the building." Danny directed, flying in that direction.

Once the thee of them were safely hidden in the shadows, Danny went visible once more. He continued to float slightly above them as he held out his hands. Sam gripped his hand tight, the only indication that she was nervous. Tucker hesitated, staring down at Danny's hand for a long moment before sighing and grabbing it.

"Okay," Danny said, feeling energy building up within him. "Don't worry, I got this."

"Famous last words, dude." Tucker commented, his eyes squeezed shut.

Danny ignored Tucker, focusing on himself first as he became invisible once again. Next came the two teenagers before him. Danny watched with fascination as both their hands vanished from sight. The rest of them followed suit, disappearing slowly as invisibility crawled up their outstretched arms.

Tucker leaned away from it, though that did little to impede its progress. His teeth clenched in fear as he watched his own body disappear before his eyes. He glanced at Sam to see her progress as well, and felt a spike fo fear as he saw only her two legs standing beside him.

Soon, the both of them were fully invisible, and they clutched onto Danny's hands, afraid that if they let go they wouldn't be able to find each other again.

"Now we're gonna go up higher." Danny's voice spoke in a steady tone, clearly aware of how freaked out the two were.

The ground left Sam and Tucker's feet, and the latter couldn't help but kick out briefly, like a dog held over water. They felt dizzy as they rose up into the air, with no support other than Danny's hands, which they both continued to hold tight. The teens passed by darkened windows as they ascended to the third floor.

Danny paused here, letting the three of them hover. He thought back to Jazz, and how she'd reacted when he turned her intangible. He really hoped that this wouldn't be a repeat, or he was about to have two unconscious friends to drag around.

Danny let the intangability flow out from his palms like the invisibility had. As soon as he felt it cover his friends entirely, he passed through the hospital wall, quickly making his way back to Kitty's room.

Entering into the small space, Danny landed on the tiled floor, letting the energy dissipate from himself as he released Sam and Tucker. They both popped into sight as soon as his hands left theirs, and the two stood hunched over on the floor, coughing and wrapping their arms around themselves.

"Uh, guys?" Danny asked, watching them with uncertainty. "Are you alright?"

"Holy crap!" Tucker choked out, shivering as he looked up at Danny. "That was not fun."

"It was like being shoved in ice water or something." Sam attempted to explain the unpleasant sensation.

"You should've warned us we wouldn't be able to breathe." Tucker frowned. "I would've taken a deeper breath."

"I didn't know you wouldn't be able to breathe." Danny replied, now wondering if suffocation had somehow caused Jazz to black out. He really hoped she was okay.

"It's fine." Sam said, standing straight as her breathing evened out. "At least now we'll know for future reference."

"Hey, I'm never doing that again." Tucker said stubbornly, still shaking off chills. His arms crossed tightly against his chest as he turned to survey the room's fourth occupant.

"So I guess that's her." he said, his voice quieting.

"Yeah." Sam agreed, stepping over to the side of the bed. She looked down at the thermos, still clutched tightly in her left hand.

"Just so you know," Danny spoke up, his tone becoming aggravated once more at the reminder of Johnny's presence. "If he tries anything, I'm finishing this my way."

"Understood." Sam sniped back, frowning over her shoulder at Danny.

Uncapping the thermos, Sam took a breath before hitting the release. A small burst of light erupted into the room, and the form of Johnny spilled out onto the floor. He lay in a heap for a moment before jerking upright. His neck and back popped loudly as he groaned, eyes swinging about in the room as he tried to get his bearings.

"It's alright." Sam said calmingly, holding out a hand toward Johnny. "We just have something to show you."

The man looked at her offered hand for a moment before ignoring it, rising up stiffly on his own. He appeared to be on the verge of saying something, when his eyes landed on the young woman lying motionless in the bed.

Sam stepped away to give him space as he moved closer to her. Slowly, Johnny dropped down, sitting heavily on the bedside. He leaned toward Kitty, a shaky hand moving up to run lightly across her cheek.

"She's breathing." he said, almost a whisper, as though he couldn't believe it. "She's alive."

"She survived the crash." Sam said softly. "That's why you fixated on Jazz, isn't it? Did she remind you of your girlfriend?"

"I..." Johnny's voice trailed. His head bent down, the ends of his shaggy hair dancing across Kitty's face.

Danny wasn't sure how to feel about this situation. On the one hand, he still very much wanted to pulverize Johnny. That part worried him, if he was being honest. It wasn't even for Jazz's safety that he wanted to attack the other ghost. He figured that he was just hungrier than he thought.

But Danny was also able to recognise the grief that Johnny was so plainly feeling, and he felt sorry for him. He understood what it was like to be dead while those you loved remained alive. Though in this circumstance, Kitty might not be among the living much longer. The machine that breathed for her spoke as much.

"She's...she's not doing so hot." Johnny said shakily, his face never turning from the woman's.

"She's in a coma." Tucker supplied, holding up her chart. His eyes scanned over the words, and his mood fell further as he noted the fact that she was on full life support.

"She's got family." Johnny said. "They'll keep her here. They'll keep her hooked up. She won't die. She won't-"

The sound of a grown man crying is not easily borne, and all three kids wanted to instantly leave the room and give him his privacy. Sam shoved the urge aside, and instead stepped forward.

"If you, uh, need anything. I mean, if you have questions about ghostly stuff or whatever, I've been doing a lot of research, and I can help you out. Okay?" she offered, unsure of what else she could say.

Johnny only nodded his head once, practically curled over the bed as he continued staring down at Kitty. Her hair was spread over the pillow, as though someone had combed it out, and Johnny absently began toying with the strands, tears occasionally falling down to splash against Kitty's skin.

"Wow Sam, I didn't realise you were going into the ghost helping business." Danny said sarcastically, frowning at the girl. Why was she offering to help the guy who'd nearly killed Jazz?

"I help you, don't I?" Sam glared back at him. "He's obviously new to everything, just like you were. Is it so wrong to give him a little help?"

"Uh, yeah." Danny replied, raising an eyebrow.

Sam rolled her eyes at him, turning back to look at Johnny, who didn't seem to pay their conversation any mind.

The ensuing quiet lasted only a few seconds before Danny couldn't stand it anymore. He stepped forward, causing Johnny's shoulders to twitch as he glanced in Danny's direction.

"So does this mean you're going to leave my sister alone?" Danny asked outright. "Because if it doesn't-"

"Just leave." Johnny said lowly, head still bent down.

Danny's frown only grew. He wanted a clear answer. He wanted to never see this guy's face again. But before he could voice any more questions or threats, Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. They along with Tucker headed for the door, with Danny only putting up a mild struggle.

His mind was still cluttered with unanswered questions, but as his anger faded, his sympathy for the situation at hand settled in. That, and the sensation of surrounding spirits was really starting to make him itch. He wanted so badly to go and find something, something that was not Johnny. As much as Danny wanted to, he just couldn't bring himself to attack the guy while he was crying over his comatose girlfriend.

