#they knew for years that the vault was running out of supplies and falling apart
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#oc txt.#c: hattie#c: mary ellen#hattie being able to make it back to her own vault just in time to be with her mom in her final moments is 🤕#she’s not the overconfident self assured put together person she was when she left however long ago it was#and her mother isn’t the hyper independent stoic emotionally constipated woman that didn’t even hug her before she left#her mother really did believe that this colony that had supposedly been growing since she was a girl WAS her kids’ only hope at a future#they knew for years that the vault was running out of supplies and falling apart#she was getting older and really didn’t think a future above ground was for her or her husband or the other adults that had grown up there#it was for their kids.#bc the vault wasn’t going to be able to sustain them for much longer#it’s why she pushed her kids so hard and pushed them away even harder#bc it made sending them into that world ‘easier’#she wouldn’t miss them as much and they wouldn’t miss her#sending her twins up there (her first borns) years prior was HELL#and she dreaded the day hattie was old enough to be thrust out there and even debated whether or not she’d even go through with it#so seeing her now … especially in the state hattie is in when she returns#she feels guilty but at the same time proud? because despite it she knows hattie had and HAS what it takes to survive up there#and seeing tj??? she doesn’t know if the twins made it to the colony or whether the colony was even real operating ect ect#so she’d never get to see them with her grandkids if they had any#she at least gets a slice of what could have been if things were different#it’s good that hattie gets to tell her truth of everything#it’s good that hattie gets to reconcile and be the last thing she sees before she passes#it’s all mary ellen ever wanted … to see her girls again#and in her mind if hattie made it … then she knows the other two did too#and i think for hattie she was just on the cusp of giving up and throwing in the towel#but she’s got people relying on her and she’s not a quitter … was never allowed to be#and i think by now she’d be searching for them less for herself and more for her parents#the least she can do is find out if their sacrifices (and the sacrifices of everyone else) were warranted
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haha your snippit abt the dispenser got me thinking.
Dream gets let out of prison and he talks constantly, whatever is on his mind. And he's positive all the time. To a fault where people walk over him. And it doesn't make sense because he was tortured right???? But after an incident they find out it's because he hates the sound of silence and needs constant reminders that other people are there. Also he was punished for any negative emotions in the prison so his default is happy now,,,
hi anon !! this concept makes me SO goddamn sad ,, the idea that he Has to be happy bc anything else would mean punishment im so *punches the walls*
this ,, ficlet is honestly. pretty ooc, not really related to the ask at all, and mostly an excuse for me to cry abt c!dream and c!punz for an excessive amount of time (technically the vote on twitter was supposed to have this as c!sapnap pov, but i just wrote one for him so i went for c!punz instead. mostly bc i wanted to write him LMAO). hopefully someone enjoys it despite *gestures vaguely* all of that mess
tw: trauma, disordered eating, implied torture/abuse, blood, injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, thoughts of murder/mercy killing, mentioned animal death, dark content
In the end, it’s all rather anticlimactic, the complete opposite of Dream’s vault and the whole fiasco of adrenaline and theatrics that had made up that day. Quackity ended up having one too many drinks, bragged about the wrong thing to the wrong person - Punz doesn’t know the specifics, only knows that one thing has led to another and suddenly Sapnap was screaming at his ex-fiancé, sword pointed at his chest and tears streaming down his eyes in the middle of the Community House floor, everyone else stood around and watching. A look into Quackity’s office said everything he didn’t - the chests and chests of used and new tools, shiny and sharpened and completely rusted over with blood and everything in between. There’s been a balled up shirt in the wastebasket, completely unsalvageable from how saturated it was with blood, more red than white, and perhaps most chilling of all the calendar, marked with X after X in red pen, going back months and speaking to their utter failure to see what had been happening all but right in front of them.
With Quackity down, Sam caved not too long after, and with his input getting into the prison was no challenge at all. The only thing holding them back were bad memories and the tense, worried edge to Sam’s jaw as he led the small group of them - himself and Sapnap, actually entering the facility, Bad and Puffy waiting outside - carrying them through winding corridor after winding corridor and lava pit after lava pit, until they’d come to stand before a chasm filled with flowing lava, slowly draining before the main cell.
“I- I have to warn you,” Sam had muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it looks…pretty bad,” and Punz would’ve questioned him further, but the lava had fallen far enough to reveal the topmost edge of the cell, so they let Sapnap hound the Warden for information as they directed their full attention on the cell itself and holy shit.
Nothing Sam said could’ve possibly have prepared them for the sight - it was a complete fucking bloodbath, crimson painting the walls and smeared over the floor and splattered over every visible surface like some abstract art experiment gone wrong. The stench of iron and burning flesh and viscera was awful, even over the gap marked by the still-draining lava. Punz strained his eyes; at the very back of the cell, huddled, unmoving, was a similarly bloodstained shape that must’ve been Dream. They remember the crack of Sapnap’s knuckles meeting Sam’s face and breaking his nose, remember themselves chucking a pearl and feeling along Dream’s neck desperately for a pulse - everything beyond that became a swirl of voices and panic and crying that makes their head hurt to think about, so they don’t.
Recovery is…messy. The physical side had been bad enough - pulling Dream out of the cell, barely breathing, limp in his arms and far too light, all Punz could think about was a sheep he’d found a year ago, frail and struggling to breathe, one he’d ended up killing - quick and painless - with a sword through the skull because it seemed kinder than letting it suffer. Watching Dream struggle on the bed, laid up in Bad’s mansion because none of them knew if he’d survive going any further, body resisting the potions they’d slowly forced down his throat after being so over-saturated on them, temperature spiking and heat baking into his skin like the lava from the prison had been imprinted onto his body, Punz feels the same strange mixture of pity and unease, wonders if it’d be a hell of a lot kinder if they just put him out of his fucking misery.
Still, because Dream is a stubborn bastard, against all odds, he ends up surviving - his fever breaks, the potions begin taking effect, and a few tireless, aching days later his eyes flutter open, lucid for the first time in a week. Punz isn’t even in the room when he wakes, only knows that it happens because the too-quiet room suddenly erupts in noise and activity, muffled thumps and sounds of a struggle undercutting Bad’s frantic calls for someone to help, anyone, and they run into the room to find Dream thrashing on the bed, wounds reopened and blood dripping onto the sheets, eyes wild and wide as his head whips from side to side so hard Punz is half-afraid that he’ll straight up break his neck. Somehow, worst of all, not a single scream falls from his lips, nothing but muffled whines squeezing past his mouth, clenched shut, and for a singular, awful second they wonder how long it took before he realized that screaming was useless.
Fortunately enough for them, or unfortunately, it’s not like he can tell the fucking difference anymore, the panic and strain end up with Dream passing out altogether, and they trade uneasy glances with Bad before going to clean off the worst of his wounds. If everything they’re doing feels hopeless, dressing up wounds that’ll be torn open hours later when Dream is awake enough to feel fear but not much else because he’s forgotten what it’s like to not be afraid - well, that’s for them to think and everyone else to pretend not to agree with.
Weeks pass along the same vein - Dream wakes up, panics; they try to calm him down, fails; he falls back into unconsciousness, and they move on and pretend that they’re cleaning up wounds from battle and not from someone that’s literally been tortured for months on end. People stop by, occasionally; Puffy spends more time than not inside the mansion, but hardly ever enters the door into Dream’s room, Sapnap and George drop by occasionally with potion brewing supplies that the rest of them can’t go out to get; once, he’d gone out to the front door to find a chest with an enchanted golden apple, sender nowhere in sight. He knows that the server is busy; Quackity’s admission had brought more than a few secrets to light, and from what they understand, the political fallout has been pretty damn messy. Still, he stays in the mansion, and watches.
He doesn’t exactly know why he stays. They’re not a stellar healer, not beyond what they know to dress their own wounds, and spend most of their time doing odd-and-ends tasks for Bad, who looks more tired than ever. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Dream at his worst more than the rest of them, had been there through his entire fall from grace, watched as his eyes became clouded with anger and madness and a single, desperate hope that he’d chased at the cost of his world and himself. Maybe it’s because they have no ties to the rest of the server - not to Las Nevadas, falling apart under the scrutiny of the eyes that now fall upon it, not Snowchester, caught up in the chaos, not the Badlands, half-dissolved after the fiasco of the Egg and with Sam’s actions having just come to light. Maybe it’s because above everything else, he feels guilty.
They’d thought the prison was the answer. It’d seemed too simple, back in that Vault - a perfect answer, because everyone else was perfectly happy to watch Dream die another time and some part of them had clenched painfully at the thought even thought they knew it was for the best. The prison meant that he’d be alive, if angry, and at some point when he had the time or the nerve or the guts he could go and visit, and they would talk, and Dream would be angry but with time maybe he could even understand.
They hadn’t wanted this. He can’t imagine anyone wanting this.
“Punz?” They don’t jump at the voice at their back, they don’t, but Bad still has a tiny, tight-lipped smile when they turn around anyway, eyes creased in the corners and still not as bright as they’d been before the Egg. Bad looks at him knowingly, setting a bowl of soup into his hands. “For Dream, if you can get him to eat.” He shifts a pointed gaze towards the door. “Maybe you two could talk.”
“About what?” The words come out harsher than they intend, and they take a moment to bite back the mostly self-directed anger that Bad doesn’t deserve to receive the brunt of. “I just-” he waves his hand in the air, trying to articulate the mess that is his relationship with Dream without the words to explain it. “I don’t know, man.”
“You don’t have to talk about everything,” Bad says, calm as always, eyes flicking down to the bowl of soup in his hands. “Just start with the soup.”
Punz sighs. “I’ll try.”
He enters the room in a single, fluid motion, mostly because he knows that if he were to stop at the door then he’d never actually make his way in. Dream flinches back when they enter, eyes going wide and stance going rigid, and the familiarity doesn’t make the sight any easier to bear as they wait, as always, for Dream’s eyes to clear enough for him to realize he’s in the mansion and not stuck in that same obsidian hellhole.
“I brought soup,” they say, finally, when Dream looks up. Dream’s lips twitch up in what he probably means as a smile; between the still-healing gashes on his face and the fear that flashes over his expression, still, it comes out as more of a grimace.
“Thanks.” Dream looks away. “I’ll eat it later.”
Liar, Punz thinks tiredly, moving closer to set the bowl down on the nightstand by the bed. They frown as Dream’s expression goes slack and distanced, again, eyes fixed to stare blankly at the wall once again.
“You should have some now,” he tries, careful to keep his words even. “You need the calories.”
“I’m good,” Dream says, automatic, just shy of sincere. “Thank you.”
“Dream,” they don’t quite succeed at keeping a displeased sigh from falling from their lungs, and bite back a curse at themselves when Dream pulls back with a silent flinch. It’s so goddamn hard, to talk to this version of Dream, both of them feeling around the edges of their relationship like walking on goddamn eggshells. A few months ago, he would’ve straight up called Dream out on his bullshit, get it through his thick skull that the whole ‘I’m fine and don’t need anyone’ act was stupid and completely failing to convince him. Here, they bite back another sigh, look forlornly at the bowl of the soup on the nightstand, sure to go uneaten once again, and force themselves to sound completely neutral when they speak again. “Alright. You’ll have to eat at some point, though.”
“Mmhm,” Dream hums noncommittally, once again staring at the wall. Punz stares at his hands. This is so fucking pointless.
“So,” they say after a few seconds, Bad’s words echoing in their head - they can try to make an effort to talk, sure. It’s just that Dream’s not going to cooperate. “How are you, man?”
The words come out stilted, awkward. He looks up to watch Dream’s expression, as the other man begins to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.
“I’m good,” he says, words deliberately light. “You?”
“Dream…”
“I’m fine.” Dream’s voice sharpens suddenly, breath hitching, before he shakes his head and turns his head away. “I’m fine.”
Punz looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious? Do we need to get into exactly how not-fine you are?” They wave a hand in his direction, jaw clenching when he rears back. “Do ‘fine’ people lose their minds from someone waving at them, now?”
“I-” For a second, Dream glares at him, eyes burning with a familiar, irritated fire that Punz knows all-too-well from having it directed at him a few too many times, before it suddenly dies and Dream is swinging his head back to the bedsheets, hands tightening on the cloth as he stammers. “I- What do you want?”
Punz breathes a soft sigh, regret blooming in the center of their chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles, careful to keep their gestures overly-telegraphed and away from the other man’s face. “I’m just- you’re not okay, man. No one’s expecting you to be okay after...all of that.”
“But why?”
Dream’s voice is small, nearly a sob, and Punz directs wide, alarmed eyes to where he’s hunched in over himself, knees pulled to his chest, hands staring at the sheets pulled over them. “Why?” he says, again, quieter, lip trembling slightly.
“Because you were tortured,” Punz begins, words slow as they watch Dream’s expression, trying to pull out the thoughts behind his averted eyes, “Because the cell was inhumane, and nobody deserves to be treated like that. Because you were hurt very, very badly because of what we did, and none of us are expecting you to be fine right after going through months of trauma.” He pauses. “You know that, right?”
“But I’m out,” Dream says, quiet, disbelieving, instead of answering their question. “I’m out of there. It’s over. It’s- everything’s good,” he whispers, more to himself than to them, hands curling into fists and then uncurling. “I’m- they said I would never get out. And I’m outside, and it’s not- not the cell, and I get real food, and Quackity doesn’t visit anymore,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut as his breath catches in his throat. “I’m happy- I should be happy. Right?”
“Oh Dream,” the other man flinches back, breath quickening, and Punz’s hand stops short from where he’d almost let it fall onto the other’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be happy, man. Not- not after all of that. Not if you’re not ready yet.” Dream’s eyes, wide and wet, rise to look at their own, and they feel more than hear the soft, wounded noise that leaves their lips. “It’s ok to be hurt. It’s ok to be scared. No one’s blaming you, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”
This, more than anything, seems to be the breaking point, because Dream collapses forward, hands flying up to pull at his tangled hair before Punz manages to ease them away and into his own hands, watching as he grips onto them until his knuckles go white. His breathing shudders, quiet, even his sobs muffled as to make as little noise as possible, and they murmur meaningless croons and hums as he cries into their chest.
“I wanna- I wanna be okay,” he hiccups, and Punz smooths his hair back behind their hand.
“I know,” he swallows around the lump that has risen in his own throat. “I’m sorry.”
#tw trauma#tw disordered eating#tw torture#tw abuse#tw blood#tw injuries#tw unhealthy coping mechanism#tw emotional distress#tw murder#tw animal death#tw dark content#tw unhealthy eating habits#-> my writing#my writing :D#my asks !!#-> my asks
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was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕
oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx
summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more
“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.
Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something.
Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer.
And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about.
“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”
“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.
“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?”
“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.
“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard.
“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”
Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts.
“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face.
Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat.
“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement.
And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock.
“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”
“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour.
“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”
“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too.
The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face.
/////////////////////////////
After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.
“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”
“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.”
“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side.
“���My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other.
“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?”
“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”
“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”
“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set.
“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding.
So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because.
Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick. Naturally too, you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything.
About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot, after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep.
Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked.
And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that.
Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth?
Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares?
No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam?
Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.
#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tomholland#Tom Holland angst#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x actress!reader#tom holland x you#sam holland
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Hello ^_^ can I request Mercury Black, Cinder, and Qrow falling for a guy on the other side? Ya know, Mercury and Cinder falling for a good guy and Qrow falling for a villain 😗
Ah! The Classical hero falls for the villain but can't really be together because they had already choice their paths offense from each other! Let's get started... And this may look bad... °^°
Cinder Fall
- It was quick operation,taking out some security to help Torchwick even if it seem a waste of time reaching some important dust supplies being transported by Atlas and she wasn't alone on this one. Her two partners in crime were in company,Mercury and Emerald who were behind her always.
- They reach the main room where S/o alone guarding the entrance and he seem like he couldn't heard as she noticed he had earplugs in with the music at full burst. She smirked as she told Emerald to used her semblance to make the two atlas security guards approach the lone guard.
- S/o looked at the illusion atlas guard as he just waves at the guard while Cinder ready an arrow aimed straight for the S/o's head. The arrow is sent loose towards S/o but she sees him smile as he caught the arrow inches from his face with the illusion turns into dust.
" This area is restricted and you just tried to attack an guard. " S/o spoke as he pulls out one earplug,hang it over his ear.
- Cinder was surprised at his reaction speed as Mercury and Emerald got ready for combat. S/o took out his weapon which he used a Kanabo and slammed it down in a rhythm.
" Stay aside,and maybe we won't hurt you as much. "Mercury said in a cocky tone as he walked past the two.
" Wow,cocky one aren't you? " S/o starts tapping his foot to the rhythm and lifts his Kanabo onto his shoulder. " I like them cocky! Because I can put them right into their place! "
- A fight begins between the two guys,Cinder orders Emerald to get into the area ready for extraction. S/o seems like he's going to lose as Mercury laughs and goes in for a kick straight to the head but S/o caught his leg.
" Huh? " Mercury may have underestimated S/o as he would be hit right between the legs with the kanabo and threw like a rug doll at the wall.
- S/o looked right at Cinder who smiles a bit,it seems like she had a challenge to deal with. The two start off with him taking some step back just focussing on defense while Cinder is on offense which works in his favor.
" Come on~! You can't land a hit at all! " He teases her.
" Quiet it! " She shouts back.
- She gets annoyed she haven't land a hit but S/o messes up as she takes the chance and thrusts forwards her blade aimed at his right shoulder which lands. S/o's aura seems to take a heavy hit but he just smiles as he grabs onto her arm and headbutts her,she sent stumbling backwards... She's anger now.
" Alright play time is over! " He tightens his grip on his Kanabo as she rushes towards him enraged. He just sidesteps her with him quickly getting into a baseball stance and-
" Strike OUT!" He slams the base of the Kanabo right into Cinder's ass as it sends her flying towards the wall.
- Cinder hits the wall as it cracks on impact and she falls onto the ground unconscious. S/o was just put the two down enemies together and he walked into the vault for Emerald but he was in reality walking into a closet as she locks him inside.
" Holy crap... " Emerald mumbled and called in for the White Fang to come take the goods while she tended to her down teammates.
- Let's just say Torchwick never let Cinder live it down that she got her ass kicked by some random,she did get mad with Emerald that she didn't end S/o. S/o would get yelled at because he let them go but he would be going on the hunt for the three now.
- Anytime S/o sees her,he reminds her of how he defeated her by knocking her out of the park and she always gets close to losing her temper at him. S/o starts commenting on her fighting style like how she fast and skilled but can lose her temper after a bit of fails,of course she doesn't listen just wanting to defeat him.
- But after a couple fights between the two,she starts listening to his points while they fought each other. And Cinder had take his tips as she starts to win the fight.( Don't really wanna write out this fight)
- The fight seems equal until S/o trips up with the area surrounding them in ruins,he was about to attack Cinder but the ceiling falls down onto him. It seem like Cinder won by tricks but it didn't feel right for some reason... She started to move the rumble to find him.
' I defeated him... Why am I doing this!? ' Cinder thought to herself as she finally sees S/o unconscious and she starts to pull him out of the rumble.
- The place around them was going down as she carried him out of the destroyed just before it was a big rumble pile. S/o was still unconscious and she laid him down,this was her chance to kill him... End this little annoyance.
- But she didn't... It confused her why she doesn't just turn this man into dust from how many times they fought and he won,it hits her that he never really turned her in or ever really hurt her that much. Cinder was at a lost for a moment,questioning herself what she should do and an idea pops in her head.
- Some guards find S/o tied up and still unconscious,seeing a kiss mark on his cheek. Let's say that their interactions were more having fun if it was just the two of them battling it out.
Mercury Black
- Mercury and Emerald were done with Tukson,they were walking out of the library store just as a guy holding books in hand walks past them towards the store. The two stop as they see the guy enter the store,Mercury offers the idea of no witnesses even if it means another body and Emerald doesn't agree telling him they should go before the cop come.
" What? Afraid of some cops? We can take 'em! " Mercury comments as Emerald groans," We only needed Tukson out of the picture so let's get going before we bring attention on our plans. "
- Mercury ignores Emerald suggestion,making his way back to the store and she's ready to leave him behind but decides to wait for him. Inside of the store,he finds the guy standing in front of the brutally murdered Tukson and he clears his throat.
" Like my artwork? The guy was a fighter but I like them able to fight bac- " " People tell me that I get a bit- MURDEROUS sometimes... I take the word of advice to keep my chill... Tukson was one of those people... " The guy interrupted Mercury with the tone of someone ready to crack.
- Mercury smirked at the guy as he puts up his fists and S/o turns his head slightly but a chill runs down Mercury's spine. He shook it off,attacking S/o just for him to catch his foot... His eyes were bright yellow surrounded by darkness.
" Tough one,huh? " Mercury says while trying to pull against S/o's grip as the beast roars. " You liked to make art!? Then you'll be my piece of art! " S/o throws Mercury right out the window and out onto the street.
- Mercury groans a bit and sees S/o climb through the window with the rage still in his eyes. Emerald sees S/o as she uses her semblance on him and Mercury stood up from the ground.
" He's min- " " Let's go idiot! Before we're punished for not listening! " Emerald says as she ran off and Mercury looked to S/o. " I'll have some fun with you another time! " He runs after Emerald.
- S/o becomes focussed on making Mercury and Emerald pay for what they did to Tukson even if it means he would be risking his life for it. Mercury does love the fact on how S/o tries to so hard to find him and kill him,it's a fun game for him.
- Mercury is always taunting S/o even if it means he would have to deal with the rage filled beast which is like a bull fight for us! He kinda starts liking their interactions while S/o is still on bloodlust,Mercury watched S/o rip and tore people apart in between his goal.
- Maybe he's in love with the crazy murderous hero...? No,maybe he just likes seeing S/o's hands covered in blood.
- Anyways! Mercury grows feelings for the revenge Hero while S/o is just disgusted at the fact,this murderer likes him. It's weird... I know.
Qrow Branwen
- Imma add a little twist for this one! Because who doesn't love a nice old twist!
- Qrow was doing his normal thing of getting hella drunk or close to it at some bar but the drunk was currently on a mission. He sat at a table alone as some faunus walked over to his table and asks him if the seat is taken which Qrow says no.
" This bar is favorite around these parts,what brings you here?" The faunus asked as he took a seat across from Qrow.
" That's private and not really your business,pal."Qrow answered and the guy puts his hands in defense. " A guy can't fellow brother what they're doing in a place like this?"
- Qrow sighed as the guy just chuckles and orders another drink for them both. He looks suspiciously at him which the fellow smiles right back at him.
