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morning-might-arrive · 4 years ago

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Here’s the continuation of my last post. Thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged! This is becoming a lot longer than I thought, so there will be another part soon. Feedback is appreciated!

A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Wednesday

Jackson sighed as he silenced his blaring alarm clock. 7:00 am. As he walked to the bathroom to get ready, he was suddenly struck by a memory.

“It’s nothing personal, normie. You just look like such a freak.” Manny told him as he shoved him off of the lunch table. Jackson looked towards the other mansters, but they said nothing. So they all agreed. Even Clawd.

He cringed. He’d had to eat lunch in a bathroom stall that day. He looked at his reflection, desperately wishing he could change it. He sighed and got dressed. He had to leave early since he now had no car and his parents weren't home. He plugged his headphones into his phone. Holt had gotten them into this situation, only fitting that he deal with it.

Holt Hyde cursed under his breath as he walked to school. Although the weather was warming, mornings in March were still frigid. He sighed in relief as he approached Monster High.

“Heya there, sweetpea,” Operetta drawled in greeting as Holt waltzed through the front doors of the school.

“What’s good, Oppy?” Holt responded, his usual loud and energetic self even at the early hour.

“Just peachy keen like always, hun. Say, you seen the Ghostly Gossip lately?” She asked.

“Nah, we usually stay away from that garbage ever since that story about us and Frankie. Humiliated the poor ghoul and almost tanked our relationship. It really ain’t cool what they're doin’.” He replied nonchalantly.

“Oh. Okay. Well sugar, you know you can tell me anythang you wanna, right?” She continued.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks Oppy.” That was kinda weird for the rough and tumble ghoul to say, but honestly Holt was just glad their botched attempt at dating didn’t mess up their friendship. Oppy was a cool ghoul.

“What’s the word, cool cats?” Came a new voice.

“Johnny!”

“Johnny.”

Johnny spirit sauntered casually down the main corridor of Monster High, and students jumped out of his way as if he had the plague. He put his arm around Operetta’s shoulder. “Hey, babe.”

Holt snorted. “I’ll never get why everyone lets you float around like you own the place.”

Johnny shrugged. “Guess they don’t have a choice. Besides, I never see you doing anything about it,” he replied with a bit of challenge in his tone. Holt rolled his eyes.

“You know you don’t scare us, Spirit. Anyway, it seems like Oppy’s got you on a leash without our help.”

Johnny bristled at that “Y’know Hyde, I’m gettin’ real sick of-”

“Why don’t we scamper on down to the catacombs and finish that new song we been workin on, sugarpie?” Operetta cut in. She really didn’t want to deal with a fistfight this early.

The couple walked away and Holt made toward the auditorium. He found the symphony on stage setting up and dashed up to join them, plugging his guitar into its amp. Jennifire was nearby greasing the corks on her clarinet. He huffed and sat down next to her.

“Another run in with the phantom pianist?” She asked, not even looking up.

“That guy is such a jerk!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You boys are so easily provoked; I may never understand it. My brothers were just the same. He has done not to insight your anger.”

Holt really hated to admit it, but she was right. Johnny really didn't scare Holt, and he knew a little better than to try that tough guy act on Jackson. Plus, it was kinda funny seeing guys like Heath and Manny faint when he walked past them.

“Your emotions run like wildfire, I am very impressed you came to terms so easily with your end.” She continued.

Wait. What. “My what now?”

“Of course, it must be so hard for you to talk about. I am sorry.” A tear fell from her eye and promptly turned to smoke upon hitting her face.

“Jen, are you okay?” Holt asked, facing her.

She smiled. “Yes, I will be okay. So kind of you to think of me.”

“Okay, Okay, enough chit chat. Places people!” The director yelled as he approached the stage. Well. That was weird. Holt took his place in the stool beside the amp and looked up as the director began counting them off.

After an awkward hour of rehearsal, they were dismissed to second period. Holt emerged out into the crowd of students in the hall. Jennifire was nowhere to be found, so he made his way toward the art room. His Spotify playlist suddenly changed to a song by Pierce the Veil. He pulled out his phone to skip it and saw he had a message from Jackson. He scoffed. If D-low had told him what was wrong, would he be asking? JJ could be so oblivious. Maybe it was just a normie thing.

He took his usual seat in front of his canvas and continued his painting for this week.

“Psst, Holt.” he heard a whisper. He turned and met the shiny magenta eyes of retired popstar Catty Noir. “We’re turning up at Cleo’s place on Saturday, you in?”

“Yeah totally- oh, nevermind. We can’t make it, we kinda got a...thing that day.”

“Oh,” she said, looking kind of taken aback. “It’s that soon?”

“What was that?”

“ I said I’ll see you soon!” she hastily corrected herself as she got up and turned in her painting, promptly leaving the art room. Man, everyone's acting off today. He touched up his work and quickly followed suit.

He basically had the rest of the period to himself, so he decided to riff on his guitar for a little bit. He couldn’t do it in the building anymore ever since that one time Headmistress Bloodgood caught him, so he moved to the front steps and set his bag beside him.

“Hey Holt!”

Holt turned towards the front of the school. “Frankie Fine-Stein! Where have you been hiding?” Her skin glowed a light mint green and her eyes sparked in the sun. Just as bootiful as ever. She sat on the step beside him.

“I was actually just in the library. I found this book about the original Jekyll and Hyde. It was way harsh; It said that Edward Hyde trampled a child in the streets of London, is that true?”

“Nuh-uh! Those stuffy normie’s didn’t like that grandpa’s were different so they dragged their reputation through the dirt!” Holt declared passionately. “Some of the people they charged him with killing didn’t even exist in the first place! Then they made Dr. Jekyll out to be a complete basket case and threw them both in jail! That is until they got bailed out by our great-great-grandma, Lucy.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know any of that!” Frankie replied. She actually knew all about it, she had heard the exact same thing from Jackson before. They were both incredibly salty about the smear campaign launched against their great-great-grandparents that made their family flee to America in the first place, and you could hardly bring it up around them without a passionate rant. Frankie felt a little bad about bringing up something she knew was a sore subjet for them, but she had to make sure Spectra and the other ghouls didn’t get caught. It was for their own good, right?

Her phone buzzed in her lap and she glanced down. “Spectra got something, meet us back in the library.” Clawdeen. Frankie jumped up. “Sorry, Holt, I really gotta go.”

Holt watched her go in curiosity. He checked the time and quickly jumped up himself and dashed back inside the building. The only way to not be late now was to go through Section C, the so-called “vampires only” hallway. It really irked them when other monster’s used it, but he didn’t really care when it was either that or detention. As he made his way through he felt someone glaring at him, and met eyes with a large group of the former prep-school vampires. He braced himself, but instead of giving him grief like they usually did, they just let him pass. They were acting weird, but so was everyone else. Oh well, he didn’t really have time to think about it now.

Holt’s third period was Chemistry 2 with Mr. Hack. No thanks. Science was never his strong suit. Plus, there was seriously something off about this particular teacher. He just took a little too much pleasure in the cutting open of living things for Holt’s liking. He pulled out his phone.

“Keep an eye out. Today’s been weird, Bro.” He typed the message out and then disconnected his phone from his headphones. The world went dark.

Jackson blinked a few times. What was that ringing sound? “Oh, shOOT!” He bolted through the closest door- which just happened to be the right one- and took his seat as the bell finished ringing.

Mr. Hack passed out a hefty amount of worksheets to the class. “Okay class: no whispering, no talking, no looking around, no coughing or sneezing, no you can’t use the bathroom, and if I catch you on your cell phone the whole class gets detention. You have until the end of the class to complete the worksheets or it's a 0 for today.”

Everyone groaned. Good old Mr. Hack. Charming and likeable. Jackson tried to ignore the stares and whispers in his direction as he did his work. He knows he’s different, don’t they ever get tired of reminding him? Were they all paying more attention to him than usual, or was it just his imagination? He blazed through his work in about 20 minutes, it was just some simple thermodynamics equations. He looked up and noticed that Mr. Hack was asleep. Typical. Half the class were on their phones and the other half were talking amongst themselves. He pulled his phone out and saw Holt’s message.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination then, everyone was acting a little odd. Granted, every day at Monster High was pretty weird. Last week they had lost their school crest in a rollerblading contest and the school nearly toppled over, so maybe he could just ignore whatever this was.

The bell finally rang for lunch. He set his work on Mr. Hack’s desk as he jolted awake and practically ran from the room. He shot Clair a text

“Okay, transportation is set and decorations bought. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Measurements, goofy.” She responded almost instantly.

“Oh, right. I can get a tape measure from the woodshop teacher and get them during lunch.”

“Have you told the other monsters about Saturday?”

“No. I just don’t know how they’ll react, y’know?”

“Aren’t they always telling you about how you don’t belong? So why would they care?”

“Yeah you’re probably right. It’s just a difficult situation.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Let me know how it goes.”

Looking down at his phone, he didn’t notice Draculara until he bumped her as he passed.

“So sorry!” He exclaimed.

“It’s alright.” She reassured him as she walked away. She made her way to the library where her friends were already gathered around in a circle. Spectra floated in the center.

“What’s this all about?” Draculara asked.

“While Frankie had Holt distracted, Spectra looked in his locker.”

“Well what did she find?” Cleo demanded.

“Just this. It appears to be a receipt for some kind of car rental.”

Clawd glanced at his phone. “Heath says Jackson is in the boys locker room right now taking measurements of himself and writing them down.” He told the group.

“Then what Spectra said is true.” Fraknie finally admitted. The room fell into extended silence.

“Well we can at least show Jackson he means something to us.” Draculara spoke up.

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, “we can do something nice for him and Holt.”

“What are we going to do? Hijack the gym and throw a huge party during lunch?” Cleo asked sardonically.

“You’re on a roll Cleo! It’ll be closed tomorrow, but we can do it Friday!” Clawdeen agreed.

Cleo smiled. Very well then. Friday would be a day for the monster history books.

#jackson jekyll #holt hyde #frankie #draculara #clawdeen #spectra vondergeist #operetta #johnny spirit #monster high #mh

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zosonils · 4 years ago

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Crossover you say 👀

OKAY SO. SONIC COLOURS/MEGA MAN CROSSOVER

i don't have much in mind story wise, but i'm thinking it takes place under the same conditions as worlds collide, which i insist on believing also happened nearly identically offscreen in the game timeline because nobody can tell me otherwise. fairly basic setup of eggman and wily teaming up to cause problems on purpose and sonic and rock working together to stop them, and now there's wisps in the mix >:O i'm sure i could think up a fun excuse plot for why sonic colours happens twice and also mega man is here now, but mostly this was just an excuse to put the special interest in the hyperfixation and come up with some fun weapons for rock based on my first and favourite sonic game

each robot master is based on a wisp from either version of the original colours, which causes a little confusion given that you end up with two burst men and drill men but these ones have different EWN-XXX serial numbers and are entirely unrelated to their canon mega man counterparts. i haven't actually drawn the robot masters yet or thought up designs or personalities, just come up with their weapons and what stage they'd inhabit, but maybe i'll do that sometime. the robot masters are something like this

EWN-010 BURST MAN - weak to drill dash, gives bursting blaze, sweet mountain stage

EWN-011 ROCKET MAN - weak to cubic satellite, gives rocket jump, terminal velocity stage

EWN-012 DRILL MAN - weak to spike spin, gives drill dash, tropical resort stage

EWN-013 HOVER MAN - weak to rocket jump, gives hovering shockwave, starlight carnival stage

EWN-014 LASER MAN - weak to frenetic void, gives prism laser, aquarium park stage

EWN-015 CUBE MAN - weak to prism laser, gives cubic satellite, wii game land stage

EWN-016 VOID MAN - weak to bursting blaze, gives frenetic void, asteroid coaster stage

EWN-017 SPIKE MAN - weak to hovering shockwave, gives spike spin, planet wisp stage

i wrote up some really detailed information on how all the weapons work but i'll put that under a cut to prevent this post from getting too long! if you don't feel like reading massive paragraphs of game design ideas, here's the microsoft paint scribblings i did of all of them [sonic is there too]

BURSTING BLAZE

a chargeable attack that blasts out a sphere of fire to deal damage. charging it longer sends the fire out further and increases its damage output, but costs more weapon energy. without any charging it's a pretty standard low-range attack, but at maximum charge it functions as a screen nuke on par with the likes of rain flush, tornado blow, or astro crush. if rock takes damage while charging bursting blaze, he'll automatically release it at whatever charge level it was at when he got hit. in addition to the obvious usefulness of a fucking screen nuke, a less- or uncharged bursting blaze can be a handy way to quickly get some personal space in a tight situation.

cost: 1 unit when uncharged, 7 when fully charged [28 uses uncharged or 4 fully charged from a full gauge]. has five in-between charge levels costing 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 units from least to most powerful.

i came up with this name first because i wanted it to have blaze in it because i fucking love blaze the cat.

ROCKET JUMP

an explosion that launches rock much higher than a normal jump would take him, about the height of one screen. in addition to the explosion at the bottom dealing damage, rock's body deals contact damage until his upward momentum stops, which tears through enemies with low health or a weakness to rocket jump but doesn't protect him against bulkier foes or stage hazards. while he can still move left or right while rocketing upwards, the only way for rock to stop moving upwards is to either naturally run out of momentum, hit a ceiling, or take damage.

some platforms can only be reached by using rocket jump.

cost: 3 units per use [10 uses from a full gauge]

obviously a joke based on the rocket jump technique in a lot of video games, lmao. rock blows himself up and ragdolls so hard he clips out of the interstellar amusement park and sonic watches as he falls past every kill plane and into infinity forever

DRILL DASH

a dash attack slightly faster than the slide going straight down, sideways, or diagonally down-left or down-right, similar to the pile driver but shorter and without upwards reach. has fairly low attack power, equivalent to two mega buster shots, but pushes surviving enemies back, allowing them to be hit again and again with a chain of drill dashes. underwater, it moves significantly faster and further, and can be fired up as well as down, unlocking eight-directional dashing.

if rock hits a solid wall he'll bounce off of it, but if he hits certain types of dirt-like walls he'll drill into them, which can uncover helpful items like health and weapon refills and occasionally 1-ups or e-tanks [probably in scripted locations].

cost: 2 units per use [14 uses from a full gauge]

i've never played mighty no. 9 but i've seen footage of like the dash thingy he can do? because it probably looks kinda like that.

HOVERING SHOCKWAVE

fires a shockwave that doesn't hurt any more than a standard mega buster shot [unless the enemy in question is weak to it], but stuns most enemies and has a fairly decent range. if you fire it in midair and then hold down the attack button, rock's falling speed will decrease dramatically, and he'll continue to float until either he hits the ground, the attack button is released, or he takes damage. hovering will cost additional energy, and if hovering shockwave is used in midair it can't be used again until rock hits the ground at least once.

cost: 1.5 units per use [19 uses from a full gauge], plus an extra 3 units per second of hovering, for a total of a little under 9 seconds of hovering taking the initial shot into account.

this one's pretty directly lifted from the hover wispon in sonic forces.

PRISM LASER

a laser projectile that either bounces off or goes through anything it hits a set number of times, maybe three to five. if it destroys an enemy its movement is unchanged; if it hits a wall or an enemy that doesn't immediately die to it then it bounces instead. can be fired in all eight directions, but once fired its trajectory is out of the player's hands. basically imagine gemini laser, then imagine it being obscenely better in every conceivable way. best used in enclosed rooms where it can bounce around a lot and doesn't have much opportunity to get lost offscreen.

some rooms have prisms in them like the ones in colours that automatically redirect prism laser, guiding them to destroy enemies blocking paths and the like.

cost: 6 units per use [5 uses from a full gauge]

cyan laser was my favourite colour power when i was a little baby because haha bright colour funny sound go wheeee. prism laser is probably overpowered because of this bias lmao.