The three of them stood for several minutes outside in the bright hallway, consumed in their own thoughts. Tucker sat on a bench while Sam leaned against a wall. Danny stood in the centre of the hall, frowning at the closed door.

"Are you still mad?" Tucker asked him, breaking the stillness.

"What do you think?" Danny's sarcastic reply came, souring everyone's mood further.

"Danny," Sam sighed, straightening out and walking toward him. "You have to let this go. I don't think Johnny's going to cause any more trouble for you."

"Oh yeah, he's just going to sit quietly in that room for the rest of eternity, not harming a fly." Danny glared at her. "What happens when she dies, huh? Do you think he's not going to try to bring her back in any way he can? He's dangerous, Sam."

"You don't know for sure what's going to happen, Danny." Sam countered. "He said that Kitty has family members. That means that they'll probably keep her on life support until she wakes-"

"If she wakes up." Danny interrupted. "She's in a coma, Sam, not just sleeping."

"I know that." Sam scowled at him.

"Okay, okay." Tucker moved between the two, holding up his hands. "This is pointless to argue over. We don't know what's going to happen, so it's stupid to throw what ifs around. I think we should just leave before someone finds us and we get kicked out."

"Yeah." Danny said lowly. If he had to stick around for one more minute he was either going to go back in and confront Johnny, or start searching the halls for other ghosts. He really didn't want Sam and Tucker to see either.

He quietly led the way down the hall, his thoughts still mulling over Johnny's actions. His motivation for trying to hurt Jazz seemed to be a mystery, even to him.

"Uh, so..." Tucker spoke up as they exited out into the night air. "Who else is up for ditching school today?"

"Right here." Sam raised her hand with a small smile. "I'm exhausted."

"You guys should head home and get some sleep, then." Danny said. "Can you hold onto my thermos for now, Sam? I'll get it back later."

"Wait," Sam said. "Where are you going?"

"To look for ghosts." Danny answered matter-of-factly. "I still need to find one, remember?"

"We'll help." Tucker and Sam spoke in near unison, and Danny rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I guess there's no point in arguing." He said, looking at their resolute expressions.

"Nope!" Sam replied, her face blooming into a full smile.

"Well...then let's just look around as we head to your place." Danny suggested, not wanting to drag the two all over the city. "It's going to be morning soon, anyway."

It was quiet between the three as they put the hospital behind them, making the trek to Sam's house in silence.

"Hey, guys," Danny spoke up. "I'm sorry for freaking out on you. I don't know why I was so mad, I was just...I don't know."

Danny stared at the ground, unable to put his thoughts into words. He couldn't really say why he had acted like he did, both toward Johnny and his friends. It went beyond a protective need to defend his sister. But he wasn't sure even he understood his own motivations, and so simply let his sentence hang, the silence moving back in.

'I guess Johnny's not the only one confused by his actions...' Danny's mind unhelpfully spoke up.

Tucker put a hand on his shoulder, offering the other boy a supportive smile. Danny returned it, only to stop in his tracks. Just beyond Tucker, across the street, was a small glowing spirit. Its shape couldn't be determined as it floated only inches above the ground.

"Sam," Danny said, pointing across the street. "Try to get that thing in the thermos, okay?"

Sam uncapped the metal cylinder and aimed it as best she could at the tiny spectre. The expected beam of light hit it straight on, and it swirled quickly into the device with a gurgled yell.

"I guess I should've thought to use this sooner." Danny said, taking the thermos from Sam after she recapped it.

"Gotta love that C average." Tucker teased, earning a jab from Danny.

As the two boys shared a grin, Sam frowned down at the small machine. She still felt slightly queasy at the thought of Danny eating other ghosts. But she'd seen how bad he could get without it, and she didn't want to lose her friend.

"Come on, let's wait until we get to my room." Sam said, beckoning the others to follow her.

Danny felt impatient, but relented as he looked around at the growing number of early commuters leavings their homes and apartments. They would surely take note of the boy eating a small glowing blob in the street. He settled for drumming his fingers against the thermos as they all continued on their path.

Once in the privacy of Sam's room, the girl locked her door and turned on the main lights. The normally shadowed room was bathed in full light as all eyes landed on the thermos in Danny's grasp.

Danny swallowed, feeling his friends' stares as he slowly uncapped the device. He hadn't really thought of how to go about this, but his hunger kept him from simply calling the whole thing off. No, he needed to do this. It was just something he was going to have to get used to.

Frowning to himself, Danny aimed the cylinder at Sam's floor and hit the release. The small green shape took form, laying against the carpet as its tiny eyes opened. It took notice of Danny immediately, its eyes moving across its body as they swiveled up at him. It was afraid. The fear rose off it, fainter than with Johnny, but no less enticing.

Suddenly, the thing rocketed off, emitting a high shriek as it flew across the room. It headed in Sam's direction, but upon seeing her it swerved, flying toward the window. Tucker, who was in its path, swung out without thinking and struck the ghost. He immediately recoiled, bringing his hand to his chest and shuddering like he'd touched a spider. He made quiet gross-out noises to himself.

The small ghost landed once more on the floor. Before it could take flight, Danny dove forward, landing hard on his knees. He laid both hands on the creature and sent as many volts into it as he could manage. The sensation of static filled the room as white sparks danced between Danny's fingers. Sam's lights blared briefly, but thankfully did not shatter.

After it was over, the ghost was completely still, and Danny slowly removed his hands. He peered down at the small blob, once again unsure. He didn't know if the thing was dead or simply stunned, but he didn't want to risk it flying off again.

"Uh," Sam spoke up, startling Danny. "I'm gonna go take a shower and change. I'll be back in a bit."

With that, the goth girl fled the room. It wasn't surprising. Danny knew she was against this whole thing. Danny looked over at Tucker, who was still rubbing at his hand like it was infected. The two boys shared a glance, before Tucker simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Better just get it over with, dude. Before she comes back." he said.

Danny stared down at the unmoving blob, it's green glow dimmed in the bright lights. He wasn't quite sure how to go about this, but figured that it would probably have the same consistency of the old ectoplasm from his parents' lab.

With tentative fingers, Danny began digging his nails into the skin of the ghost before him. If he could just take off small pieces at a time it'd make it a lot easier for him to pretend it was regular food.

"Want me to grab you a fork and knife?" Tucker joked.

Danny gave a quick laugh, gladly accepting Tucker's attempt at lightening the mood.

"Naw, I'm good." he replied, his fingers now tearing off a chunk of the ghost's body.

Danny was glad that it had no solid form. He didn't think he could manage to eat something with legs or a face. The piece he held resembled thick jello, and Danny closed his eyes as he shoved it into his mouth. If he could just make it past this first bite, then the rest would be easy.