" Are you trying to get buddy,buddy with me? " Qrow looked at the drinks and he picks up one drink as he takes a slip. " Why not,it's always interesting to have an huntsman around. "
- The bird chokes on the drink while the suspicious guy laughs at his reaction and Qrow is now on guard.
" Nice to see you again,Qrow. " This faunus said with a smile on his face and Qrow stood up from his chair. " S/o!? "
- S/o and Qrow knew each other from Beacon Academy when the birdy was more happy,he knows about S/o being a Tanager Faunus which he was able to hide because he have some feathers and a small tail. The two were some great friends until halfway through the third year,S/o dropped out of the academy with no traces and it concerned Qrow but S/o stands here right in front of him.
" You left Beacon,why was that? " Qrow answered as S/o looked away for a moment and looked back. " I just didn't feel like that life was for me. "
S/o stands up from his seat while Qrow noticed some of the people in this bar are watching them and Qrow spoke," But you told me,that you wanted be someone strong and kind. "
" .... Where have you been? " Qrow tried to switch the conversation and S/o sighed," I been seeing the world for what it is! The truth! " S/o said. " I did hear that you became the most skilled scythe user! Congrats! "
" S/o! You left in the middle of the third year without a word! What the hel- " Qrow was interrupted by S/o's glare. " Ozpin... I get the feeling that you're one of his trusted allies..."
- There was silence as S/o sighed and snapped his fingers,a couple of people stood up from their seats. Qrow backs up with his hand hovering over his weapon and S/o rubbed his head.
" Seems like you are... I was hoping that wasn't the truth and it hurts to know that we're on opposite paths. " S/o mumbled before Qrow said. " What happened to you...? "
" Nothing did... "
- A whole bar fight started with Qrow barely winning but S/o took pity on his old friend and pulled back a couple of his pals. Qrow won and noticed S/o was already gone as he was going to pay for the damages but the boss tells that S/o already paid for him.
- Qrow started to track S/o down to help him back to the good side,he always fighting against him. S/o would be never changed but he offers his hand anytime he wins a fight against Qrow if he doesn't take the offer,S/o just leaves him alive.
- S/o and Qrow become used to fighting each other as they have become equals. It's fun for the both of them even if they don't know it and may have given a spark back in Qrow's misfortune life.
I did my best... So forgive me if this is somewhat bad!
#rwby x reader#rwby imagines#rwby headcanon#rwby fanfiction#qrow branwen#cinder fall#mercury black#probably bad
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Hogwarts Mystery: Year 1
Summary Moira Fickle, an 11-year old student in her first year at Hogwarts, begins investigating the mysterious Cursed Vaults in an effort to find her missing brother, Jacob. She is accompanied by her new friends Rowan, Ben and Penny who are happy to help her no matter what. Good thing too because she'll need them in the years to come.
Chapter One Diagon Alley
Alternate Title Weird Together
Available on Wattpad, and AO3
"Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."
— Mr. Ollivander, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling
❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪
Diagon Alley. It was busier than ever with families bustling about for back to school shopping. The majority of the students scuffling behind their families were going to Hogwarts. The school of witchcraft and wizardry, of course.
Young Moira Fickle is one of these students, preparing for her first year of her magical education. She stood clutching her list near her turning stomach as her light eyes wandered up and down the stone-bricked streets of the very place she used to visit every year with her family. Her whole family.
While many 11-year-olds would normally be excited to attend an academy that taught some of the greatest minds in the history of magic, this particular 11-year-old only grew more nervous as the first day of school crept closer. Not a nice kind of nervous, more of a this-school-will-tear-me-apart kind of nervous because even though the world of magic seemed mystical and appealing, it was still often at times socially unkind to people who had been dealt cards that were... less than ideal.
They were weirdly medieval for the 20th century.
Well, when you have to keep hidden from the rather dominating and intuitive muggle world it's bound to be like that. Moira really only knew how great the divide was because of magazines and the occasional walk through London. Which meant that perhaps she really didn't know enough to make a statement on muggles and their societal values. After all, wizards and witches are still hiding from them after years of being hunted and burned for their way of life. So it's hard to believe they've actually gotten far enough.
A tall slender man with an atrociously overgrown mustache and slanted eyes just like Moira's watched her round face for any twitch of a smile or excitement. Nothing. "You know," he sighed, adjusting the periwinkle baseball cap. "Your brother was much more hopeful going into his first year."
It was true. Jacob's eyes lit up when he got his letter. If he were still around, they'd be attending school together. "Well, he messed that up, didn't he?" She muttered bitterly. Her eyes twitched with regret when the silence followed. The dark, solemn expression on her father's face made a guilty swell in her heart. Her small hand lifted up slowly to pinch at the corner of his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Dad. It's just—"
"Don't worry, Mo," he reassured his youngest child. Large, warm hands engulfed hers and she felt something cold drop into her palm. He gave her a gentle, forgiving smile. Sometimes it felt like he was being careful with her. Micah and Jinora Fickle had already lost one child so maybe they were afraid she'd disappear too. His top hand lifted from hers to reveal several galleons and a sickles.
"What are you doing?" Moira inquired and gave Father Fickle a confused smile.
The creases in the corner of the man's eyes deepened. Micah's mustache twitched as he let the hand that was still holding hers seconds ago fall to his side. "I have to run to go pick something up, then I'll meet up with you in front of Gringott's."
"High noon?"
"No, I'd say more midday-ish," the wizard held up three fingers and was very happy to see Moira nod in confirmation. "Go ahead and get some of the items on your list. Try to have some left so we can visit the sweets shop when we're done."
"Erm, alright," she mumbled and closed her hands around the coins. Micah's mustache scratched at her forehead. It hurt and tickled, but the kiss on her forehead was always a quick and sweet transaction between these two.
Micah left her daughter in the trusted hands of Diagon Alley. Moira wasn't afraid to shop by herself, every one knew the alley was safe, but as she passed a few store fronts she became more overwhelmed at the idea of going into all these shops by herself. Normally, she'd be holding her mother's hand walking into Flourish & Blotts, usually they'd be searching for the newest edition of a cooking spells book. Now she was alone.
Her fingers twiddled with the corner of the parchment as she looked through the store windows. Stacks of books seemed to peer right back at her as she tried to gain confidence to go in on her own. Moira hardly heard the tentative steps right by her.
"Are you... okay?"
Caught off-guard, Moira sidestepped away from the voice. The young witch who had asked the question seemed just as taken aback as Moira. "Oh," she exclaimed. Her dark eyebrows curled upwards behind her horned glasses. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm not very good at... talking to people?"
Moira quickly composed herself and turned to the other kid. The girl looked to be about the same age as her. "No, it's... it's fine," she attempted to soothe the apologizing witch before her. The witch was probably doing school shopping just like her too. Her clothes were gray and pale blue. The cold colors contrasted her warm skin tone, and honestly, really suited her. "I shouldn't have reacted like that I was just—" She didn't want to admit that she was nervous about going into the book store. "— trying to figure out where to start."
"Well," the young witch considered the options momentarily and pointed at the shop right in front of her. "In my personal expertise in list organization and my general carrying of things, you probably shouldn't start at the bookstore."
"Why?"
"Books are sometimes heavy."
"Oh." Now that it was pointed out to her, it seemed pretty apparent. How humbling. "Haha, yeah... You're right."
"As much as it would pain me to go to another store. We should start with something light," she stated with a hand held to her chin. Did she say "we"? Was this witch planning on shopping with Moira? "Oh, I know! Have you got your wand yet?"
"Er, no. I just got here."
"If you walk two shops down, you'll be right next to Olivander's." The black-haired witch pointed behind Moira. She turned to look. It was true it wasn't far. This girl was really helpful.
"Oh, I see. Thanks?"
"No problem! I'm Rowan Khanna by the way." A thin, dark hand held out, anticipating for a handshake to be exchanged.
"Moira—" A beat of silence punctuated her first name as she questioned whether or not she should give her last name, afraid Rowan would recognize her family name and immediately judge her or write her off as being crazy. It was unfair for people to think that of her, of course. It was also unfair for Moira to write her off as someone who'd judge her. "— Fickle."
Moira tried her best to keep her composure as she watched Rowan's eyes for any sign of recognition as she grasped the outstretched hand. There wasn't anything Moira could gleam from Rowan's welcoming expression. Maybe she was a muggleborn and she didn't know anything about the Fickle name?
"I'll go ahead and walk you down to Ollivander's. He's a friend of my family. We actually supply wood for wands and brooms. For generations, actually."
Guess not. Now there was no explanation for Rowan not knowing who she was. Every witch and wizard read the Daily Prophet and so every witch and wizard knew about what happened to the Fickle family last year. Then their children would find out, and... Well, let's just say Moira didn't have many friends anymore.
"Why don't you come with me, Rowan?"
"R-really?" Why was she so stunned? Moira raised an eyebrow, but the corners of her mouth curled upward on their own.
"Uh, yeah?" Moira thought the witch was gonna shop with her anyways. She really needed to stop assuming things. "I mean, shopping is more fun with a friend, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is."
❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪
The warm lighting inside the store didn't help the store look clean, but it sure did make a customer feel more at home. The front desk was perhaps the cleanest part of the store despite the many empty boxes, and wrapped packages pushed against the walls. The various stacks of loose parchment perilously teetered at the edge of the desk.
A bell rang to tell the old wand maker to come to the front of his shop, however, when the two young witches arrived they weren't greeted by anyone at all. They looked around the floor as they shuffled in. Books were pushed up against the walls and stacked on various chairs. Dust tickled Moira's nose as she breathed in. A threatening sneeze welled up inside her and exploded from her mouth from behind her elbow. The force was so great she had jumped an inch back. She barely noticed Rowan gasp as an eccentric looking man came from the backroom carrying a stack of wand boxes taller than himself.
"Oh, sir! Let me help," Rowan offered.
"No need! No need!" The tottering tower nearly took a tumble, but that Garrick Ollivander skillfully put a stop to it, for he had a free hand carrying his wand and with a swish and flick every box gracefully went into it's appropriate shelf. Moira wondered if this man had any grandchildren and if he gave them heart attacks like this. Maybe not though. He seemed like he lived for just wands. "See there, Ms. Khanna! Taken care of!"
"Ah, incredible, Mr. Ollivander!" Rowan laughed her panic away and gave a little celebratory clap. The old timer's eyes moved to Moira, who was clapping alongside Rowan unknowingly. As soon as Moira noticed his eyes on her she quickly dropped her hands to her side and nodded. "This is—!"
"Moira Fickle!"
Another nod from Moira. "Y-yes, sir." Merlin's beard, she must look so silly right now. Her owl-eyed expression studied the man just as he studied her. He wore velvet. Which only seemed to collect dust from the store. His gray hair was thinning, but big. Like every adult to an 11-year-old, he was tall. Like cracks in wood, the wrinkles in his face had deepened in the six years that had passed since she had last stood in the wand shop.
Rowan looked back and forth between the two with a smile. "I take it you've met her then?"
"Yes! Six years ago when her brother came to get his wand," Ollivander informed.
"Yes, I can hardly believe you remember that."
"Indeed, I do! I remember every wand I've ever sold. His was maple wood, dragon heartstring core, ten inches. A fine wand. Shame they snapped it in half when he was expelled." His smile faded with hers as he looked down at her, hands folded together in front of him. "I understand that he has been missing since. That must have a profound effect on you."
"Yes, well," Moira mumbled before she could really find her voice. At this point, it was hard to avoid this subject in front of Rowan. "A number of things were felt. I think at first-- I was angry at him for being so stupid and for ruining our family name. For not coming home, but I think I should be more concerned with restoring the Fickle family. I'll become strong so they can be respected."
"I see that you've grown to be quite determined and I can tell you have a lot of fight in you." Ollivander gave a curt nod and walked in between the tall shelves behind the counter. "I believe I have something for you to try, my dear." He returned with two thin, red boxes. Both boxes were opened and glanced over before both wands were placed on the wooden counter in front of both girls. Moira hovered between the two before she reached for the first to be unboxed. It felt promising in her hands, the handle fit perfectly into the curve of her hand.
"Aha!" Rowan gasped. "Hornbeam!"
"Correct, Ms. Khanna! Hornbeam wood, unicorn hair core, eleven and a quarter inches. Inflexible." Ollivander smiled at Rowan before he turned his attention to Moira. She had taken a few steps back from the desk to ready herself. She widened her stance and held the wand out in front of her. Straight faced, she drew a sideways S-shape in the air between her and the wall of books and boxes. Then she flicked the glowing tip away from her face and in a spectacular gush of wind the stack of loose parchment toppled off the edge of the counter. The paper swirled around her in a grand hurricane.
"I believe that's the one." Ollivander spoke with a proud twinkle in his eye. There was a smile splayed on his old, cracked face that was familiar to the young witch. Years ago he gave the same smile to her older brother. She couldn't fight the growing grin on her round face as she twirled against the whirlwind.
The short brown hair on Moira's hair was tousled and harsh looking after the paper brushing it. "It feels like the one," She responded, seemingly blown away by her own wand work. Well, she couldn't really call it that just yet, but her confidence at this very moment? Said differently. The papers fell in an almost perfect circle around the witch. Perhaps she was actually excited about learning magic now— she cleared her throat with a cough, and flattened her hair with her wand hand. No way.
Rowan gave her a round of applause. "No spells, and yet it was a spectacular display, Moira!" She chuckled.
"Thanks." The praise was appreciated, however, the mess around her caused the heat rise from her belly to her face. She rushed out an apology as the river of yellow parchment flew through the again and filed into a pillar once again.
"It's quite alright, Ms. Fickle."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."
"I expect to see great things from you in the years to come."
Great could mean many, many things. After all, You-Know-Who did many terrible things and yet many of those things could be considered great. The founders of Hogwarts could also be considered to be great, but their moral alignment varied way more compared to the Death Eaters. Moira hoped, not-so deep down in her heart, that she would be a good kind of great. She prayed that many generations after her would try to be a good kind of great too, the years ahead of Moira had much in store, however.
"I won't disappoint, sir."
❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ��ུ۪ ❀ུ۪
Their arms felt lighter as soon as they had the chance to sit down on those white steps up to Gringotts. Rowan was very correct about the books being incredibly cumbersome. Moira found the other witch to be correct most of the time, it seemed. She seemed to know an extraordinary amount about... well everything. Especially Hogwarts. Her eyes smiled for everyone and despite what Rowan had told Moira— the one time throughout their time together that the young witch was wrong— she was an excellent conversationalist.
In fact, once Rowan Khanna started talking, it was hard to get her to stop. Listening to her, however, wasn't as unpleasant as one may think. Her excitement was infectious and if you needed a question answered she always elaborated with a big grin. You couldn't help but feel as happy about trees as she did. "Hey, Moira?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you as excited about attending Hogwarts as I am?"
"No," she said with a shake of her head. She only decided to continue with that when she saw how confused her new friend was at her response. "I mean, I wasn't excited. Not until I met you at least."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I suppose having a friend going into that place makes it a little better," she hummed. She found herself, once again, unable to hold back a grin at the sight of Rowan's pleasantly surprised face. "But no. I really don't think anyone could be as excited about school or studying as you."
"Yeah," Rowan let out an airy chuckle, she pushed her glasses up from the sides, nudging them up onto the bridge of her arched nose. It was nice having someone to talk to, someone her age that didn't seem to be judging her for her brother's actions. Although, Rowan really didn't know the full truth. "Are you sure you want to be my friend, Moira?"
"What?" The question caught Moira off-guard. Why was she asking this? "Where did that come from?"
"Well, I know that sometimes I can be a lot—"
"Not to me."
"— And sometimes, I can be a bit weird."
"Well, that's alright. I can be weird too." Moira looked away from Rowan and fell back on the step behind her. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Honestly? I should be asking you that."
"Why? Because you're Jacob Fickle's younger sister?"
"Ah, you know," Moira sighed. It was to be expected. Rowan wasn't daft and she was bound to find out when they got to school.
"I knew as soon as you told me your name," Rowan said calmly. "Your brother's the very same Jacob Fickle that went missing after breaking several school rules and getting himself expelled."
"Yeah."
"The Prophet said he went mad looking for the Cursed Vaults."
"Yeah," Moira breathed out. Her leg was bouncing nervously. "Why didn't you say anything about it?"
"Well, I didn't really care— I mean, you're not your brother." Rowan didn't know it, but those words were blessed to Moira's ears. Another kid knew about her brother and didn't think she was crazy too. Someone didn't shun her or pity her. Moira smiled at Rowan who simply smiled back. "We can be weird together."
There was a comfortable stroke of silence as both the girls looked away from each other and towards the length of Diagon Alley. When you were done with all that chaos below the bank, people watching really seemed like the perfect pastime. "It won't be easy— Being my friend I mean. The other students might not be as understanding as you and will, surely, waste no time to pick on me."
"I got it. What do you want me to do in those situations?"
"I dunno. Follow my lead, I suppose."
"Understood. I'll use my extensive vocabulary to verbally pummel anyone who attempts to besmirch your reputation."
Moira laughed, "Alright!"
#hphm#Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery#Harry Potter#jacob's sibling#OC#Rowan Khanna#Diagon Alley#Flourish & Blotts#Ollivander#There's a dad#hphm: year 1#chapter 1#fan fic#I really did it lol#hphm rowan
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Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Three)
Words: 3132
A/N: Usual JW-verse violence, mention of being drugged
Previously: John Wick, an ex-hitman on the run from seemingly everyone in the Underworld, teams up with the Bowery King to take down the High Table that controls it. To do that, they need more allies. You, an assassin known as Persephone, were rumored to be held captive by the Instructor, having lost your memory five years ago. Wick sets out to retrieve you and help you regain your memories in order to aid them in their fight. A bond starts to form the more you train and familiarize yourself with Wick. A shadow from your past plans to drag you back in.
-
In the Underworld, not everything was digital. It seemed that information was safer in either a physical form behind guards and vaults or kept in memories of the need-to-know people, giving you and John extra work on tracing information. To take down a network, you need to cut the right wiring or it’ll electrocute you.
First off, you look at the power source. There’s the Elder who sits above the High Table, then the High Table members with a variable power of their own. There were people like Santino that would even kill their own family to be a member.
Twelve seats in the council. Twelve crime lords.
The judgement that the Adjudicator, the chancellor and representative of the High Table council, served was a testament to how much power they were given. It was to show everyone what the High Table can do. Go against the rules and there will be punishment. Swear fealty to the Table, present your serving hands, the punishment for going against them would be having those hands pierced through. Gave seven bullets to an excommunicado assassin? Seven slashes for you. Housing said excommunicado in your establishment? Business is now allowed in the Continental.
Where the hell do you start? Where do you find the right allies in a world of criminals? Practically every assassin around the world jumped at the chance to kill John Wick when his bounty was sent out.
You were worried for him. You thought it was best to lay low and build yourselves up before taking on the High Table, but it seemed after he was forced out of his retirement, he couldn’t keep still. He had a drive for vengeance that wouldn’t rest until the threat was dealt with and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
You ended up working on several projects at a time, which wasn’t good for your focus, but at least there was still something to keep you busy when you were stuck on one of them. The Bowery King’s people, or the Bowery boys, were helpful in getting the supplies that you needed and even tested some of the prototypes.
Given that the services offered to the high-profile assassins of the Underworld were off limits, you worked to provide tools in any way you can. You even made a bulletproof vest for John’s dog, though you didn’t tell John that. He had mentioned that an old acquaintance of his, Sofia, who runs the Continental in Morocco, had bulletproof vests for both of her dogs, so you thought it was a nice extra something, even adding a pattern that was similar to John’s suit at the front.
There were tactical vests and weapons modulations that you drew up as well as of various blades designed for quickness, efficiency, and precision, which would compliment your special project that you were saving for last. They weren’t the best, but they could still do the job.
You were pouring over a few blueprints of gun models that you were considering on upgrading when John knocked on your door. “It’s me,” he said.
You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice, especially after a long day of tinkering. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?” you told him, putting the prints down as he opened the door.
His dog rushed to your side, panting happily. You patted your lap and allowed him to jump up, snuggling comfortably against you. There was a soft look in John’s eyes as he looked at the two of you before shaking himself out of it.
“The others said we had to knock before coming in,” John said, pointing at the door.
You nodded, scratching behind his dog’s ear. “Yeah, they do, but not you. You don’t have to.”
The implication on the level of trust that you had on him made his walls crumble down again, but he didn’t let himself smile. There was business to attend to. It doesn’t help when a strand of hair kept falling on your face and all he wanted to do was tuck it behind your ear and cup your face and-
When John continued to be silent, you continued, “Anyways, we’re heading out?”
“Yeah,” was all he said.
“Um, okay. I’ll get my stuff and meet you at the entrance.”
He was about the reply, but stopped and nodded before walking away. You exchanged a look with his dog who was used to his behavior then jumped off your lap to follow his human. You sighed gathering your blueprints and stored them away, grabbing two of your prototypes and a slim utility belt.
You had thought that John would have left without you, but there he was, quietly talking to his dog by the entrance of one of the Soup Kitchen’s underground tunnels. You were dressed in a practical dark outfit the belt around your waist, hidden by your black leather jacket. You leaned down to hug John’s dog goodbye, planting a kiss on his flat head and booped his nose with a finger. John stood up, sending his dog away and turned to you.
“Ready?” he asked, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
-
Nothing gets by the Bowery King and his people. The benefits of having him as an ally was the fact that he built his empire from the bottom and existed as its own entity. The High Table did not like that they had no complete hold on them and wanted him to swear fealty. His punishment for helping John was unjust in his eyes, seeing it as a display of the High Table’s arrogance.
The Bowery King had eyes and ears everywhere and had the advantage of anonymity to an extent. It was only a matter of time until he heard of the Instructor’s people looking for you.
You needed to get back into your apartment for your things and hopefully something that will jog your memory, maybe a clue of what the Instructor had planned for you. The two of you were currently waiting out in an old apartment in the middle of renovation. John stood nearest to the window, keeping an eye on the people going in and out of the building across the street.
You could tell there was something that John wanted to ask you, but instead, he said, “You didn’t kill everyone.”
You stared down at your boots with a sigh. “She ordered my parents to be killed. A selected few knew of it, was sent to carry out that task. I didn’t find out ‘til later after countless missions that I’ve done, the people that I’ve trained with, I didn’t see what was happening around me.”
“I knew the Instructor,” John said, his eyes still trained on observing the building’s activities, “she left the Director after some time training under her. Her goals were ambitious, but her execution was something the Director always criticized her on. Things didn’t turn out the way she wanted, but she did made you, whether you like it or not.”
“I suppose so,” you said.
You were aware of John’s connection to the Director, but to hear him talk about the Instructor in that perspective, you wondered how it felt like when an old colleague walks into your office to assassinate you. You suppose you were going to find out, given the situation. The Instructor didn’t talk much about her past and while she had trained, abused, and apparently favored you, you never knew what brought her to creating the program.