CUBIC SATELLITE

summons four [?] orbiting cubes that shield rock from one hit each. they deal damage to enemies they touch unless said enemy is immune to the power. standard shield weapon, blue cube is a lame overly situational gimmick and i couldn't think of anything better. rock can still fire and charge his mega buster while shielded, but obviously can't use any special weapons. every time a cube is destroyed, the remaining ones spin faster, looking something like the tubinaut badnik from sonic mania. that's just a visual effect i don't know what else to write here it's a shield weapon.

cost: 3.5 units per use [8 units from a full gauge]

i think i'd like shield weapons more if i knew how to use the attacking ones to actually attack. i used leaf shield about 3 times in mega man 2 and every time i flung it in the wrong direction and got hit anyway.

FRENETIC VOID

sucks in any enemies that rock is facing for as long as the attack button is held down, drawing them to a point just in front of him. when released, the blasters on his arms [which in this form morph to look like the purple frenzy mouth] crunch down in front of him, dealing slightly more damage than a charged mega buster shot to anything that's been pulled in close enough and knocking back anything that isn't destroyed. rock can't move while using frenetic void, and if anything hits him while he's vaccuuming he drops the move without the finishing bite or knockback. this move can also draw in most types of bullets, which are absorbed and disappear if they reach the void, or continue in whatever direction they were pulled in if the move ends before they get there.

cost: 3 units per use [10 units from a full gauge]

i thought it'd be cool to combine purple frenzy and violet void somehow. i used void for the robot master name because i believe in sonic colours ds port supremacy, but the decision was ultimately pretty arbitrary.

SPIKE SPIN

what top spin wishes it was. a close-range attack where spikes emerge from rock's body as he does a speen, giving him a somewhat bigger hitbox. when he hits an enemy, he bounces off of it in a manner similar to the way sonic bounces off of everything he hits. the move lasts as long as the attack button is held down, draining weapon energy over time, and rock can still walk and jump while speening. some projectiles will bounce off of spike spin [generally small bullets like those from mets or sniper joes will bounce off while anything stronger will still hurt], and holding the move makes rock immune to spikes, allowing him to walk over them safely until his weapon energy depletes.

some items may be tucked away in places that are difficult or impossible to reach without walking over spikes, requiring the use of spike spin to reach them.

cost: 4 units per second, for a total of 7 seconds of spinning from a full gauge. the first unit is depleted the moment the button is pressed so the move can't be scummed into lasting longer.

honestly now that i'm thinking about this i might change spike spin to act a little more like how pink spike spindashes, but i was overcome by a desire for justice for top man.

i don't know how to end this post lmao but i've been thinking about this crossover for days on end. i know damn well it's a pipe dream but right now i'm in just the right mode of hyperfixation that if sega and capcom announced a sonic/mega man crossover in a video game that isn't smash lmao i would ASCEND

#i had so much fun drawing those shitty microsoft paint mega men lmao #just fucking whatever #mega man #sonic the hedgehog #sonic colours #mega colours #that's what the .txt file i'm writing this all down in is called so that's what i'm tagging this crossover as in case i post about it again #i have a whole bunch of other miscellaneous ideas for how this'd go but the main thing was coming up with funni weapons #i could apologise for making such a long post but i am not going to i think. i used a readmore i have no excuse to feel bad about dash clog #can't wait for all the speedrunners to go for drill man first and spam drill dash for the entire game #sonic forces me to answer questions #aprofessionallurker

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

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The Way to Hell - Part 11

Synopsis: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild)

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: Explicit smut, violence, gore, cutting, angst, manhandling, choking, foul language, bondage, breath play, unprotected sex.

A/N: Assuming my usual panic attack positions! Ok, so there are about 2 chapters left and I fear this story is about to conclude... 😰 This chapter put me through an emotional turmoill! Many thanks for my editor and muse @agniavateira, @yespolkadotkitty for the cover art and @dancingwendigo and @wondersofdreaming who’re helping me through my panic attacks and providing tips

Please comment, review and reblog. 💖

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me

Pearly tendrils of light shine through the creases of his lids, waking him from a dreamless sleep. A mixture of iron and dream-like mellowness tugs at his nose, like death and fresh roses. It’s so close he can nearly taste it on his parched tongue. Swallowing the scorching dryness in his throat, the fallen man attempts to move but a leaden warmth defies him, hugging softly onto his upper torso and embracing him in the foreign fog of solace.

A delicate heartbeat murmurs against his, so frail it virtually feels as if it melted into his own ribs.

As if she dissolved into him.

Cold sweat layers his forehead. Snapping frantically he shoves the girl off of him, curling against the headboard with a crazed neurotic look on his face as if he was touched by a blaze of blistering fire.

“What the fuck do you want!?” August yells, his voice hoarse and cracked. His glare shoots through her across the small bedroom, his mind rapidly trying to grasp any recollection of the messy chamber. This location is strange to him; the walls feel like they’re closing in, withdrawing the air from his lungs in a place that seems like a warzone. The light-carpeted floor is soiled by a long path of the darkest red, the trail leading back to them.

The porcelain valkyrie is pushed to the edge of the bed, seemingly like a rare mythological creature. Her long hair drapes her face like a dark veil, pierced by two shiny diamonds that glimpse through, imbued with naivety. Still drowsy, she tries to collect her own senses, rubbing her heavy forehead and releasing a soft groan.

“Relax, stop shouting.” she pleads with lids half shut. Her slender arms spread in the air, suggesting a peace treaty.

August scowls, his airflow becoming short and quickened. He lets a hand rave over his chest with panic, finding it bare and sticky with dry blood and sweat. A clean bandage is wrapped around his left pectoral and crossed tightly around one shoulder. While the aching sting still bites into the wounded muscle, his energy has slightly renewed, as well as his sanity.

Or so he believes.

Making another hasty survey of the room, he finds his belt and armed holster scattered on the floor. He makes a dash for it, immediately aiming the gun in Ingvild’s direction, refusing to fall to whatever game this may be.

She stares at him motionless, remaining seated with her knees folded and her feet nestled below her behind. “Feels nice doesn’t it?” she provokes, her lips breaking into a faint grin as if the muscles of her face are still learning the concept of smiling. “To wake up with your tits out.”

Looking back at her unamused, his hand waves the gun. A glower shadows his face, painting deep lines in his forehead. The attempt to greet her with an onslaught of insults results in nothing but a painful wheeze as his throat sears.

“Don’t move,” Ingvild commands lightly and climbs off the bed, completely ignoring the click of the gun and August’s arm that follows her every movement. Her legs nearly float through as she moves gracefully, rushing to the bathroom nearby. She grabs a glass and fills it from the tap before quickly returning to sit on the bed, offering the tall glass to August.

Wary of her peace offering, he hesitates, scanning her for any signs of wickedness and finding none. Something else glints through her big irises instead. The deep lines that dot those beautiful greys seem so brittle, immersed in emotion he can’t define or recognize at all.

It makes him feel attacked.

Snatching the glass violently, he swallows its content in one gulp, feeling a thirst he never sensed in his entire existence. He places the glass on the nightstand, slamming it so harshly it shatters.

Ingvild peers at the light sparkling onto the broken shards and averts her eyes back to August’s profoundly ragged face. He glares with blazes of fury, evidently less than inclined to trust her despite her efforts to make amends, and the fact that she nursed him through a stormy night.

It pricks her heart, more than it ever did when she tried to gain Liam’s affection.

“I could have killed you at least three times in your sleep,” she murmurs and then pauses, attempting to smirk again. “You should really lay off the snacks, I nearly fainted trying to get you to the bed.”

Unphased, he carefully gauges her appearance. Soft, pale light shines through the window, showering her skin with a mellow haze as she sits holding a hand over her forearm, squeezing it nervously. Her glance is filled with rain clouds, the cynicism and the hatred he grew so accustomed to is untraceable.

A piece inside her shifted, deeming her fragile all of the sudden. In his heart of tar and stone, he knows she speaks the truth, yet the spirit of vengeance won’t let go. Bile rises in his throat, fingers twitching as the constant hunger to touch her prickles his skin. The woman is a natural prey to him, making his mouth salivate. It’s enough to see her defenceless to make him want to gnaw fresh cavities in her flesh.

But something else boils in his veins. More than just a primal need.

“Why can’t you just let me be?” he asks sharply, teeth gritted and jaw strained tightly. A slight tremor runs through his bones, his body dominated by anger and despair.

“You came here,” she answers, staring fearlessly between the barrel and his furious gaze. A small frown forms between her eyebrows, the grey clouds inside her lustrous eyes beginning to take wind. “You wanted to retaliate.”

Fragments of the other night begin to slice into the black matter of his brain: her tears, her lips moving slowly, whispering his own words of a vendetta in her angelic voice.

Like a dream, nebulous and virginal, how beautiful she was surrendering her will to his.

‘Fight it! She betrayed you.’

“Oh trust me, princess, I still very much want to see you die.” he retorts, the gun beginning to feel heavy in his hand. He reaches to hold his own wrist, giving a fierce glare. “You should have ended it, darling.”

“Yes, I should’ve killed you,” she agrees, her lower lip slightly quivering as she looks at him with desperation. Her chest begins to heave through the cleavage of her top, the same tarnished one she wore that night. It still smells like his sweat. His musk is so stubborn it lingers.

“I should be a good girl, for Liam, for Icarus. But I have so many thoughts going through my head over and over again, splitting my mind in half. I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to kill for them, I don’t want to kill you. It hurts.”

Shuffling in a swift movement, she crawls toward him, her muscles flexing inward. Her slick manoeuvres remind him of a majestic feline. August’s pupils dilate as the lines of her face sharpen in his sight and the warmth of her body returns to caress him like a pleasant autumn breeze.

Ingvild reaches her slender arm for his wrist fearlessly before he can even muster any protest. Ignoring the gun aimed at her throat, she forces his palm flat onto her chest and inhales sharply. Her heart thunders against his touch, making his own beat accelerate.

“Right here,” she says, gazing deeply into his eyes as if trying to enchant him. “I have killed close to 470 people since I was 14. I don’t remember their faces, but I do know I never felt this before, not for any of them.”

The azure ocean in August’s eyes gushes with alarming gusts. The scarce physical contact ignited a spark inside him, driving him to withdraw his hand aggressively, putting down the flame before it begins to spread again.

“What do you want? What do you think this is?” he asks furiously, boring a frenzied look into her eyes. He feels a certain heat rising in his chest. He reasons with himself that it’s just the gunshot wound festering, burning his lungs to cinders.

“I want you,” she answers, her gaze dropping to his lips, admiring the fine shape. A sharp cupid’s bow hidden beneath the coarse hair of his thick moustache. Her hands dream of stroking his sculptured jaw and feel the bristle of his untamed stubble.

“I want to follow you on your mission.”

‘She is lying. Don’t trust her, remember what happened the last time you’ve placed your faith in a woman?’

August’s nostrils flare, his mind scouring frantically, bargaining for a reason why she would be different. Twice he spared her, his murderous will weakened by her manipulative spells, clawed by whatever it was she had on him. The voice in his head warns him gravely, yet the fact that here he is, still alive by her merciful hand spikes his doubts, meddling with his thoughts the way only she could do.

Ever since she stepped into his life he’s been spiralling into a cataclysm. Something that he always gripped with zeal was no longer in his control.

Leaning closer, he narrows his eyes with spite. The muscle of his jaw contracts, clenching tightly. He grazes the cold barrel of the gun against the supple skin of her cheek. “Why should I trust you?” he spits out, tracing her face further with the hard, crude metal. “You think that because I broke you in, I actually care about you?”

Ingvild studies his face, not showing any sign of fear as she nods to herself. “You need proof.”

The young woman looks around her, searching for something in the room thoughtfully. Her eyes rest on the nightstand beside August and she leans to it, brushing her entire figure against his broad body for a split second as she reaches for the broken glass.

“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” he asks cautiously, his eyes following her every move. He crooks his eyebrow as she sits in front of him with her legs bunched beneath her bottom. Displaying her left arm with her elbow resting on one knee and her palm facing upward, she presses the shard against her wrist.

August frowns in a mixture of confusion and agitation, alarm bells ringing at the back of his head. Yet no rational thought makes it to his mind as he watches the glass tear through her skin.

Silence befalls the room. Abruptly so quiet he can hear the buzz of the electric cords running through the walls. Even her breath pauses as her right hand drops the shard on the bed, her eyes remaining poised, darting onto his. Overcome with disbelief he wonders if she actually did it, scrutinizing her flesh which seems intact.

Suddenly, a spout of blood emerges through her open wrist.

Dark red liquor licks down her arm, sensually dripping onto her worn jeans and pooling onto the blanket. August’s heart stirs with shock, yet he attempts to force his emotions away.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

Keeping her sight on his, Ingvild remains still, not flinching a muscle as the blood pumps out of her severed artery. The pain is excruciating yet the chants in her mind continue to tell her to hold her groans inside.

‘Show no weakness, prove your strength.’

“You want loyalty.”

“Won’t mean a thing if you’re dead,” he answers coldly, waiting for her to stop the blood, to show any fear or regret. The thick liquid continues to flow down her arm, tarnishing her porcelain skin that begins to turn paler as the blood drains from her body. He gathers the torture must be unbearable yet she won’t even make a whimper.

‘What is she waiting for?’

“I’m not going to save you,” August warns.

Ingvild shrugs lightly, trying not to move her arm too much. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll die one way or another, by your hand or Icarus’. At least this gives me a choice.”

The drops staining the bed sound like rain tapping against a window ledge, heavy and dull.

August’s brows knit together, his eyes running back and forth between her arm and her face, watching her lips turning light blue, triggering disturbing memories in his mind. “What on earth does that mean?” Heavy frown lines paint his forehead as he recalls her words before she shot him.

“I have to kill you.”

“You’re a slave?” he reckons, looking at the colour vanishing from her face as she nods. “How very disappointing, Ingvild.”

“A tool, controlled by men whom I’ve never seen to manipulate the world and sustain the old order, as you wrote in your manifesto.” she shuts her eyes for a mere second, trying to push back the throbbing twinge in her vein as her body screams with panic.

“They stole my freedom…” she pauses, finding it suddenly hard to speak. “They stole me... what did they take from you?”

“It’s none of your business,” he snaps, aware of how her voice slows down along with her breath. He swears he can hear her heartbeat getting louder as if begging to be rescued.

“But I am bleeding for you.” she provokes, offering a small weak chuckle. Feeling the euphoria creeping to her mind. “You should tell me your plans like villains do in the movies. I’m dying anyway.”

August snarls. Shaking his head, his eyes hold a rageful ocean, washed with concern. The image of her dying corpse lying beneath him flashes into his memory. A dead angel in the snow, lips frozen in time. He should have left her there in the frozen lake. But for a split second, she was Lacey and then she wasn’t.

As she slowly dives into her own death, he still wonders why he couldn’t let her drown.

‘For fuck’s sake.’

Ingvild closes her eyes accepting the shadows that seduce her to join them, the pain dwindling as her body gives in. But she’s quickly pulled back by August who holds her hand, covering the bleeding slit with his tattered shirt and pressing into it. His voice comes as distant thunder, vibrating gently in her ears before words begin to make sense again.