And he was right. Once that first taste hit his tongue and slid down his throat, something awoke in Danny. Tucker watched on in amazement as his eyes shot open, green and bright. The boy then looked down at the small ghost intensely, grabbing up larger and larger chunks of it and shoveling them into his mouth. Green crusted under his nails and smeared across his hands. It dribbled down his chin and neck in shallow streams.

When there was nothing left but spots on the carpet, Danny's hands hovered in the air uselessly, his mouth hanging slightly open. He blinked several times, looking up toward Tucker with an unreadable expression.

"You okay?" was all Tucker could think to ask. It was still unnerving to have those two pinpricks of light staring at him.

Danny didn't answer for what seemed an eternity. The two remained in stasis, staring at one another in complete silence. Finally, Danny broke the gaze and moved his eyes back down, resting his hands on his jeans.

"That was...interesting." Danny said awkwardly, wiping at his mouth. He only succeded in spreading the green ectoplasm farther up his cheek. His eyes had dimmed back down to their normal black pupils amid blue irises, and they shot to the door as it opened, revealing Sam in a long black nightgown.

She looked at him, her eyebrows shooting up almost comically. Her wide eyes then glanced down at the small green spots on her carpet. She inhaled deeply, closing and locking her door. She then strode toward her dresser, digging out Danny's spare clothes.

"You should probably take the shower next." she said, tossing the garments at him.

Danny nodded, standing and trying to hold the clothes as little as possible, lest he cover them in green as well. He quickly exited the room, darting down the dark hallway to Sam's bathroom.

Sam stared at the door in silence as Tucker watched her. He figured that she must be more unnerved by this than she'd let on. Her eyes settled on Tucker then, and she looked to be mulling over a thought, her mouth twisting and turning as she considered her options.

Sam wanted to let Tucker in on everything she'd been researching, but she didn't want Danny to know. If this Showenhower guy was correct in his writings on ghosts, then Danny would not take too kindly to the things written within the purple book that Sam still kept stashed away on her bookshelf.

Tucker watched Sam as she appeared to come to a decision, moving toward him. Her voice was low and her expression serious as she spoke to him.

"I've been reading that ghost book I bought a few weeks back." she said. "And there's some stuff in it that I...well, it's just some weird stuff that I want to talk with you about, alright?"

"Alright?" Tucker agreed, confused.

"But not now." Sam continued. "I don't want Danny thinking we're going behind his back or anything."

"But aren't we?" Tucker reasoned. "I mean, secretly discussing him and a book on ghosts seems-"

"You know what I mean." Sam replied impatiently. "Danny needs to know that we're here for him one hundred percent, and I'm afraid that if he thought we were keeping secrets from him he'd feel betrayed. Got it?"

"Got it."

The two began dragging out twin sleeping bags, setting out the extra blankets and pillows. They went back and forth deciding on a movie to watch, eventually agreeing on a classic horror flick.

It was nearly thirty minutes before Danny returned, newly dressed and cleaned of any green stains. After Tucker's shower, the three settled quietly down to watch the film, both boys on the floor, and Sam perched on her bed. The silence between them was familiar and comforting. It was times like these that the friends were beginning to cherish; when everything appeared to be normal, as though nothing were amiss.

Tucker was the first to nod off, laying slumped across his sleeping bag, a huge blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. Sam was quick to follow, falling asleep with her head in her arms and her feet resting against her pillows. Danny got up and folded part of her blanket over her before he settled down underneath his own covers.

The pillow was soft underneath his head, and despite not feeling tired, Danny was eventually lulled into a dreamless sleep. Neither he nor the others stirred for the rest of the night.

"Sammykins!" came the bright, enthusiastic voice of Sam's mother, knocking at the bedroom door.

Sam and Tucker sat up, the former wiping drool off her chin as she glanced at the locked door.

"Yeah, Mom, we're awake." she called. "We'll be down in a minute."

"Alright, sweetie." was the answer, and the clack of heels could be heard retreating down the stairs.

"Um, Sam?" Tucker spoke up.

Sam looked down at him, and instantly spotted Danny's empty sleeping bag. Panic arced up her spine as Sam's eyes moved around every inch of the room, a thousand different thoughts flying through her head.

A faint groan from above had her and Tucker looking up, and they both gasped. Danny hovered against the ceiling, moving slightly as he awoke. He began floating back down to the floor, stretching out as his back landed on the discarded blanket.

He rubbed at his eyes, opening them only to be greeted by dual stares from his friends. He looked between them, confused.

"What?"

#angry irrational danny is so fun to write im so happy hes makin a comeback in the next arc #ghost hunger #danny phantom #ersatz au #johnny 13

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attackingstarfish · 6 years ago

Text

Just finished LoZ: Wind Waker...

I normally never post, but I recently wrapped up Wind Waker HD (Yes, I’m late to the party), and it is so far removed from the usual Zelda fare that I just had to compile my thoughts. And if I’m compiling my thoughts, I might as well yell them into the void.

You will have to show me physical proof that Wind Waker is not Ocarina of Time from the Opposite Dimension, where windows are the primary means of entering your house and people worship at the altar of Hello Games, because despite me being almost exactly as satisfied with Wind Waker HD as I was with Ocarina of Time 3D, the greatest sources of joy are flipped with the biggest annoyances between the two games.

Yay!

Breath of the Wild had won me over in part because the entire world felt cohesive; you could go anywhere on the map without having to encounter a single loading screen, and I had no idea Wind Waker did the same thing. The Great Sea is a vast trove of trees, pirates, and treasure, with the occasional giant squid attack or salutation from the Flying Dutchman. Each of the 49 segments contains an island that is often unique in purpose, and you’re very rarely sent to a specific island for a specific item by a specific character. Instead, the entire overworld becomes open to you as soon as you grab your sail on Windfall Island, and you have a literal sea of knowledge before you as the 49 fish that serve as your guidebook to the game take their places.

A couple of islands start off closed, unable to be reached until you get the Iron Boots or the Bow or the Hulk Hogan suplex manual, but that’s it as far as what you can’t reach, and the squares of ocean containing even these islands can be reached as early as any other zone, fish and all. The fish are easy to spot, splashing around near their respective region’s landmass, and to reward taking to initiative to explore, a surprising amount of what they tell you can be put to use immediately, like the location of the all-new extra-fast wind-changing sail the remake’s added to speed up travel. Good thing, too, because there’s a point where travel time stops being buildup and becomes padding, especially when you have to dance a round of Hands Up every time you want to change direction. Later in the game, when you’re better equipped, you could stop by one of those islands you couldn’t figure out earlier on, and figure out what to do with just one more trip around the border. Nothing pops up on your map to indicate that suddenly you’re able to access anything new, and your boat doesn’t wonder whether the eastmost pillar on island A7 has met any nice hookshot targets lately. The game trusts that you can navigate the uses for your gear yourself, which I value. Fewer tutorials, more expectations.