John’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar face. He gestured with a finger for you to come over, stepping aside so you could see. Marion had walked out of the building, heading towards the bus station where the last sighting of you and John were, having purposely drawing attention before losing them again. Once Marion left, a man and a couple stood near the entrance, their eyes scanning the area as they pretended to do menial tasks. One was on his phone facing left while the couple conversed facing the opposite direction in an angle.
“The blonde woman is Yuri and the dark haired man with her is Beck. They work better as a team, but their weaknesses show when they’re separated,” you found yourself saying, snippets of memories from training flashed through your mind like a camera shutter until it organized into a library of books and filing cabinets that you could sort through. “The other man on the phone is Victor. He’s a good shot, but his right knee is busted from an injury during a mission. He usually does ground work or long distance.”
“Back entrance?”
“Fire exits off on the sides, more secluded areas.”
“Fire escape?”
“They’re well-maintained except the left side that has a rusted ladder.”
“Room?”
“Near the front of the building. Windows facing the alleyway on the left. All of the wide windows were semi-blocked by strategically placed furniture until inspection. Fourth floor.”
“Okay, let’s go.” John took out a pocket sized metal device from the duffle bag and hid it in the corner, setting the timer before heading out with you close behind.
It wasn’t going to be a simple walk in. John insisted on going with you to the building, an argument filled with frustration and long pauses of stubborn silence and staredowns.
You walked ahead of him as the two of you made your way across the street with street lamps and the moon as a source of light. You instinctively grabbed John’s hand and pulled him closer to you. There were people who were willing to please the High Table and killing John Wick was the way to go. You weren’t much of a shield, as he was taller than you, but it was the thought that counts, so John followed your lead.
A businessman carrying a suitcase walked purposely forward, his body language giving away his next action. Your hidden blade shot out from under your sleeve and jabbed him in the armpit. You pull John with you as he staggered back.
“Can I have one?” John asked, his fingers tapping your wrist where the hidden blade was strapped to.
“Sure.”
Victor was already walking towards you as you approached. You flashed him a smile, striding forward and pushed him into the alleyway. John watched your back, looking out for Yuri and Beck as you rammed your foot on Victor’s right knee. He gritted his teeth in pain, trying to pull out his handgun before you hoisted yourself onto his hunched figure, wrapping your legs around his neck and used your weight and momentum to knock him down. You yanked his dominant hand away from his gun and pulled yourself up with your hidden blade drawn and stabbed his throat.
The gurgling noise was familiar to you now with the countless times that you dreamed of that night when you killed Sasha. You couldn’t get yourself to be emotionless towards it like how you used to, but you weren’t sure if you’d want to be that person anymore.
John reemerged into the alleyway, his hair disheveled and small blood spatter on his suit. He nodded over to you, helping you drag Victor’s body to a hidden corner of the alley. You took a moment to collect yourself then surveyed the area.
The ladder of the fire escape was dodgy, the edges rusty and the paint chipping and crumbling away. John pulled the ladder down, rust and paint shedding off of the metal as it lowered with a clang. He tested the durability with his weight, lifting himself up from the bottom rung causing it to groan.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go through the front door?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I mean,” you grimaced, hands on hips as you looked up at the fire escape, “kinda wanted to avoid running into more people. It’s not really my style, but…”
-
The elevator ride seemed slower than you remembered, smelling like cigarettes, sweat, and cleaning solution. You sighed, turning to John who was silently taking inventory of the weapons the both of you had, the possible escape routes if the fire escape didn’t work, estimating the amount of people that could be waiting for the both of you.
“Couldn’t take the stairs?” John asked.
“It conserves energy,” you defended, fixing his jacket and his hair. John watched you in amusement as you began to rub the blood spatter from his cheek with one hand while the other was playing with a soft lock of hair. “Besides, they won’t kill me. They’ll kill you, John.”
“You’re protecting me?”
You shrugged, pulling away but remained in front of him. “Someone has to.”
The elevator stopped at the third floor, the doors slid open, allowing two people in. They stood there without pressing a floor button and waited until the doors closed. You grabbed a throwing knife from your utility built, twirling it around your fingers until the elevator started moving again. One of the men whipped out a gun and went to shoot at you. John held his bulletproof jacket out and shielded you before wrestling the gun out of the man’s hands.
The other man approached you, but you were ready as you stabbed him in the chest. He grunted, pulling it out and throwing it on the floor. He grabbed your arms tightly to restrict your movements and pushed you against the doors as the elevator jolted onto the fourth floor. You kneed him in the groin and got your hidden blade out, getting him in the gut and wherever you could reach.
The doors opened again, making you fall backwards with the now bleeding man landing on top of you and using his weight to slam you down. The impact on your head made your vision blurred, and it didn’t help when he slammed your head down for a second time, making your ears ring. Your eyes vaguely seeing him pull an object from his jacket that triggered something in you.
The assassins that you’ve trained with, the ones that were sent to kill your family and those who worked to erase those events from existing, were scattered across New York. Some worked under the Italian mobs, few with the Chinese, and even the cartels. All of the ones that worked under the rivals of Tasarov were already killed by John Wick. There were a few groups that you had a working partnership with and was able to help you hunt the others down.
The more experienced assassins like Sasha were harder to track down, but they were the ones that the Instructor trusted with information the most. They were the ones that were tasked to put you down. It was at the docks out of all the places where they ambushed you. They held you down, they beat you near death, then injected you with some kind of drug. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious liquid or the injuries that knocked you unconscious.
When you wake up, you were in an apartment in New York, not knowing who you were or who were the people standing in your room.
The man was yanked off of you by an furious John Wick who shot two bullets in his chest and one in his head. Luckily, there was a suppressor on his gun, as it would have alerted the innocent people on the floor. If they were all innocent. After what you’ve realized that the past five years you were surrounded by lies, you wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole fourth floor were composed of assassins tasked to watch you.
After the man was dealt with and dragged into an alcove with the other one, John held out a hand for you to take. You shook yourself out of your daze and grabbed it. He helped hoist you up and tucked his handgun away. His eyes scanned over you for injuries, his eyebrows furrowed in worry and concentration.
“I’m okay, just dizzy,” you assured him.
He nodded, his hand hovering by your back in case you stumbled as you headed to your old apartment. The old key you had didn’t work, but John was quick and used the throwing knife you dropped and jammed it into the keyhole. He drew his gun out and went in first, sticking his head around before walking fully inside. You followed behind with your blade at the ready.
The two of you inspected the rest of the apartment and came up empty. You went back to your room and rifled through your belongings, hoping they hadn’t touched anything valuable. John handed you the duffle bag and helped you pack with essentials and person items. You wondered what else they took from you.
“I’m going to double check Marion’s room for something real quick,” you told John, leaving the room before you could reply.
You rushed over to her room before the thought could escape you. It was something that you’ve wanted to see ever since you started getting your memories back. You hoped that going back to the apartment would help with your memories and while it somewhat worked, there was something that you hoped that Marion had taken, if it meant that it wasn’t lost forever.
Her room was quite bare with not much of a personal touch. You sifted around her closet and under her bed, stomping on the floorboards and going through her drawers. When you came out with nothing, you took a moment to calm yourself and took in the room. A dark object under one of the desk’s legs that was partially under the drawer stood out.
You kneel down and lift the desk, sliding the object out. It was something wrapped in a black cloth that Marion had been using to keep her desk balanced. As you unraveled the cloth, the sight of a shiny metal edge made your heart race.
You tossed the cloth away and held out the object out. It was your vorpal blade.
You walked out into the main area and peeked out of the window towards the building across the street where you and John were. John walked up behind you and showed you his watch before pulling you out of the line of sight. Just as expected, one shot rang out, followed by an explosion.
-
“What do you mean he blew up?” Marion demanded, standing on the side in the rail station.
“Arlo did as you told him. The room blew up as soon as he took the shot, taking him and the other three with him.”
“And the other five?”
Silence.
Marion threw her Nokia against the wall and screamed, the sound echoing off the walls.
-
Taglist:
@venusgothic
@weappreciatepower
@anita-e-taylor
@mikaneonox
@sparrowsparrow
A/N: Decided to write one of those “Previously on...”, which I haven’t done since my days on FF . net lol. I’m going to try and do this more, maybe add a summary for the first chap and a Previously on the second chap. Sorry if this chap is too wordy, but there’s stuff starting to go down. Lmk what you guys think. Thanks for reading!
#john wick#john wick x reader#john wick imagines#Persephone#persephone p3#keanu reeves imagines#Keanu Reeves
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Little Snow White
Pairing: Seokjin x You
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fractured Fairytale!AU
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Swearing, Mature themes, Minor character death
There are many renditions of the tale of “Snow White”, but the real story is only known by few. So before we begin, let’s clear a few things up. The story is not about a ditzy princess and a blood thirsty, ostentatious queen. There are no seven dwarves or happy-go-lucky songs. Now that that’s been cleared, let the story begin.
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, a prosperous, young prince had recently assumed the throne. The prince knew he was a handsome man, with lips red as the rose, hair back as ebony, and skin white as snow. He became known as the Little Snow White Prince. Yes, Prince Seokjin was as fair as they came.
But with his beauty, came with vain and envy. The young prince was foolish and spent the kingdom’s money on himself. His royal advisor, a wicked and power hungry man, let Seokjin waste the kingdom’s money. Soon the villages grew poor and sickly. They grew angry as the prince blindly spent their money, unaware of the Royal Advisor’s increase in taxes.
Riots began to break out, but the prince remained oblivious to it all. Until he was forced out of the castle. The Royal Advisor had told him if didn’t leave, the rioting villagers would kill him. So the Little Snow White Prince left, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.
To make his point apparent, the Roya Advisor sent his best hunters after the prince. They chased him into the woods, letting nature take care of him. For many days, the Prince wandered alone, lost within the vast forest. Cold and starving, Seokjin stumbled upon an old house. It was falling apart and was covered in a layer of dirt, but, in his desperate state, he went to the front door and knocked feebly. Just as the door open, sleep deprivation took over, leaving him passed out on the front steps.
When Seokjin woke up, he was in a hard bed, covered in an itchy blanket. “Hello?” he called weakly. When there was no response, he heaved himself out of bed. He walked to the door, pulling the heavy wood open. Voices echoed from down the stairs. Slowly and silently, he crept down the stairs. As he drew nearer, he could hear what the voices were saying.
“Who is he?” asked one voice, followed by a yawn.
“I can tell you who he is,” came the voice of a young boy’s voice. “He’s that no good Snow White, the Prince who reduced us to nothing more than orphans.”
“Jungkook,” warned another voice.
“Namjoon, he has a point. We have nothing. The Prince took everything we had and then some.”
“But did you see his condition?” asked another. “He was on death’s front steps.”
Having heard enough, Seokjin stepped into the doorway. Six boys sat around a small table. They fell quiet when they saw Seokjin. “You’re right,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself. “I am Prince Seokjin, the Snow White Prince. I’m--I’m the reason everything is in ruin.”
The six boys looked at Seokjin in pity. He was just a kid like them, alone in this world without a home and no family. “What are you doing here?” asked one of the boys. He had brown hair and was wearing soot covered clothing.
“I was cold and I just--”
“No, what’re you doing here? Alive? The Royal Advisor said you died.” Seokjin stared at the boys.
“N-no. I’m very much alive.”
“Then why aren’t you in the castle?” asked another boy. He had blonde hair and was wearing a shirt made of carpet patterns and grey pants. “Why did the Royal Advisor say you were dead?”
“Obviously he’s a power hungry psycho who let you do whatever you want. Oh my god, he wanted this to happen,” the one referred to as Namjoon said. He had a black, dread mohawk and was clad in baggy clothes.
“Whatever the case, I left and I am not going back,” Seokjin declared. He sneezed, shivering slightly. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I should get going.”
“Yes, you should.” Seokjin guessed this was Jungkook. He couldn’t be more than ten-years-old, dressed in clothes too big and with unkempt hair.
“You’ll die out there,” said Namjoon. “You need food and rest. You should stay here.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Nonsense! After all, you’re one of us now.” The boy who had spoken had spiked, black hair and had a mask covering the lower half of his face. “Welcome to our mini family of rejects. I’m your hope, you’re my hope, I’m J-Hope. That’s Suga” J-Hope pointed to a boy sitting in a chair tucked away in the corner. He had orange-red hair and torn clothing. “That’s Jimin, V, and Jungkook. And this is our leader, RM.”
Seokjin nodded to each boy. He felt strangely at ease with the six boys. The leader stepped forward, offering his hand. Seokjin smiled, shaking Namjoon/RM’s hand. Welcome to Bangtan, Seokjin.”
“Jin. Call me Jin.”
From then on, the Snow White Prince was Jin. Ten years passed, and with each passing day, Jin grew more fair, both in beauty and personality. As the years went by, Jin grew alongside the boys, forming special bonds with each of them. His time with them had humbled him. For the most part. He cooked for them and nurtured them.
With the passing years, the kingdom continued its steady decline. With the decline, the boys turned to the old abandoned mines. They reinforced the support beams and began mining for precious gems. Each day they tunneled further and further, collecting diamonds, rubies, emerald, and sapphires. They supplied the villages with enough jewels to keep them sufficed and the rest were hidden away. The villages grew fond of the seven boys, they grew to love the seven boys.
Riots continued to break out. Their money was continually taken and thrown into a vault. The people rebelled. Change was brewing on the horizon.
A young woman was running through the woods, desperately trying to outrun the Royal Advisor’s hunters. She wandered around the forest for some time before she stumbled upon an ancient hobble. She cautiously approached the house. She tried peeking through the windows, but it was too dark to see anything. She turned the knob of the front door and found it unlocked.
Stepping through the door, she found it was most definitely not abandoned. In fact, it was practically spotless. She ran her finger across the bookshelf in the front room. There wasn’t even a speck of dust. She wandered around the house curiously.
She went up the stairs, peeking into the different rooms. There were six in total, but there were seven beds. She walked around one of the rooms. It was the simplest room, a bed and a nightstand. Tucked away in a corner was a vanity without a mirror. On the vanity sat a bejeweled brush.
“For such a dingy place, they sure have a lot of nice things,” she thought. A yawn slipped past her lips. She sat down on the bed which, to her surprise, was extremely comfortable. She laid back, letting her eyes flutter shut.
Jin marched home with the boys as he did every night. He watched the boys, observed how they’d changed over the decade he was with them. Taehyung’s hair was now an ash grey, and he had somewhat grown into his limbs. Hoseok’s once black hair was now red and he’d ditched the mask. Namjoon had (thankfully) lost the dreads and now had strawberry blonde hair. Jungkook, whom had grown the most and to love Jin the most, had traded in his loose-fitting closely and chose more form-fitting clothing. Jimin was now blonde and had more comfortable and colorful clothing. Yoongi had bright blue hair and took to wearing baggy clothing.
Jin looked down at his own apparel: dark clothing. He knew his hair was still black, but it had been ages since he’d gazed into a mirror. He never wanted to be reminded of who he used to be. He’d even gone as far as to have the mirror in his vanity removed.
Jin’s thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon stopped at the edge of the clearing where their home lied. He motioned for the boys to be quiet. They all slowly approached the edge of the clearing, peering around the trees. All the lights in their house were on.
“Who do you think is in there? Thieves? Hunters? Pirates?” Taehyung asked with wide eyes.
“If we were being robbed, they wouldn’t have turned the lights on? If it were hunters, there would be horses. Pirates wouldn’t be in the middle of the forest?” Yoongi pointed out.
“Then who’s in the house?” Hoseok inquired looking back at the house.
“We’re not going to find out cowering behind trees,” Jungkook said. Before Namjoon could stop him, Jungkook dashed towards the house. The rest of the boys followed, careful to remain quiet.
Jungkook opened the front door, peeking his head through. After making sure the coast was clear, he let the other boys in. They split up and searched the lower level of the house. “Anything?” Namjoon inquired softly. The boys shook their heads.
A rustle made them whip their heads towards the stairs. They all exchanged looks before quietly ascending the stairs. The rustling was coming from Jin’s room. They approached the room slowly. Pushing the door open, they silently crept into the room.
They stopped when they saw whom had made the noise. A beautiful maiden laid fast asleep in Jin’s bed. She was clad in tight leather and looked at peace. Jin stared at her in awe. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, ever.
“It’s--it’s a girl!” Taehyung squeaked.
“She’s really pretty,” Jimin said, his cheeks rosy.
“She’s trouble and she needs to leave,” Jungkook huffed.
“Oh, you’re a big, ol’ grump,” Hoseok whined. “She’s not hurting anyone.”
“She broke into our house,�� he pointed out.
“But she didn’t hurt anyone,” Hoseok countered.
The girl shifted. Voices pulled her from her peaceful slumber. Opening her eyes, she saw seven boys around her age, standing around the bed. She let out a surprised and all seven heads turned towards her. They stared at her, a range of emotions on their faces.
“Uh, how do you do?” she inquired. They continued to stare at her. “Um, I said, ‘how do you do?’.”
“How do you do what?” one boy snapped. She stared at the boys in shock. She examined each of their faces carefully, until you got to the last boy. He was quite handsome. He had red lips, black hair, and skin white...as…
“Little Snow White!”
Jin stared at the girl. It’d been years since he’d heard that name, let alone someone call him by it. He stared at her curiously. “Who are you?” he asked cocking his head to the side.
She stared back at the handsome man, almost caught in a trance. She couldn’t believe she had found the Little Snow White Prince. Though, he wasn’t exactly little. He was quite tall and had extremely broad shoulders. “Y/N,” she answered. “Who are you guys? Do you live here?”
The boys shot nervous glances to Namjoon, unsure what to do. “Yes, we live here,” he replied stepping forward. “My name is RM, and these are my brothers: J-Hope, V, Suga, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin.”
Y/N nodded, eyes stills fixed on Jin. He was watching RM, avoiding her gaze. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“I-- uh--I pissed off the Royal Advisor’s hunters,” she told him, sparing him a glance. “Pro-tip, when they say, ‘drop to your knees’, don’t reply with, ‘I’m not your mother’.” The ones called V and Jimin giggled.
“As fascinating as your story is, it’s time for you to leave,” Jungkook announced. “We don’t need a troublemaker here.”
“Please don’t send me away,” you pleaded, jumping to your feet. “My village is dying, but since I found Prince Seokjin, there’s hope!”
“Prince Seokjin is dead,” spat bitterly. “The boy you’re looking for is long gone. If you want to help your village, you’ll leave.” Jin walked out of his room, heading to the kitchen to start dinner.
Y/N chased after him, ignoring the other boy’s protests. “How could you say such a thing?” He ignored her. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.” He continued to ignore her. “Your people are suffering! They’re dying and need their leader. They need you, do you even care?”
Jin slammed down the knife he was holding, spinning around. The heartbreak was evident in his eyes as tears threatened to spill. “Of course I care! I’ve always cared. That’s why I left. I was only fifteen when I accumulated the throne, and in a matter of months the kingdom fell. By the time I realized what had actually happened, it was too late.”
His confession brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. She blinked them away. “You may not have been able to do anything then, but you can do something now,” she offered. He shook his head.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Fight, dammit!” you shouted. “March in there and demand your throne!”
“And you just believe they’re just going to hand the throne to an orphan prince because I said so?” Jin retorted.
“Yes, I do believe. And I’m willing to bet those other boys believe in you too.” Jin stared at Y/N, his gaze cold and hard.
“This isn’t some fairytale. Wishing on stars isn’t going to magically fix everything. I’m sorry, but you’re wasting your time and your village’s.” Jin turned away, resuming making dinner. “Feel free to stay for dinner and the night. I know how the hunters can be.”
Y/N stormed outta the kitchen, angrier than a disrupted hornet’s nest. A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her into the hallway. The six boys were staring at her sympathetically. “Don’t take what he said to heart,” Jimin told her.
“It’s a sensitive topic for him,” J-Hope added.
She sighed. “But why? Why isn’t he willing to fight for us? You guys would stand with him, wouldn’t you?”
“We’d die for him, but that’s not the point,” Jungkook said.
“The point is, what can seven orphans do?” She looked down at her feet, deflated. Y/N felt she had to convince Jin to do something. Or there would truly be no hope for the kingdom.
Jin made dinner in silence. He let himself sink deep into thought. He let his mind wander. He thought long and hard, about nothing and everything. Jin ate dinner in silence. He let Hoseok lead the conversation as he retreated further into himself.
As Jin was about to climb the stairs, he saw Y/N lying down on the couch “Hey, uh, Y/N,” he called. She glanced over at him. “Do you want to, um, just--follow me.” She stood up, making her way to him.
He lead her up the stairs, to his room. “You can sleep here,” he told her, lighting a candle.
“Where will you sleep?” she inquired.
“Downstairs,” he replied simply.
She grabbed his arm, shaking her head. “I understand you’re trying to be a gentleman, I’m not going to kick you out of your room,” she told him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she held her hand up, silencing him. “I also know you’re not going to let me sleep downstairs. So, I propose we share the bed. It’s definitely big enough, and, if the boys say anything, they’ll get a jab in the shoulder. Deal?” A ghost of a smile crossed over his face. He nodded.
Y/N fell back onto his bed, happily surrounded by comfort. Jin climbed in next to her, pulling the covers over the both of them. She asleep almost instantly, but he stayed up, watching you in wonder. He didn’t know what it was, but you left him in awe. And with that feeling, he drifted off to sleep.
Jin woke up to her sleeping form next to his. He stared at her. She looked at peace, and he was slightly jealous. Though Jin was content with his life, he could never truly be at peace. There was always a dull ache in his chest. It was why he never went to town, seeing the people shattered his already cracked heart. He ran a timid hand across her cheek before he carefully crept out of his bed.
Y/N awoke with a set plan. Jin wasn’t in bed with her. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms. Sunlight shone through his window.
She went downstairs, finding the house completely empty. In the kitchen, a nice breakfast sat with a note. “Enjoy breakfast, it should last you until you reach your village. x Jin,” it read.
She threw the note down in disdain. Of course he would try to get rid of her. Right when there was glimmer of hope, someone messed it up. She needed to show him just how much the kingdom needed him. How much she needed him.
When Jin arrived home, the scent of apples enveloped him. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, to her. He leant against the door frame, crossing his arms. He followed her movements intensely. “Didn’t realize you were the apple pie type,” he commented.
She turned around, an amused smirk on her face. “I’m not. I actually really hate apples.” The ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“I smell something amazing,” Taehyung called. He jogged into the kitchen, slightly drooling.
Jungkook followed, sniffing the air excitedly. The other boys soon followed suit, sitting down at the table. “Hope you boys like apple pie,” Y/N hummed.