“Hold it up, like this,” he commands her, folding her arm and fisting her wrist tightly. “Where are the bandages?”

Ingvild tilts her chin, her sleepy eyes gesturing onto her bag on the floor where a pristine white pack of badges lies.

“Keep the pressure on,” he orders her again. His voice is calm as if once again he follows protocols. Yet something stirred, hiding within the silent sea of his eyes which snap at her for a split second.

They’re tainted by fear.

Ingvild watches with hushed admiration as he hurries to grab the bandage and returns to her. A small wrinkle rests between his brow, focusing intently on wrapping her open wound. He makes such a beautiful, neat work dressing her injury, she almost feels sorry for making a mess out of his.

“Have I proved myself?” she taunts, peeking at him through her lashes while he makes work of tying the dressing tightly at her wrist. His elegant hands wrap a piece of medical duct tape around the bandages, twirling the long thick bands ceremonially as if they were silk ribbons.

His stern gaze rests upon her face, noting every flake of her long lashes, watching the different colours shift like thick liquid as daylight breaks onto her glassy irises. Awe plays with the strings in his chest, mesmerized by the innocence in her that refuses to die even after he desecrated her.

The craving in him seethes. Like a thirsty man in the desert who stumbles onto an oasis.

‘You can’t let her go, can’t let her slip between your fingers.’

With her wrist still in his grasp, he allows himself to stroke a thumb over the white cotton of the bandage, brushing the suppleness of her skin.

“This is not the devotion I need from you, princess.”

Ingvild flinches like a scared animal, shivering at the foreign tenderness of his touch. No one ever touched her with kindness. Soft, feather-like caresses embark further up her milky skin, making her moan at the pleasant new sensation. Light and careful, his fingers ascend to her neck and press around her chin.

“Angel,” August murmurs, low and sonorous. His bulky body looms closer, whilst the grip around her jaw becomes tense, drawing her closer until his lips are a mere inch away from hers. “Do you want to be devoted to me?”

“Yes,” she answers, voice still lingering either by blood loss or the passion that begins to cloud her mind.

Consoled by her answer, a small growl builds in the pit of August’s diaphragm, accompanied by a lustful grin that edges his chiselled face.

“Then show me your devotion.”

“No…” she protests lightly, finally breaking into a true little smile that glints brightly in her eyes. The radiance almost makes him want to take it from her by force. “I’m not a toy.”

August smirk widens at her response, exposing his sharp fangs that beam at the faint hint of rosy hues that circles her cheeks.

“Did I stutter?” Authority paints his voice, his grip putting pressure on her nape and pressing her chin up with the pad of his thumb. The patience in him wears thin, greed weaving in his gut yet he vows to hold back as much as possible, unwilling to tear down her wings.

She must submit freely.

Fallen by his power, she watches the darkness pour into his eyes, his lips pulling apart slightly, anticipating the moment when he can steal the air from her lungs and nibble into the plumpness of her lips. Whatever strength in her wanes, bending to his will. She meekly takes his lips into hers, suckling him above and below, feeling the rough graze of his moustache.

It’s nothing like the violent kiss they shared in the pit, yet something in her quickly awakens: a hunger like no other, turning the kiss more demanding. Like fire spreading, their tongues quickly engulf each other, dancing feverishly. August’s growl vibrates all the way down her sternum, his hands roaming down to grope every patch of skin.

A mewl of protest breaks from her as he leaves her lips, followed by a deep sigh as he begins to kiss down her throat. The scruff of his coarse facial hair makes her blood rush and her heart pumps with exhilaration, nearly halting from the bliss of his touch.

“I want everything.” August blurts out, tugging her shirt over her head and then biting her breasts over her bra. The canvas of her skin is tainted by deep-grey and purple shades. Flicking the clasp of her bra, he wonders briefly which were from their fight and which formed as he fucked her so aggressively. He feels nothing but pride in knowing he will make new ones right now. Brand her as he claims her his own.

Sharp teeth sink into her tender breasts, coaxing yips of pain, marking her with wet little cavities while his fingers fiddle with her jeans, urgently huddling it down her legs along with her underwear. Impassioned, she shifts from her position, kicking away the last remnants of her clothes. The chill air tickles her wet flesh, making her exhale with ghastly need. More wolf than a man, August leans back, his torso layered with sweat that glistens of the dark fur of his torso. The fabric of his trousers is stretched painfully over the massive bulge and mindlessly she reaches out to feel him, kneading the outlines of his erection through his pants.

‘Fuck, her touch...’

Fervent groans tremor through his sinew as she squeezes him harder. She frees him from his trousers, running a hand up and down his shaft, astounded by his vastness and the correlation of smooth velvet skin over rock-hard muscle.

Still sore, the pounding heat of need rocks at the centre of her cunt, possessing her into swaying her perky breasts against his cock. Pearly beads of precum exude from the tip, coating the erected peaks of her nipples.

“Fuck!” August pants and swallows hard, as the battle over his self-control drains him. Patience has always been his virtue in bed, his power over women. Release in control by sodomy that inflicted true pleasure.

But not with her. She strings different tunes, singing seductive hymns to the animal in him.

He wants her. He needs her. He must have all of her.

‘I deserve her.’

Drawing back against the headboard, his hands snap at her hip, lifting her with ease to stand on her knees right above his cock. Ingvild nibbles at her bottom lip, her eyes falling onto his hardened shaft which lies heavily against his abs.

If not for all the injuries she caused him, the large man’s Adonis-like form would have looked like a renaissance statue cut out of marble.

“Come here,” he commands, removing one hand from her to seize the base of his huge cock which towers with glory amidst the dark bundles of curls. “Take me in”

A stream of arousal rushes inside her, making her quiver as she lowers her soaked crease onto his erection ever so gingerly. Cries of overwhelm break from her lips. His girth splits her apart, whilst his wolf-like glares bore into hers with the triumph of conquest.

Every push stretches her wider, forcing her body to succumb and accept him despite the painful effort. August is too big, his vastness tears whatever innocence is left to her, and he is not even fully within.

Shivering, she halts, hearing August’s snarl of protest when realizing she has her nails cleaving crescent-marks on his pumped shoulders.

“All the way in, angel,” he commands, and then bucks his hips into her and snaps her down onto his pulsating shaft, giving no notice to the scream she lets out as he sears her.

He drives himself in until her ass slams onto his thick thighs. She can feel his hot flinching cock buried within the dark pit of her gut while his sack strains against her clenched cavern.

“Good girl.” August praises, pressing her against his chest as they both pant and groan in harmony. Calls of pleasure and cries of pain mingle into a sinful symphony.

But suddenly he stills, and his hand snaps at her neck. Thumb pressing at her artery, he makes a small thrust, causing her to whine as little sparks kindle in her cunt.

“August, please.” she whimpers, trying to ride him to ease the aching despair that boils in her cunt. He fills her to the hilt yet gives no friction but the thundering throb of his thick veins.

“Devotion.” he replies, his free arm fishing for the leather belt perched on the floor. With one determined wring of his wrist,he wraps it around her neck, giving her a nice little collar with a leash made of the thick strap.

His finger brushes up and down the leather erotically, staring at the girl’s hazy grey orbs to see if he can find a drop of protest.

Instead, she presses her hands on his furry torso and desperately begins to mount him with teetering gasps. The noose tightens with the sway of her body yet the tension and the grind within is far too agonizing to stay still; the need to have him sunken in her depth of her soul defies any will to breathe.

August gapes his mouth with awe, groaning loudly as he feels her drenched cunt gripping around. She’s impossibly tight, his fresh little flower, crying out so hopelessly as if it hurts, as if being fucked by his large cock is so pleasurably unbearable yet her life depends on it.

“Poor little tight cunt,” he taunts, urging her to fall faster back on his thighs while bucking his hips into her with deep slams. “you missed this?” he asks with a groan, tying the strap around his fist and pulling her closer to meet his hooded gaze, “You missed me fucking you, angel?”

Unable to make more than strangled sobs, she nods with glassy eyes, feeling the squeeze around her arteries while her cunt convulses and blazes with ecstasy. Flames bloom in the pit of her womb, every assault of his cock inside her pushes the heat further through her nerves. Desperate, she is reduced to nothing but her pursuit of forgotten euphoria.

The fervent flames lick up her spine, darkness whispering in her mind. Yet she leans back, letting the noose devoid the oxygen to her heart and brain as her body falls lost into a delirium.

August feels her pussy tensing around his cock as the belt halts her airflow; through the heated waves of pleasure, an alarm blares. “Careful,” he rasps, reaching his fist to her throat to replace the belt and pulling her until her chest grinds into his own. “Don’t damage what’s mine!”

Her reply is a cracked wheeze, her body jolting as he fucks her into a punishing rhythm. Hot and burning, stoking inside her, balls thudding and battering her hole, the chant of their wet skin colliding in a violent dance accompanies the chaotic symphony of their moans. His angel latches onto him, wrapping tighter and tighter as her body accepts his offering of rage, sucking and milking him dry.

August pulls her face against his, fingers flexing around her jugular, lips grazing her own and then hovering to rob her of her feeble exhales.

“You want to breathe?” he snarls.

Ingvild nods, feeling the storm of fire about to erupt inside her. Her canal gripping him so tightly she can feel every tendon and ridges of him grazing her walls. Tears well in her raincloud eyes, her heart shrinking as she feels him, all of him, consuming her with his existence.

“Then come for me, angel.”

With his words, she arches back, letting the fire implode in her loins and sweep her into a rapture so intense her entire body shakes around him. All she can feel is August, filing her soul, seeping in deeper than her thoughts.

Tears spring down her cheeks, emotions and pleasure whirl at her heart at once.

“August!”

Hearing his name on her lips spikes the savage spirits within. Reduced to a beast, he takes hold of her hips, flipping her over and riding between her thighs. His hands pin her down by the neck and he ravages her through her climax. He can feel the flinch of his cock, swelling larger inside her narrow space. The innocence of her essence devours him. All the hate and pain diminishes and for a brief moment, he is allowed into heaven, feeling nothing but bliss in his chest. His shouts of pleasure echo into the room, his body jerking into her as the hot, white ribbons of his thick seed sprout into her womb.

Falling down to earth is always the hardest part.

Taking a hard swallow, he leans his sweaty forehead against hers, rolling it slowly and listening to the silent hisses from her mouth. Still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, he pulls himself to his elbows fighting the spasm in his muscles and their will to collapse. His brow suddenly crumples at her sight: her eyes shine with a wide spectrum of emotions that glisten sadly down her temples. Shivering sobs escape from quivering lips, trying to find words that never make it to her tongue.

August observes her carefully, removing his grip from her neck gingerly and reaching out a thumb to dry her tears. The crystals in her eyes were broken to dozens of many pieces that reflected the light back in various shades. A look of a lost child that carries an oddly familiar sensation, something that makes him cold and warm, as if Ingvild is inside his blood and he is inside hers.

They had killed each other after all and then brought one another’s hearts to beat again. In his twisted mind, it made for a more profound intimacy than sex.

“Easy, babygirl.” he speaks unusually compassionate, dipping a finger in the wetness beneath her eyes and then slips it into his mouth, tasting the salt onto his tongue. “That was intense for you, wasn’t it?”

She nods silently, the emotional release tingling through her aortae, making her skin prickle with goosebumps. She never felt like this: whole, vulnerable, and belonging. She never felt anything at all, all her life. Her body tries to control the jitters in her muscles yet her body seems suddenly inexplicably cold.

“Sh... it’s okay,” August whispers, capturing her lips into a chaste comforting kiss. “I’ve got you.” he murmurs and allows his lips to trail lower, pressing soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin and bone, descending through the plains of her naked flesh, tasting the mixture of their sweat. His fingers find the large crescent scar in her lower abdomen, tracing the withering stitches in a sick memory of their first night together.

He feels no remorse. Had he changed his action, she wouldn’t have been his right now.

Ingvild finally manages to release a sound, moaning with exhaustion as she eases into his care, her lungs and heart catching up when her body begins to float. With whatever strength left in him, August holds her the way a groom holds his bride, and carries her in his firm arms.

~*~

The bath is filled hot near to the brim. Mountains of foam edge onto the water, looking like fluffy little clouds. This bathroom is not as nearly as luxurious as the one he had in Bergen. It’s painfully plain, like something out of an 80’s film, yet right now it looks like the most outrageous, spoiling delight.

Sitting on the stone, his hand whirls the water, testing the heat before stepping in.

“Come here,” he beckons, reaching toward Ingvild to join him as he sits down, releasing a deep sigh of relief as the hot water soothes the pain. The bath is hardly big enough for a man of his size, his knees buck up, peeking above the water.

Ingvild takes his hand, stepping to sit at the spot between his thighs, making sure not to wet the bandages on her wrists. August’s arms guide her to melt back against his broad chest carefully, avoiding friction with the gunshot wound that begins to ache more and more as the last of the endorphins dwindle. He breaks into a small groan and lands his chin atop her head while glaring into the water with rising concern.

“They will come for us.” Ingvild finally manages to find words, her voice still husky as her jugular strains. “Once they know you’re not dead, they’ll hunt us. We need to move, fast.”

August weighs her words. He muses over the sacrifice she made, and for whom? The man who stabbed her and nearly left her to float in a frozen lake? ‘She chose, you didn’t force her.’

Indeed, it was her free will that brought her to him.

“We should,” he answers, rinsing some water onto her torso and rubbing her forearms clean. “Just relax now, you won’t do me good all broken.”

“You care about me,” she teases, a small smile creeping on her lips.

“We will make for my safe house from here, and then we can take the train to Manchester,” he answers, ignoring her comment.

Ingvild catches some foam in her palm, squeezing the dissolving material between her fingers lightly and then blows it with the weak airflow that comes from her lungs. Little specks of bubbles fly into the bath. August watches them with her silently.

“For the plutonium,” she utters.

“Yes.”

Tilting his head slightly, he looks down to see if there is any disgust or fear shadowing her face, yet finds none. The girl continues forming little abstract shapes in the dwindling white hills, twirling her fingernails on the tiny bubbles. The edge of her spine peeks between the thick strands of her hair, while hues of purple, nearly black, hug her nape. The girl is forbearing, enduring as she was taught; he wonders if it’s to please him, or if it pleases her as well.

Cupping water in his hands, he begins to wash her skin, pouring onto the back of her neck and her shoulders. He brushes his fingers through the brown waves of her hair while she leans her head back and closes her eyes.

It’s as if years of tension peel off from her, uncovering truths she fought to hide. August was right, and so was Liam; no one ever loved her. But now in the arms of a monster, she suddenly senses what she imagines would be care and affection. His touch is no longer clinical and it feels as if vines are growing onto her limbs, twirling around her and pulling her to become one with him.

In her mind, she can’t help but start picking into the not-so-distant past, recalling being his hostage and the conversations they had when they still hated one another. The anguish that resonates in his eyes didn’t speak of hatred individually toward the world, the specks of brown held a fair amount toward himself as well.

“What did Sloane do?” she asks curiously. “In Bergen, you mentioned she did something to you.”

She feels August’s sudden halt, his long digits entangled in her hair, pulling slightly while his chest sinks inward. His inhale takes into a heavy suction and his nostrils flare. He didn’t think of Lacey since he woke in Ingvild’s arms.

“She tricked me.” his eyes focus onto nothing and his fingers resume their course through Ingvild’s wet strands. He becomes slightly agitated, unlacing the small knots that formed at the edge with force. “She suspected me and never liked me- for a reason, of course. She knew someone was distributing secrets and weapons beneath her nose, so she sent a spy. In my case, it was my partner.”