Even the story serves the game’s hands-off attitude. Ocarina starts with Link going into the Deku Tree to purge it of some unspecified evil (What exactly does Gohma do in there, anyway?) before coming out to be told of his fate to kill a man he has never met before and become Hyrule’s savior. Link takes up the mantle in that game only because the gods who have not and will never make a proper appearance want him to do it. Meanwhile, Wind Waker opens with Link putting on the green tunic to make his grandmother happy for a day, right before his sister, who clearly adores him, gets kidnapped by a giant bird, and he teams up with pirates to sneak into a fortress and rescue her but instead gets bitch-slapped by Ganondorf, who turns out to own the place and the bird. In addition to being awesome because pirates kick ass, Link’s introduction to the man who wants him dead feels a lot more natural here, and Ganondorf doesn’t even come into the plot for real until the second half of the game. Link’s got a sister to save, and everything he’ll do to accomplish that goal will demonstrate him to be worthy of the Master Sword, which itself seems to prefer this organic sort of journey, seeing as the Link who set out to get the Master Sword from the beginning ended up locked in solitary confinement by the thing while it allowed the man it was created to kill to instead take over the world. Evidently the Master Sword is a strong, independent blade beholden to no one who can’t think for themselves, and anyone who disagrees can spend some quality time with the nice old man who loves to talk and talk and talk and talk.

The characters in Wind Waker feel more on the dynamic side than Ocarina’s. At first I was a bit surprised that i felt that way considering Ocarina had you view two very different versions of Hyrule, but Ocarina’s characters either don’t change in personality much between time periods or don’t make an appearance in one of the two at all. Talon’s still lazy in the future, the carpenters are still idiots, the Lake Hylia scientist is still mad, the Kokiri of course don’t change at all, you see none of the Zoras after their caves are frozen over, etc. Not to mention Ganondorf, who doesn’t get much beyond “evil Gerudo thief king who wants to take over the world because of reasons,” even if he gets a bit further than many movie/game villains and is able to demonstrate exactly what he’d do while in charge and why he’s so dangerous. Wind Waker, meanwhile, has even a fair few one-off characters with their own tiny arcs. Mila goes from stuck-up rich kid to poor as dirt and struggling to adapt, so out of her element that she resorts to stealing money from her new boss until Link catches her and helps her stay true to herself in the future. Maggie’s father starts out so desperate for Link to save his daughter that he will annoyingly stop you in your tracks every time he so much as glimpses you and repeat his pleas for help, but after Maggie is returned home and he strikes it rich through no deed of his own, he decides everyone else is beneath him and starts bitching at Link, the Rito postman, and anyone who thinks repeatedly boasting about your own fabulous wealth makes for poor dinner conversation. Even Ganondorf himself is given more than a simple desire to take over Hyrule this time around, as his belief that the rest of the kingdom deserves to suffer the way the Gerudo suffered in the desert is brought to light.

Boo!

Part of the reason I liked the dungeons in Ocarina of Time so much is that they had a way of coming full circle at the end, or even a smaller full circle in the middle. You’d come across something at the beginning, go “Huh, that looks cool,” then move on. An hour later, BOOM, payoff, and likely in a way you didn’t even expect. The web serving as the floor in the Deku Tree and the blue stone head at the back of Dodongo’s Cavern come to mind. Plus, there were often open rooms that allowed you to get a handle on where everything else was relative to you, and gaze upon areas you’ll visit once you find the Hookshot or Hover Boots. Wind Waker’s dungeons are the antithesis of the rest of the game, they’re cramped and, for the first half of the game, overly linear. Dragon Roost never musters up much more challenge than “kill enemy in front of you, go through door in front of you, repeat,” a far cry from the wall-climbing around the first half of the Deku Tree. Re-hydrating the bombs to get into the place is arguably as clever as you get with it, which for me is the perfect representation of the amount of thought that went into everything surrounding the dungeons vs. the amount of thought that went into the dungeons. And aside from those spinning leaf wheels in Forbidden Woods that wouldn’t know what a wind was if they were fired for incompetence and forced to spend the rest of their lives at its mercy, this is best illustrated during the teamwork-based dungeons with Medli and Makar toward the end of the game .

Considering how often you have to switch between characters to set up a Mirror Shield reflect or to hit a switch or to plant a seed or because you got hit fucking once, it would’ve been nice not to have to do half the Macarena every time you want to switch to your companion’s viewpoint. It also would’ve been nice if the controls of your partners didn’t make me want to offer them to the Floormasters. That said, Medli wasn’t awful. Yes, her flight was a bit hard to direct, there was no way to halt her Link-bearing glide without throwing her, and the number of times you had to hop on the Wind Waker was a pain, but the irritation was diminished when lot of her roles involved standing still and shining light while you played as the character the game actually put work into handling. Plus, my wave of enthusiasm from the first moment I walked under a spotlight while carrying her and saw the light reflect lasted me quite a ways into the dungeon, so my memories of the Earth Temple are okay enough.

On the other hand, Makar. (I still call him Oaki, which should indicate how memorable Makar’s character is) When flying with Medli, all that was required was good aim when leaping off any ledge you were leaving, whether she was on her own or supporting Link. Makar has to fly in patterns more complex than straight lines, so naturally his controls are twice as stupid. You have to repeatedly press A to fly, speeding up or slowing down your button presses to increase or decrease the amount of lift as you go. Button mashing as a recurring mechanic, yay. Its imprecise nature becomes worse when the vertical nature of the dungeon’s biggest room has Makar rack up a ton of momentum from the amount of rising and falling he’ll be doing, leaving you struggling to adjust your frequency to keep up, with aerial endurance that makes you wonder how the Korok seed-spreading ritual has not led them to extinction by mass drowning. Fortunately, there’s a giant fan you can activate at the bottom of the room to blow yourself upward and kill any chance you have at forward progress. You’d think that being able to coast to the top of everything would be a good thing, but being in the fan’s range of “anywhere” causes Makar to eschew any direction that isn’t straight up (as his flight meter drains!), when running out of flight power has the same effect but downwards. If that wind catches you while you’re trying to cross the room, you’re left to watch as Makar is frozen in place while his energy drains to zero, wait for the fan to stop, fall several stories to the bottom of the room, and walk about two feet toward where you want to go before the fan activates again and restarts the cycle. And that’s assuming one of the many flying enemies doesn’t brush Makar and throw the camera back behind a Link who’s attempting to keep calm by doing the wave.

The combat took some getting used to. Ocarina’s combat was fine; it was easy to tell what you were in range to hit, and timing your swings properly could get shield-wielding enemies like Stalfos in a loop where continually accurate shots would finish them in seconds. In Wind Waker, Link’s attacks don’t reach quite as far as his sword would indicate; you’d think the gods would make sure their magical evil-smiting blade is most capable at the end that goes in the King of Evil, but I guess not. “Just The Tip” is a no-no with these monsters, so it’s either impale them in full or let them dominate you.