Jin sat down, staring at her with a quirked brow. He may have spent the last decade shut away from society, but he knew a bribe when he saw one. He watched her intently as she set the pie in front of him.
“When was the last time you went into town, Seokjin?” she asked sitting across from him. Jin closed his eye, clicking his tongue.
“We’re not discussing this--”
“Actually, we are,” Y/N interrupted. “You see, I decided to do some digging. The town knows you’re alive. What’s even better is that they believe you’re putting together an army. They’re preparing to fight for you.”
“I’m not making anyone fight for me!” Jin exploded.
“You’re not. They’re doing it of their own free will. They need you Seokjin. They need the their Little Snow White Prince,” she replied softly.
“She’s right.” Everyone turned to Jungkook shocked. He was staring at Jin with a wide range of emotions on his face. “The people need you--we need you.”
Jin’s voice broke, “I can’t.”
Hoseok took Jin’s hand, clutching it. “Jin, you’re our brother. We know you. We believe in you,” Hoseok told Jin.
“You don’t want us to fight for you? We won’t. But we’ll fight with you,” Namjoon added.
“This is who you are Jin. You can’t deny that anymore, but you’ll always remain our brother. Always,” Jimin assured him.
“How? How can I fight? Lead?” Jin asked staring at his hands.
“Rally the people. Show them you’re ready to defend them. Show them you care,” Y/N said exasperated. An idea popped off in her head. “I’ll train you.”
“What?” all seven boys asked at once.
“I’ll train you. What? Why do you think the huntsman wanted me on my knees, because I’m pretty? No, it’s because I know my way around a sword.”
“Can we trust you?” Jungkook asked crossing his arms. “No offense, but someone who has multiple hunters after her is a bit suspicious.”
“As of right now, I’m your only hope,” Y/N told him honestly. He shrugged, convinced; the other boys nodded in agreement. Jin continued to stare at Y/N. She intrigued him, but so did a good murder mystery. He tilted his head, evaluating her.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Train us.” Y/N smirked triumphantly. “There’s just one condition.”
Y/N’s smirk dropped as she stared into Jin’s eyes. “Tell me, what’s your angle? Why are you so adamant on me taking down the Royal Advisor? After all, I’m sure a woman your… stature, is more than capable of doing it yourself.” Y/N stared at him, chest heaving. She licked her lips, eyes shifting from boy to boy.
She straightened her spine, staring Jin dead in the eye when she answered, “He’s my father.”
There was silence as everyone watched Y/N. Then Jin slowly stood up, moving around the table. He grabbed her with one arm, yanking her out of the chair and tossing her against the wall. He took his forearm and pinned her against the wall. His normally soft, brown eyes were now swirling black orbs as he stared her down, his broad stature towering over hers.
“You treacherous snake,” he hissed. “Your father took everything from me, from my brothers. And you have the damn audacity to ask for my help?”
Y/N swallowed thickly. “I know I don’t have the right to--”
“You’re damn right you don’t!”
“--but please, we need your help,” she pleaded.
“Screw you,” he spat. “I’d rather die than help you.” He pushed off of you, turning around.
“Then don’t do it for me, do it for your people.”
“I should kill you and his wretched bloodline,” Jin seethed. Y/N turned her head away, hurt. Jin knew he’d crossed the line, but he refused to apologize. He was hurting. It was like she’d taken a serrated knife and slit open old scars.
“Wait, am I the only confused by the fact that the Royal Advisor has a daughter?” Jimin interrupted. Taehyung murmured in agreement.
“Good point, if your his daughter, how come we’ve never heard of you?” Suga asked. There were murmurs from the others.
Y/N dropped her gaze, staring at the floor. “My father was, unimpressed, with me being a woman. After all, what man wants a daughter as an heir. But considering my mother died in childbirth, he worked with what he got. He--he turned me into a weapon. A weapon he could use at his disposal,” Y/N growled. The boys shuffled around awkwardly. “If you think I’m working for him, toss that idea out the window. I resent him and everything he is and has done.
“Seokjin, I’m begging you, please. Help us. We need you--I need you. Seokjin. Please.” Y/N and the boys stared at Jin.
At the boys stares, Jin relented. He sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair. He ran a tired hand down his face. “Fine. I relent. Teach us what you know.” Y/N sighed in relief. “But if at any point you betray us, I won’t hesitate to kill you. This is your last chance to leave.”
Y/N stared at Jin, eyes ablaze. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow. Evening gentleman, Seokjin.” Y/N nodded her head before heading off to sleep.
Time and Y/N were not kind to those boys. Everyday, from dusk to dawn, Y/N trained the boys. She trained those boys not only in combat but in etiquette, something the boys truly lacked. Months of training and the boys were finally turning into men. Well educated, mannered, and trained men. They were slowly warming up to her, the pies helped with that. Well, six of the seven boys were warming up to Y/N and her pies.
Jin was another story. No matter how hard Y/N tried, he always kept her at a distance. There were, of course, moments when he would let his guard down, where the two of them could get close to each other. Sometimes emotionally, sometimes physically. Jin was an enigma of a man.
“You’re ready.” You stared at the boys, thoroughly impressed with how well they’d done in training. The boys cheered, heading inside for celebratory drinks.
Y/N followed but she went upstairs, to Jin’s room. He was standing by the window, his broad, and now muscular, body covering most of it. His forearm rested against the window frame. “Are you sure they’re ready?” he inquired, not turning his body away from the window.
“No, but it’s now or never Seokjin,” she told him.
He inhaled sharply, tisking. He pushed himself away from the window, but continued to stare out it. “I told you not to call me that,” he reminded her.
“You didn’t have a problem with it a couple nights ago,” she said smirking.
“That’s why it’s a problem now,” he explained. “We don’t do anything until they’re a hundred percent ready.”
“That’s time we don’t have,” she said stepping into the room. “The time is now. They know the plan, and they’ll be able to defend themselves.”
Jin stalked towards Y/N, his frame towering over hers. “After all these months, how are you still so adamant about this?” he whispered, mouth brushing the shell of her ear.
“You know why.”
He hummed, resting his hands on her waist. She gripped the edge of his sweater, pulling him closer. He nudged his nose against hers, brushing his lips across hers.
He pulled away when she leant in, pulling her hands away from his sweater. She jaw clenched as she snatched her hands away from him.
“It’s time to rally. Be dressed, downstairs, and ready to leave,” she ordered leaving.
Y/N stood downstairs, lacing up her boots. She slipped on her gear, strapping it on tightly. The boys filed in, strapped in their gear. “Damn Y/N, if things work out, you know where my room is,” Suga whistled, eyeing her shamelessly.
She grinned. “Might just take you up on that offer Sugaboo,” she said with a wink. Jin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Alright boys listen up.” All eyes turned towards Y/N.
“This is how things are gonna go. J-Hope and V, you’re both going to to the center of town and cause chaos. Amp the people up, start riots, liven up the revolt. The hunters will be drawn to you. Keep them there.
“Jimin and Suga, you two will be leading the volunteered fighters to the front gates. The majority of the guys will be sent to ‘handle’ you. Give them pure hell. Keep them there.
“Jungkook and RM, your guys job is the most important. You’ll be taking on the Royal Advisor’s personal guard. They’ll be stationed outside of whatever room he’s in. Get them away from the room.
“Jin and I will take out the Royal Advisor. Once he’s gone, Jin will take back his throne and he’ll restore order.”
“Y/N, sweetheart, I was wondering where you’d skipped off to,” the Royal Advisor cooed. She tensed, faltering under his intense gaze. “I s’pose you’re here to kill me, Seokjin. My, how you’ve grown. You know, you look just like your mother. Gorgeous woman, smart too. She was lethal, but I was smarter.
“Where are my manners? Please have seat. Sit, sit!” the Royal Advisor said waving his hands. Y/N and Jin sat down, side glancing each other. “The Little Snow White Prince, here to reclaim his throne. I must say, that’d make quite the story.”
The Royal Advisor set his gaze on to Jin. There was a glint in his eye, an angry, dark glint. Jin refused to break under his stare. Jin sat up straight in his chair, matching the Royal Advisor’s hard stare. “You know how this has to end,” Jin said.
He nodded. “I’ll go quietly, on one condition.” He spared Y/N a warning glance. “I want you to take one bite of that apple.”
Jin turned to the one red, shiny apple on the table. His gaze shifted between the apple and the Royal Advisor. “Just one?” He nodded. Jin shrugged, grabbing the apple.
It was almost to Jin’s mouth when Y/N snatched it from him, taking a bite. Jin quirked a brow. Y/N began to choke, foam dripping from her mouth. She dropped to the ground, spazzing uncontrollably. Jin called out to her, but she gave no response. Then she stilled, eyes fluttering shut.
“Well that took a surprising twist.”
Jin turned to the Royal Advisor who had a look of complete indifference. “Such a pity, really,” he added peering down at her. “She could have been so much more.”
A new sensation burned its way through Jin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Jin turned to the Royal Advisor, hands trembling. He gripped the hilt of his sword, jaw clenching. “You son. Of. A. Bitch,” he spat through clenched teeth.
He pulled his sword out, swinging. The Royal Advisor narrowly dodged the blow. He pulled out his sword, and the two of them engaged in epic battle. Swords clashed together echoing off the stone walls.
“You took, my throne.” Clash! “You destroyed, my kingdom.” Clash! “You killed Y/N!” Jin knocked the Royal Advisor’s sword from his hands, sending it flying. Jin brought his sword to the Royal Advisor’s chest, forcing him to his knees.
“The Royal Advisor chuckled darkly. “You don’t have the balls to kill me, boy.”
Jin’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. “See you in hell, bastard.” Jin drove the sword deep into his chest. Blood sputtered out of his mouth as he fell to the ground, sword lodged in his chest. Blood pooled on the ground around him, standing out against the white tile.
Jin rushed to Y/N’s side, cradling her body. Tears spilled down his face as he apologized profusely. The boys came barreling in, stopping upon spotting Y/N. The boys bowed their head, tears streaking their cheeks.
Jin clutched Y/N to him, her back to his chest. He rocked her back and forth, sobs echoing through the room. His continuous motion formed an almost Heimlich maneuver, but it was enough to dislodge the small bit of apple lodged in her throat.
Y/N coughed herself back to life. She glanced up at Jin. “I believe I once told you, ‘I really hate apples’,” she said. He laughed in disbelief, fresh tears stinging his eyes. She turned her head to the boys. “You guys look like shit. Have you guys been crying? Bitches.” The shook their heads at her, smiling.
I’d like to say everything turned out fine and dandy, but that’s not the way the world works. The entire infrastructure of the kingdom’s economy had all but fallen. It would take years to rebuild everything, not to mention the money it would cost to do so.
Y/N and Jin worked for years on rebuilding and fixing things. Jin moved the boys into the castle, giving them jobs as his personal guards and let them help him in the rebuilding. Over time, the two of them married and built their own family, their own happily ever after.
So, I guess every story does have some type of happy ending.
#haveanotherkpopblog post#bts#bts angst#bts fluff#bts smut#bts au#bts fics#bts one-shot#bts one shot#bts fairy tale au#bts jin#bts seokjin#bts kim seokjin#jin#seokjin#kim seokjin#jin fics#jin fluff#jin angst#jin smut#jin au#jin one-shot#jin one shot#seokjin fics#seokjin angst#seokjin fluff#seokjin smut#seokjin au#seokjin one-shot#seokjin one shot
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Chapter 11 Things left unspoken
First Previous Masterlist
As soon as she was able to function without feeling extremely nauseous and could breathe without the ache in her ribs she left for Nick Valentine’s office. “Nick, it's going to be a little bit before I continue our investigation, I just.. I can't right now. I-” her voice cracked and she looked at the door frame she was leaning in refusing to look at Nick at that moment. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “You take your time, its a lot. Come back here when you’re ready.” “Thank you.” it was whispered before she turned away from his office, she tried to walk with her normal confidence but it was clear she was starting to crack again. She felt weak. Like when she had just exited the vault, it took her a long time to collect herself and glue composure back together. She just wanted to go back before things had started to fall through.
She steeled herself before she entered the room again. She had been fixing her armor before she had left, she could hear the water running in the restroom. She spent the majority of the time collecting and packing her ruck, and she had finished equipping her armor when MacCready had stepped out of the restroom dressed and damp towels in hand. “Where are Winlock and Barnes anyway?” “Mass pike interchange, they’ve set up on the old overpasses.” He started packing up his own ruck and had swung his newly cleaned rifle over his shoulder. “It's probably a day worth of travel” Dogmeat had gotten up from his spot on the bed and was now standing near the door wagging his tail anxiously looking back at them. Riona shook her head in amusement at the dog. “I guess we’re starting now.” She double checked her equipment and opened the door. The market place was surprisingly busy for the time of the morning it was but It was still manageable to maneuver, they were just about to leave before MacCready insisted on stopping to collect more medical supplies. “We went through a lot the last time we went out, should get more.” He went off with Dogmeat for a moment and Riona sat down on a fence trying to plot out the best way to get to the interchange, she had decided to avoid going towards the west tunnel of the interchange because it was likely collapsed. She was still working on plotting out their path when they had returned, MacCready was looking over her shoulder leaning on the fence she was perched on, She tipped it towards him to show their path. “Figured we could go up north, then west to take the bridge than to try going through the tunnels.” She looked up at him expectantly waiting for him to give feedback. “Looks good Boss,” He said with a smile and pushed off the fence waiting for them to leave. They traveled with relative ease until they hit a portion of the city MacCready had called hangman's alley. Riona grumbled, they would have to clear this before they could continue, She tugged on her helmet and put her visor in place before flicking on her sword. They both could hear a firefight going on in the near distance which set them on edge. “Cready’ watch our back” She was already crouched down by one of the doors to enter hangman’s alley, trying to unlock the chained doors. Once they swung open it the alley broke into chaos. There was a guard post right next to the door, she immediately climbed up onto it and gutted the raider that stood post there. She could hear others running from their dilapidated shacks, and hear one or two yells in the signature psycho high. Dogmeat had bolted in after her and crashed into another raider, pinning them down on the ground, Riona had made short work of the entrapped raider. MacCready had taken out a raider that was perched upon one of the roofs, that was taking aim down at Riona. Of which was currently fist fighting a psycho raider, it took mere seconds for Riona to lose her patients with the raider who had managed to disarm her. She had kicked his legs out from under him and slammed his head into the workbench that she was previously pinned against, a curtain of red dripping down from it and her face splattered. It was a relatively short battle and one that only Riona had managed to come out dirty. But she was excited to continue their journey, she was excited to have an attainable goal, something physical and something she knew the outcome. So when she took off her visor and helmet she was beaming, s look MacCready hadn't seen on her before. “You just like killing' things dontcha?” he knocked his shoulder into hers, she pushed back and looked up at him. “I'm just glad to be getting stuff done.” she placed her visor and sword back at her hip, before biting her lip and looking away from him fiddling with a strap on her shoulder. “We should only be going north for a little bit more.” It was relatively quiet for being in the outdoors, occasionally Dogmeat would bolt off to collect some items that Riona hadn't seen. It was a peaceful kind of silence that had become rare in the commonwealth and even rarer when if you traveled the commonwealth often. Riona had decided to start flicking through the radio stations and had settled on the diamond city radio, which had been playing jovial songs. “I wonder how they managed to find so many different songs after the bombs, their tapes had been hard to keep before.” She was just saying what floated off her mind at the moment and occasionally humming along. MacCready seemed momentarily surprised before looking down at her again. “What was it like? Before the bombs?” He tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting to dive into her past and make her uncomfortable. She hummed and pulled on the lapels of her coat, it was becoming the time of year that she would expect to see snow soon, her new coat and armor doing little now to defend against the chill. “It was… Different. It wasn't violent near our homes or in our towns but it felt like it could happen any day. There were supply shortages all the time for the home front, almost everything had been pushed to back our military. Cars couldn't drive, there was no fuel for anything that wasn't deemed important, and the fusion cars that are left on the roads today were too expensive and hard to obtain. We were waiting for the shoe to drop...I was apart of the Army before. They had just started a real campaign into fusion power, it was powered the majority of what we had left, it was introduced into schools and hospitals which had been important enough to keep power. Our armor was powered by it, and it was mostly what our group troops had used. I had joined when I turned 18, it was in the middle of the riots in Canada, almost immediately after my training they sent my unit to the Alaskan front. I couldn't tell you how long we were there on that front but I had finished my first contract on that front. I was a little less than two years into my second contract when I was sent home, pregnant. I was forced back home. I hated it. Back to Nate, a coward. He thought it was a good thing, glad that I was pregnant, even though it wasn't going to be his. He thought a baby would fix our marriage. We never should have gotten married in the first place, he was nervous when I had joined, and when I came home from basic he insisted we get married. He got to enjoy the creature comforts that my service rewarded, the home in Sanctuary, and easier access to supply. When I got home I had taken up needlepoint just trying to forget what I had seen and to forget who I lived with. It all felt like a blur at that point. When Shaun was born it was like a little light had been brought into my blur of life, I poured everything else I had at that point into caring for him. He wasn't even a year old when the bombs fell when he was stolen.” she was silent, and pulled at her fingers, adjusting anything that her hands could find, anything to avoid looking at MacCready after her likely oversharing. She hadn't thought of before in real detail until he had asked, it was something she had never really wanted to delve into when there were other things to do. She frowned, it was deep, her brow was furrowed. “I'm sorry, you're not here for a life story, it was chaotic before, difficult to navigate, this, today is much easier to manage.” It was short, stern and not really open for anything else. “Riona, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or upset you.” He was soft spoken, something which surprised Riona entirely, she met his eyes and noticed how incredibly worried he seemed momentary, he seemed extremely stressed out about the whole scenario at this point. She didn't like it. It was silent once again before she pointed out that they had to start traveling west on the road they had met. Dogmeat had found a large stick that he was dragging along the road and kept bounding between the both of them. She was smiling once again, as she picked up a smaller stick and chucked it for the dog, Of which bolted after it leaves the small tree he was dragging behind. Dogmeat had crashed into her when he returned with his stick, knocking her off balance and nearly to the ground when MacCready had caught her. She laughed lightly as she straightens, collecting the stick to toss for dogmeat. “Thank you Cready’” it was like playing with Dogmeat had taken years off of her, the normal scowl marks and stern face had melted into a warm smile. It was MacCready’s turn to throw Dogmeat's stick when he had bounded back towards them, When he looked at Riona she was fixing her hair, pulling it from the messy bun into a braid that hit on her mid-back. “How old are you?” it came out thoughtlessly, slipped from his tongue without a moment of thought put into it. She looked up at him, eyes wider than normal. He was beet red and was stammering an apology. “25, I think. Give or take a few hundred years” She chuckled at that and bumped into his side. “Cready’ it's not that big of a deal, don't worry bout’ it.” She had half a mind to laugh at him, she had no idea he could get so flustered over something like that. “How old are you then?” He looked strained for a moment, deep in thought and she thought he wasn't going to answer her until he spoke. “22” She was surprised, it was only three years but she would have guessed that he was at least her age or older, with how stressed he looked all of the time. She supposed a life out in the commonwealth would do that to you though. “Oh, I didn't expect that,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood again. He smiled “What? You expect me to be old like you, huh?” He had a grin growing as he looked down at her. She feigned offense, pressing a hand to her chest and putting a haughty look upon her face. “Well, I'll be! I'm not old! You're just jealous” she was laughing fully leaning against MacCready as they walked, it had fallen quiet again, songs from the radio slowly filtering in. Dogmeat had joined them again and was currently struggling between carrying his throwing stick and another small tree. She had checked the map on her pip-boy, they were probably a few more hours out. They walked close for a while, she was worrying her lip again when she let out a small huff and wound her arm through his without saying a word, she had a slight blush graced across her face, which only deepened when she felt his handset on top of hers. They stayed like that, undisturbed on their travels to mass pike interchange, they stopped about a half hour out to set up in an abandoned shack to rest through the night.
Next
#maccready#Robert Joseph MacCready#sole survivor x maccready#reader x maccready#sole survivor#fallout4#fallout4 companions#sat in the ashes#fluffy
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Life as a Grab Bag
A release from the patreon vaults for New Year!
Rachelle's commission request this month was "Rei and Mina doing the Japanese New Year traditon of fukubukuro after a hard year" After doing research on this, I found myself intensely jealous that this isn't a US thing, because tag urself I'm Rei. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so very much for all your support.
“You know, every year I say I can’t believe this shit, and yet, every year, here we are.” Minako complained, but it may as well have been to the air, for all that Rei was listening to her. “And every year I’m misled to think doing something on New Year’s means something other than standing in line for 5 hours for a bag of crap.”
Rei whirled around in line. “Listen, the savings on these fukubukuro are fantastic.” She opened a large piece of paper, her eyebrows knit in concentration as she looked down, “And then we’ll go stand over at the department store--they’re staggered, so as soon as we get this bag, we’ll head over,” she nodded with determination, “and then, tomorrow morning--”
“What about food, rest….libations?” Mina shook her head, already knowing the answer.
“Mina, this is once a year.”
“God, do I envy Haruka right now. Even if she is with Squidward” Mina looked up at the sky, as if opening up a general request to any deity that might care to listen.
Rei gave her a scowl.
“I’m joking.” She crossed her arms and gave Rei a smile. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than a sidewalk, waiting.”
Rei had always been rather serious about her New Year’s bags, but this year her focus had taken a chilling seriousness, a lean and hungry look in her eye, the same as when she shot her arrow at an enemy. It was a unique blend of annoying, terrifying, and a little alluring, if Mina was being entirely honest.
The line moved ahead roughly three inches.
Rei whirled around. “See? Moving right now.” She tossed her head confidently. “You’ll see, just wait until we open them, I bet I’ll get a fur coat and then you’ll be forced to eat. Your. words.”
“Much as it does not surprise me to hear your dreams of being swathed in beaver,” Rei shot her a look, which she ignored, “you know no one ever gets those big prizes they advertise.”
“Just wait until I have my own company. I’m going to get those luxury fukubukuro, you know, from the big stores? The more you spend, usually the more savings you get per yen--you know, the higher end bags offer an average 67% real savings, while the lower--”
“Oh my god Rei.” Mina buried her head in her hands.
“--bags only offer something like 20% savings.” She tossed her hair back, near bragging over a victory she had not yet achieved. “I’ll win a vacation, or something like that, in one of those. I’ll be rewarded for all my hard work. It’s fate. You’ll see.”
“I’m not sure I believe in that kind of stuff anymore.” It was offered not as a judgment and not as a jibe, but as a simple fact, and it left them both quiet for a moment before Mina recovered. “You know, I’ve done enough of these and got screwed, I mean. I didn’t even bother getting on this year.”