“A woman,” Ingvild continues, the realization hitting her softly. “Lacey.”

Her name on Ingvild’s tongue sends a shiver creeping from the base of his spine.

“Yes,” he answers dryly and clenches his jaw. “We were partners for months. She got close. She... was loyal, she understood me or so I thought, but then I found out, she wasn’t.”

Ingvild hears the shift in his tone again, in their reflection on the water she sees him staring forward with grim shades painting his eyes. The corners of his lips tugged down as he broods.

“It sounds like you loved her.”

August remains silent, giving no answer. It resonates in her right away - betrayal burnt hotter than the wound itself. In their carnal twist, August burned her, but it wasn’t her carnal devotion he sought for.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.” he answers, releasing a deep sigh of silent rage, not even bothering to shy from the truth this time. Ingvild was bred into a world of monsters; she breathed them, she killed them and he was just another beast for her to slay. Yet she chose to stroke her hand on his snout regardless of what she knew.

“I killed her.”

In his mind Lacey walks away, her blue heels tapping on the floor, echoing before she gives him one last glance. She turns away, her golden curls dulled by the lack of light as she vanishes into a mist of smoke and shadow.

Ingvild feels a slight relief at the thought of Lacey being dead, for some reason she can’t explain to herself. August returns his gaze to her again, removing his hands from her hair. His hand wraps around her jaw, pressing her head to look into his piercing glare. He looks for fear but finds none.

“Try to rest,” he commands and then wraps his arms around her possessively. “Long days are ahead.”

“Will you read me your manifesto?”

August looks down on her face once more, wondering for a moment if this is another hallucination. A terrible thought crosses his mind and his heart flinches; what if in these moments he’s actually bleeding to his death in the pit, his mind playing tricks as he breathes his last breath?

But the softness and warmth of her body feels more vivid than ever. Stronger than the doubt that creeps into his mind.

“There has never been peace without first a great suffering. The greater the suffering, the greater the peace. As mankind is drawn to his self-destruction like a moth to the candle...” he chants, accompanied by Ingvild who also recites his words in her gentle voice.

_________________________________________________

disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

#Henry Cavill #August Walker #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker Fanfiction #August Walker smut #August Walker x OFC #Henry Cavill Smut #Henry Cavill x OFC #Henry Cavill Fic #August Walker Fic #augustwalker #henrycavill #augustwalkersmut #henrycavillsmut

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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

Text

Start Over | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

smut | college au requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here missed part 1? read it here

guys I’m having an issue with tumblr. If you think you can help me then please read my post about it. and feel free to message me if you need any more details on my issue.

this piece sucks. bad. sorry. don’t know what’s the matter with me lately, everything I write sucks.

Catch up! Read Part 1 here.

You tried not to think about Timothee too much, although he stubbornly crossed your mind from time to time.

You had learned ways to avoid being called on by Keahey, and you saw Timothee prowl his way through every girl in the classroom. He remained a healthy amount of mysterious and just a dash of shy. Just enough of both to catch a girls interest. You don’t know why you so stupidly opened your legs for him, you clearly were drunk on the scent of his cologne. You weren’t like that, really you weren’t. You didn’t think it through- and it’s definitely on your list of ‘Top 5 Biggest Mistakes’. You would see his eye catch yours from time to time, but you tried not to even give him the time of day. He didn’t deserve it.

Caroline didn’t bother asking what happened anymore, you refused to tell her. “You alright if I take off tonight? Hanging out with Ben.” She smiles, putting blusher on. Ben is the latest guy she was crushing on, and she had decided that tonight was the night she would fuck him. You shook your head at her, a smile on your face as you wave your hand. “Nope, go have fun.” You tell her and she smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek- which you wipe off. She grabs her purse and heads for the door, sending you a wink before the door is shutting behind her. You sat at your desk, books open as you studied for upcoming finals. For a second you really liked Timothee, and you thought he did too. Guess you were wrong.

Studying became nearly impossible as the night dragged on, it was a Friday after all. Parties were ongoing, people next door were having loud obnoxious sex. There were bottles being smashed in the room across the hall, and someone was setting off fireworks in the courtyard. You groaned and slammed your book shut before heading for the door of your dorm, you desperately needed to go for a walk.

The night was relatively warm, still cool enough to make you regret not grabbing a jacket. You rounded the corner of the college to a mostly abandoned part of the college grounds at this time of night. A group of girls sat quietly at one of the tables placed outside, chattering amongst themselves and offering polite greetings to you when you passed by. You walked along the cracked sidewalk, loving the quiet of the night although you still hear the booming and yells from the parties near the dorms. Your hair was pulled in a low ponytail that you seriously considered taking out to shield your neck from the wind. Greasy hair or not. Bobby Darin played softly from somewhere nearby and you followed the soft sound of his voice until you found the source. You nearly turned around when you saw Timothee sitting on one of the park benches.

“Y/N?” His voice was raspy, and his eyes were dull as they met yours. You cursed yourself for not turning around sooner. You pushed your hands into your pockets as you nodded stiffly. He slid over to give you room to sit, and reluctantly you sat next to him. There was a joint in his hands, “why aren’t you partying with the others?” You ask as you looked him over. He seemed different. Timothee offered nothing more than a shrug, “didn’t know about any. I moved out of the frat house.” He says and your eyes widen slightly. You leaned back against the bench as you reached over and plucked the joint from his hand. “Why?” Your question didn’t surprise him. He definitely belonged in that junkie frat house.

“I’m serious about my acting. Living there was like living in a drug den, just dragging me down.” He says, watching you wrap your lips around the joint and take a long hit. You blew the smoke out, being near him made you feel relaxed. Until you remember what he did- how badly he fucking played you. “I should head back.” You say coldly, standing and nearly jogging down the sidewalk. Much to your dismay you hear footsteps behind you. “Hey how about we hang out?” He asks, knowing that it’s a long shot. You sigh heavily as you turn to face him, and you want to scream at him. You want to curse him out right here in the dead of night for fucking you and taking off right after.

“Why would I want to hang out with you after what happened last time?” You ask with your arms crossed, a hurt expression on your face.

Timothee itches the back of his neck, he regrets what he did to you. He didn’t expect you to feel different, to affect him differently than the other girls did. “I know I’m a dick, I’m trying not to be.” Timothee explains, his eyes nearly pleading you as he waits for your answer. You eventually sigh while taking a few steps towards him, “I’m not going to have sex with you if that’s what you want.” You tell him and he smiles before nodding in agreement. You fall into step next to him as you head towards the parked cars, “I don’t want sex. I just want a friend.” He says and your anger softens a bit. You follow him to a crappy little volvo and he opens the door and slides into the driver seat.

“Where are we going?” Your voice is soft as you glance over at him, he looks sad. Timothee shrugs as he pulls out of the parking lot and away from the college, taking a few turns until the two of you are cruising on main street. Timothee turns the radio up when ‘Sh-Boom’ by the Chords comes on. You didn’t know he was such a fan of older songs. The window was rolled down and Timothee tapped his fingers along on the outside of the car, a relaxed smile on his face. “I’m sure there would have been at least 20 other girls on that campus who would have loved to hang out with you and have sex with you.” You tell him as you study the side of his face. He scrunches his nose up, almost in disgust. “Why do you think my life revolves around sex?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“Well let me see, I watched you pull the same trick you did on me on every single girl in our acting class. Did every conversation have a happy ending?” You ask, your arms crossed and you honestly didn’t mean to sound so bitter. Timothee let your words sink in for a second before a smile pulled across his lips, “you’re jealous.” He comments and your cheeks flare in a hot blush. You quickly shake your head and turn your gaze away from him, “I didn’t have sex with anyone in our class except for you.” Timothee says and your gaze snaps back to him with shock written all over your face. “If you think hooking up with girls is a regular occurrence for me then you’re wrong. I really don’t do that, like ever. The fact that we had sex surprised me probably just as much as it surprised you.” He says with a shrug, reaching into his pocket for another joint.

The admission from Timothee makes your head spin as you relax against the seat again. “So why did you...?” You trail off as he pulls into the parking lot of a small diner. He exits the car and opens your door, “why did I have sex with you? I don’t know. Why did you have sex with me?” He asks, throwing your question right back at you. You freeze, blinking a few times as you look into his eyes. “I don’t know.” You say softly and he raises a brow before heading for the door of the diner. You follow him to a booth in the back as he throws a wave at one of the cooks behind the counter, “you know who owns this place?” You ask and he nods with a smile before he slides into the seat across from you.

Timothee leans back in the booth, his eyes on you. You blush under his hard stare, relieved when a waitress comes by to place 2 waters at the table. “What?” You finally ask when you notice his eyes are still on you. He smiles and shakes his head, “nothing. Just happy.” He says and you can’t help but smile when he says that. Your expression hardens again, he’s probably just playing you again. “What kind of idiot do you think I am?” You snap as you turn your gaze out the window. Timothee’s eyebrows raise, guilt flashing across his face that nearly makes you apologize. “You expect me to believe you didn’t fuck those girls just because you said so?” You say, tears swelling in your eyes before you can stop them. “You can ask them Y/N, I swear I didn’t.” Timothee explains, leaning forward on the table to reach for your hands.

“I watched you pull the same stunt on them Tim, what makes me different?” You ask, a stray tear making it’s way down your cheek. Timothee’s own eyes begin to water as he looks into your eyes, “I have no damn clue okay? I don’t know!” He says desperately and you laugh bitterly. Timothee looks down at his hands, turning his head away from you. “You didn’t even say anything to me Tim, you treated me like nothing ever happened. Do you have any idea how badly that hurt?” You ask, not expecting this conversation to hurt so much. You wiped at your eyes when the waitress brought your vanilla milkshake and Timothee’s black coffee. “You could have just as easily came to me first.” He snapped back and you freeze. He’s right. You didn’t approach him first either, you didn’t try just like he didn’t.

“Can we just start over?” Timothee asks, his hands wrapped around his coffee and his head low. You think for a moment with pursed lips before you lean over the table to peck his lips quickly, pulling back with blazing cheeks. “Yeah, sure.” You say with a smile and you see the tension ebb away from his shoulders. You feel tension releasing from your own chest, you feel better now that you got to get all your feelings out in the open.

The night is colder when you and Timothee emerge from the diner, and you fall into stride next to him so closely that your shoulder bumps against his. You assume he’s heading back to his car, but instead of turning towards the parking lot he keeps walking. “Are you okay?” You ask him, your eyes scanning his face. Timothee smiles, but you can tell the happiness he portrays on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a spark in them before, that isn’t there anymore. “No, haven’t been for a long time.” Timothee says, turning to face you. The wind blows harder than it did before and the cool air hitting his skin causes his cheeks to turn pink. “Me neither.” You whisper as you look at him. Timothee smiles as he reaches out for your hand and you take it, lacing your fingers together. “It’s late, we should head back.” He says with a smile and you nod as you follow him back to his car.

You’re stood outside your dorm with him, Caroline probably won’t be back until morning. “Wanna come in?” You ask as Timothee slides his hands into his pockets and he nods with a half-cocked smile. You open the door and he enters, his eyes somehow landing on your bed right away. He sits down on your bed, his eyes finding yours as you move to stand in between his legs. Your hands slide around his shoulders as you carefully move to sit in his lap, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. You lean forward to nudge your nose against his, “I thought we weren’t going to have sex.” He says softly, his eyes looking up into yours. You gently rest your forehead against his, “I changed my mind. If that’s okay with you.” You whisper, you’re scared he’s going to turn you down. Timothee smiles before pressing his lips to yours and winding his arms around you tighter.

His hands slide under your shirt to grasp your breasts through your sports bra and you sigh against his lips. Timothee rolls you so that you’re on your back and he’s hovering above you. Timothee’s hand slides down your abdomen to the button of your jeans. He pops open your jeans and in one harsh tug pulls them down your legs with your panties. His lips latch onto your neck, and your head rolls back to allow him more access. Timothee’s fingers gently press against your clit before pushing into you. You gasp and arch up into him, your arms winding around him tightly as you hear his jeans hitting the floor. “Ready baby?” Timothee asks and you nod quickly, is it normally this fast? Your nails dig into his back as you feel him push inside you and begin to slam inside you.

“Y/N, I’m back.” You hear a quiet voice say as you cling tighter to Timothee, desperately trying to ignore it. “Hey if you don’t get up you’ll be late.” It’s Caroline’s voice, and it sounds much louder. You look into Timothee’s eyes, except he looks like he’s fading. You feel your body shaking and soon your eyes pop open to see Caroline standing above your bed, her hand shaking you. “Jeez, you never sleep in.” She says and you look around for Timothee before a sad sigh escapes your lips. Same dream, 4th night in a row. You know your brain is trying to send you a message but you will continue to ignore it, life isn’t a fairy tale. It doesn’t have happy endings, and you’re cruelly reminded of that as you drag yourself to your acting class. Your eyes land on Timothee and the same girl he’s been hanging around for a few weeks now except this time his lips are pressed to hers and a happy smile covers their faces.

Yeah, life isn’t a damn fairy tale.

***taglist*** @90sthemedsunsets @newletas @londonmademedoit @sflowercvol6 @80sangelics

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee x you #timmy chalamet #timmy chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet smut #lil timmy tim #college #college au #college smut #au #frat boy #frat boy smut

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47-shades-of-hitman · 4 years ago

Text

Twelve days of Agent 47 | Day 2

Day 2 - Home for Christmas

[Originally posted here]

[12 days Masterlist]

You visit your parents for the holidays and assure 47 of some things.

Warnings: Implied sex

Agent 47 straightened his tie, fingering the silk of the accessory admiringly. He found it most endearing that you had picked it out for him with so much love and care.

The silver cufflinks looked wonderful on his sleeves, and combined with the shimmering pin on his new tie, it was a complete different look from what he was used to. He looked sleeker, even more elegant than usual.

You appeared on the doorstep of the bedroom, abashed by the handsome appearance of your lover in front of you. It was surprising how often the sight could still take your breath away. Fiddling with the skirt of your dress, you mused a soft: “How do I look?”

47 looked away from the mirror to face you, and his heart leapt in his chest. The colour of your knee-length dress matched the colour of his forest green tie perfectly, being the exact shade, as if it had been made out of the same material. And then, the jewellery he had gifted you. You were picture-perfect – still, to him, you always were, jewellery or not.

“Absolutely beautiful.” he said, his voice warm and laced with a sincere tone reserved purely for you. You smiled softly and stepped towards him, laying a hand on his smooth cheek, rubbing at his jaw gently.

“So do you.” you sighed. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are.” he replied.

You pressed your crimson-painted lips to his and you giggled upon pulling back and finding them stained with your lipstick. You thumbed it away and gleamed up at him.

“I’m just so happy that we finally get to celebrate Christmas with all of my family.”

Saying it out loud made you realize that the pair of you hadn’t seen your family for such a long time, let alone together.

You were the oldest out of three and your siblings were way further on the area of relationships – your brother Daniel had welcomed a second baby with his wife about three months ago, and your sister Maisie had recently engaged herself to her girlfriend. Being the oldest, you would get bombarded with questions about when 47 and you were going to tie the knot, but you had learned to let those questions slip off of you.

Heading to the hall, you fetched your coat. Agent 47 donned his and grabbed the car keys off the dresser near the door. Upon your way outside, 47 halted you by putting a hand on your arm. “There’s some lipstick on your…” he pointed at your cheek and you quickly brushed it away. He mused a soft ‘no’ when you asked him if it was gone, and he rubbed his index finger over your skin.