Meanwhile, you have two options for your targeting system, and they both suck. You either hold down L as long as you want to keep an enemy targeted, which before long will cause your left index finger to rebel against its draconian master, or press the button once to start targeting and press it again to target a different enemy, leaving you with no way to stop targeting the enemies and put an arrow in the switch. This wasn’t that big a deal in Ocarina, since Link had a wider vertical range with the bow and there were never many enemies hounding you when there was another immediate objective to complete, but in Wind Waker, you can expect a rainbow of respawning Chu’s to ambush you around the clock. It sours a lot of dungeons and dungeon-themed areas for me. That’s why the Wind Waker experience was so surprising; the dungeons were a slog to get through and felt less like a collection of clever puzzle ideas suiting each region’s theme and more like an obligation to throw in because it’s Zelda, yet everything surrounding them felt engaging and intriguing enough to make me want to keep playing and find out what happened to everyone.

(Tower of the Gods was pretty cool, too.)

#legend of zelda #wind waker #zelda wind waker #link #zelda

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wtfholland · 7 years ago

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the light behind your eyes☎

summary: Growing impatient waiting for her lover to return home, (Y/N) decides to stay awake, waiting for Tom. Unfortunately, tragedy strikes.

word count: 2,315

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

warnings: swearing (when is there never), sadness, angst, crying, death of a character (sorry), *trigger warning* mentions of car accidents

a/n: HEY GUYS! this is my first story/post/anything on this account! PLEASE give me some feedback and be my friend because I don’t have any of those lel. ALSO, Tom is not an actor in this story, he has a regular job. I honestly really liked how this turned out, I hope you guys like it too! :) Enjoy♥

masterlist♡

request♡

listen to this while reading♫

The sigh of grief I let escape my mouth rang throughout the empty room. This was probably the latest I’ve ever stayed up whilst living in this small, run down house. After repeatedly waking up gasping for breath and trying to get some rest in my bed that was coated with cold sheets, I let my flag down and decided to stay awake; Sleep apnea will do that to you, I suppose. I unwillingly made my way toward the open bedroom door. I dragged my feet across the lonely hallway, listening to random things creek and crack in the house. I reached the doorway of the kitchen. It was pitch black, aside from the moonlight illuminating the floor from the window. It was a beautiful sight. I lazily lifted my aching arm and flipped the switch on. The fluorescent light bulbs lit up the room immediately and I slumped my way in, like a lazy turtle. I turned my head in the direction of the microwave and began to watch the flashing green numbers on the microwave clock; two thirty seven in the fucking morning.

I had been overtaken with disappointment ever since Tom called and said he’d be leaving work fairly late. But then again, it’s really no surprise. He is a hard worker.

“I’m sorry I have to stay so damn late. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with these people but I promise, it’s just for tonight. Try to get some sleep, darling. I’ll be the first thing you see in the morning.”

I remember his words briefly. They were still fresh on my mind. Tom’s voice is like a symphony. It envelopes me like a warm, velvet robe. Goodness…I love that man. Thinking about him sent sparks through my body; I felt like I was about to explode. I wondered where this sudden happiness all came from. Probably from someone as lovely as him staying with me and refusing to ever leave me. We’ve been engaged for a year and we planned for the wedding to be taking place this upcoming July.

We couldn’t afford any type of fancy Church ceremony because at the moment, we’re practically in the gutter. All we can afford is the house, food and basic necessities that all humans require. Hell, Tom has to borrow Harrison’s car when he goes to work. His job didn’t pay very much but Tom does all he can to provide for us. I have a crappy job working as a cashier at a local coffee shop in the area. The people I work with are barbarians. They say things behind my back as if it doesn’t hurt me. I’ve always been struggling with money ever since I was eighteen. After getting kicked out of my supposedly haunted flat, from living in my best friend’s basement, I was rescued by my knight in shining armour. We were doing well for about a year or so until Tom got laid off from his previous job. We lost all we had and we forced to find a new place to live. This tiny house was the only thing within our budget. We’re thankful we have shelter, regardless of the size and the condition of it.

The wedding is in three months, right around the corner. All we can do is have a few friends join us in our backyard as (Y/F/N) reads scriptures from the Bible, as if she were a priest. Tom is reusing good ol’ Harrison’s homecoming tux and I had to purchase an old dress from the thrift store. The dress was in decent condition and it was quite lovely. Of course not being able to buy an actual wedding ring, his grandmother gave him her wedding ring. Tom refused to take it but his grandma insisted and convinced him that she wanted him to at least have something that was extremely symbolic come from high value. She was the sweetest woman, besides Tom’s mother.

I’m ecstatic for the wedding. Even if we can’t have the wedding in Church, I’ll be happy knowing that I’m with him. I chuckled to myself, remembering how Tom spent a month’s worth of grocery money just for the engagement ring.

“I just want you to have the best of everything, even if what I’m giving you isn’t actually the best. You’re the most important person to me.”

I looked at my left hand, twisting the cheap ring to the right so it was snaked around my finger straightly and properly. A smile slowly crept on my face. I realized that even though I didn’t have much money, I still have everything else because I have Tom. My love, my soul, my whole life.

The phone rang, shaking me violently out of my thoughts. I quickly swiped the phone off the receiver, not wanting to hear the irritating, continuous ringing.

“Hello?” “Hey! Sorry love, did I wake you up? I didn’t think you would answer the phone. My heart melted as I heard Tom on the other line. It rang through my head. His low, groggy voice is delicious. “Hey,” I giggled. “No, I was already awake.” “I thought I told you to go to sleep, (Y/N). You’ve been out and about, on your feet all day, baby. You should go get some sleep, rest those dazzling eyes of yours.” My heart soared. I swear, I melted right there in the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep knowing you weren’t there beside me. I need you here, Tommy. Are you almost done?” I questioned, craving his answer. “Yeah, I’m actually on my way home right now. No need to worry,” he began. “I’m like…ten, fifteen minutes away? Something like that.” I couldn’t wait till his ass was back home. I need him like how we all need oxygen…but I felt like I needed him more. “There’s way too much fucking traffic…” Tom muttered in annoyance. I giggled slightly but then rolled my eyes. It was so cold. I wanted him here now.

“Hurry up! Ten or fifteen minutes sounds so far.” I could hear him laugh on the other end of the line. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m almost home. I can’t wait to just hold you in my ar—” There was a sudden loud bang, immediately causing my stomach to knot. Followed by that, there was the terrible sound of tires screeching and glasses being juggled around. After a few seconds, all I could hear was static. “Tom?” I said. No answer. I suddenly heard the car alarm in the distance begin to go off. My heart plummeted. “Thomas…” I repeated. Still no answer. Tears began forming in my eyes and threatened to escape. I quickly, but forcefully brushed them away with the back of my hand. No. Nothing happened. He’s okay, he’s fine. I thought; but I knew, I knew deep down…he wasn’t okay. I was lying to myself. It was no use. My eyes flooded with tears and before I knew it, I was on my knees, screaming into the phone.