And it was true enough that the year did not need to assist in Mina’s general sourness--between Rei’s constant and as yet unproven assurance that this year would be her year (it was, Mina loved to remind her, never quite her year), and Mina’s many times getting fukubukuro filled with lip balm and colored cellophane, and not much else, she was not predisposed to love New Year’s anyhow. That the grab bag of this year had turned up a net loss did nothing to soothe her, although perhaps, she thought fairly, even the best year of her life would have only resulted in more lip balm.
“Well,” Rei tossed her head authoritatively, “I know I’m excited. Oh, look, the line is moving again!”
They scooted ahead 6 inches.
__
There was a certain kind of pageantry that Rei took to these things, her bags all stacked up, ready for opening, waiting for her willing (or not) audience. The girls nibbled at their food as Rei cackled over the savings she’d won over.
Rei unwrapped her treasures, giving special attention to the cost savings of each one, cross-indexing websites to prove it. It was annoying in the way Rei always could be about money, and yet, with that, there was a comfort in it, that, despite the difficulty of the year, some things hadn’t changed, and never would. Mako still cooked in the kitchen. Rei still pinched a penny til it bled. There was hope in that, in the way there was in each sunrise, that no matter what, life continued, and they all continued along with it.
“The value of this bag ALONE is 4000 yen, and it was only 500” Rei nodded at the entire room as if teaching them an important lesson. “That’s a huge value.”
Mako laughed, wondering how it was that Rei ever got to know what a kitchen item was worth, and the warmth of it filled the room.
“Are you sure you want that stand mixer?” She tried not to show what a win it was, although Rei must know, there was nothing about savings that Rei didn’t know. “It’s just gonna take up space in your place, but I’d take it off of you.”
Rei looked at the large box. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about getting into baking…”
“Rei, I’ve had enough harrowing experiences this year.” Mina smirked at her from the couch.
Rei scowled. “I’ll have you know that I could learn to cook, especially with this,” she waved her hand over her winnings, “amazing and very valuable set of supplies that I’ve amassed.”
“Okay, okay, Rei,” Mako cracked her knuckles playfully, “What do you want?”
Rei’s eyes sparkled, alive with the glory of the deal. “I think a month’s worth of dinners is being extremely generous of me. For all this.”
“A week, tops, but I’ll throw in lunches.” Mako tried to look disinterested, but Rei was too shrewd, too quick, and too dogged for Mako’s will.
“Two weeks!” She held her fingers high, “and you throw in dessert with the lunches.”
Whether Rei actually wanted dessert was up in the air, but then, that was hardly the point of the exercise.
Mako shrugged and looked longingly at the stand mixer. “Fine.”
“Okay.” Rei frowned a little, disappointed that Mako had abandoned the game so quickly, and looked over at the pile of cosmetics. “Mina--”
“Forget it, Rei.” Mina moved toward the back of the apartment, looking for something.
Ami had a stack of books in front of her, her hand drifting over the covers, trying to decide which she wanted to delve into first.
“It looks like you did really well, Ami!” Rei beamed proudly. “What would you estimate your percentage saved was?”
“Oh this wasn’t a fukubukuro,” she looked almost apologetic, “I just bought these from the bookstore near my house, as a New Year’s gift to myself.”
Rei looked at her with a sort of shocked and disapproving wordlessness.
Ami blushed. “I used my membership card?”
Rei sighed heavily, but was interrupted by the sound of Mina setting something down with a small but decisive thump.
There was a simple wrapped fukubukuro on the table, indicating it came from the hobby store on the other end of town, and Mina sat down in front of it wordlessly.
“You got a bag, Mina? I didn’t think you were doing this.”
“It’s Haruka’s.” It settled over the room, echoing off the walls, and Mina could not stop herself from looking up at the photo on the wall from she and Michiru’s wedding, all smiles and warmth.
Rei put her hands on her hips, her mouth running. “How the hell did she get a bag for New Year’s, I mean she--um.” She stopped herself, suddenly realizing that everyone knew the end of the sentence, and the pain that lay behind it.
Usagi’s lip quivered, Mako’s arms crossed over her chest,
“Yeah, she had it preordered. Even though every year she thought she got ripped off,” She gave a huff, “Guess I’m not the only one who never learned from New Year’s.”
She opened the top of the bag, the crackle of each movement popping through the air and
She pulled out a handful of banded together nickel train tracks. “Haruka always talked about getting into model trains. She had a box of this stuff in the closet, just in case,” She looked back out to the girls, “but remember that year she got nothing but Roman warships and some army men, and some paint she already had? She was so pissed, I think she spent the rest of the day eating everyone’s osechi and pouting.”
Rei sat down next to her. “Michiru told her she could,” Rei smiled weakly and curled her hand in the air, her voice affected and haughty. “Buy you anything you care to have, Haruka.’”
Mina laughed, and popped her palm onto the table, “THAT’S NOT THE POINT, MICHIRU.’ You were right, buddy, your shitty luck was always the point.”
She took the last thing out of the bag, a large box with curled red writing on the front.
“A 1939 Jaguar. She’d have loved that.”
The girls stood around the table, looking down at the table, a small detail paintbrush rolling away toward the edge, almost falling until Usagi caught it and turned it over in her hand.
“I think we should build it.” Usagi spoke for the first time, and it was only then that Mina realized the strange quietness of the room as she’d opened the bag. The feeling of the room had been so oppressively loud that she had paid no mind to the actual lack of sound. Usagi let a tear fall from her cheek, but she did not sob. Not now. Now she was determined. “You still have her stuff, don’t you?”
Mina nodded. She could see it there, taking up space but somehow impossible for her to get rid of, years of hobby supplies and car kits that would never be made, placed in the back of her closet, hoping to be forgotten.
Rei put a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have to.” She seemed to remember herself, suddenly. “I mean, we have plenty of other things to do today, we don’t need to sit around and--”
“No.” Mina looked up at her. “I think it’s a good idea. I think she’d like it.”
Usagi opened the box and studied the plans carefully, as if Haruka’s knowledge could be transferred to her by sheer force of will. Mina walked back to the bedroom, and opened the closet door.
It was a strange thing, she reflected, what we take and what we leave when someone dies. Why this box, of all the things? They had never made a car together, she’d never so much as sat and watched as Haruka worked on her models-it was a mostly solitary hobby by its very nature, and for Haruka it had been unusually quiet and contemplative, and not what most people would have defined her by. The leather jacket Mina now wore from time to time, a few coins from the last time they’d gone to the arcade together, those things seemed more natural and no one questioned them.
And yet this box was the thing she clung to the most tightly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The voice was so unusually kind that it took her a moment to recognize it as Rei’s.
She began to unload some of the paint and glue out of the box. “Yeah. I think I do.” She looked up at Rei. “help me carry this?”
“I’ll help you carry it all.”
__
Meanwhile, in the Ginza district, a pre-ordered fukubukuro as a gift for Rei Hino sat, waiting to be sent out. The card was signed, M. Kaioh.
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The High Priestess Chapter 1
The High Priestess Chapter 1
TITLE: The High Priestess CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/? AUTHOR: SarimaPosthumous GENRE: Supernatural FIC SUMMARY: Jenny is an OC set in the Supernatural universe. She has owned a bar called the High Priestess for nine years and has managed to carve out her own niche in the hunting world. Everything changes when the two notorious hunters show up in her life after she’s managed to avoid them. RATING: M (Violence) WARNINGS: No spoilers. AUTHORS NOTES: Flashbacks take place around Season 5, however, it mostly takes place in the present. Please provide feedback!
Chapter 2
*Bang*
A gunshot rang out, I ran to the door of the supply closet I was in, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Shane!” I screamed as I slammed my body into the door to make it budge. I heard a struggle ensue as glass shattered throughout the bar and tables and chairs were knocked over. “Shane!”
I heard mumbling in what sounded like a different language followed by a scream. As the scream faded the door flew open as I threw my body against it once more. I watched Shane collapse as I ran towards him. “Jenny….” His voice wavered. “You’re my only family…everything you need to know is in the safe…” he coughed blood and tried to inhale. “You remember the combination, right?”
I nodded as tears streamed down my face.
I awoke slick with sweat and kicked the blankets away from me. I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed a glass of water to quench my thirst. After setting the glass down, I laid back and grabbed my phone to check the time. It was only 3 am. Sighing I set it back and closed my eyes trying to process the dream. It had been almost ten years since that fateful night at the bar and I hadn’t dreamt of that night in at least two. Duke rustled next to me and whimpered before licking my face. I scratched her ears and she went back to the foot of the bed.
In an attempt to fall back asleep, I tried to make a mental checklist of all that needed to be done before opening the bar. I did not make it very far as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
“I waged war in a fiery blaze I found peace in a purple haze My angels and my demons They don’t know their place Ready or not, they’re gonna come out and play”
I grabbed my phone to turn off the alarm that jolted me awake. Sighing, I tried to rub the sleep away from grey eyes before reluctantly rolling out of bed and dragged my feet towards the window to check the weather. When living in northeastern Ohio, you never know what you’ll get. It was grey out, but nothing too bad. As I made my way to the bathroom to get ready, my thoughts wandered back to my nightmare and my heart panged with sadness. I still remembered that night like it was yesterday because that was when everything changed.
Shane had owned the High Priestess for a few decades before I inherited it. He took me in when I had nowhere else to go. My family was killed by demons, which I would later discover that Shane was the hunter that killed them…well, all but one. The one that escaped ended up killing him that night before he managed to exorcise it.
I was only 16 at the time. Shane had adopted me to only emancipate me. He never explained why, just “in case anything were to happen to him.” After getting dressed in my baby blue flannel shirt and skinny jeans, I pulled my long brown hair into a pony tail before before walking downstairs towards the bar.
The entire upper back of the complex was basically a three-bedroom apartment. Duke followed me as I made my way downstairs, her large paws softly padding the floor behind me; I paused in the entrance to look around the rustic establishment. Flashes of broken glass, chairs, and blood crossed my mind. I blinked again and glanced around at the exposed brick, wooden beams, and the vaulted ceiling. The long wooden tables were as clean as the wooden bar. Stepping behind it, I grabbed the inventory sheet to figure out what I needed to grab on my run to the store. As I made my way to the back office, I sat at the desk and flipped through the pages.
I looked up at the safe and remembered how its contents completely changed my life. Even though Shane had taught me the combination, I never had any reason to open it before he died. Granted, I did not open it until I tried to figure out his funeral arrangements considering I was the only family he had left.
After the police took my statement and the Medical Examiner cleared the bodies to be taken back to their office, I was left alone surrounded by broken glass and blood. After sweeping up the glass, rearranged what was left of the intact furniture, and mopped up the blood, I sat on the floor and began sobbing. Shane was there for me when my family died. When those “burglars” broke into my home and slaughtered my family, Shane came in and killed two of the men before he killed me. Now he was gone, and I had no one.
I shook my head and took a deep breath trying to focus on the paperwork. Once I double checked everything, I stood up and walked over to the closet in the office. I opened it and slid open the fake wall to reveal and access the biometric lock before stepping into the safe room. It was every hunter’s wet dream: sound proof, iron and salt walls, and completely warded (just like the rest of the establishment). It was also stocked full of weapons, ammo, salt, charms, amulets, books, and other implements to kill various supernatural beings.
Shane had mentioned in one of his journals kept in the safe that a fellow hunter by the name of Bobby Singer had helped build this room. Bobby then helped me pick up the hunter lifestyle after Shane’s passing. That was when I found out what Shane was and how he had known to hunt the demon trying to kill me and my family through the letter he wrote. It then made sense why he had emancipated me the moment I turned 16. He knew as a hunter he would not live very long.
Looking around the room, I made sure I didn’t need to pick up any hunting supplies while on my supply run. Fortunately, everything was in stock, so I left to go pick up what I needed. When I took over the business, Bobby helped to introduce me to the hunting world. However, I never realized that the regulars at the bar were also hunters until Bobby came and introduced us. Shane had asked them not to reveal this world because he thought it was safer.
Over the years I established a pretty vast network along the east coast. Essentially, I put out cases for hunters, went on the occasional hunt, and procured and traded Supernatural artifacts. I also had arrangements made with demons and angels. If they needed to discuss or needed intel, they could come to the bar. With all of the warding around the building, they were all powerless under this roof and we all lived to see another day. It worked well. As I readied to open the bar, I couldn’t shake this unsettling feeling that the nightmare brought me.
As everything was in order, my bartender Padma arrived along with the two servers Carl and Elise. They knew about the Supernatural, but they weren’t hunters. I figured it was best not to keep them in the dark considering the clientele.
As the hunters began trickling in to exchange hunting stories or play pool, the bar settled into its comfortable atmosphere. I walked around and greeted the familiar faces and was introduced to some newcomers. Making my way back to the bar, I noticed the door open and was filled with dread. Two rather tall men walked in followed by a younger girl who looked distinctly familiar.
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester#sam winchester#original character#fanfiction#fanfic#the high priestess#hellhound#spn#spnfanfic#spnfanfiction#winchesters#dean winchester fanfic#Sam Winchester fanfic#the family business#spnfandom#supernaturalfandom
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Congrats on the follower milestone!! Could I please have Thor/reader, touch starved reader?
Tony Stark had learned the hard way that he couldn’t just touch you. He made the mistake of placing his hands on your shoulders while you were deep in concentration and you’d been so startled and surprised by the action that you’d grabbed him and tossed him over your shoulder before you’d realized he’d intended no malice in the action. But you’d been a captive scientist in a Hydra prison for too long, and your personal bubble was large. Vast even. And so Tony, and resultantly, the rest of the Avengers, learned quickly not to touch you.
It wasn’t that you disliked being touched, truth be told. And now, a year after your rescue and acceptance into the Avengers support team, you even craved the touches that seemed almost unconscious between team members. The science posse was constantly touching one another. Whether it was Tony or Bruce popping into the labs and patting staff on the shoulders, or reaching around and behind people in the way and accidentally rubbing into each other, or Tony shoving and nudging Bruce, the labs were a steady bustle of ‘excuse mes’ and laughter and lighthearted touches. Except for you. You were carefully excluded. You knew it was about respecting the experience you’d had as Hydra’s prisoner. It was touching and annoying all at once.
The rest of the Avengers you didn’t see as often, as they weren’t in and out of the labs as frequently, but on occasion you would encounter Natasha or Clint, who were both friendly and personable, but also struck you as equally unlikely to be the kind of person to revel in the touch of a stranger. Steve, you knew struggled. He was the kind of person who needed to touch people when he spoke, and every time he spoke to you, you saw how he awkwardly, would move to place a hand on your arm or shoulder, and then pull it back. You were determined to give him permission next time you encountered him, just because it was so uncomfortable to watch.
You were working on a specialized arrowhead for Clint when the monitor on your computer popped open a window with Tony’s face in it.
“Hey Sparky,” he winked, using the nickname he’d given you after you’d accidentally shorted out the electricity to half the lab during an experiment. “Team Christmas party tonight. Don’t forget!”
“Uh, I don’t actually -”
“Oh shit, I didn’t realize you didn’t do Christmas. Uh, Team Winter Holiday of your own choice party tonight!” He interrupted.
“Actually, what I was going to say was that I don’t think I can make it. I have -”
“You have nothing. I hacked your calendar. This is mandatory. I can’t give you your holiday bonus if you aren’t there,” Tony interrupted again, cutting off your excuse. What you really wanted to say was that you didn’t want to be stuck in a room full of mistletoe and people deliberately avoiding contact with you. What you wanted to say was that you would only come if someone would give you a holiday hug.
“Well, then. I guess I’ll see you tonight, boss,” you smirked.
“Dressy. There’s a dress code. Lab coat and tank top are not acceptable,” he winked at you and cut the connection.
XXX
You smoothed down the front of your dress as the elevator doors closed, hoping that is was neither too dressy nor too casual, but it was the best you could manage on short notice. The retro style dress had been purchased on a whim not long after your first paycheque with the Avengers. After your time with Hydra, you’d needed something to make you feel pretty and feminine again, and the dress had restored your sense of self, with its tucks and fitted contours. The elevator doors opened and you were impressed with how elegant and somehow low-key the Christmas decor was as you stepped out into the party.
There were strings of tiny white lights throughout the room, and one single, beautifully decorated tree in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out across the landing pad and beyond to the trees that surrounded the upstate facility that you’d been calling home for the better part of a year. It was like a greeting card.
“Y/N, you came!” Steve was the first to greet you, and he took in your dress in admiration. “You look wonderful.” You could tell he was holding himself back, and you smiled and patted his arm.
“Happy Holidays, Steve,” you smiled. The smile he returned was warm and genuine and made you melt a little. Tony made his way over and handed you a glass.
“Eggnog. Should loosen you up a little,” he smiled. “Watch out, Sparky, there’s mistletoe around. You too, Cap.”
You glanced up and saw that the vaulted ceiling was hiding a number of glittering balls of mistletoe and smirked at Steve. “Be careful, Steve. Karen from the lab will be looking for you once she sees those.”
“Thanks for the warning,” he laughed, and gestured toward the food. “The snacks seem to be free from entrapment. Maybe we’d both be safer over there?”
“Lead the way!” You laughed. You found yourself sitting with Steve and Wanda and chatting, enjoying the friendship and acceptance you’d found in this unlikely little family. Steve glanced across the room, a broad smile crossing his face.
“Thor finally made it,” he nodded to where the man in question stood. Your heartrate quickened as you took in the picture striding toward your group. His blond hair was swept back into a tie at the nape of his neck, his beard was perfectly trimmed. Perfectly tailored trousers emphasized his strong legs, and despite clearly being made to fit, his shirt was straining across his pectorals. Your mouth went dry. He pulled Steve to his feet in a warrior’s embrace, and Wanda rose and threw herself into his arms as soon as he released Steve. He turned to face you and smiled.
“You are radiant, Y/N,” he offered. You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Might I have a word with you in private?”
“Uh, I, uh.” You were at a loss. “Sure?” He gestured toward the tree, and you followed him. When you reached the large tree, he led you around behind it, where you discovered there was a loveseat in an alcove, making a quiet, private area. He gestured for you to sit, and then sat beside you. His shoulders were so broad that he crowded you a little. His knees turned toward you, and one large arm stretched across the back of the couch.
“Y/N, I seek not to hurt you, or cause you unease, which is why I asked to speak to you in confidence. As you are aware, Heimdall sees all, and he has seen your sorrow,” Thor began. You swallowed, wondering exactly what Heimdall had seen and related to Thor. Had he seen the nights where you wept for lack of contact, hugging yourself to try to simulate the sensation of being held? Or the days when you volunteered to take the Costco run so you could fall into the warm embrace of the world’s largest stuffed bear? How mortifying.
“I’m not sure -”
“I know when you first came to us, you were broken from Hydra’s abuse. But I also know you’ve used your time here wisely, and have sought out someone you trust to help you heal, and I want you to know how proud I am of your progress,” he interrupted. “I am making a mess of this, I am sure.”
“Keep going, I think you’re getting to the good stuff,” you smiled, nervous but anticipating what he might be trying to say.
“Heimdall described to me a large stuffed beast at the local supply hub that you are quite fond of,” he started, choosing his words carefully.
“The giant Costco stuffed bear? I love it,” you admitted with a laugh. Thor nodded. “He’s warm and fluffy and gives the best hugs.”
“Perhaps you believe that because you have never hugged a god.” There was a twinkle in Thor’s eye that was daring you to lean into his arms.
“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow.
“I only invite you to do so because I think you need someone to hold you, and because I think you are ready for such a level of intimacy,” he explained. “If I am incorrect, well, we’ve had this conversation quietly, and no one will be the wiser.”
You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and held your hand up to your nose, trying to hold back the warning tingle indicating you might cry. “That’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever said to me, Thor.” You made a slight movement toward him, and before you could move any closer, he pulled you into his strong arms, and pressed his lips to the top of your head.
“You must know how much we all adore you, Y/N,” he murmured against your hair as you sagged into his warmth, “how much I care for you.”
“You’re all so careful with me, I know you respect me, but,” you trailed off.
“Respect you, enjoy you, find you a perfect addition to this team,” he confirmed. “And adore you. And care for you.” His lips found your forehead again. All the weight of keeping yourself separate and apart melted away under the warmth of his touch. Thor’s hands tangled in your hair, and he lifted you into his lap effortlessly, leaning back on the loveseat, cocooning you in his arms. Your arms slipped around him and you laid your head on his chest, breathing in the sensual spice of his body and relaxing.
“People will come looking for us,” you commented, content in his embrace.
“Tony will come, you mean,” he laughed. “Let him. We have nothing to hide. There is comfort and intimacy in being held, and you and I have found it with each other.”
“And when you take off to Asgard again?” You asked.
“That won’t be until after the holidays at the earliest, but perhaps I can arrange for that bear of Costco to be delivered in my place,” he teased. His breath was warm against your temple, and you felt his lips rest against your skin again. “For now let us enjoy one another in friendship and wherever that may lead us.”
16/16
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Project Echo, Part 1: Chapter 14 (The Underground Crew)
Part 1 Summary: A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.
Chapter 14: The Underground Crew
Thor, Banner, and Bucky: Wonju-Gangwondo, South Korea
There was absolutely no cover between them and the access point. The three huddled in the trees and struggled to even make out the small island a mile away through the morning drizzle. Hydra soldiers were crawling all over the main base entrance, hidden in the forest a few miles back. Their entrance would be through the emergency exit. Bucky had no reason to blow the shaft when he came through, so it was the easiest point of entry. No doubt Hydra would have figured that out too.
Between their current position and the island was a university (evacuated because of a "suspected natural gas leak resulting in an underground explosion"), the rancid, muddy base of a man-made lake, and perhaps three trees before they'd be on top of the shaft. It was barely large enough to count as an island.
"If it dries up like this every year, how have students never stumbled into the base?" Sam was hiding just in the cloud layer, circling.
"They do," Bucky's voice was flat- his mind was on the girl, "the door is hidden, but one slips in every few years and Hydra gets a new plaything."
Sam shivered, "Same with swimmers when the lake's full?"
"The chemical run off from the cryo chambers renders the water toxic. Students who try to swim rarely make it out alive. Most learned to avoid the water entirely."
"Thank god we didn't decide to do this during monsoon season."
"That is why I waited until last month to attack."
"Well, nothing I've got will get you over there unseen, and if Hydra figures out we're here Steve and Nat don't have a snowball's chance. How you going to get over there?"
"You both should land for a moment, Sam Wilson and Clint Barton," Thor began to swing his hammer slowly. The drizzle began to tilt pretty sharply towards a downpour. Now even they could hardly see through the sheets of rain.