The gesture made you blush and you thanked him. Finally making way to the car, you stepped outside in the crisp snow, feeling it creak under your heels.

“You’re looking ravishing, 47.” you breathed as you sat down in the shotgun seat, fastening your seatbelt.

“Well, I do have to look good if I’ve got such a gorgeous girlfriend. Those are the rules.”

The flirty comment was unusual and caused your heart to crawl into your throat. You flushed almost as red as your lipstick.

“Oh, you’re being sappy.”

He quirked a rare smile and drove off.

The trip to your parents normally took roughly half an hour, but thanks to the snow, it took ten minutes longer. It was already becoming dark outside when 47 pulled up into the driveway.

He turned off the engine and the pan with leftover stew you had placed in between your legs on the floor of the car rattled a bit as the engine's soft vibrating ceased. You put a hand on his thigh and softly squeezed.

Behind the doors of your parents’ home, his name was Tobias Rieper. He was ten years younger than he actually was, because otherwise your parents would question his outstanding physique and lack of aging on his face. And for his work, he was a spokesperson for a prominent company, hence why he had to travel so much and why he was rarely home.

Who knew what your parents would think if they found out that you had invited an assassin into your home and bed five years ago…

He put his hand on yours and squeezed it just as tight – a final reassurance right before entering.

Getting out of the car, you grabbed the pan and was greeted with a creak of hinges – the front door stood open, welcoming and bright like it always had been, whenever you needed anything.

The scent of food flooded your senses and your nephew soon stood at your feet, hugging your legs tightly.

“Auntie (Y/n)!”

“Hey there, Jules!” you greeted the four-year-old boy, “Look at you, in that fancy suit!”

He shyly giggled up at you. “Did Santa bring you presents, too?”

“Of course,” you said, “Uncle Tobias is grabbing them from the trunk. Why don’t you go say hi to him? I’m going to bring this food to granny now, okay?”

He didn’t answer you, instead running over to 47, who was already holding a bag filled with carefully wrapped presents. You smiled as you heard Jules happily greeting his uncle whilst you headed to the kitchen. You felt at peace upon seeing your mother checking on the turkey and you placed the pan onto the stove gingerly.

“Hey, ma.” you greeted, and she put her hand on her heart, as your sudden arrival had spooked her a little. Sharing a home with a hitman had made you almost forget that your footsteps were quiet – at least to ordinary people.

“Oh, sweetie, you startled me.” “I’m sorry ma.” She hugged you tightly and you inhaled her familiar scent, something you missed quite often if you were being honest.

“You look beautiful. Oh, and your necklace! It brings out your eyes beautifully!”

A bashful smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you, ma. You look dashing yourself!”

She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, stop it, you!” Your mother wore the same dress she had been wearing on Christmas day for the past thirty-five years, at least as far as you remembered. You had never seen her in a different fancy dress, but you didn’t mind. It made you nostalgic, if anything.

Agent 47 appeared next to you and your mother smiled at him. “Oh, Tobias! How have you been, darling?”

She embraced him and he awkwardly hugged her back. “Ah, I’ve been wonderful, thank you Mrs (L/n).”

“How often do I have to keep saying it? It’s Guinevere. You’ve been part of the family for long enough!” She patted him on the nose with the back of the wooden ladle she was holding, soon turning back to her pans. 47 shared an unsure look with you, but you could only smirk in amusement.

“You two go check on your siblings, alright? I believe little Tilly has just awoken. She has been sleeping in pa’s arms so cutesy, really (Y/n), you need to see the pictures!”

“Of course!” you laughed, taking 47’s hand and leading him to the living room. The fireplace was blazing brightly and your brother was just keeping Jules well away from it when you entered.

“Hey everybody, Merry Christmas!”

“(Y/n)!” your sister Maisie cheered, leaving her fiancée’s side to hug you tight. “You two are looking like a dream!”

She gave 47 a quick hug – he wasn’t one for physical contact and she knew that. Maisie’s lover Charlotte stood and greeted you too, albeit a bit unnaturally. She was still a bit shy around you, even though she had been around for two years now.

After greeting everyone, your mother called everyone around the table. With the growing family, it had been expanded with a small table on the side of it, where Jules sat with his mother Sarah, so she could keep an eye on both him and the baby.

On the menu was turkey, salad, mashed potatoes, and a whole lot of other things you absolutely loved. Under the table, your hand rested on 47’s lap, squeezing his leg every so often to remind him that you were aware of his presence despite your small-talk with your family.

As you had expected, the subject of marriage came onto the table quite soon, seeing as your mother became entirely engrossed in the silver engagement ring around Charlotte’s finger – and it didn’t take long for her to divert her attention to your relationship with 47.

“Say, (Y/n), what do you think of the ring?”

“I think it’s pretty.” you said, talking a sip of wine.

“Wouldn’t you like one of your own, then?”

You sighed mentally and shrugged. “Tobias doesn’t need to give me a ring to prove to me that he loves me.” 47 hummed out a pleasant sound that made your toes tingle, soft enough to be heard only by you. “He does it through different ways.”

Your sister whistled through her teeth, smirking, and it made your mother a bit flustered. “Oh, Maisie, you’re thirty years old, grow up!”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “It’s alright, ma.” 47’s hand came to rest atop yours and you turned your palm so that you could intertwine your fingers. “I just love him for who he is. A ring won’t make a difference in that.”

It was true – time and time again, you had proven that you loved him unconditionally. And if 47 eventually decided to put an official title to it, sealing your relationship with marriage, than you’d take it with both hands.

But for now, this was all you ever wanted, and even more than that.

#Agent 47 #agent 47 x reader #hitman #hitman series #David Bateson #self insert #reader insert #twelve days of christmas #io interactive

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 4 years ago

Photo

Prisoner Of OTP-Love: Sunset Shimmer x Scourge The Hedgehog

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

Credit for My Little Pony goes to Bonnie Zacherle

Credit for My Little Pony Friendship is Magic goes to Lauren Faust

Credit for Sonic The Hedgehog goes to Sega

Credit for Archie Sonic The Hedgehog Comics goes to Archie Comics

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

I had to edit this drawing today, because I needed to put my tumblr name on it, as well as edit out Sunset's third arm that wasn't being held by Scourge.

I mean it is possible for some humans to be born with more than two arms, or only being born with one.

and besides that one error I made on this drawing, I also had to edit the ends of Sunset's hair to have some yellow.

I believe that if I remember right,

this was inspired by Shadow Meets Equestria Girls,

it's a crossover and it's on Cryil Smith VA's Youtube Channel,

their channel and works is one of many Youtubers,

I want to be protected from the video/episode stealing shisno.

I really REALLY can not stand those toxic-youtubers,

you do NOT re-upload a episode of Helluva Boss on your channel,

to share it, if your gonna share it, put it in a link to someone.

I’m still not okay with finding out what that youtuber today.

and there is a reason why I put Redacted instead of their real youtube name.

when I was first looking up Helluva Boss, it was to see if episode 6 was out yet, but then I found that there was another episode stealing jerk.

if a youtuber is gonna re-upload a video from another youtuber,

it should only be if the original is off of youtube.

it’s because of most toxic-youtubers, that half of other youtubers

who don’t know where the original videos come from

and don’t bother checking the description below more carefully,

that the original ones end up getting false reported,

and if I had to guess, if you don’t inform that you have a youtube amv you made and uploaded on both youtube and at another video sharing site, and a person sees it over at the other place first

and then see it on youtube, it is possible they will not think they are the same person and will falsely report the video.

that might of been the reason for what happen to one of

the Undertale Amvs. either the person who false reported saw the sub version of it by a person who got permission, or they saw it on another video sharing site and then didn’t bother to ask before jumping the gun.

later I am gonna write about how the Toxic-Youtubers

need to be stop, because of their taking episodes or amv and gmvs

without permission of the other youtubers that end up the victims.

right now I’m just going to post some drawings up on here.

I don’t think Sunset will end up in Shadow Meets Equestria Girls,

at least not to my knowledge.

too bad she couldn’t stop Discord, Celestia and Luna

from turning Cozy Glow, Tirek and Chrysalis to a stone statue.

could of used the Element of Empathy during that battle.

I still love the last episodes and all the other episodes of MLPFIM.

but if characters like Discord, Celestia, Luna, Star Butterfly, Scrooge McDuck (from the ducktales reboot) , Pink “Rose” Diamond,

and Mr Death’s girlfriend Miss Life from Adventure Time series

(worst Mom Ever of all time.)

do a Anti-Hero move, and end up hurting others who for what they believe is the fully the right thing to do.

no matter if Discord had turned Cozy bad or not,

it is possible that the reason why she was trying to get rid of the magic,

was because of how Unicorns (even if it’s not all Unicorns)

treat Earth-Ponies and Pegasus as second class citizens.

the only ponies that seem to higher in rank than Unicorns,

would be Alicorns.

in theory, the Bat-Ponies might be treated third class citizens,

seeing as no filly or colt or equine of the bat-ponies

have ever made much appearances or went to Twilight’s school of friendship.

let’s turn to the Buffalo in MLPFIM,

we know that the earth-ponies took over their lands and planted apple trees.

but it is possible that the Buffalo weren’t the only ones who lived in the land that would then become Equestria II.

before they were driven out, Tirek’s family ruled the land that would then become the new equestria.

and the three wendigos are possibly from the Equestria I,

before Equestria II was founded.

I believe that the wendigos are the spirits of the original sirens

that Stygian met and when he went to get help,

the three original sirens end up tricking three little filly sisters

those being Adagio Dazzle (the eldest sister) Aria Blaze (the middle sister), Sonata Dusk (the youngest sister)

the siren gems end up bonding to the three young fillies,

and transforming them to sirens, while the originals

become the wendigos.

wendigos go after ponies with negative energy/magic,

the dazzling’s use to do the same until their power was taken away,

but it returned to them when they re-learned how to sing,

and it appears their powers might of changed a bit.

find the magic is one of my favorite songs that is sung by the dazzlings.

when the three of those sisters

(and yes they are really sisters in canon)

were tricked by the original sirens who then became wendigos,

Stygian did not see this and because of him and Starswirl and the others, innocent fillies that were overcome by the power that was given to them by the wendigos, were banished from equestria I.

over time the Wendigos frozen the land beyond healing,

and all ponies moved to another land, taking it over,

and driving it’s original ruling family and half of their people

to a new place, possibly underground.

the only ones that were left, was the native animals

such as the bugbear, chimera, cockatrice and other monster type animals.

the animals that weren’t originally from the land that would become Equestria II, were brought from Equestria I by the ponies.

the other natives of Equestria II besides Tirek and maybe even the changelings,

would be the Buffalo.

before earth-ponies became crystal ponies,

they took the original Queen Changelings Crystal Empire,

this was long before they become what they look like when we are first introduce them, in theory, I think they look like their reform selves

but possibly in Crystal form.

I wont force other fans to believe that theory,

but I see it as headcanon.

the earth-ponies that would become crystal ponies,

were welcome into the crystal changelings home,

but then were exiled by them and without the crystal heart,

they slowly became corrupt and starve.

over time the earth-ponies that took over their rightful home

became the Crystal Ponies, maybe by Princess Amore’s Grandmother.

I guess it could be possible that Amore didn’t know how the Crystal Ponies and her grandmother had founded the Crystal Empire,

not knowing it was the original home of the changelings,

and without the power of the crystal heart to share their love that would then in return feed them, they would slowly become the changelings that we end up introduce to.

I also have a theory that Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie

and Rainbow Dash from the human world, might really be the original ponies from Equestria, from the first season of when Nightmare Moon returns.

like what if when any pony finds out the truth about the history of Equestria, they were taken to that magic pool, cloned

and then banished to another portal to the human world

or the mirror to the human world was open by Alicorn Magic.

the only one who possibly didn’t have a human counterpart,

was Sunset Shimmer and Starlight Glimmer, well they might have in the fanon.

but we know that most of the humans we see in the human counterpart world, aren’t seen in Equestria.

what if Trixie from the human world, was really the original Trixie

who had used the Alicorn Amulet and after everything seem to work out in the end, Trixie was taken by Celestia to the magic pool,

cloned and then the real Trixie was banished to the human world.

even if most of the humans from the human world,

would be originally born humans, most of the humans could turn out to be ponies who were banished by at first Starswirl and then later Celestia.

at some point Celestia stop that kind of banishment,

and started to turn ponies into stone instead.

I think that half of the pony statues we see along with Discord,

were real ponies once, who perhaps were the original elements of harmony along with Celestia and Luna.

but they were betrayed by Celestia,

and when Luna found out the truth of what happen to their friends,

it gave her the final push (besides the other being jealous that their subjects seem to love Celestia more than her.)

to give in to the negative side of Alicorn Magic,

and transform into her dark half.....which is Nightmare Moon.

the Statue Pony that looks like they are holding a stroll,

might be the element of inspiration.

the book of the elements of harmony, was perhaps rewritten,

to hide the fact there was more than just six elements.

to hide this truth, Celestia took the elements that she and her sister could not use, and destroyed them and threw their shards into the human world, where they would end up in a cave

and then grow into a new tree of harmony for the human world,

and later their power will be given to Sunset and her friends.

Rarity was original suppose to be the element of inspiration,

but because of the word might not be understood,

it was changed to generosity.

it is easy to explain the element of inspiration,

it’s like you get a idea that inspires you, like drawing a fan art

or writing a fan fic or writing a story or drawing that doesn’t have to do with fan art or fan fic and or if you write a song or poem.

that is what is the true element of inspiration is like.

Trixie being the element of forgiveness in Princess Trixie Sparkle,

is awesome.

in theory if she ends up meeting Starlight in that fan series,

I think they would still end up becoming friends because of the bond they shared in the canon.

if my theory ended up being true, and not just a fan theory.

if the shards of the lost elements of harmony were destroyed by Celestia, then thrown into the human world and ended up in a cave,

and then grew into a new element of harmony tree, or what appears like a broken tree crystal rock thing.

then those broken shards would have some of the original powers of the elements that are still in equestria, in them which would grow each of all the elements, first the ones that are needed by Sunset and her friends, then when the time comes the lost elements would grow from that crystal rock tree stump.

one of those who might be the ones who represent the lost elements of harmony.

might be Trixie, Moondancer, Starlight Glimmer, Wallflower Blush,

Juniper Montage, Maud Pie, Vinyl Scratch possibly.

those who are the Neo-Elements of Harmony,

would have to be Smolder, Yona, Gallus, Sandbar, Ocellus

and Silverstream.

and if Cozy ended up forming a friendship and deep bond with those six.....she might of became someone who represented the element of empathy.

and those who represent the lost elements of harmony

might be Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Diamond Tiara,

Silver Spoon and Silverstream’s brother.

there is always the comic series of MLPFIM,

and maybe Cozy, Tirek and Chrysalis

will be given freedom in the comic series...maybe, I don’t know.

anyway I hope some of you like this drawing that has a ship

of Nicolette x Fiona and Scourge x Sunset.

even if this was partly inspired by Shadow Meets Equestria Girls,

it is still possible that Sunset might not end up in that fan series.

but it be nice if she was, and Scourge fell in love with her.

if anyone can reform Scourge and understand why he became the way he did, it would be Sunset Shimmer.

in this drawing Scourge captures Sunset, that is why he is the only one smiling and she is not too happy,

but it also hints that they will fall in love.

and it is Scourge and Sunset’s love and bonding with each other,

will help Scourge reform, he will still be himself,

but be a bit different too.

well that is how I view it anyway.