I felt my heart stop. I couldn’t breathe. Hot tears ran down my face and gathered at the tip of my chin. I could feel the warm liquid fall onto my bare legs and pyjama shorts. My nose was running, which disgusted me. I sniffled as I continued to cry loudly. My sinuses were clogged by this point, only making breathing a harder task in that moment. By now, there were some voices on the other line of the phone. I listened carefully to try and make them out. Everything was quiet for a moment.

Nothing.

But then suddenly, to my horror, I could hear a woman’s shriek. “Call 911! Someone! Oh, my god! Anyone! This man is hurt, I think he’s dead!…David, where’s my phone? Call the police! Fuck, I told you not to try to make the red light!” the woman screamed at someone who happened to be with her.

No…no…no! Tom, my Tom can’t be dead! I quickly stood up, mashed my finger on the speaker button and viciously slammed the phone down on the counter. I was desperate by this point. I needed to know for sure. “Someone answer me! Please! Hello?! Someone please tell me he’s okay!” I croaked. My throat was on fire from all the screaming. I wouldn’t be surprised if I began coughing up blood. “Tell me my Thomas is alright…please! He has to…he has to be…” I whimpered. I don’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this! We have to be together, I won’t have it any other way. Tom has been the light of my life for five years. He is my best friend, my partner in crime, my muse, my fiancé. I can’t be alone, I don’t want to be either.

“Tommy…please. My love…answer me. You h-have…” I couldn’t finished my sentence. I didn’t know what specific emotion I was portraying. Anger, sadness, love, hate… I couldn’t control myself. Without a warning, rage filled my body and I burst. I roared as hot tears shed from my tired, red eyes. I began to punch myself in the stomach and the sides of my head. “It’s your fault! It’s all your fucking fault! Dammit…you monster!” I taunted myself. My back arched so I was able to feel the hard blows of my tight fist repeatedly colliding with my stomach. I then hunched over in pain as I began coughing. I didn’t care about the physical pain I was in. I can’t lose him. I just can’t.

I hurried over to the cupboard and forcefully jerked the door open. There were a few thin glasses sitting on the bottom shelf, lined up but in a disorganized manner. I glanced at them for a nanosecond before grasping one in each hand and hurling them to the floor. They shattered instantly. The phone was still on speaker, releasing the horrible noises from the other line. “Fuck! Fuck! Tom, what the fuck did you do?! Fucking hell!” I was screaming bloody murder. I continued grabbing glasses to destroy, littering the floor with shards. I felt crazy, I was losing my mind within seconds. The sounds of sirens began to grow louder as they continued to get closer and closer to Tom’s car. I snatched more glasses and smashed them down on the counter. The bits and pieces from the cup were scattered around the phone.

“Someone help my husband! Please, I can’t lose him! Can anyone hear me? Fucking do something, I’ll die without him!” I reached up to take hold of two more glasses but then I stopped. It was like time froze and everything became cold. It hit me. It hit me hard like a ton of bricks were being dropped on my head. I could’ve slit my throat and died right there, in my kitchen decorated with glass shards. But I couldn’t do it. Oh…no. What is happening? I set the glasses down on the counter and took fistfuls of my hair, yanking at them hard. I began groaning like a zombie. My mouth was open wide, strings of saliva began seeping out while I continued to make ugly noises. Every single memory I shared with Tom was running rapidly through my brain. I didn’t wanna forget a single one. “Tom…baby, p-p-lease come home…please come back to me.” I weakly begged. I quickly snapped out of it, feeling a sharp pain run through my head. I snatched the phone from the counter and crouched down so I was in a squatting position. I raised the phone up so my mouth was in level with the microphone.

“Thomas S-Stanley Holland, you need to answer me right now! Please!” I begged. I was back to square one. “You can’t leave me like this! Not now or ever. I love you so much, you’re m-my whole heart! Please, I love you! Come home to me.” I was panting. He needs to be okay. He has to be. “Tom! Tom! Please answer me! I l-love you! Answer m-me, goddammit!” I couldn’t stop choking on my words. This can’t be happening. These are the types of things that happen in PSAs or movies. This isn’t real life. Why? This shouldn’t be happening; Not to me, not to Thomas. Oh, god.

“Thomas! Please,” I gasped in desperation. “why won’t you answer me?” I heard more shuffling on the other line, the police sirens were loud and up close now. I tinge of hope ran through my body. “Mister? Mister, can you hear me?” a man on the other line said. I heard soft taps coming from what I assume was the outside of the car. “Jon!…Jonathan! Come over here and help me, we have to remove the car door quickly. He’s not responding.” the man yelled out to someone. Please, please, please. I thought. I let my mind repeat that one word for as long as it took. After some loud knocks and what seemed to be the door hinges being broken off of the car, I figured they successfully removed the door. “Jon, get Gabriel and tell him to bring the paramedics over here with a stretcher.” the man demanded. I then heard foot steps running off. Now was my chance. “Hello?! Can someone hear me? Is my husband okay? What’s going on?! Please answer me?” I shrieked, only to be ignored. “Shit fuck.” I muttered to myself. I just kept listening for something. Anything. “Here they are, Ralph!” another voice announced. There were a couple seconds of silence.

“Jon…could you fetch the coroner?” the man, Ralph asked, in a chilling tone. No…please. “Oh, god, no. Did you check for a pulse? Is h—” Jon was cut off abruptly. The following words will forever haunt me for the rest of my life; it becoming one of the most vivid memories I’d ever share with Tom.

“Yes…he’s dead.”