Bucky and Thor took point with Banner bringing up the rear, miserable. He couldn't Hulk-out until they got into the tunnel, so he ran barefoot and shirtless, holding up massively over-sized sweatpants. Bucky had his black leather tactical vest and jacket with his brand new metal arm (painted with the Avengers symbol in place of the red star) exposed. Thor was full god mode- cape, armor, plated sleeves, the works. Banner, in comparison, looked like a pitiful hobo-stalker, chasing them across the squelching grass and thick, grasping mud. By the time they reached the island his feet were frozen, scraped, and cut by jagged stones- he struggled to keep the Hulk back.
The island had seventeen Hydra agents guarding it. The sudden downpour had forced them back into the tree line where they remained under the thicker patches of foliage- until the Avengers arrived. Thor only managed to get a couple- Bucky was like a tornado of knives. It seemed like he would barely turn towards a soldier and the man would fall, grasping at the gash in his throat. Thor wasn't sure they even knew they were fighting before they fell.
Banner looked for someone who appeared to have some authority over the group and rooted around their corpse for the earbud transmitter- if they were to get a signal to their men on the inside there had to be an external boost somewhere. When he found it he clipped on Tony's interface- JARVIS would scan all comms on the same frequency and synthesize replies from the voices of soldiers that they picked up. Hopefully Hydra wouldn't catch on until it was too late.
"Steve, Natasha, we've got a truck leaving the facility headed for the southwest road, do you copy?" Clint was "grounded" up a pine tree. He'd decided pretty much as soon as he saw the wings that Stark wasn't going to be getting them back any time soon. He had already confided in Natasha that he intended to be buried in them. He hoped Thor's rain stopped soon- a taste of flying and he was addicted.
"Copy, good luck everyone," Steve ran for Natasha's position.
"See you later, but wish us luck instead. If I end up cold and wet and the girl isn't even here-"
"Hulk smash?" Tony snickered.
Banner nodded to himself, "Hulk smash."
Bucky, meanwhile, was looking closely at a large Buddha statue in the center of the small island. The entrance was hidden under this shrine. He found the faint etching of Hydra's logo and pressed it, then located symbols on the Buddha to act as a sort of password. The cement ring in the center of the clearing lowered, then swung inward to reveal a hatch barely wide enough for Thor to fit through. Banner felt validated- Hulk wouldn't have been able to fit a foot through there. His suffering was not in vain.
The floor of the tunnel was twenty feet down or so- Thor and Bucky jumped. Banner lowered himself far enough to see just how wide the tunnel was going forward. As he judged, a group of Hydra soldiers came around the corner to investigate why the hatch was open. Banner quickened his breathing and before they had time to radio for help he dropped and took on his Hulk form. His mind simplified, his rage increased, and only Banner was able to keep him from roaring. He dove at the soldiers and crushed them against a wall, then turned to look at Thor and Bucky. He growled and jerked his head. Hulk didn't know the fucking way, why weren't they doing their part?! Useless!
In places along the tunnel the walls had been blasted in and debris blocked their way. Hulk swept through these areas, clearing a path for Bucky and Thor. Bucky led where he could, knives at the ready, but they hardly came across any agents. The main focus wasn't some half-destroyed supply tunnel, it was the vaults. The bodies didn't really begin to pile up until they came to the first ruined door.
It was metal, reinforced, yet it hung at an angle and scorch marks radiated out from it. Bucky pried the doors apart only a hair and peeked through. Vault 1. Hydra swarmed the large warehouse-style room, inspecting dozens of large cryo chambers. Bucky had spent 30 years inside one of those, and the design hadn't changed much. There was a small window at roughly eye-level, but the rest of it was devoted to numbers and monitors. Doctors walked down the line, hooking tablets into those chambers that still emanated a glow. Bucky targeted the main power supplies and exits when he struck- anyone trapped inside one of those once the back up batteries died would have died a slow, miserable death from starvation and thirst. Nearly every window was clouded with bloody scratch marks. As the doctors looked in the windows the glass would shake as the trapped man or woman pounded. Their screams echoed dully.
One in every ten or so seemed to be a "chosen one". The doctor would compare the number on their pod with a sheet of paper and, if it checked out, they'd signal a soldier with a cart to attach a fresh battery on the bottom and the cryo unit re-initialized, freezing the poor bastard once again. The doctor closest to them shook his head and hit a red button on the side of the pod. The insides filled with fire and the screaming got louder for a brief moment, then died out entirely. Incineration.
Thor watched intently through the slit in the door, "James," he whispered, "those papers may reveal if the child is indeed here, or if Hydra has kept her alive. We should plan a way to lure one of the physicians to us and-"
A shadow detached from the banks of wires suspended on the ceiling (those not fried and frayed) directly over the scientist. It was smaller than Thor had imagined- perhaps Steve had been wrong in his analysis. It was distinctly humanoid too. Thor's mind raced with the possibilities. Someone from 'Project: Helius' must have been changed in the explosion! One of the scientists? A guard from outside the doors? The shadow was no mere summoned creature, it had purpose, it had form, it had a plan, it had- it had a metal arm. Thor whipped around, Hulk pointed up, and he saw the open ventilation shaft above his head. He looked through the door in time to see Bucky, hanging by his knees, slowly lower himself over the doctor, then grab his head, yank him into the ceiling, and break his neck all in one motion.
A few seconds later he dropped silently from the shaft with the paper in his hand, "Very impressive," Thor clapped him on the back and stood beside him so he could also read the llist. Several Project names were listed next to a "Kill" or "Preserve" order and a cryo tube number. There were also special instructions listed next to many of them- points of delivery, bases to transfer the prisoners to, who should be thawed before transfer, or who should be kept frozen. Bucky traced through it until he found what he was looking for: PROJECT: ECHO - PRESERVE - V174 - DELIVER TO COMMANDER DENNISSON, AUKLAND FACILITY, FOR TERMINATION. So, that scumbag Dennisson had been promoted, and he wanted to kill Echo himself.
Bucky swore and dropped the paper on the ground. He turned back the direction they had come and took off at a dead run- Thor and Hulk on his heels. He needed the elevator shaft. Echo had been transferred on his orders, Dennisson wanted the opportunity to kill the girl himself. He was a sadist, and probably the only supervisory agent in the science division to enjoy a failed experiment, it gave him a new toy, and he had been gunning for Echo even five years ago. The fact that she was a kid didn't bother him- a toy was a toy.
"You know, you don't scare me," Bucky remembered her weak voice as she'd stood over him with Dennisson. She was pale from months in the base, and it hurt his eyes to look at her in the illuminated room. She was bruised, her wrists bled, and even though he couldn't see it, he knew she would be standing on one foot. He'd broken her heel with a pole. Black bags sagged under her eyes. She was staring at a spot on the floor, not making eye contact with anyone. Bucky was muzzled, but he struggled to break free of the restraints that bound him to the chair. Dennisson had a hand on the back of her neck, forcing her to watch.
"I don't want to scare you," his voice made Bucky sick. The girl shivered, "I want to give you the chance to take real control here."
"Just because I'm 14 doesn't mean I'm stupid, I don't have any control," she flinched, a reflex. The Winter Soldier usually beat her for speaking back to him- hence the heel.
Dennisson just moved his hand to her shoulder and handed her a remote, "You have control. You can make him suffer now. That's control."
In the base, Bucky used his momentum to run at a wall, push off, and change direction so he was now headed south towards the service elevator. He heard something, shouting from Thor, but he didn't stop. He tried to push back the memory but it was impossible.
He remembered one of the times he tried to break her out of Astana. She was twitching, shaking, trying desperately not to look around- even that much had taken him a long time to achieve. Particularly because every few weeks he would try to set her free. When they caught Bucky and Echo- and Hydra always did before the two escaped the confines of the base- they would make her watch as they reprogrammed him, just to be sure she knew there was no hope. After a while they made it a scheduled thing, just to preempt anymore attempts at heroics. Dennisson decided it would help her break faster.
He knew how this day ended. She refused to activate the machine, refused to hurt anyone on behalf of Hydra- even her torturer. The shocks would come, one way or another, and he would forget who he was. The first thing Dennisson would order him to do was punish her for her insolence. After this one he had broken three ribs, tied her arms above her head, and left her standing on only the tips of her toes for two days.
Bucky tripped over debris on the ground and went flying forward towards the elevator shaft- which was open but missing the elevator. Hulk caught him in mid-air and held him tight to prevent another pathetic outburst. Stupid puny humans. Bucky's vision was blurred, he couldn't force her face down in his memory, couldn't catch his breath as he remembered how she'd struggled to breathe through the pain.
Thor waved for Hulk to set him down and put his hands firmly on Bucky's shoulders, "James!" he shook him, then struck Bucky across the face. His eyes finally found Thor. Tears dripped down his cheeks. "We will find her. We will make this right."
Bucky nodded and rubbed the sweat and tears from his eyes, embarrassed. He'd totally lost control. He pointed to the shaft, shaking, "H-her pod number started with "V". That- that's level 5. We have to go down to level 5. Row 17, tube 4."
"Alright," Thor helped Bucky to steady himself and inspected the shaft. The walls were perfectly smooth, the only way down would be to grab hold of a chain and lower themselves. Thor reached out to the nearest and pulled. Now, he was no Midgardian, but he had endeavored to learn some of their mechanics over the years. He was fairly certain if these chains attached to their level-climbing devices they should not simply swing loose. Bucky could ID the issue by sight- the elevator had been damaged significantly and was probably in pieces at the bottom of the shaft.
"We can climb down at least."
Thor took his line in a more firm grip, set Mjolnir down on the ledge and stepped out into nothing. He hung from the chain for a few moments before nodding to Bucky. Bucky jumped to the farthest chain, leaving two in the middle for Hulk. The duo went down slowly, carefully. Once there was enough distance, Hulk stepped out. He wasn't meant for delicate climbing. He should have smashed his way down to the floor. Stupid humans. Making Hulk look like a fool. He would kill them later for this.
The addition of Hulk turned out to be a supremely bad idea. The anchor above them that held the chains groaned, dislodged from the anchors, and before any of them could process what was happening they were falling past the fifth floor all the way down to the eighth. Hulk reached out and grabbed Thor and Bucky just in time to flip onto his back and protect them from the brunt of the fall. He'd taken worse, but the little ones were fragile. They had no business being on this mission and getting in his way!
Hulk's impact flattened whatever was left of the elevator and blew the metal doors inward to Level 8. Thor and Bucky untangled from him and entered the space while Hulk righted himself and came in behind them. They were in another cryo room, this one a lot more damaged. Bucky had put a bomb in the elevator, apparently it was down here when it went off.
They walked through the quasi-darkness wearily, ready for trouble. Bucky remembered a stairwell on the far side, they could use that to backtrack. It would be full of Hydra agents, but he was more determined than ever. He could cut through an army.
"James, look," Thor pointed to one of the damaged tubes. It had been knocked from its base and was lying on the floor. The glass was shattered- but he could see pieces of it in the chamber, not outside of it, "Something broke in, not out." Around the jagged edges of the glass there was blood, skin, and chunks of hair.
Bucky's head whipped around and he inspected the other chambers. Some were lit- but most had been smashed open. There was plenty of glass on the floor- not everyone's departure had been involuntary. Bucky closed his eyes and listened as hard as he could. He detected rustles of fabric, the soft padding sound of bare feet on the floor. They weren't alone, not by a long shot. From the shadows and behind tubes Hydra's worst appeared. Their eyes were dull, glassy, and crazed. Some chewed strips of bloody meat and gore- Bucky had no questions about where they'd gotten their food from: the ones who didn't break out.
As they were surrounded, a fractured, indistinguishable voice sounded in Bucky's ear. He couldn't make out what it said. After a moment it seemed to repeat. There was a sound of feedback- a screech, then Steve's voice came through, frustrated, "-can't you just boost the signal without being such an ass? You're working no harder than the rest of us on this, stop acting like a martyr."
"Steve Rogers," Thor spoke softly, slowly, "we can hear you now."
"Bucky," Steve spoke quickly, he was breathless, "can you read me?"
"Yes."
"We found her Bucky. We've got Echo. She's alive."
He let out the breath he was holding and turned his full attention to the people in front of him. Thor summoned Mjolnir and began arcing his lightning through it. Bucky smiled then, bent his knees, and dove straight into the mob.
Chapter 15: The Captain and the Widow
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The Hunger (MIT Part 90)
The combination of blood loss and magical assault was too much and Mongo fell unconscious from his wounds, Drogarth remaining by his side fighting the rest of the room.
Aranys swung off ladder into the fight with the butcher, Ulfgar blocked it's attack with his shield as Rincewind conjured Mordenkainen's Sword decapitate it. With the last foe defeated they made their way towards the sounds of a commotion coming from below through a hatch in the floor.
Ulfgar did a running jump down the hatch, landing into the room with Drogarth and the unconscious Mongo, the glow of ruins almost blinding. Instantly he joined the combat to ease the pressure on his friends.
Keeda retreated to the runes circle and dragged the Ulfgar in with her she cast another spell and started to flay his skin as she had to Mongo. Then Aranys landed amongst them, more gracefully than Ulfgar just had.
The Trader's moved in on Keeda, Drogarth destroyed the last Orb with his axe, Rincewind jumped down to join everyone else and called his sword down to impale the wizard as Ulfgar buried his axe in her.
As she fell they felt as if her soul was drawn into the runes and then they saw a vortex of dark energy arc from surface to surface lighting up the whole room as it made its way upwards and out of the mill through the ceiling. The runes then failed and died apart from one in the centre that glowed faintly and benevolently.
Aranys tripped the final foe and when no one else stepped forward to deliver the final blow Rincewind sighed and finished them with his ghostly sword, pinning him to the floor. Finally the room fell silent, a single runic glyph glowed on a talisman in the centre of the circle
Rincewind could see two sets of glyphs, one set dissapated, pure hunger and malice but beneath this set another set, Elven in origin and more beneveloent. He felt nature and energy.
Rincewind recalled that long before Southgate grew to replace them, this area was a wood inhabited by Elves. The expansion of Southgate had forced them out long ago. The original Elven circles still had power and he retrieved from the floor the talisman and put it round his neck in place of his amulet of protection, as he did this he felt his defences boosted.
They found that Keeda had maintained a notebook in the corner by her bed and reading it confirmed what they already suspected, she was crazy as a coconut. She talked of her flock, the acolytes eager for the mortals she would feed them, getting them into the mindset of the maw, always hungry and spreading famine though the town, she was guided by the great maw. Hunger itself. Allowing her to fulfil her life goal.
Aranys looked around the bakery, she noticed odd tools and vials with the bread making equipment, they were filled with various potions, some fizzing. Drogarth surmised that some were psychoactive drugs, other vials he was unable to identify the others but Mongo looked over them and told them he believed it was an extract of a rare root known as Gungnare root, used to induce hunger.
These "bakers" were adding the drugs and the extracts to the bread to make bread that would make those that ate it crazy and forever hungry. Mongo pocketed the drugs.
Upstairs they found a room that Aranys had missed earlier, an office with attaching storeroom. The office had documents pertaining to the running of the mill. They found the ledger and reviewed it.
A couple of points stood out, their main supplier seemed to be Ramaca holdings and they often sent large amounts of money to them. Mongo had heard of Ramaca, a wholesale food provider.
Outside they heard noise in the street below. Looking out the window they saw a group made up of the slum residents gathering in the dark with torches and improvised weapons, evidently attracted by the commotion and light show from the fight. They did not look in a reasonable mood and there were too many to get past.
WIth no time to discuss it they all leapt into action in their own ways.
Aranys jumped catlike onto the sails, Rincewind used his Arcane Gate teleport from the room and appear behind the mob into the shadows of the street. He dismissed his gate as soon as he was through but someone heard him behind them and they turned to ask him what he was doing, with some quick thinking he convinced them that he'd come to investigate too and promptly joined the mob. Immersed in their number the vibe Rincewind got from them was that the mill was the main source of bread for the whole slum and they were very agitated about it needing to provide them with food, now.
At the same time Mongo tried to follow Aranys onto the sails, he jumped with all his might and it looked like he was going to make it but his fingers grasped only air, an inch short of the sails...he hung mid air for a moment before falling to the street, landing on his feet in front of the mob bathed in their torchlight. Mongo grinned, as the door opened behind him and Drogarth and Ulfgar stepped out of the mill.
Mongo changed his grin to a look of confusion as one of the mob called out to him
Oi, you were getting bread too? Why were you on the sails?
I was trying to get bread and I was thrown in the air. and I hit my head and I dunno what happened
Why you wearing armour?
My job, protecting people.
Fair enough mate, here, who's that coming out the door...
I don't know, I'd like to find out.
Mongo walked forward and joined Rincewind within the mob.
Someone shouted a challenge to Ulfgar and Drogarth, asking what they'd done.
Ulfgar calmly looked at them and told them
We, killed them.
You killed the people running the mill?
Yes, they were making the poisoned bread
They made our bread we're hungry
Well go in there and make some
The crowd burst into a cacophony of noise
Hungry!...we're starving!...We need food!..where's the food!..I'm hungry!.My family needs bread!....They've killed the bakers how are we gonna eat?!
Rincewind used Ghost Sound project his voice to the other end of the mob and called out.
Hang on a minute, they said the bread was poisoned didn't they?
He nodded to Mongo who followed suit
Yeah! they said that they did, you're right!
Rincewind and Mongo carried on spreading this through the crowd, Rincewind with magic and Mongo by throwing his voice.
Drogarth and Ulfgar took this cue rather than pushing through this riled up crowd, they explained quickly that those making the bread had poisoned it so that bread wouldn't sate hunger.
Rincewind and Mongo carried on prompting the crowd
Yeah I have been feeling hungrier...
I can never have enough!
All I do is eat!
Soon the mob were voicing their belief that something was wrong with the bread.
They managed to convince the crowd that the mill could make bread still if they took it over. The Traders took their chance to leave the area as the crowd poured into the mill looking for ingredients. They headed back to the Pig's Bladder and let themselves back in and turned in for the night.
Next morning Mongo questioned the inn keeper where he got their food from, he said he got it from local producers due to their proximity to the farmers market. But he used Ungers Ale in the city to supply their ale, it was called Vin's Export made by a company of the same name. Mongo ordered some food and ale, believing he could devise a way of testing of items of food and drink had been tainted with what they found in the mill he headed out to get supplies to test his theory.
By mid morning he'd gathered what he needed and confirmed that the ale had the same chemicals and extract in it as the bread in the slum but the food at the Pig's Bladder, though the food was clean. The dose was small but continual consumption would cause a build up of effects, the victim getting ever hungrier and manic.
The Trader's headed that afternoon over to Unger's Ales in the town, a large warehouse near the south docks. They could see see a steady flow of wagons packed with barrels of ale in and out of the warehouse. They needed a sample so Aranys vaulted over the fence and made her way over to one of the barrels waiting to go into the warehouse. She grabbed it and phase stepped back to the group.
They pulled it into a nearby alley and Mongo applied his test which confirmed it was already tainted. They checked the barrel and found on it the stamp of Vin's Export, made in Port Steelwater, which they knew was a large Dwarven port far to the south
They decided to follow one of the empty wagons coming from the warehouse and tracked it back to the docks.
They followed it to a fenced off yard with a sign above it.
Ratchet Mallory and Foss.
The wagon headed past a gatehouse and over to a storehouse where it parked outside. It appeared that this was where the Vin’s Export was imported from Steelwater before going out to Unger’s Ales.
After a while Aranys noticed a young Dragonborne stroll out of the storehouse, an air about him telling her that he is in charge here. Scars on him showing that though his life was yet short, it had been a hard one. They decide to leave and return after dark.
Mongo researched Ramaca Holdings and found out it used to be called Veil Foods named after the owner Adress Veil. Also Unger's Ales was originally owned by it’s founder Unger until, a few years ago, he was bought out by Adress Veil.
Next he decided to look into Adress Veil. There were records of a wife named Geeta who’d died in childbirth. He also found reference to another company. Ramaca Havens which was a charitable entity with homeless shelters. Finally Ratchet Mallory and Foss were originally a stevedores union, that became a company that was later purchased by none other than, Ramaca Holdings. It was all connected, he just wasn’t sure how. He noted down the address of Adress Veil which was in the wealthier quarter of Southgate as it would likely come in useful.
That night the Traders returned to Ratchet Mallory and Foss. Aranys leapt the fence and headed to the storehouse, she noticed that light was leaking from under the door, the building had no windows. She listened and heard two voices inside complaining they could no longer go drinking because they could never remember which drinks they've spiked and which they hadn’t.
She returned to the fence and told the traders what she heard. Mongo for some reason decline Rincewind’s Arcane Gate as a way to silently bypass the fence and tried to cut the fence. His efforts were noisy and soon there were sounds of barking and running feet.
Mongo reached into his bag and pulled out a steak, he doused it in the psychotic drugs.
Rincewind used Arcane Gate to connect their side of the fence to the wall of the storeroom and he along with Ulfgar and Drogarth stepped in, appearing again within the yard, in the shadows beside the storehouse.
Aranys herself stepped back into the shadows away from Mongo.
A large dog appeared out of the darkness pulling along man who held onto a lead in one hand and a cudgel in the other.
Mongo threw the steak through the hole in the fence and the dog reared towards it, ripping the lead from it’s handlers hand.
Rex! No! Come back
He looked at Mongo as the dog noisily wolfed down the steak
You've cut a hole in the fence! I'm gonna mess you up.
It was them over there!
He pointed into the darkness
Pull the other one! Think I was born yesterday?
The man raised his cudgel and struck at Mongo.
Across the yard Ulfgar kicked the door to the storehouse in and Drogarth and Rincewind followed him inside where they caught two wiry guys in the act of spiking the kegs of beer.
Ulfgar looking impressive in the door way looked at them with threat and they dropped their equipment to the floor at once, a smell of urine filled the air. They offered no resistance as they were tied up. But more shouts were heard as others ran towards the storehouse.
Ulfgar filled the door with his significant presence as a pair of guards ran into view. The guards realised as they got close just how well armed and armoured this Dwarf was and decided better of their cause of action, skidding to a halt in front of him.
Errr we didn't know what they were doing we were just told to let them in
and with that they scattered into the night.
Mongo easily dodged several cudgel blows before there came a growling sound behind the guard. They both paused to look and found themselves staring into mad eyes in the dark. In a flash the dog charged at the guard jumped through the hole in the fence barged past Mongo and disappeared into the night pursued by his dog.
In the storehouse Drogarth threatened the two poisoners.
I only need one of you to talk so who is it gonna be?
One of them managed a bleat before the other and Drogarth grabbed the second and dragged him out.
Ulfgar questioned the remaining one as cries of pain were heard outside followed by silence
What are you doing? Why are you spiking these drinks? Who told you to do this?