#scourge the hedgehog #sunset shimmer #scourge x sunset shimmer #nicolette x fiona fox #crossover ship #one true pairing #archie sonic #my little pony friendship is magic #equestria girls #captured

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somuchnonsense · 4 years ago

Text

October Drabbles

Previous drabbles

26. Garden (post-canon Wangxian featuring bunnies)

Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a farm yet, but he does have a garden on the back hill in Cloud Recesses. “Why here?” Lan Wangji asked him when he started planting. “The rabbits will eat everything.”

“I don’t mind if my hard work goes to feeding the rabbits,” Wei Wuxian responded, grinning. “Besides, I’m not here consistently enough to tend to it and harvest things when they’re ready. At least this way, someone will enjoy the fruits—or vegetables, I suppose—of my labor. And maybe then they’ll love me like they love you.”

Lan Wangji smiled, petting one of the rabbits as they both curiously watched Wei Wuxian work. “I’m sure they will.”

It’s debatable, a few months later, whether the rabbits love Wei Wuxian any more than before, but they do love Wei Wuxian’s garden, and Lan Wangji loves watching him kneeling in the dirt, celebrating the first shoots of a new plant or complaining when the rabbits ate one before it even had a chance to grow. He looks so happy, so comfortable, so relaxed, not the fearsome Yiling Laozu or the brilliant cultivator Wei Wuxian with his ever-active mind, but just an ordinary young man, content with his simple life, with no fears and no painful memories weighing on him.

“What’s that look for?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyeing Lan Wangji with a freshly pulled carrot in his hand. There’s dirt on his cheek and a sparkle in his eyes.

Lan Wangji says nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself, but Wei Wuxian smiles like perhaps he knows anyway, and cheerfully turns back to his garden.

27. Serendipity (Wei Wuxian canon gen/character study)

It would be easy to think that Wei Wuxian has bad luck. He lost his parents young, and then the people who took him in when he was alone. He lost his adopted sister, and the people who lived with him like family for a year. He lost his golden core and the trust and respect of his peers, and the love of his adopted brother. He lost his home, and the one he found to replace it. And after all of that, he lost his life too soon.

But if you ask Wei Wuxian, he’ll tell you he’s lucky. He lost his parents, but then he was taken in by a new family. Sure, they weren’t perfect, but they saved him from a lonely life on the streets and they loved him, mostly. He lost them too, though not all at once, but then he had the Wens to care about him. That didn’t last, but he got Wen Ning and Sizhui back, at least, and he has the other junior disciples who are ready to fight for him, and Lan Wangji, of course. As much as he’s lost, he’s also been loved by many people, and isn’t that lucky?

As for the rest, well, the loss of his golden core was a fair trade for Jiang Cheng’s life, and it led him to abilities that helped avenge the Jiang Sect and defeat Wen Ruohan and later Jin Guangyao. He’s not the strong cultivator he was as a teenager, but he’s found new ways to be strong and fight the battles he needs to fight. He’s also blazed a new path and invented new things and made a name for himself, in his own way. Isn’t that lucky?

And yes, he died once, painfully, but that’s over and done with and he got a second chance at life. In his second life, he’s fallen in love, made new friends, done some good in the world, and at least done a little to make up for his past mistakes. So few people get a chance like that, including many who are much more deserving than him, so in the final sum, isn’t he lucky?

28. Drunk Confessions (junior quartet gen)

It started with a few bottles of wine and Zizhen declaring that true friends share their secrets with each other, but nobody could have imagined that it would end like this.

"You're what?" Jin Ling asks, his voice low and strained.

"You're what?!" Jingyi echoes in a loud squawk.

"I'm a Wen," Sizhui repeats, his nervous expression belying his calm voice.

"You never told me!" Jingyi's voice is still far too loud, his expression almost comically betrayed. "How could I not know that?"

"You knew Hanguang-Jun took me in," Sizhui points out.

"Yes, but I thought your parents were Lan cultivators who died back then, or at least non-cultivators from Gusu. Not...Wens." Jingyi grimaces, but wipes the expression of his face when he sees Sizhui's face fall.

“Sizhui is still the same person, right?" Zizhen puts in. "And we know Wen Ning's a nice guy. It's not like all Wens are bad."

"Right," Jingyi firmly agrees. "But I can't believe you didn’t tell me sooner!”

"I didn't know until recently. After meeting Wei-qianbei and Wen Ning, some memories came back." Sizhui finishes the drink in front of him, getting some liquid courage before he looks at the conspicuously silent Jin Ling. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I hope this doesn't change anything between us."

Jin Ling clenches his fist on the table, brow furrowed, and for a long, tense moment, the whole group is silent. Finally, he sighs exasperatedly and says, "Well, it's far from the worst secret I've heard about someone I knew. Do you two at least not have any dark secrets?" He waves his cup and Jingyi and Zizhen.

"None, I promise," Zizhen declares.

"If I do, I don't know them myself," Jingyi says.

"I've met his parents," Sizhui interjects. "They're nice, normal Lan cultivators for several generations back."

"Good," Jin Ling says. To Sizhui, he adds, "For this, you can at least buy us another bottle or two of wine."

Sizhui smiles brightly, getting to his feet. "Right away."

29. Cars (modern AU Wangxian featuring the Jiang sibs)

Jiang Cheng says Wei Ying drives like a maniac. Wei Ying says Jiang Cheng is a wimp and also boring and besides, he doesn’t go any faster than he can safely drive, but he does always slow down when he sees Jiang Cheng’s knuckles turning white.

“You’d better drive more carefully on your date with Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “He probably drives perfectly the speed limit and obeys every traffic law to the letter. He won’t be able to deal with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Wei Ying insists. “And it’s not a date!”

“Just don’t rush,” Yanli says. “You’ll have more time with Lan Zhan that way. And I’m pretty sure it is a date.”

“Not you too,” Wei Ying whines.

Later, though, when he picks Lan Zhan up and sees him looking very dashing even though he’s in what passes for casual clothes with him, Wei Ying has to admit that okay, yes, he wants it to be a date, and sure, okay, he wants to impress Lan Zhan, or at least not scare him away by driving too wildly. He forces himself to go only a little above the speed limit as he drives to the cafe where they’re going to study together, and Lan Zhan doesn’t complain or grab the panic handle like Jiang Cheng does.

On the way home, though, after endless hours of Lan Zhan sitting across from him looking casually hot but looking at his textbook or talking about economics instead of kissing Wei Ying, he forgets himself and drives as usual. Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, so Wei Ying doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he stops in front of Lan Zhan’s building and sees him looking suspiciously paler than usual, his hand still gripping the door handle. “Oh, uh, Lan Zhan…you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lan Zhan says tightly.

“Say, um…” Wei Ying feels bad and all, but he’s spent hours not kissing Lan Zhan and wishing this was a date and he just has to know if maybe it was, or at least could be. He unbuckles his seatbelt, turns in his seat and presses his lips to Lan Zhan’s. He’s not expecting to promptly get pulled into Lan Zhan’s lap, but he’s definitely not complaining, especially when it’s followed up with a whole lot more kissing.

They only stop when someone honks and Wei Ying realizes he didn’t pick the best parking spot for making out. “So,” he says, grinning shamelessly as he moves back into the driver’s seat, “let’s go out on another date some time soon?”

“All right,” Lan Zhan agrees without hesitation. He’s not smiling, but he is eyeing Wei Ying in a way that he really likes. “But next time, I’ll drive.”

30. Dessert (modern AU Wangxian, just a tiny bit NSFW)

The first time Wei Ying sees Lan Zhan in a cafe daintily eating whipped cream off the top of a parfait, he can’t believe his eyes. There’s something so unexpected about strong, serious, stoic, ever-responsible Lan Zhan enjoying any kind of dessert, let alone the same kind Wei Ying’s sister and her friends love—unexpected and adorable.

“Wow, Lan Zhan! I had you pegged for the health food 24/7 type,” Wei Ying says, sneaking up on him from behind. He’s obviously trying to surprise Lan Zhan, but he doesn’t expect it to actually work, so he’s thrilled when it makes Lan Zhan jump and then turn a glare on him. “Hey, no judgment. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying something sweet.” The temptation to stick his finger in the whipped cream and dab some onto Lan Zhan’s nose is so strong, but Wei Ying doesn’t want to die today, so he restrains himself.

It takes nearly a year after that encounter for them to start dating, though Wei Ying does manage to put whipped cream on Lan Zhan’s face twice before that. (Maybe he should have guessed that Lan Zhan liked him, despite never mentioning it, by how he didn’t murder Wei Ying for doing that.) It takes another five months after they get together for Wei Ying to convince Lan Zhan that whipped cream will also be delicious when licked off his body, but oh, is it worth it.

31. Trick or Treat (modern cultivation AU, A-Yuan and Wangxian)

“I want to go as Uncle Wen!” A-Yuan declares. Wei Wuxian blinks at him, turns and blinks at Lan Wangji, and then starts to laugh. “I mean, I think a ghost or a vampire or a cat or something is more typical, but sure, you can go as a fierce corpse.” “Not a fierce corpse!” A-Yuan protests. “Uncle Wen!” Lan Wangji gives Wei Wuxian his patented You are not treating this child as he should be treated look. “Yes, of course,” Wei Wuxian amends. “We’ll find you the best Wen Ning costume anyone has ever had.” “Can Uncle Wen come with me?” A-Yuan asks. Wen Ning won’t do well with crowds or a sugar high A-Yuan, but on the other hand, he’ll blend in on Halloween in a way he usually can’t. “We’ll all come with you,” Lan Wangji tells him. “Yay!” A-Yuan jumps up and down in excitement. “What will you be? Ooh, I know! You should be a bunny.” He gestures at Lan Wangji, and then to Wei Wuxian, “And you should be a carrot.” “A carrot?” Wei Wuxian grimaces. “Come on, between the two of us, don’t I look more like a bunny?” “At least he didn’t say a donkey.” Lan Wangji keeps his voice low, and before A-Yuan can demand that he repeat it, says, “Those are excellent choices.” “You’re so mean to me,” Wei Wuxian whines, but that doesn’t stop him from going out on Halloween evening in a big carrot costume, hand in hand with rabbit Lan Wangji, with mini Wen Ning skipping on ahead of them and actual Wen Ning looking fondly on.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs fic #cql fanfic #the untamed fic #wangxian #wangxian fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan sizhui #jin ling #lan jingyi #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #mine #fic #flufftober

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dollydeez · 4 years ago

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“Summin Strange in Them There Hills” Preview

Chapter One: Two Missing, Presumed Dead

This was supposed to be my time off, but “two missing, presumed dead” isn’t the kind of story I can turn down. I was in my apartment, surrounded by bottles, dirty dishes and cigarette butts, when an envelope slid beneath my front door. “Fuck,” I thought, assuming it to be a bill I had forgotten or the harbinger of trouble. It was the latter. A note from my boss, sparse on the explanation: and old friend of his was running an outpost on the frontier, two boys went out and never came back, leave [the contact’s] last name out of the press. If there are those of faint heart among us, my next series of columns will not be for you. Or maybe they will, I’m scribbling the first draft of this while waiting for the train with no intent of changing it. My job is to see the present and past with clear eyes; the future will always remain shrouded in fog. The only other instruction I was given was to hop on the next train available to Darmatilo. I know nothing about it, beside the fact that it lies in the region first settled by our kind when we moved westward. In my frenzy to get down to the station, I packed lightly and walked fast. It seems the line only runs in that direction twice a day, so I’ve had plenty of time to wander about. The ticket counter had a small display of pamphlets next to it, trying to tempt workers to waste their vacation in an arid wasteland, but I was able to scrounge up some information on my destination. Not directly, it was mostly an ad for the luxurious riverfront city of Ladustri, but there was a passing line about the ‘historic’ settlement of Darmatilo, separated by a small ridge from the mining town of Lagerdient. After eighty years it’s suddenly ‘historic’, the absolute gall. The train should be arriving any minute, and only now am I realizing that I could have gone back home to pack more substantively. I’m not used to last minute trips, nor stories with the possibility of more than a few days work. Maybe I’ll be lucky and head home before I run out of clean clothes, but it feels almost vulgar to suggest. My packing playing a role in the length of my stay is fine in the context of a feel-good story, but heading into something more dramatic… Comfort be damned, I’ll stay however long it takes to finish the piece.

Travel is not an unfamiliar aspect of the job, and it comes with a few perks. I don’t often head out of the city, Our City that is, but when I do I travel well. Private cabin with plenty of space, complimentary food service, and unlimited access to the sleeper cars. I spent most of my time glued to a book, but when the trolleys passed by and roused me from my trance I would glance up at the world dashing by. Trees to mountains to nothing desert. Swear to god my ears popped at least three times. Despite the emptiness stretching out before me, the desert is a relief. Something about the mountains, knowing I was so far above everything else, put me off. No matter how much I ate, nothing felt satisfying. I couldn’t concentrate on my book and even my nocturnal excursions provided little relief in the face of knowing how separated from everything I was. The air is too thin up there, no one wants to man an outpost up there. Despite all the complaints I could have about the desert, moving away from that truly dead region into one that seems that way was a relief. The ground was more even and I actually ended up finishing my book. Tragic, finishing a nonsense book in a single sitting, everything wrong with it jumped out much more ferociously. But I wasn’t reading for the plot, I wanted to see characters wriggle through strange situations. It posed this great question of, beyond all the strangeness in normal life, what if there was much more out there in the stars? Automatons indistinguishable from humans, Earth as our homeworld being a long forgotten relic, ‘star ships’ with the ability to jump great distances across the universe… I can’t tell whether the idea of humanity’s faults existing far beyond the bounds of our world is deeply cynical or a profane kind of optimism. If I’ve been keeping track of the stations correctly, I should be getting off soon. This section of my notes, or article if I decide to publish it as is, might be coming to a premature end but I need the last five minutes of any journey to get ready to transition back into work. I may travel for work, but it’s never felt like work. I can’t think of any other moment where I feel so comfortable and justified to fold into myself.

The whine of the whistle felt louder, knowing that I should start gathering my things. I’m a professional and know what I’m doing, so I hung back while everyone else stood up and huddled around the doors as they waited for them to open. Part of me can understand the impulse to get out as quickly as possible, but pragmatically the best option is to stay comfortable and seated until everyone is moving. Filtering out with the last of the passengers, I glanced along the platform for a figure who seemed to be waiting for someone. A man dressed in jeans and a dirty grey shirt was leaning against one of the pillars supporting the station awning, brim of his black hat pulled over his face and cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He looked over to me and gave a little nod upwards in acknowledgment. “Nic?” “And you must be Marcy, mighty nice to meet you,” he said, sticking his hand out. I nodded and kept moving, hoping the horses weren’t in the opposite direction. I would not describe Nic as loquacious, gregarious, or even a minor form of talkative. He was silent down the boardwalk, and was sparse with his words in identifying the black stallion as his and chestnut horse next to it, with a white streak going from its mouth past its chest, as the one I would be using. He focused on the case on the ride over, along with confirming that his first name was fine to use. Franz and James were the lads missing, the first disappearances in a long line of ‘kids’ finding refuge in the outpost, and… I’ll print it because it’s the truth, but I hate it: I was only there to make the remaining residents feel at ease. Not to say I won’t see this assignment to the conclusion, I am still an investigator, but I wasn’t meant to mention I’d only shown up to write for a paper. Something about wanting to keep the ‘kids’ from the brutal truths of our existence, make them think someone cares enough to look into it. Seems I am that someone who cares, although their understanding of my motivation may be a bit skewed. The ridge was surprisingly verdant, lined with trees on either side which were surrounded by pine needles and shrubbery. How they got into the desert I’ll never know, but squirrels rustled through the branches as we passed, spooked by our presence. Nic spent the gallop from the station shouting over his shoulder to get me up to speed, yet in the craggy path, full of sharp turns forcing us to keep our pace slow, he was silent. Why was that? “I wanted to give you a chance to appreciate the scenery.” And after all that time on the train, surrounded by dirt out to the horizon, I did. It reminded me of a certain part of the park about seven kilometers south of my flat. A straight path, but juxtaposed with everything around them[rephrase] both feel like somewhere you could get lost amongst the trees.