...sorry! ugh i didn’t want to kill him but that was the whole point of the story. GUYS, don’t ever text or talk on the phone while driving, it is extremely dangerous and can change your life for the worse in seconds (sorry for my lil psa cause you are all smart and have probably heard it a hundred times but it’s important nonetheless) tom’s alive and kicking ass in real life cause he’s invincible af sooo🌚 anyways, i hope you guys liked it! please leave me some feedback and/or let me know if you want to be on the taglist (that i am still yet to start lol)

-sara♡

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagines #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagines #spiderman homecoming

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lzimbu · 7 years ago

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Destiny 2's Infinite Forest Sucks

Forbes thinks it could be better

Destiny 2's Infinite Forest is such a minor problem, effectively a single branch on a tree in the forest of issues that affect player's looking for this game to have some entertainment value versus the amount of money we're paying for it, that I think most people will ignore that it could be the game’s saving feature in the short terms. But will probably not get updated and so will be disappointing and tedious for a long time. The issue as I see it is that there's problems with the format of Destiny 2's activities and rewards systems. This is both for returning veterans, who have experienced everything from the original game, through all of the new activities added to the game and which have since been removed, through deprecation. But for right now we're trying to figure out what it is like for all the new players who are trying to figure out what they paid for and where the game is going. Someone buying the base game because this didn't want to commit to the DLC packs having to decide on buying those apparently mandatory content updates based on the game as is.. I can't see any of them being convinced. It's just been controversy since it launched. Easy answer is none of us knows what's in store for the game and Bungie keeps fucking shit up by making stupid decisions for no apparent logical reason. Like removing all the useful materials and level gear up with things like Motes of light. Also.. what happened to the speaker after the campaign ends? Is there a reason why he's not at the new tower? etc I mean I understand that the solo stuff can be underwhelming and focused on learning the game.. but why can't it have value to players that just want to replay that content? There's a large number or people that would like to get their money's worth out of the game while playing solo, or at least without friends because it can be hard to play a game like destiny if you don't know anyone else that plays it, OR more likely because all of your friends have left the game already and aren't going to come back while Bungie keeps making idiotic decisions like dumping everything from the old game. Also there's the thing about having to use a mic for matchmaking activities, some people don't want to because of the negative behavior that they are subjected to when they do. The new raid happened to cause an outcry because it appeared that communication was mandatory for a couple of parts of the activity. Since then players have found ways to complete the activity without voice communication and even without any communication at all. That's the core of the Destiny experience.. that progression towards mastery. The activities might not come off as self evident due to sparse explanation of how they function, but after practicing them for a while it clicks and you can end up mastering the content. That isn't expected from the single player activities of course that tend to be heavy with help for the player to understand how to play.. but once you get into strikes and public events their mechanics aren't always obvious or well explained by the game. Other players will show you what to do. For Raids, you'll have to learn from other players because next to nothing will be explained. Some of the changes that have been made to the game affect those principals in that the single player activities aren't fun or rewarding, for example the Mercury public even which has 2 chests.. that give you nothing for completing it on its Heroic Mode. It feels like Heroic modes don't add much for increasing the rewards getting doled out versus the actual bump in difficulty. Why does that matter? Well as a player starting out you have certain activities open to you and what you're looking at is a couple of hours to a dozen of leveling up. During that process you can expect to collect some gear that is supposed to make those bigger activities easier and prepare you to confront the hard stuff. While that is the case, those harder activities ARE hard for some new players that don't benefit from an established knowledge of the general mechanics of the game. Worse is that the variety of game play in the assortment of activities available in Destiny 2 doesn't feel much different. At least if you're a veteran that has played everything the game has had to offer so far. Because of that difficulty curve and lack of players (because they keep quitting) it feels like new players are getting bored without trying everything. There's no reason for the game to be so poor with giving the player useful rewards. What's a useful reward? Perhaps those new Masterwork weapons that drop orbs? Maybe.. I wouldn't know.. haven't been able to do prestige Nightfall this week and otherwise it doesn't seem like any way to get any of them. It isn't even that the activity is impossible to complete but the time investment with strangers, after finding them, is demanding. Even the regular Heroic Strikes which are straightforward repeatedly caused wipes (not even due to lack of communication which is not expected) but because it is just too easy for all three players to get killed. Example.. one time one of the other players had randomly died.. no problem.. but just as we noticed it myself and the other remaining player got kicked off the platform by god only knows what. It becomes annoying when you're actually trying to complete something hard and then you get wiped for no apparent reason. That aggravation was pervasive in the original game because it was rife with significant bugs and garbage mechanics that Bungie didn't usually fix. Those issue for the most part don't affect Destiny 2 and so present one of the only critical advancements in the series so far.. that the game isn't laugh out loud buggy and you don't often here players saying they are getting Bungie'd. Yet stunningly.. there are those random moments when you just don't know what killed you, or wiped your team. Paradoxically it makes Destiny 2 even more tedious when it happens because it just isn't as common to lose progress for no reason. I say this after playing through the DLC on Xbox and PS4 with 5 characters and don't feel like I've yet seen all the rewards... and that's fine, but not because I haven't played enough.. or that the game is artificially limiting the rewards.. but that there are too many duplicates and some of the new stuff is locked inside loot boxes that take a shit ton of time to earn. The rewards system just feels broken. From the small things that Bungie has claimed to have fixed, like patrol chests that tend to be empty most of the time, and that otherwise offer next to nothing as rewards (just tokens most of the time).. it feels like there's no point in going out on patrols other than when the game forces you to in order to collect materials or complete x number of activities to complete a quest. I'm not really trying to get into the issue of how long it takes to actually earn then, because on 2 accounts with 5 of 6 active characters (one Titan is on vacation).. but that I HAVE seen shit loads of play earned loot boxes return nothing.. or duplicates. If money was actually a consideration in their decision making then there should be more stuff in the loot boxes and fewer garbage items. This has been an ongoing thing because these loot boxes are just for cosmetic things otherwise they'd tread into pay-to-win problems. Bungie could have imported things from the old games for the new players to purchase in the loot boxes like legendary weapons, had they not contorted the gun system so badly. That would give the boxes some value for returning players. As that isn't the case and as the available loot boxes are full of shit items no one wants.. I can't see why they would have designed the game around them and why people would even buy them unless you really are that pressed for play time that you'd buy the game, and DLC and pay extra to unlock vanity items. Buying any amount of them and getting nothing worthwhile would be far worse than spending the time in the game and earning them. And then fully ignore that the items that matter, the weapons and gear.. have been nerfed. There's even less play choice involved in how we set up our gear. Bungie has said that there's potential for Mods to evolve to replace the old min maxing system but they never said why the system was removed in the first place. It was time consuming and perhaps tedious for some players, but that system of complexity was rewarding and helped justify the loot system (dropping so many duplicates). We knew about these changes prior to the games launch because Bungie decided to let us in on, 1 resetting gear and level, 2 gear would no longer be unique, 3 we'd be losing an entire weapon class for no reason as two that have nothing to do with each other would be combined. So before releasing the game, and after the pre-orders were opened, Bungie DID tell us they'd be trying out so really dumb shit. The response was