The Maw tells us to. Locktar the Dragonborne who runs this place. I don't know where he lives.... he'll be back in work tomorrow...err..maybe...err maybe not if you have damaged this place. Please let me go....?
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Resurgence (Castlevania: LoS fanfiction) Chapter Three
Summary: The infected and followers of Satan have all been extinguished. Monsters are a rarity and the world seems to teeter on the thin line of peace. The world has rebuilt itself after the night of chaos and death, and life has returned to some sort of normality with people having long since returned to work and running through the daily routine of life. The Prince of Darkness, however, has been cooped up in his Castle, slowly falling between the lines of reality and memory as he looses his grip on his own mind. What will the finding of a chest amongst the rubble do for his sanity? Perhaps a revelation is what he needs in order to regain his grip on the reality of the world.
A03 Link
Chapter 2 Chapter 4
The Brotherhood of Light
Dracul was remarkably amazed by how quickly the woman could move. It had been only a number of seconds, and she was quickly blending with the crowds, and more or less, out of sight. So, he deigned to follow her smell. The scent of lavender, incense and old paper cajoled him to follow her. A strange reminder of his love long past. Marie would tuck lavender into the wardrobe and linen closets, and the scent of it wafted where ever she roamed. He ducked into an alley, leaning against the wall as she came to a halt in front of a vendor's stall. The old woman stood behind the counter smiled at her fondly, asking her about her day. It seemed the girl came often, and was a regular customer. Dracula watched, peering around the brick of the wall, as the old lady fussed over her forehead, offering her a cream to take down the swelling. The woman politely declined but asked for a bunch of Sunflowers and Irises. The requested bunch was made up, and she took them, giving the elder a paper bill before walking away, the flowers clutched close to her chest. The fragrance of the flowers mixed with her underlying smell and The Dragon cursed, curling his nose at the overly floral scent as he continued behind her.
Her next stop was to pick up some supplies from a large commercial shop. Following her in, he was overwhelmed by the intensity of the artificial bright white light that illuminated the store. Squinting, he watched her flit through the aisles, basket in hand, as she chose fruit and vegetables from the shelves and a few other products, none of which he actually knew, before making her way to the checkout, her purse in hand. Just as suddenly as she had moved, she stopped and shivered. A ripple of panic ran through him as he figured out the best way to blend into the crowd. Turning into a horde or rats or a writhing cloud of blood to possess someone was not really advisable in such an open, public place- panic was the last thing he needed to start. So he opted for the easier option. Moving closer to a woman with her small child, he tapped the mother's shoulder to get her attention.
The woman was young, but well old enough, at least when he was a man, to have birthed a few children. He smiled, his teeth gleaming as she looked into his shinning eyes. That was her mistake. In a matter of moments her face went slack as she fell under his will. Red eyes gleaming, he laughed pulling her closer to him by the waist. She obliged and quickly, he willed her to laugh too.
“I am your husband, this is our son. What I just told you was funny, laugh.” And, like a robot, she began to laugh. The sound was shrill to his ears, but he grinned chuckling. Leaning forward, he looked into the pram she had with her. The child was blissfully sleeping, his chubby little hands fisted into the blanket wrapped around him. A small spark of feeling reverberated through him. This was something he and Trevor had never shared, and never would. The boy was far too old now, bordering on nearly one thousand. Not exactly the perfect age to be coddling him at. And even if he did take to trying, the boy would be quick to shove at him or hiss and storm out, much like a teenager now he thought about it. He snorted at the thought.
Dracula bowed his head as the woman he had been following appeared at the top of the isle, her eyes scanning the crowds with a frown. She seemed to feel something, though she would have never have guessed the Prince of Darkness was following her around. She paced the length of the isle and Dracul kept his head down, the girl at his waist muttering to him about her day as he picked up items off the shelf and eyed them. Bright, vibrant colours assaulted his vision and he found his nose crinkling in distaste as the products screamed artificial ingredients. His female pursuer was quick to return to her own devices with a final shiver running down her spine, and Dracula found himself sighing lightly, a human gesture, as she retreated from her search. The girl he had his arm wrapped around giggled and leant closer into him, and an old couple cooed from the end of the isle, watching them snuggle and laugh. He groaned internally. It seemed he'd have to pull this show off for a little longer, as not to arouse suspicion.
He managed to grab what the woman required for her shopping. Most of it was bottle formula and some soft baby foods, but it was tedious and painful on the eyes none the less. Brightly coloured brands stuck out of plastic bags as he loaded her pram up, still laughing and smiling like a fool. It didn't take him long to wave his hand in front of her face and release the trance once they were comfortably out of the range of prying eyes. The young mother's face fell slack once more and he whispered a few words before striding away and into an alley. As though suddenly awakened, the girl snapped her head up and groaned, holding her head. Dracula watched as she looked around, slightly startled before checking her pram and baby. Content nothing was harmed, if not somewhat confused, she pushed the buggy down the road and left, cooing at her baby as she went. He was just in time to watch the brunette he had been following step out of the large superstore, a single plastic bag in hand.
The girl was quick to walk away from the shop, her movements swift like a fox as she weaved in and out of people like the cunning creature would do the undergrowth. The spring in her step drove her further and quicker than most, and Dracula had to rely on his nose more often than not as she eluded him through the hoards of people. Her sweet, cozy scent was easy enough to pin point amongst the grime and overpowering wafts of grease and sickly sweet perfumes. His nose led him right up to her back at one point, his eyes failing to register her as he approached her back. She had tensed and peered over her shoulder, but he had reacted faster, moving like a shadow, sprinting through the crowd before she could even fully turn her eyes to look. Dracul had cursed her alluring scent at that point, and the memories it had brought back, rekindling a strange warmth he reserved for his long lost love, deep within the vault of his heart. His curiosity was not quelled when she finally came to a halt outside an rather large apartment block, on the outskirts of the Downtown area of the city, close to the Arts District.
The girl swiped a card in the magnetic lock and typed in a pass code before the door beeped, and she pulled it open with a small huff, stepping inside. Dracula watched with gleaming red irises as she disappeared from his view. Closing his eyes, he could still pick up her lingering scent, intoxicating and haunting at the same time. Carefully, he focused his senses, looking up to the floors of the block, waiting for a light to turn itself on. Sure enough, on the sixth floor, a large window lit up with yellow light. He could clearly hear her sigh and throw her bags down before she appeared in the glass pane, pulling the thick, gold embroidered curtains closed. After that his inhuman senses were somewhat impaired, though he could still clearly hear the giggles and gasps coming from the second floor. Other than that, he could hear little of the activity going on in her home.
Dracula strode out of the small alley he had situated himself in, just across the street from the building the woman had strode into. His boots, shorter and more suitable for the time, clicked as he walked out and into the rode before crossing. A lone car passed every now and then, but this side of the city was relatively deserted at this time in the night. Most workers had gotten home to their families, or were at work for the night shifts. A dark eyebrow rose as he looked up at the building. The magnetically locked doors were a no entry, so he paced around the corner, looking for a suitable fire escape to climb up. Sure enough, there was a wrought iron ladder and stairs system,that lead up and onto the roof of the building, painted black and peeling from years of misuse and lack of tending. Dracula found himself grinning as he strode over to the ladder. It was a small task to tug it down from it clipped position on the rusty balcony. The metal fell with a 'slick', orange rust on orange rust as it fell and met the pavement with a clang. Dracul was quick to ascend the ladder and pull himself up onto the small balcony with little effort. Inquisitively, he peered upwards, leaning over the balcony railing to get a look upwards. Nobody had heard him, or if they had, they hadn't taken the time to look out of their window. If he were human, he would have let out a sigh of relief. Moving onwards, he quickly pulled himself up the rungs of the ladders and reached the balcony just below the girl's window.
Silently, he moved against the side of the building and peered around the window frames. Any sort of crack could be used to get into the apartment. He found none. Frustrated, Dracula stepped back and looked for another way in. An air conditioning unit hummed quietly in the wall, the fan beating as it sucked cool night air into the room. A grin crept onto his lips as he spread his arms wide, as though welcoming an embrace. The sound of laughter from inside the woman's apartment caught him off guard.
“And so I told her she could go find someone else to do her paper work, maybe someone who actually gave a fuck.” He heard her voice ring as clear as a bell.
“Language. So what then? Has she been harassing you for weeks? My poor baby.” Another burst of laughter lit a fire of rage in his belly. Dracul focused his hearing on the conversation, a strange sensation churning deep in his stomach. Something he was not accustomed to, and did not like.
“Marie. No one is going to take you away from me. You're the only girl for me I promise.” The words were sickly sweet and brought bile up and into his throat. Dracula found his claws curling into the white paint of the window sill. Marie. Her name. He felt sick. Her laughter tinkled in the air.
“Oh shut it you. Eat your dinner. If it goes cold I wont be making you any more. You'll go to work hungry.” She chuckled once more and the man with her joined in, his voice was hardened, but light.
“I suppose I better eat this and then head off to the vaults. They've been having a lot of trouble down there recently.” She gave out a sigh through her nose and Dracula perked his ears. The Vaults were not a place he knew of.
“Promise me you'll be careful? I may just get to read papers all day, but I'm not sheltered enough to know that its dangerous down there. The monsters down there are not child's play.” The man gave out a sigh and drew her close, clothing rustling as she was grappled closer to him.
“I promise okay love? Don't go worrying yourself. I promised Victor I wouldn't go dying on him, but look at what he went and got himself into. Dead in the street. That monster didn't even look at him twice before he took off.” His voice was dark, dangerous and Dracula's attention was captured despite his disgust and anger. So the child knew Victor. This definitely deserved a little more investigation. Marie said no more about the matter and Dracul deigned himself to be quiet. So he sat on the balcony with his anger, seething as a strange feeling coiled around him and churned deep within his heart.
The boy she was with left not half an hour later, but the young man's motives and investments were not worth wasting his evening over just yet. As before, Dracula spread his arms wide, whipping himself into a cloud of red streaked black mist. His mist form floated effortlessly through the air conditioning fan and flew into the room, sucked unceremoniously into the small sitting area like an insect would be. He could hear Marie humming in the kitchen and the clatter of dishes as she washed the plates used at dinner. Reforming himself Dracula quickly moved into the shadowy closet she had. The shelves were stacked with books and various films. Stacks of albums swayed as his coat brushed the towers. Focusing, his body was quick to shift and morph. The towers of DVDs and CDs got larger as he shrunk down into a rat. When his bones finally finished cracking into place, Dracula gave his spine a stretch, his small clawed feet pushed forward and his pink coloured tail curling close to his torso. Quickly and quietly, he then scuttled out of the small cupboard and into the open living area.
Dracul had last used this ridiculous rat form when he'd been creeping around the heavily armoured, if not somewhat stupid, trigger happy guards the acolytes used to disintegrate all those who tried to interfere with their plans. He knew first hand how much those plasma guns hurt. Having the side of your torso blown off with one and having to heal the bones, organs and flesh was a painful process. One he didn't want to go through again. Then again, having stake after stake thrust into your body was just as bad, and well, that had failed to kill him all those years ago. His wet nose twitched as he scampered across the wooden flooring, and peered around the corner of the wall to look upon his lost love's beauty. Again, he was mystified. Her hair was loose, falling in loose chestnut waves to her waist. She'd shed her blouse and skirt and had a loose, white silk night gown on instead. The material fell in ripples over her curves and it was hard to deny her likeness to his long past wife. A thin gold chain clinked around her throat as she placed another dish onto the rack to dry. Looking closer, a small rose hung on the end of it, the petals made up of deep blue sapphires with gold inlaying holding them in place. As she hummed, Marie's dark eyes twinkled with warmth and Dracula found himself remembering the cold evenings they would spend together in front of the hearth, when the snow was too deep and the blizzards too cold for Gabriel to go off into the wilderness. Her eyes and her singing were always the things to chase away his dark moods.
Dracul crawled closer to her, his furry belly close to the tiles as he crept along. Her singing paused for a moment and she looked around, her thin eyebrows furrowed as she shivered. Every time he came close to her, she shivered almost as though she could sense his presence. It was something he did not know how to feel about. Was it because of his power or because of his simple presence in the home of someone so pure? He could not be sure, but it didn't stop him from creeping ever closer, watching with beady red eyes as she returned to her task. It didn't take her long to finish the dishes. Marie was quick to wipe her hands on a towel before flicking the light off and moving into the living area, before continuing into a study room of sorts. He scampered through the door behind her, careful to avoid brushing up against the bare skin of her legs. She shut the door too, just behind his tail and then made her way over to a large, dark wood desk against the window in the room. Papers rustled as she flipped through the pages and piles on top of the desk. Humming still, she picked up her portfolio case. The black material bag was something he remembered her carrying when he bumped into her on the crossing. Once unzipped, she carefully pulled out a number of large scrolls, all bound with dirtied ribbons, the parchment brown and ripped in places. They were definitely old writings. Yet, he found himself intrigued, and Dracula moved closer to her chair, trying to get a look at the wax on the bound scrolls, holding them closed.
Many of them were simply bound with coloured ribbons, tied neatly in bows around the brown rolled papers. Marie pulled a number of them out of the bag, and Dracula squinted his small rat eyes to catch a glimpse of a very familiar seal. The curled ends of the cross, intricate and sleek, were all too well known to him. Those scrolls belonged to the Brotherhood of Light. He felt his already cold blood run colder as the news settled over him. A permanent frost settled itself over him. Not again. The brotherhood had already claimed Marie from him once. His human son had been turned against him, brainwashed and turned into a stone cold killer. They had betrayed him and ripped everything he held dear, forcefully from his life. The angelic glow of Marie's spirit confronting him on his journey flashed before his eyes. “Oh god no. Please no.” He'd been betrayed at every corner. He would not allow for them to take her from him again. Her involvement with the Brotherhood would end her in time, and it was not something he could live with. She would not be ripped away from him again. Not this time.
Gazing upon her once more, the rat form he had taken moved, and turned, heading back to the door. His tiny claws scratched against the laminate flooring. Stealthily, he squeezed through the small gap between the door and the frame, and made haste towards the large wooden door of the apartment. His small rodent ears twitched, spinning on his head as he listened. She was still rustling her papers. Focusing his energy, he shifted himself back into his normal form, his eyes glittering like rubies as his blood reshaped itself, folding back over and over, weaving in and out until he was in his normal shape once more. Dracula did not make a sound as he fell apart into smoke, moving under the door and into the corridor. He reformed himself and scowled, clenching his fists as memories assaulted his mind.
A roaring fire crackled in the hearth as the wind howled outside. It wasn't winter, nor particularly cold, but Marie was more susceptible to chills and drafts than himself. He'd spent many winters outside in the training grounds and scouring mountain tops for Manticore and Wyverns. The two had been wed that morning, spending the afternoon and most of the evening laughing, dancing and feasting until Marie's father could barely stand. A smile curled his lips upwards as he looked down at Marie. She was snuggled against his side, drinking in his warmth and the solidarity Gabriel provided. The blue roses she adored so much had been weaved into her hair, the fragrance was sweet and subtle. Leaning down, Gabriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. She hummed contently but opened her eyes, the reflection of the flames dancing across them. He smiled down at her softly.
“It is our wedding night Gabriel yet you press innocent kisses to my forehead.” Her lips curled into a devilish grin and Gabriel found it hard not to smash his lips to hers right then and there. He chuckled instead, leaning backwards slightly so she could not pull him down for a kiss.
“And here I thought you enjoyed my attention Marie, it seems I was wrong.” She gently ran her hand up, across the expanse of his thick muscled chest, curling her fingers into the material of the thin cotton shirt he usually wore under his armour. Her eyes were positively smouldering as she looked up at him once more.
“Oh I like your attention Gabriel.” She grinned draping herself across his lap, “But I would prefer those kisses to be on my lips.” Gabriel let out a low growl, pulling her face up before their lips met in a passionate embrace. Tenderly, Gabriel caressed Marie's face, cupping her cheeks before running the palms down and over her waist. He quickly tugged her closer, hooking an arm through her legs and the other around her back before he effortlessly carried her over to the bed. Dropping her down,petals scattering from her locks, he was quick to cover her with the weight of his body.
A low growl ran through him as he thought of what he had lost, and what he could now loose once more. He would not have his love taken from him again. Opening his blood red eyes, he opened his palm and summoned his void powers. Cold mist curled from the freezing palm of his hand, and he watched as the dark blue petals of a rose formed, growing as a lighter coloured ice stem pushed the flower up. The dark ice glittered like a jewel as his pale fingers gripped the icy stem. Tenderly, he knelt down and placed the flower down outside of her door. The void created ice would not melt. It was only shattered in powerful running water and by very much alive and moving enemies. Shards of glass like ice were sprinkled around the winter rose and he let a small smile creep onto his face. Dracula knocked three times on the door before he walked around the corner, and waited.
Sure enough, Marie opened the door, her nightwear covered by a long black dressing gown. She peered from side to side, confused, before she looked down. Her eyes widened as she picked the rose up off of the ground. Two fingers rotated the winter flower around between the icy thorns. She marvelled at the rose for a moment before she clutched it close to her breast, smiling gently as she went back inside and closed the door behind her.
Dracul rounded the corner, descending the stairs two at a time as he continued down to the bottom floor. The magnetically locked door opened with the simple press of a button and the vampire moved out into the cool night air, a strange swell in his heart thundering through him. Peering up at the sky, he almost felt like sighing. The moon was full and round, the stars twinkling against a canvas of dark, midnight blue. The night was in full swing, and in no more than a few hours, dawn would start to creep across the horizon. Peering back at the sixth floor, he watched the lights of the apartment click off for the night. Turning back to the street, he memorised the road and area, committing it to memory so he could navigate back to the apartment building. Before he headed home he needed to feed, but he found the hunger somewhat repressed as his body thrummed with excitement and a bursting feeling of affection. It was something he had not felt in centuries. Turning on his heels, he stepped into an alley before summoning his darkened angelic wings. Beating them three times he was high in the air, soaring over the city.
Dracula's cold heart seemed to beat inside his chest once more as a tender smile softened his features, and turned his lips upwards in a genial smile as the wind ruffled his hair and billowed his clothing.
#castlevania#castlevania lords of shadow#castlevania: lords of shadow#los#castlevania Los#dracula#alucard#chupacabra#trevor belmont#belmont#gabriel belmont#dracula x marie#marie belmont#marie#gabriel x marie#satan#demons
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Sort of a rewrite of certain OUAT ideas/arcs
Yeah, but do you guys ever think about the potential some of Adam/Eddy’s ideas had?
Examples:
The Dark Swan arc
Emma actually struggling with darkness- with invasive thoughts, Rumple, her magic that slowly spirals out of control, moments where she is conscious and terrified – where she begs her family to leave, so they will be safe- moments where she sort of loses consciousness almost for a moment and comes dangerously close to hurting her family, where she actually kills and enjoys it and then comes to and just screams with anguish… The darkness using her abandonment issues and everything, using this anger she still has, makes it spiral out of control so that is alternatively spitting mad and this scary calm, cold anger where she can be so cutting, she alternatively feels emotionless and brimming with magnified emotions, she is impulsive in ways she has never been before, prone to sudden bouts of violence that have her trembling with the want to control even if she can’t, and it is not just Rumple manifesting as the darkness – no it is the one foster parent that used to hit her, the other that only used her for chores , the half-gone faces of the Swans that sent her back – it is everyone who ever abandoned or hurt her, a constant chorus of look what people do, look what they did to YOU, look how ungrateful and horrible people are, look how many reasons you have to be angry, look look look . Whenever she sees anyone, the darkness gives her reasons to get mad- stupid things, like how Sneezy is always sneezing on her lunches or even in her face that one time she tripped and was starting to get up- but also terrifying things, things that make her nearly black out with anger and then there is this one moment where the darkness really goes too far, where it is screaming things like the boy brought you here, he made your life like this, you could’ve been living a perfect sane and calm life as bounty hunter he brought you here and remember how he was after he met his dad, trying to replace you already huh after one lie and for one terrifying moment, she thinks about ripping Henry’s heart out and- she just breaks . She stops trying to fight the darkness, perhaps she goes to Regina first- and screams at her to end it “ IT IS GOING TO MAKE HURT HENRY. I c-can’t” or she breaks in the vault and searches for a spell to destroy her or even asks Zelena to take away her magic again. Just.. Emma Swan , finally forced to deal with years of hurt and anger, slowly coming apart at the seams and willing to destroy herself so that even that miniscule chance of her hurting Henry isn’t there anymore.
Snow – Snow who is always talking about hope, who never gives up fighting, who wouldn’t kill an evil queen because she knew there was good in her, who is stubborn and too self-righteous but genuinely cares so much- opening her mouth to talk about faith, hope, belief and she finds herself stuttering, she suddenly doesn’t have the words anymore or she has the words but she doesn’t believe them anymore. Who needs to calm an entire town of people who are terrified and have no idea have to deal with ‘one of their own’ turning dark, townspeople slowly starting to question her more and more as Emma actually slips once… twice.. too many times, who seem ready to get out the torches, who are injured or even killed and it is her responsibility as a ‘Hero’ (/Queen) to protect them but they are asking her to do the impossible and it is almost laughable that they think she can destroy Emma when she destroyed a little girl’s life to ensure Emma would be good. Snow, who reaches out for Emma desperately, who just wants to hold her little girl and tell her it will be all right, that she isn’t alone anymore, that she has a family that won’t give up on her but Emma is either terrified or furious and Snow has never cried as much as when her daughter shuns her or flinches away from her or looks at her with eyes she remembers from a vision where young Emma , a different Emma crushed her heart. Snow, who has another child to care for but already feels exhausted and torn without the added horror of having to guard him from his sister- who loves him yes, but who also looks at him with dark, envious eyes and keeps muttering things – because even if Snow doesn’t want (can’t, needs not to) to believe it, Regina keeps reminding her ‘the darkness is strong and it only takes one moment’ . Snow who is sobbing into Charming’s chest – “ it is all my fault, I should have never sent her away, she is right” , who knows Emma’s angry words hold a kernel of truth that destroys her and her true love cannot help her because he is crying himself and falling apart at what is happening to the daughter they both love more than anything. Snow who is constantly terrified , constantly on edge, expecting to hear someone of her family got hurt or was killed. Who brushes away hairs from Emma’s sweaty forehead, who holds her as she thrashes and screams, who tells her ‘we will save you’ when Emma is about to give up, who holds a trembling Emma that cannot bring herself to beg for forgiveness, who is shocked at all that Emma had apparently kept inside, who starts to really see the damage a life of abandonment and pain can do to a person. Just.. Snow whose endless supplies of faith and hope are finally running out, who fights against a town that is starting to think the worst of her daughter and who tries to find her strength somewhere to help the daughter she genuinely loves.