We spent at least half an hour winding through the wilderness until we entered a clearing, at the centre of which was a three story house. The wood was weather-beaten and dark from some impossible rain localized in this little area, and it had a covered porch out front next to the hitching post with chairs and a barrel hosting a crowded ashtray. The sound of hooves below us was muffled by grass as we approached the house. Candlelight flickered in the windows and I concentrated on taking in the moment; getting back into the experience of the first night off in a distant place, settling in so I can better take in what it feels like to be here. Following Nic inside, I got the faint whiff of roast beef. The dining room to our left was set up for dinner, but the room was empty. In the living room to the right a fire was blazing next to a man in a suit, who glanced up at us from his book with a look of anger. “You’re late,” he said, setting his book aside to get up. Despite shaking his head solemnly, his lips trembled, fighting to curl upwards, as he held in laughter. “Marcy’s train was late, and-” “Absolutely no excuse! The food’s gone cold, what am I meant to do? Heat it up in the oven like a commoner?” I said nothing while observing this ritual, as he sidled up to Nic and gave him a kiss on the cheek. They laughed and he turned to me. “Jasper,” he said, sticking his hand out for me shake. I introduced myself and, looking to Nic to confirm that I could speak freely, made sure we were on the same page as to why I was there. He wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about it, something about it making him not want to leave the house, and shifted the conversation to getting me settled in.[Ugh rewrite this] “We can save this for tomorrow, no? You’re probably starving, let me get dinner heated back up.” He gave Nic another peck, then disappeared into the kitchen. I went with Nic and took a seat at the table. It’d been mostly travel, but it was still a long day and I started to feel it as I sunk into my seat. Jasper was dashing between the kitchen, dining room and cellar as he brought out a bottle and poured us all a glass. In the middle of proposing a toast, he excused himself for a moment to check the oven. When he came back, he raised his glass and said, “To new friendships and new beginnings.”

Final Notes: I have a small candle resting on the desk in my room, where I’m scribbling this down before going to bed. It feels like a slow start, with little to no new information coming out (beside the ruse I’m meant to carry on with) and I’m fine with that for the moment. It’ll take some getting used to, being out in the middle of nowhere. The constant sounds of the city have been replaced by the buzz of cicadas and chirp of crickets. I’m in a small room, previously belonging to James, with a twin bed set up with an itchy green blanket. Beside the oak armoire and a painting of a dancer hanging on the wall, the room is bare. Despite how late it is and how tired I feel, the prospect of settling in to a new bed feels draining in its own wicked way. It’s an intersection of the trust needed to fall asleep in a strange place, the adjustment to a new environment, and the threat of restlessness. My job demands that I keep daylight hours, but I’ve always been fond of late nights. Not doing anything, but staying up and feeling like the world is my own. One item of concern I brought up over dinner was the absence of the ‘kids’ (it’s an oft enough used colloquialism in this situation that I’ll be removing the apostrophes from here on out) as the pretense for me coming out was putting their minds at ease. It seems their concern was focused on the idea of an unsolved crime rather than their safety. One of the more troubling manifestations of this was their insistence on abducting locals to interview, undermining the separation between residence and feeding grounds. I haven’t looked into how it’s done in the industrialized setting of the city, but from the price I’m guessing there is an assumption that we’d handle it on the individual end. That’s not an option out here, and to compensate they cross county lines for donors in most cases. Thankfully, most of the abductees were taken from their homes and could simply be bitten and returned with no recollection. But this was a corrective course, and at least one was picked up while in transit. If we are dealing with a hunter, which I doubt, they’ve been tossing rocks at the hornets nest. Even if not, one might have been stirred up in this chaos. We’ll just have to see moving forward.

So that’s the start of the [unedited] second draft of my next novel, Summin Strange in Them There Hills. If you read any of the first draft, there’s been a significant shift in the voice which I’m really happy with! My goal with the novels I have planned is to ground the narration in the world of the story, and this draft feels promising.

#writing #writer #am writing #lgbt writers #writeblr #chapter one #preview

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renaerys · 5 years ago

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PPG One-Shot: Shook (Brick/Blossom)

Summary: When Butch and Buttercup’s fighting goes a bit too far, Blossom takes it upon herself to intervene. Reds.

xxx

Brick woke up with pinprick pain in his temples this morning, a sure indicator that today was going to be a bad day.

His headache only progressed throughout the day, and by the end of sixth period AP European History, he was fantasizing about how good Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI had it with that guillotine. Quick, painless, and blissful freedom from the squabbling peasants who would never have let them off easy anyway.

“Dude, you’re doing it again.”

Brick could feel his brother’s big, blue eyes on the back of his head as he unloaded his books at his locker. “What.”

“The resting serial killer face.”

Brick glanced at his reflection in the small mirror he had affixed to his locker door. Tired, red eyes stared back at him, mouth in a harsh, thin line, and his trademark red cap backwards over his red hair. His bangs were getting a little long.

He slammed the locker door. “Maybe take the hint.”

Boomer, unlike most of the plebeians at Townsville High School, didn’t cower in fear at his brother’s bloody glare. He smiled and threw a letter-jacket-clad arm over Brick’s shoulders. “Lighten up, man. It’s Friday! Julie’s party is tonight, remember?”

Shit, Brick had forgotten. He vaguely remembered agreeing to go to that.

“Someone say party?” Wes Goingon, a guy so pale he looked like he’d been bleached at birth, approached them hand in hand with his girlfriend, Kim Chan.

Kim smiled brightly at Brick. “Oh yeah, Julie’s! You guys are going, right?”

Boomer dragged Brick into step with their friends, and he was too tired to resist. “For sure.”

Brick sighed. “I don’t know, I’ve got a migraine. I might sit this one out.”

“No way, you gotta come!” Wes said. “It’s not a party without you.”

Kim nudged Brick affectionately. “He’s right, but if you’re not feeling well, you should stay home. I noticed you were kind of quiet today.”

“Shh, Kim, don’t give him a way out. Everybody’s gonna be there,” Boomer said. “It’s the last party before Fall Break!”

Fall Break, yes, that was an appealing prospect. A whole week off from school to do what he wanted without having to deal with all the bullshit of high school daily life. Brick didn’t hate it as much as he’d thought he would. Even with his reputation as a Rowdyruff Boy following him, there had been some brave souls who’d given him and his brothers a chance to be normal seventeen-year-old boys, something he hadn’t had back in Citiesville before transferring. Even if many were wary of him, there were a few like Wes and Kim who were so used to sharing the halls with Supers that they barely noticed the difference.

The four of them were approaching the west exit when Brick came across the last person he wanted to see. His migraine flared at the mere sight of her and the suspicion in her gaze that was as ubiquitous as her red hair ribbon whenever they unfortunately crossed paths.

“Hey Blossom!” Kim said, bounding over.

“Hi Kim,” Blossom said, bypassing her to approach Brick, but it turned out it wasn’t him she was looking for. “Boomer, I’m glad I ran into you. Have you seen my sister anywhere?”

Brick watched her talking to his brother like he wasn’t standing right there and felt his blood pressure begin to rise. No matter how much time he spent breathing the same air as this girl, he couldn’t get past his dislike of her. They were no longer arch enemies looking to grind each other into the ground, their childhood enmity mostly behind them now that they were older and more interested in living their lives in peace. But even so, Brick had never had any desire to befriend Blossom or her Super sisters, Bubbles and Buttercup.

Still, she didn’t have to ignore him so obviously. She was always doing petty crap like that. So juvenile.

Boomer, of course, had no such qualms about mingling with Townsville’s resident heroes. Brick wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somehow Boomer had befriended Bubbles, played sports with Buttercup, and was even on amicable terms with Blossom.

“Which one?” Boomer asked, running a hand through his short, blond hair like he was thinking about how it looked in front of her.

The fuck, Brick thought.

“Bubbles. She was supposed to meet me after class, but she’s not answering her phone.”

“No, sorry. I haven’t seen her since lunch.”

Blossom tugged on her long, red ponytail, something she did whenever she was troubled by something. Brick hated that he knew this about her.

“Oh, all right. Well, if you hear from her, can you let me know?”

“Sure thing.”

Her rosy gaze finally flickered to Brick, and she matched his frown. He told himself to ignore her and her unwarranted suspicion of him—it wasn’t like they were twelve anymore and he was going to rob a convenience store, for fuck’s sake—but he also was not about to look away first.

“Brick,” she said curtly, but she might as well have told him to go jump in a lake.

“Blossom,” he said just as clipped. And, just because he knew how annoyingly hyper-alert she got when they were around each other, he let his eyes flicker briefly over her figure, today clad in casual capris and a sleeveless top.

Just his luck that one of the hottest girls in school had such a frustrating personality.

Of course, she noticed him briefly checking her out and crossed her arms. Her pretty eyes narrowed, and the air around them charged. Boomer noticed her subtly spiking energy levels and shrank back instinctively. Brick held his ground, wondering if she’d tell him off. He kind of hoped she would if only to distract him from his pounding headache.

Wes and Kim, oblivious to the electrifying tension, were still talking about Blossom’s missing sister.

Or rather, sisters plural.

“Yeah, I think I saw them leave together. They were in kind of a hurry,” Wes said.

“Really? Since when are Butch and Buttercup so chummy?” Kim asked.

At the mention of his trigger-happy brother, Brick tore his gaze from Blossom. “What about Butch?”

Blossom also forgot her rising annoyance and focused on Wes. “What are you talking about? They left together?”

Wes looked between Brick and Blossom, and it was his turn to shrink. Friends or not, being on the receiving end of both Reds’ glares at the same time was enough to make a guy quail. “Uh, yeah, like I saw them both dash out after sixth period…”

“Together?” Blossom demanded.

“Kind of?” Wes put his hands up like he was trying to placate a pair of wild animals. “More like he dragged her out? I mean, not violently or something!”

Blossom paled, and Brick rolled his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Butch couldn’t seem to go a full week without fighting the only person on the planet dumb enough to rise to his challenge every time. Mostly, Brick didn’t care what his brother did as long as it didn’t blow back on Boomer and him, and for the most part Butch behaved. But lately, he’d been hitting the gym twice a day and even pestering Brick for spars more often than usual. As if fighting Buttercup wasn’t enough of a challenge for him already.

“Oh, so they probably went to fight. Hey, maybe Bubbles is with them?” Boomer said.

Blossom was still white as a sheet. “They can’t fight right now. She’s in no condition.”

Brick was about to tell her to calm down, she was overreacting about every goddamned little thing as usual, but Blossom dashed off in a flash of pink before he could get a word in. Kim was knocked over with the force of it, and Boomer was forced to catch her when she bumped into Wes and they both almost went down.

“Jeez, what was that about?!” Kim griped.

“You okay?” Boomer asked.

Brick scowled deeply. What was she thinking using her powers in school? Of all people, Blossom would never. What had crawled up her ass today? He had half a mind to find out.

“Come on, Boomer,” he said.

“Wait, where are we going?”

But Brick dashed off in a blinding blaze of red in much the same fashion as Blossom before him, knocking all three of them down in his haste to catch up to her.

xxx

Buttercup heaved and spat blood. The Chemical X in her system was sluggish as it depleted so much faster than usual, and she felt Butch’s punches like a ton of bricks. He came in fast and hard again, and this time Buttercup dodged the brunt of his punch and sent him spinning away.

“C’mon, BC! Enough of this cat and mouse crap,” Butch taunted. “Fight me! Unless you’re too much of a pussy.”

“Fuck you,” Buttercup spat.

Trash talk had always been a part of their clashes, and normally it added to the fire she felt beneath her skin at the prospect of handing him his ass. But their last fight had been particularly brutal just a few days ago, and while Buttercup would never admit weakness, she was not fully recovered from it.

Should’ve listened to Blossom and taken that X supplement…

Buttercup silenced that traitorous thought. She didn’t need help. She was the toughest fighter for a reason. A little roughhousing didn’t merit all that coddling. Then again, she hadn’t expected Butch to be raring to go again so soon.

“Guys, really! I think you should just call it quits for today!” Bubbles said, hovering close but not close enough to get in between them. She was not suicidal.

Butch glanced at her askance. “Hey, no one asked you, Blondie. I don’t mind an audience, but this is between me ’n your sister, so be a good girl and mind your own fucking business.”

Buttercup seethed. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

“Oh, yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

The taunt was transparent, but Buttercup fell for it all the same. She always fell for it, her body screaming to meet his blow for blow even if her mind knew better. It had always been that way with Butch, supernatural. He’d been created to destroy her, and even now that they were older and grown out of that artificial good versus evil bullshit, sometimes she felt like he really was out to obliterate her. She lived for that challenge, that push to the limits of fear and fatality, knowing in her bones that no one could get her as close to the edge as Butch could.

And so, reckless in pursuit of that special high only he could give her, Buttercup rocketed toward him, her fists crackling green with power. Butch caught her fists in his, and their power exploded between them.

Buttercup was invincible for all of a half second, and then came the pain. She was blown back with such force that she went flying and landed hard in the parking lot of the Shankaplex movie theater, totaling two cars and ripping a crater open in the asphalt. Her body ached, and when she opened her eyes, she saw double.

“Buttercup!” Bubbles screamed.

But it wasn’t Bubbles who pulled her out of that crater. Butch’s rough hands had her by the collar of her shirt, and he lifted her like a rag doll. His arms smoked where Buttercup’s power had burned him, but his X was healing him fast, and pain had never bothered him anyway.

“Tsk tsk, taking a nap? Am I boring you that much?”

Buttercup could feel that he was about to throw her, and she made a grab for his wrists, only to find that her hands were bruised and cut, and her palms were slick with her own blood. Chemical X was barely healing her at all anymore. A brief flicker of panic petrified her, and Butch smelled it like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Guess it’s time to finish you off,” he said, grinning.

But he never got the chance, because Bubbles swooped in and tackled him into a movie poster display at full power. Buttercup fell to her knees, coughing and shaking in pain, but her thoughts were only of Bubbles. That inkling of panic she’d felt before blossomed into full-on fear for her baby sister. Bubbles was no match for Butch, not when he was raring to go like this.

As if to prove her fears true, Bubbles went crashing into the asphalt next to Buttercup seconds later, having taken one of Butch’s punishing punches to the stomach dead on. Buttercup stared at her fallen sister and shook with rage.

“What the fuck, Butch! You leave her out of this!” Buttercup screamed at him.

Butch cracked his neck. A horrible gash on his face where Bubbles had injured him sealed before Buttercup’s eyes as the X in his system came to his aid.

“I’m okay,” Bubbles said, sitting up and clutching her stomach. “Just a little winded…”

“Hey, she threw the first punch. Don’t be jealous, BC. You know you’re my main squeeze.” He grinned salaciously at her.