negative. The result is negative. Bungie don't give no fucks. But gear and levelling aside, there's the activities. Would there be activities that would make it worth loading up the game every day? 4v4 PvP isn't going over well. And oddly the most played activity seems to be public events. So popular are public events in patrol for rewards over time played, that Bungie nerfed them. They claim that the rewards are better but that's only because they swapped blue drops which are literally useless.. to purple drops, which tend to be duplicates. Thus the only recent changes they made was to give players more legendary shards. Which has no value. You can dump hundreds into whatever vendors take them and get nothing back.. compared to just playing the game. Some would argue that as you have them anyway.. you might as well just sit there in a tedious menu system mashing a button to empty your shards into a handful of engrams that will have nothing in them. Instead.. just play the game and get experience AND as good odds of hitting exotic drops. But those exotics will most likely be duplicates and can often be of a lower level than the one you already have. Its aggravating because Bungie claims that have systems in place to avoid duplicates. Bullshit. Losing access to several locations from the first game.. for no reason other than that they haven't yet been added to Destiny 2 means that players are forced to explore the new worlds. Had there been a story based reason to block off those locations from patrols at the very least would have been nice but there's no reason given. Bungie doesn't give reasons. They don't explain themselves. Yes the obvious reason is that it would have been too much for them to deal with to add all of those places in a game that would have to grow it's player base.. apparently because their retention from the first game was so poor. Perhaps another argument is that the reception for existing locations would have been lukewarm. We've been to these places already.. why are they still here. Because you're continuing the series not replacing it with something else? Idfk. Is there anything wrong with them? No. Not as such. Titan would be the main location to feel 'poor' because it is so small. I have spent the majority of my hundreds of hours on Titan.. and was delighted when one of the first ghost shells I got was to increase XP gains on Titan. I like Titan because the public events are close together and they used to occur frequently AND their Heroic variants are somewhat easy to complete solo. So as a loot farm, Titan is nirvana. But.. why aren't the public events inside the Arcology? No reason. Very disappointing as there are story locations within the campaign that suggest that Titan should be much large and there's room for other public events but more importantly different and bigger public events. The Curse of Osiris DLC highlights this because the much longer intervaled, more complicated, and much more rewarding public even (not really) public even seems to hint that Bungie wants to try adding much bigger public events. That actually matters now because they resolved and issue (if it was real) that was loading players into empty patrol zones making them have to master solo'ing the public events. Now that the world is getting more populated it makes more sense for bigger public events where there actually is an expectation that you'd have help. The result though is that while Mercury is populated at any given time, the public event takes a long time to cycle. And it's rewards are shit. There's no reason to do it as there are no rewards unique to it. I don't care about the other locations tbh. Io especially just annoys me. And I mean that's the main complaint.. there's no worthwhile rewards from anything. Once you have a set of gear that gets you through the majority of activities.. there's no reason to keep playing. By that time you'll have done everything ad nauseam. But the reason people tend to gravitate to Patrols and public events is that you can complete them almost all of the time so the flow of loot is constant. Trying to do that with Heroic Strikes and Prestige Nightfalls for example.. isn't a guarantee even if you're playing with friends unless you've mastered those activities. Year 1 nightfalls were a joke for a while for having joke rewards like horns and emotes if you got anything at all.. I actually thought those days were done until I started getting blue mods as rewards. Its aggravating to receive something that's worse than useless. These items are worse than useless because they clutter an already small inventory and force the player to spend significant amounts of time emptying bullshit from their inventory like blue mods and shaders. Those inventory spaces get smaller when you ad useless shit like ornaments that are permanent. They show that either Bungie doesn't learn or they intentionally keep designing their menus to be aggravating. There are too many duplicate items due to the gear system which gives the player exact copies of the same gear which requires them to dismantle or infuse virtually everything they receive as rewards for a given activity. This automatic response to the majority of rewards makes the entire rewards system feel very unrewarding. Adding to the tedium of inventory management. Gee I need x item but all I'm getting is 1000x of x. Like right now I have a Heart of Time on Xbox. It took a bit to try it because I hate pulse rifles. But holy shit it is great. https://db.destinytracker.com/d2/en/items/4145119417 I don't have one on PS4. So I'm looking for it but can't get it. In the meantime I'm trying the Nergal PR4. It isn't the same even though the rounds per minute are the same and it's full auto.. should be better. https://db.destinytracker.com/d2/en/items/339343290 And I then accidentally opened my Destiny 1 inventory and started seeing those old Prison of Elders guns... the primaries with elemental burns.. or that were energy weapons in the primary slot. There was no reason to remove them or split the primary slot. Could have just made low mag powerful weapons their own slot and put Kinetic secondaries. Leaving it as weapons determine the slow not what they shoot. A power weapon needs to do damage and have low ammo. Why is that complicated? I'm actually made about this now because Telesto is back and even when the ground is littered with power ammo.. in most encounters you don't have it where it matter. There's no heavy ammo synth for the times when it matters.. when you're in a boss encounter. Telesto should be useful in boss encounters but not when there's no ammo for it. But that in itself wouldn't be bad when you consider that the first games rewards had uniqueness, materials and ammo packs etc, AND encouraged the player to level up the gear they wanted AND some gear was better than others based on their perks. That's all gone and there's very little right now that makes the new systems worthwhile. You'd sometimes obtain GOD roll items which still didn't break the game, it just made it easier to play certain encounters. So.. No God rolls. Fewer perks. Locked perks and stats. Duplicates aplenty. Garbage rewards. No materials, no ammo packs.. and a buch of garbage like armor ornaments that takes up space in the mod inventory for something cosmetic. WHO IS DESIGNING THIS SHIT AND MAKING THESE DECISIONS?! So.. The Infinite Forest Why is the Infinite Forest the camel that breaks my back? I mean there's not much wrong with the design of the infinite forest area except that like the Acrology on Titan.. there's no reason why it isn't a public space with public events. The majority of time on Mercury patrols should be in the IF once you have access to it. That means you would have needed to play through the story to have access to it. FFS there's a god damned door. As long as you get through that door in the campaign then you should have access to that area. Had Bungie not made it so you didn't have a sparrow for the entire campaign (complete idiocy) then getting into the Arcology in patrols would have that same type of gate. Same could have been said for the Raid areas, once you have access to them becoming public areas with public events with rewards in the Plague Lands and Vault of Glass. To some extent even the Dreadnaught could have had a few more patrol zones inside the ascendant realm. Aren't there enough players that would have access to the infinite forest? Now here's the big issue. The old patrol zones don't have to be gone. They could be added into the IF. As well as the old Raids. This again blocks from somewhat from players that haven't yet completed that part of the campaign. But how would the current design of the IF integrate new simulations of those old areas without falling into the trap of too much work to redesign old activities so that they are familiar but still fresh. That's up to Bungie. Adding a forth simulation tower thing that contains all the old activities brought forward into Destiny 2 would help shoe horn it into the overall story. I mean as it stands Osiris is able to modify and build simulations. More importantly it allows Bungie to bring back content that they might not have thought appropriate to, such as the Skolas encounter, because he's dead. And what happens if you consider that any Vex exposure to SIVA would have meant simulations of SIVA.. A SIVA power Gatelord? sounds like another great public event for the Infinite Forest. All those old boss fights could be those bigger public events. So ultimately what we have is a convenient way for Bungie to add stuff back into the game if they wanted without yet opening back up the old patrol zones. It just doesn't answer the question of WHY those areas are gone or are inaccessible.

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