Charming- who would literally battle dragons to protect his family, who tries to always support Snow, who can be thick-headed and too assured that he is a hero but who would die and kill for his family- being forced to watch as his daughter starts shattering. Who knows how to kill monsters, who knows how to protect Emma against ogres and dragons and the queen’s guards but who doesn’t know how to protect his daughter against her own mind and magic playing tricks on her and turning against her. Who knows he has a duty to protect the people of Storybrooke, who has tried to be a hero and heroes help people in need of it but that would mean hurting his daughter and he could never do that. Emma is angriest at Snow, her relationship with her dad always having been a little easier, he is in the middle when she rages at Snow, when Snow chokes on tears and tries to reach for her- make it better-, Emma just getting cold and often vanishing- but not before he notes that for all the cruelty and anger, her eyes are impossibly young- all terrified and regretful. His wife is struggling to not fall apart, mulling over the words that Emma cannot keep herself from throwing at her anymore, breaking his heart because of how much she is hurting and he doesn’t know how to make it better. He never knows what he gets when he tries to approach Emma, even tries to take her to the station, pretend it is a normal day- or take her to Granny’s for grilled cheese, anywhere for a sense of normalcy, anything that might have her eyes look a little less like a rabbit about to be shot. Whenever he tries to speak, he fails, not always good with words, knowing they won’t help anyways, that there is nothing to be said, that all he can do is just not give up on her, to trust his resilient family will get through this as well, to offer her all the unconditional love she struggles to accept, to open his arms to her when she has done something, showing her that he forgives her, that he will always love her. Charming, who knows how to fight – and always will, for his family- not knowing how to fight this battle, being made completely helpless and lost as this is a battle he cannot win for her.
Henry- Jesus Christ, Henry . Henry who brought her home, who cannot forget that fact whenever she is on the couch, curled tightly into herself, muttering about things, obviously in pain. Who already has a new operation, several names that ma reacts to with the barest hint of a smile, who is stubborn and furious, insists on helping Regina search for any way to help Emma, curls next to Emma on the couch, reads her stories, just talks endlessly, makes so many cups of hot chocolate that there is no free spot on the table anymore, kisses her forehead whenever she is half-asleep, always lingers a little, waiting for that rainbow-light that broke his curse, is still terrible at dealing with the crushing disappointment that follows, sometimes just screams at anyone to fix it, burst into tears that he wipes away immediately.. A Henry that is torn between being a hero and protecting his mom despite the costs, that forces himself to not pull away when Emma really starts slipping, gets angry at her sometimes, crawls into her arms to mutter over and over “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it, I know you’re trying to fight’ , that sits on the stairs with the dagger in his hand, staring at the name until his mom finds him and takes the dagger from him. He rarely goes into the town, where they look at him with pity first, start muttering around the time that Emma slips for the first time, have weapons that mean there is always a family member accompanying him after the funeral(s), his mom channelling the evil queen whenever someone says something/ glares/ comes too close, his grandma curling an arm around him, pretending like she doesn’t notice the looks thrown their way, his grandpa being unsubtle, just saying what is on his mind whenever someone mutters something. Henry risking himself, doing stupid (heroic, he thinks) things, screaming at his mother ‘AT LEAST I AM DOING SOMETHING’, running away, always running- towards his room, granny’s , the vault, it doesn’t matter- , searching for his mom, trying to apologize, trying to make her see he just wants Emma back, her saying ‘neither of us can lose you, Henry- please, please think of that before you risk yourself again’, feeling partly angry because don’t they understand he cannot lose them either. Just… Henry , almost foolishly brave and sly and so very smart, but also just a teenager who would be terrified of losing his mom.
Regina- who started as a heroic young girl that just wanted love- nothing more- but turned into this woman that couldn’t stop hurting others, until she finally found her redemption in the form of a son. Regina, trying to hide from her son just how worried she is, how she is only in bed for one hour before leaving it again, not allowing herself rest, not able to get any, her thoughts constantly going from one option to the next, always ‘how can we save her’, sometimes looking at where Emma is -often the couch- , throwing a blanket over her, or- if she behaves as though she had had far too many caffeine- let her talk, tease her, pretend they’re not all terrified. Regina, sometimes tempted to tear her heart out, the organ constantly hurting her, Snow sometimes eying her like she knows , managing to stop thinking about burying her heart somewhere far away from her, too preoccupied with everyone else who is hurting so badly as well, everyone starting to look worse as Emma’s fight continues, no one sleeping well – Henry sometimes runs downstairs in the middle of the night , is found in the morning, sleeping close to his birthmother- , eating a chore for everyone. It gets worse, Emma starting to lose sometimes, laughing as she hurts someone, Regina’s heart shrivelling at how unlike Emma she sees, Emma’s eyes when the last episode is over and she is as close to herself as she gets, Emma opening up to her, hesitantly inquiring what it was like when she was the evil queen, all these talks about loss and anger and drowning, Emma’s near-relief when Regina describes the invasive thoughts she used to have , all these glimpses of a life Regina can hardly bear to talk about but she does – for Emma. Mostly, Regina as the child bride she was, the king ignoring her apart from telling servants what she is to wear, Snow constantly expecting her to do this/do that/ tell me this/ tell me that, the guards who whisper about her, fleeing towards the only thing that is hers- the apple tree- , the king entering her room, bending towards her, she stops talking because it is too much, too painful, too infuriating. And Emma just watches, eyes dark and furious, laughing without mirth – “good thing he isn’t here. I would fucking murder him” , a terrifying smile at hurting Leopold, one of the many moments it is noticeable Emma is different now, darker. As the time passes (weeks, months), the moments where Regina makes Henry leave the house, where Emma stalks towards her, objects shattering around them, ‘where is the dagger, where is it’ , grabbing Regina, Regina trying to tear free, using magic to push Emma away, hands grabbing for her, Emma’s face too close to her, a furious snarl making her ugly, looking she is going to kill Regina, sagging, stumbling, pain . Just.. Regina sometimes messing up a little, but trying so very hard to help Emma, to save her and hurting when Emma slips.
Just imagine if Once showed us all this :O (omg the pain, but it would also be beautiful)
Underworld:
Henry dying, perhaps while casting a spell he thought could help his ma, perhaps trying to stop someone who would hurt Emma, trying to convince the town Emma can still be saved, some overly eager town morons attacking him, him bleeding out just before his moms get to him, running towards him, magic at their hands. Emma is somehow turned back, their son’s last act saving her, the darkness gone forever, the relief and happiness they should’ve felt instead substituted for agony and fury, Regina’s voice just breaking, nothing else being said but ‘Henry Henry Henry’, then fury at whoever did it, Emma not even trying to stop her as she lunges for whoever hurt their son, her own fists hitting someone’s face over and over for the role they played in Henry’s dead, anyone who is there running, fleeing, desperate to get away, Regina & Emma both out of their minds with fury and pain, the only thought just barely keeping them from going too far “Henry would’ve wanted- “. There is three days before the funeral, Regina sleeping on the floor next to where Henry is – a preservation spell making sure he isn’t decomposing but really, Regina would still cling to him, even if his flesh was dissolving- Emma pacing, then stumbling towards Henry, not caring about anything but him. Before the funeral, looking up from Henry’s body, their eyes meeting, no words, just this shared glance that says “ No. We won’t accept it”. Single-mindedness that is thought of as crazy by most of the town, Snow & Charming trying to make them accept- like this is something that could ever be accepted, long nights studying spells, deciding not to ask Whale- not when it hurt Daniel so much-, finally finding the story of Eurydice/ Orpheus, figuring a way to get to the Underworld, ignoring Snow/Charming who beg them not to go, telling them to stay home because Neal needs them, not talking but sitting close together when Charon accepts their coins. Expecting Hades to be this cold, dangerous God, a villain, someone they need to defeat. Instead, finding the man that is canonically the least horrible of the gods, the one that manages some form of empathy, the one that knows pain as well- but also the one that is strict, enforces the rules of the realm he is forced to rule, never lets anyone leave. They can scream, cry, hurl magic at him, offer themselves in return, anything – just tell me what you need to give us Henry, anything, we don’t care- , not getting anywhere. Finally, Persephone, terrifying but somehow also gentle Persephone, soft voice asking her husband to let them, to just help them – shouldn’t love like this be rewarded- and then that wonderful, perfect moment where they’re told you can take him ( and like in the myth, don’t look back) The added pain of Henry hardly being there, not really physical, not really remembering them, not being able to touch him, the only thing that makes it less horrible, the knowledge they will have him back. The travel back to their world, the constant need to turn around, the terror that he isn’t there, constantly keeping each other from looking, assuring each other ‘he is there, he is coming home, it will be okay’. The way they just break, all the terror/ exhaustion catching up with them as they leave the Underworld, grabbing for each other, slowly turning around, a soft ‘moms?” , all young/scared/confused but alive, alive . Their son, a little thinner, blinking furiously at the sunlight, alive alive alive alive, running at him, his startled ‘moms!’, the most glorious sound, the most beautiful word, the best feeling. Returning to the town with him, people embracing each other, people crying, cheers, all nothing , nothing compared to Snow/Charming , wild sobbing, ‘thank you’s, their family in a hug that lasts forever, no one wanting to let go, no one able to let go, not until they have to – perhaps hours later. Henry, sleeping, Regina to his left, Emma to his right, them glancing at him/ each other, casting a million spells, knowing it won’t ever be enough to keep him 100 % safe, still just enough to calm them a little, make them able to enjoy the free meal at Granny’s, the family all around them.
Zelena:
Young Zelena, raised by a dad who hates her, a mom who cannot always protect her, learning to perhaps fear her magic, believing it is horrible, trying to find ways to make it stop, never succeeding. Finding Oz, finding her first friend (Glinda), being accepted- even valued – for the first time, not even recognizing the feeling of happiness, never having felt it like this before, learning how to smile, how to trust, how to receive/give love, starting to feel completely at home with these people like her. Little moments between her/ Glinda, she is slow to smile, Glinda almost always smiles, trust slowly developing, Glinda behind her, voice soft as she instructs Zelena, sun-bright smile when Zelena gets a spell right, a soft touch when she doesn’t / freaks out- this love thing will leave if I am not like she wants me to- , Glinda never stopping being proud of her, Zelena never stopping being in awe by her. Sitting around the table, the other witches laughing/smiling, completely at ease in her presence, her anxiety a little calmed by the brief touch of Glinda’s hand, slowly learning to like these other two as well, slowly stopping to steel herself, to expect anger and hatred, getting used to laughter, to smiles, to people being happy to see her, starting to feel happy, starting to like the others’ presence, even laughing, briefly but genuine. Sucking at recognizing new emotions like happiness, going to any of the witches to ask whether ‘I have this feeling… what is it?”, new feelings, blushing, trying to be indifferent when she asks someone about it, hearing it is ‘being in love’, repeating the words all over and over as she looks at Glinda. Dorothy. Dorothy, another girl brought there by a tornado, her replacement surely, the bitter pain , Glinda’s startled ‘Zelena?”, turning around so no one sees her tears, pulling herself together, hiding her emotions like she hasn’t felt the need to do in forever, pretending to smile at the wretched girl, leaving, leaving, leaving . Glinda’s voice, her name, turning around with a fireball in her hand, Glinda’s lies- we would never replace you- , throwing the fireball, heart stopping, thinking she hurt Glinda, thinking leave before you ruin anything else, leave , transporting, collapsing in a shed she finds somewhere, falling asleep with puffy eyes. Sadness, pain, betrayal, anger , anger that sinks into her, like an illness, turning her skin green, nearly screaming when she sees her reflection, trying to make it stop, not realizing what is causing it, blaming the traitors, hate.
Ehh, I am sure there are people who can write far better things on this, but this is my two cents:)
#dark swan arc#underworld arc#Zelena#could've been so good#I will probably finish the Zelena thing one day#Swan Mills Charming family yay#Angsty oops#I probably have to edit this a bit but writing this took me a pretty long time & I actually have tests to study for yikes#+ other stuff
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The Fall of a Man (revised)
As the day moved on The Dragon drove toward the city center, but their progress slowed. The five platoons spread across the breadth of their path to ensure that the streets and buildings were sanitized. Each platoon broke into a core group that carried supplies, and several detachments to scour the buildings.
Tynon, not having established a base of operations, was not interested in bringing on new members. It was unfortunate for the few souls that happened to be scrounging about, or perhaps it wasn’t. Given a choice between being beaten to death with a club, and being indoctrinated into a group that beats people to death with clubs, some people would just as soon die.
As the world passed from one of plenty to one of scarcity, morality’s needle moved along with it, millimeter by millimeter, toward the darker, lesser end. Like the hapless frog set in a pot of lukewarm water, it doesn’t ever realize that it’s slowly coming to a boil. By the time it does, the frog is too hot to move. Likewise it was a gradual transition for most men and women in the wasted world, and they didn’t take much note of it as it happened until the day they were faced with the choice of taking a life or dying. This was the story of each of the men in The Dragon, they had already made their choice.
A foot soldier, Jacko, in the fourth platoon led a detachment of five through one of the buildings to the north of the main force. Jacko was just 19, and this was his first command. He hid his raw nerves below a veneer of brutality, for one did not want to have ones authority questioned in The Dragon. He barked loudly at his five soldiers and berated them as they searched building after building.
They made their way to one building sitting amongst several that had been turned to rubble. Designed in 1946, the two story building originally served as a bank, complete with arched teller windows and marble floors on the main floor. One level below the street was modestly sized vault with its massive steel door. Wooden bannisters and marble stairs connected the basement all the way up to the second floor. An elevator, however, only went up to the main floor from the vault. Upstairs offices had no need for elevator access in the 40s.
The bank building changed hands several times over the next five decades, but remained a bank with one logo or another. Machines replaced many of the humans working at the bank, although few noticed how the automation was chipping away at the average person’s livelihood. I happened slowly during each bank’s tenure, or quickly when the building’s signage was replaced with a new owner.
In the late 90’s a lending company took over the building after it bought the previous occupant. That company folded in 2002 as a brief recession punished financial and technology sectors. The bank building became a liquidated asset and was sold off to a real estate developer who converted the building’s second floor into apartments and split the first floor in two, leasing one half to a cafe and the other to a children’s day care center. The basement was used by the cafe to store goods and supplies. The cafe survived for 12 years before being edged out by a large corporate coffee company that opened up across the street. A yoga studio moved into the space. The day care center eventually shuttered as well, leaving room for the yoga studio to expand. It became a well-equipped fitness center with mats, machines, instructors and some built-in patrons living upstairs.
By 2020 the building was getting run down due to aloof management. The fitness center and most of residents on the second floor left as their leases came due. The building owners had overextended themselves and couldn’t pay for repairs, and eventually the taxes due on the property. In 2021 the city of Toronto took ownership the beautifully dilapidated piece of architecture. It would never be sold again. In 2025 it housed some of the city’s homeless, although not officially. As the drought spread across the world more and more people struggled to make ends meet. Financially markets suffered and the economy put many middle-class citizens on the street, unable to afford housing while keeping their bellies full.
As the city declined, the building found new purpose as a marketplace for scavengers and those who managed to produce something of value out of whatever they had. In 2027 bartering for goods took place on the first floor, while the second floor hosted the brothel. The city looked the other way either out of respect for those who were struggling, or simply because they hadn’t the resources to deal with the illicit activity.
By 2032 drugs had invaded the brothel to such an extent that the city was no longer willing to sit idly by. It raided and shut down. Boarded up and fenced off, the structure stood idly by for five more years.
A young girl, only 10 years old, left by her parents to fend for herself, came upon the building and hid out in it for a few months in 2037. She was a very clever girl, managing to find food by hunting through other buildings in the area. She even found the combination to the safe hidden away underneath one of the old teller cash drawers. Inside she found provisions enough to keep her sustained for over a year.
Homeless children, even cute little girls, were commonplace in the city by then. Funding for orphanages had dried up, and many of the kids were born to parents on the fringe of civilized society, a place more and more people were ending up. Wearing little more than oversized t-shirts, they would beg, or steal. Many learned to hunt rats, cats, dogs… any animal that was forgotten. Some would fish, which was a healthier food choice than eating the mammals in most cases — certainly more desirable.
10 year old Hope managed to keep her hideout a secret. She used a gap in the fence that was tucked away beneath a tarp, and a breach in the building’s boards that she could easily replace. She tried to enter and leave the building under the cover of night, being extra cautious about the location and phase of the moon. She took food to trade with other children, never adults. And she only took a little at a time as to not arouse suspicion of her horde of food.
Unfortunate for Hope, it was, that she was so pretty. A group of teenage scavengers took note of her one night as she was trading a box of crackers for some dried fish. Had the moon not been full they might have not noticed her relatively clean clothes, her brown hair and chubby, healthy cheeks.
The five boys were aged ranging from 14 to 17, wearing whatever rags of pants and shirts and shoes that they happened upon or traded for. Desperate boys will form groups with hierarchies like those of middle school. Boys led by bullies didn’t last long, neither did the boys led by smart kids. But the smart kids that acted like bullies, groups led by those kids tended to thrive. She went back to her bank as she usually did, being careful that she wasn’t being followed, doubling back a few times to be sure. The boys were smart too, though, and patient. They were smart enough to spread way out and keep a good distance from her on the first night. When they saw her again several nights later they went ahead of her, taking positions in buildings along her route that allowed them to watch her without being spotted. Each time they spotted her they worked their way closer and closer to her building until finally they pinpointed it.
They waited until the morning. In the light they would be able to spot traps that she might have set. In the light they could see that no one else was in the building. They snuck in at first, moving through the fence under the tarp, crawling in through the same boarded up window.
Hope was sleeping in the basement. She liked being near the vault, near her stash of food and provisions. The boys crept down the stairs. The basement was a little darker than the upper floors, just a little light beamed in from two barred windows opposite the staircase. They crept close, forming a half circle around Hope and the vault entrance.
Hope awoke to the sound of the smartest boy coughing. “We don’t want to hurt ya, we juss want your stash.”
She wasn’t smart enough to just walk away. If she had been older, wiser, or more skilled maybe should wouldn’t have had to. But she was too young to take on five teenage boys, but too naive to know it. Hope was only 10 when she jumped at the smallest boy in the group, clawing at his face, scratching him badly. She was just this little girl when another boy grabbed her and threw her on the ground, and kicked her again and again. She didn’t know politics, or have the awareness to know when she was beaten, but she knew it hurt when they kicked her. She didn’t scream when two of the boys held her down. There was no one to scream out to. The building was empty, the streets around it were empty. The little girl with the chubby cheeks and cute brown hair did not know shame when the boy with the scratched face tore off her clothes.
Hope had only known survival, and when the little boy pulled down his pants she ripped her feet away from the hands of the other boys and kicked the scratched boy hard. She kicked him so, so hard. He buckled over and fell to the ground. The other boys erupted into howls of laughter upon seeing the fate of their fallen comrade.
The boy recovered quickly. To save face he beat hope with his fists. He kicked her with his shins as much as his groin would allow. Blood dripped onto her body from the boys face. He beat her for almost a half an hour, breaking ribs, bruising her face. Had he been a larger boy, or more skilled, he would have done more damage. But he was small, the smallest of the boys and he did his best. When he finished he was fairly certain that he had killed the little girl. It did not make him feel better though, and did not resolve the ridicule from the other boys. Like the scratches on his face, this moment would scar him for the rest of his life — his greatest embarrassment, and the first time, he thought, he had killed another human.
They dragged her body out into the street, and down a few blocks. They shoved her onto the sidewalk and covered her with her torn clothing. Cautiously, they did their best to cover their tracks as they returned to her bank. Over the next few nights they would make trips back to the bank and remove the provisions.
The bank remained empty until the early 2040s when it was taken over by a rebellious faction of the government from the Northern Territories. They used it, and several nearby buildings as a foothold in the city. The government expanded farming into the north as it had warmed and the south had become sterile. There’s always been an unsettled division between the people of the north and south. Northerners were survivors and lived their lives without support from the south, or its taxes. Now the south was invading. These survivors of the north saw no option but to fight back.
The hay-day of democracy was coming to an end on the American continent. Marshall law had long been declared and government take-over of land and other resources were commonplace. As uncivilized as forfeiture was, it was done under the guise of saving civilization.
The uprising was short lived. There was no military or infrastructural value to the cluster of buildings. Many were bombed outright. The bank had been spared direct damage from bomb strikes, but was vacated as the soldiers rolled through with grenades and automatic weaponry. It became riddled with shrapnel and bullets attached to bits of flesh from northerners.
In 2047, on the day Jacko’s detachment had come upon it, the building was home to a vagrant teenager. When he hear them enter the building he fled up one flight of stairs to the second floor and jumped out a window. Two of Jacko’s men jumped out behind him, landing in a sand drift that cushioned their fall, and made it nearly impossible to move quickly. The rest of the detachment scurried out of the first floor and swung around building to surround the boy.
His name was Jerome. Standing just shy of six feet tall, he towered over the small band of Dragon. His dreadlocks rested on his shoulders when the wind was still, as it was at the base of the sand dune. He would have made a valuable addition to the ranks of The Dragon. He was the right age for indoctrination and very able-bodied. It was not a day for recruitment, however, for The Dragon were clearing the streets.
Weaponless, and surrounded, he knew his choices were to be beaten to death by six men with clubs, or five. He imagined that he could probably get to one of them before the others took him down. Jerome was never faced with killing anyone before, but he had a knife well suited to the task. He had used it to steal from people, to hurt people, but never kill. This was a moment for Jerome to redefine himself as either a killer, or prey.
Do all intelligent animals have the capacity to kill when faced with certain death? Animals in traps will often chew their own limbs apart to escape. They are dedicated to living. But maybe the human mind had become so powerful, so logical that it eclipsed the baser instincts. Like a couple choosing not to have a child for the sake of sparing the planet one more human mouth, could Jerome choose not to kill one of these men, knowing that their tribe has a better chance at survival than he did?
While Jerome’s mind wrestled with the morality of killing, Jacko took a short swing and struck him just below the knee, smashing his tibia in two. Excruciating pain shot down to Jerome’s ankle and up to his groin. The sound of a cracking bundle of twigs filled his head. He imagined someone holding the bundle with their hands, twisting it until it the young wood became twisted fibers. He buckled to the ground, dropping his knife. Unable to catch his breath, he couldn’t even cry for help. Tears welled up in his eyes and he gazed toward the sky at the six silhouettes that would be his demise.
Jerome completed his life, without killing anyone.
The post The Fall of a Man (revised) appeared first on Mark McEachran.
http://j.mp/2sJyxFR July 10, 2017 at 09:30PM
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