Excruciatingly, Buttercup forced herself to get up. Her limbs were on fire. Logically, she knew she could not take Butch in her state. She had no idea how he had recovered faster than her—fucking teenage boy hormones—but he was in top form and she couldn’t hope to face him fairly like this. Fear faded to fury at her own shortcomings. They were supposed to be equals, but nothing she threw at him could bring him down today.

Still, Buttercup had never forfeited a fight, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Buttercup, no! You can’t fight him like this! Let me—”

“Shut up, Bubbles,” Buttercup hissed. No way was she going to let Bubbles clean up her mess. Butch was and always would be her problem. She wasn’t going to let him near her sister.

Butch laughed. “That’s more like it. Now, where were we? Oh yeah, here!”

He shot off again, and Buttercup braced herself for a world of pain. If she could just tire him out enough to call it quits, that would be enough without having to forfeit, surely.

A blinding blast of pink energy intercepted Butch before he could ram Buttercup, and she was blown back into Bubble’s arms before she could eat concrete again. When she came to, she saw Blossom’s long ponytail fluttering past her waist, her bare arms sparking with raw, pink power and a deep crag in the concrete leading from her to where Butch now kneeled, smoking and breathing heavily.

Manic jade looked up at Blossom, and despite herself, Buttercup shuddered at the sight. He was good and pissed off now. “And then there were three, huh? I’m in high demand today.”

Blossom ignored him. “Buttercup, are you okay?”

Buttercup’s ire flared again. “I’m fine. What’re you doing here?”

Blossom shot her a glare over her shoulder. “Cleaning up your mess, as usual. What were you thinking fighting him in your state? You know you’re not recovered.”

Pride told Buttercup to defy her imperious sister, but shame and guilt knowing Blossom was right held her back. But it wasn’t like she’d had a choice! When Butch got it in his head that he wanted a fight, there was no stopping him. Before Buttercup got a chance to snap back at Blossom, they were interrupted again.

“What the fuck is this?” Brick landed next to Butch.

Butch rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Nothing. This is between me and Buttercup.”

Brick’s creepy eyes scanned the ruined parking lot and the few civilians who had poked their heads out of the movie theater to gape at the Supers like fish out of water. “You, Buttercup, and the Mayor’s office when I have to make a case to the city not to fine us for all this property damage.”

An admiring whistle drew everyone’s attention to Boomer hovering a short ways away surveying the damage. “Damn, Butch. You got something against Frozen 2?”

Sure enough, the new kids’ movie advertisement poster was totally destroyed thanks to the explosive fight.

“Huh?” Butch said.

“Enough,” Blossom said. “Brick, take your brother home. He’s done enough damage for one day.”

Brick glared at her, and Buttercup braced herself for the spat she knew was coming.

“We’re not finished here,” Butch said before Brick could get into it with Blossom. “So why don’t you march that fine ass back to chess club or whatever the hell you do after school?”

Brick turned his glare on Butch, and Buttercup felt its departure like the cruel summer sun dipping behind the clouds.

Bubbles gasped. “No! Buttercup, you can’t fight him anymore! I told you this was a bad idea!”

Blossom somehow looked even more incensed. “You came here willingly? I rushed over here thinking Butch had forced you into a fight. Buttercup, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking this has nothing to do with you,” Buttercup said petulantly.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Blossom growled in frustration. “Why is it always a fight with you? You know what, I don’t care. We’ll talk about this later. Bubbles, take her home.”

Bubbles moved to do that, but one look from Buttercup stayed her hand. No way, no fucking way was Buttercup going to let her big sister swoop in and embarrass her like this. Butch would never let her live it down.

“Hey! Are you deaf? I said this is between me and Buttercup. I’m not gonna tell you again, Blossom.”

Butch bared his teeth, and Buttercup felt her skin crawl. He was seriously not done yet, and a very small part of her began to feel the fear creeping back in. She was not in any condition to fight him, she knew that, but he was in no condition to stop.

“Butch,” Brick warned.

But Butch smacked his hand away. His whole body sparked with green energy, ready to snap. Despite herself, Buttercup swallowed hard.

“Fine,” Blossom said. “You want a fight? I’ll give you the fight of your life.”

Buttercup gaped open-mouthed at her sister, not sure if she’d heard right. Blossom never fought unless all other avenues were exhausted, and she certainly never fought Butch. Even Brick looked momentarily stunned at her challenge.

Butch was quicker to recover and burst out laughing. “Good one! Now seriously, get the hell outta my way.”

Blossom didn’t budge. “No.”

All traces of humor left Butch as he regarded her, and then he glanced at Brick. “Hey, I’m not gonna tell you again. I’m not here for you, so move.”

Blossom was busy removing her pearl studs and bracelet. When she held them out, Buttercup was still too stunned to do anything but accept them without protest.

“This won’t take long,” Blossom said, tightening her ponytail.

“Brick,” Boomer said warily, landing next to his brother.

Brick bristled. “Forget this. I’ll fight you, you fucking masochist.”

“No way bro,” Butch said, stepping forward. “Ladies first. She wants me, can’t you tell?”

Blossom actually laughed, stunning Buttercup for the second time in as many minutes. “Honestly, Buttercup, how do you take this boy seriously?”

Buttercup wanted to be mad, but Butch’s reaction was so sudden and so visceral that it gave her whiplash. He began to shake as his power leaked out of him and clogged the air like noxious fumes. That little, emasculating laugh got him more worked up than any number of Buttercup’s punches had today.

“Hey.” Buttercup reached for Blossom and they locked gazes. She shivered at the cold look in her sister’s eyes. It was one she had not often seen, but one she knew better than to question. The instinct to shrink back was so overwhelming that Buttercup felt her stomach turn, and it was not even directed at her.

She remembered a fight many, many years ago when Princess Morbucks had pushed Blossom too far in her pursuit of power. It was the first time Buttercup had ever seen that remorseless look in her sister’s eyes, and she would never forget it.

Butch was no longer grinning. “I’m gonna enjoy putting you in your place.”

Blossom cocked her head. She was still smiling that eerie, cold smile. “I’m waiting.”

That did it. Before anyone could blink, Butch was coming straight for her, fists blazing.

xxx

“Oh shit!” Boomer flew up to join Bubbles, Buttercup, and Brick in the air as they watched Blossom and Butch collide in a conflagration of pink and green. Butch’s punches, delivered hard and swift enough to break the sound barrier, carried like thunder. “Should we, like, do something?!”

Brick was eerily silent next to him as he followed the fight with a calculating eye. “If he hits her, she’s done for.”

“Like hell,” Buttercup spat. “She’s strong. You should know.”

“Wait, I thought you were the one who was against this?” Boomer asked.

Buttercup grimaced, but she stubbornly refused to let on how much pain she was in. Now that Boomer got a good look at her, she really looked trashed. Jesus, had Butch really done that to her?

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know my sister. She can take him.”

“Except she can’t,” Brick said, watching as Butch fired a green energy beam at Blossom that sent her careening high into the clouds. “I know her too. She’s a glass cannon.”

Blossom’s pink streak came flying in faster than Boomer had ever seen her fly, and Butch was waiting for her with a welcome punch that connected with her ribs. But Blossom swerved with his force and rammed her elbow mercilessly against the back of his neck. Her blunt force was so great that he went cashing into the woods beyond the Shankaplex, where he landed with a monstrous crack. Blossom waited for him to reemerge, a hand pressed to her side but otherwise masking her pain.

Bubbles gasped, and Buttercup shot Brick a scathing grin. “You were saying?”

Brick’s eyes were glued to Blossom. “Butch hits like a freight train. She won’t be able to absorb his punches indefinitely.”

Buttercup laughed, but in her injured state, it came out more like a wheeze. “Dude, you don’t know this Blossom.”

Brick glanced at her askance, and Boomer wondered. What did that mean?

“That tickled!” Butch shouted as he came flying back ready to go again. “Do it again!”

Blossom was silent as she waited for him to come to her. He came in hot, but this time she didn’t let his punch connect. More elegantly than Boomer thought her capable of, Blossom avoided him entirely, grabbed his hair, and kneed him in the stomach.

Boomer gasped—gasped, because holy hell—as Butch hacked up a lung and clutched his stomach. “I think she broke some ribs!” Chemical X or no, that one really had to hurt.

Blossom put some distance between Butch and herself and took a deep breath.

“Incoming!” Bubbles dashed away with Buttercup, and Boomer shoved Brick out of the path of danger just in time to avoid getting caught up in Blossom’s powerful ice breath.

Butch didn’t even try to avoid it, and soon he was covered in a layer of thick ice. Not one to be restrained, however, his eyes glowed red and his eye beams burst through the ice. Blossom avoided the laser that wasn’t really aiming at her anyway and came in from behind to catch him unawares.

Unfortunately, Butch was not bothered by the ice and burst out of it just as Blossom came in close. He managed to grab her ponytail and reel her in like a fish. The punch he landed on her jaw sent her spinning, and she hit a billboard advertising pet food right through Talking Dog’s face.

“Ha!!! Take that!” Butch dashed after her, and Boomer watched as Blossom peeled herself off the destroyed billboard and narrowly avoided a second pummeling. Butch hit the billboard and knocked the whole structure over like a falling domino. It was only Bubbles’ timely intervention that kept it from crashing on top of a Cooper’s Market.

Pink and green sped around each other as Butch chased Blossom. He fired his eye beams and his green energy beams in the hopes of hitting her at a distance, but she was quick and extremely precise in her movements in a way Boomer knew he himself was not, and Butch was even less coordinated than him. It was like watching Brick, he realized. Brick was so in control of his body, of every single minute movement he made, that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t physically as strong as Butch or as fast as Boomer. There was no surprising him or tripping him up, and Blossom was no different.

But did Butch know that?

“Stop running! I thought you were gonna give me the fight of my life, what happened? You scared?” Butch taunted as he tried to catch Blossom.

She was stony-faced as she avoided his grabs and his eye beams alike, but made no effort to return fire or respond.

“That’s risky,” Brick muttered.

“What’s risky?” Boomer asked.

“She’s trying to tire him out, hoping he’ll burn up all his X. But Butch has more reserves than you or me. His stamina’s even better than Buttercup’s.”

“That’s not what she’s doing,” Bubbles said.

Brick shot her a withering look like he couldn’t believe she dared to contradict him. “Oh, really?” he said sarcastically.

Bubbles didn’t even flinch. “Really.”

Brick scoffed and returned his attention to the fight.

“What’s the matter, Blossom! Get over here and fight me!”

Butch threw another punch that she artfully avoided. Pissed off, he shot at her with his eye beams, but Blossom swerved and struck him with the heel of her hand under the jaw. His eye beams went awry.

“Shit!” Buttercup said.

Brick was paying closer attention than Boomer, however, and intercepted the stray eye beams before they could strike anyone. His jacket sleeve smoked and sizzled where a new hole had opened up.

“Tch,” he said.

Butch shook himself out like a wet dog. He was bleeding from his mouth and his eyes were dilated, but he was still fighting fit. If he was wearing out, he was hiding it well. Boomer glanced at Bubbles.

“So what is Blossom doing?”

Bubbles looked more concerned than grim as she watched. “She’s feeling him out.”

“She’s making him mad,” Buttercup said.

Boomer winced. That didn’t sound like a good idea facing Butch. The guy was an unstoppable force when he was mad.

“But why—”

Crack!

Boomer whipped around just in time to see that Butch had finally landed another hit on Blossom and sent her flying out of control. She clutched her side as he sped after her, no longer laughing or taunting; he just wanted to finish her off now, it seemed. Beside Boomer, Brick sucked in an audible breath as he watched.

Butch wound up a punch. Blossom wasn’t moving to avoid. Boomer lost his mind.

“Watch out!” he screamed at her, unable to help himself.

Buttercup and Brick looked at Boomer like he’d grown another head. Butch caught up to Blossom, but just as his punch connected, she grabbed his wrist, spun gracefully behind him, and unleashed her eye beams at point blank range on the back of his neck.

Even Brick winced at that one.

“Fuck yeah!!” Buttercup shouted. “How’s that taste, Butch!”

Butch staggered in the air, his hands clutching his smoking neck. They came away bloody. Boomer didn’t miss the filthy look he shot Blossom.

“Forfeit,” Blossom called to him. “You can’t win.”

“Fuck you,” Butch spat. “I was going easy on you. No more.”

With a crackle of energy, Butch’s signature shield materialized around him. And then, he was after her again.

xxx

That’s it. She’s done, Brick thought to himself.

As soon as Butch brought out his shield, there was little and less to be done about it aside from waiting him out. Even Brick had trouble against him when he donned what was essentially impenetrable armor.

It was kind of a shame, really. She’d surprised him in this fight. Brick couldn’t recall her taking hits so well when they’d clashed in the past. Granted, that was years ago, but still.

He glanced at her sisters. They were still watching the fight, but they didn’t seem particularly deterred. Brick narrowed his eyes, and he considered.

Could she really…?

“Hiding behind your shield? How predictable,” Blossom taunted him, something Brick had rarely known her to do.

“I predict you’re about to eat shit!” Butch hurtled after her, but she danced ever out of reach.

His shield was truly something. It molded roughly to the shape of him, extending with his punches and folding with his blocks. It was a drain on his X reserves, but it was his best and only real defense.

Blossom couldn’t know this, though. Blossom had never fought Butch. But then, she was fast learning him with every punch, every dodge, every overreaction to her baiting.

Despite himself, Brick’s attention was fully arrested as he watched them. Even his migraine had subsided to a dull ache as he ignored it in favor of following the fight.

Blossom got in a good punch, but Butch’s shield was truly impenetrable, and all she got for her efforts was a crackle of jade sparks and a hurt fist. She immediately pulled back.

“That shield is so strong!” Bubbles said.

Buttercup grunted. Blossom didn’t try to hit Butch again, but he did his level best to strike her.

“Hey, is this what they call playing hard to get?” Butch sneered as he lobbed another punch at Blossom.

“I’m right here, Butch. Come and get me,” she taunted again.

What the hell is she playing at?

The Blossom Brick knew was not one to joke and jab, but the more she did it, the more riled up Butch got. She couldn’t possibly be trying to make him mad. That was suicidal for anyone who wasn’t Brick himself. And that shield…

“C’mon and give us a hug!” Butch sped after her, his only goal to grab her and crush her under the force of his shield. Sloppy and uncoordinated, but if he managed to grab her, that would be the end of it.

“What the—?!” Boomer sputtered.

Brick barely had time to be shocked as Blossom stopped her flight and spread her arms as if to hug Butch like he wanted. Brick was moving before he could process it, a command on the tip of his tongue, because no matter how much he despised Blossom, he couldn’t very well let his brother literally kill her.

Butch grabbed her before Brick could reach them, and Blossom flexed as she braced herself, her pink power manifesting like a second skin as Butch wrapped his meaty arms around her smaller frame with every intention of snapping her in half. Buttercup shouted something, but Brick couldn’t hear her over the racing wind in his ears as he tore after them, and then—

“F-F-Fuck!” Butch groaned.

His shield, his whole body was engulfed in preternatural ice as Blossom hugged him tight enough to break. Her arms were covered in ice that would not shatter no mater how much Butch struggled. He tried to fire off his eye beams, but she had ducked her head under his chin, safe from his fire. Impossibly, his green shield began to collapse as the ice and Blossom herself crushed him like a soda can.

They crash landed well away from the Shankaplex and any civilians just by the edge of the forest. Brick swooped down after them, the others not far behind. When he landed, he found Butch face down eating dirt and covered in chunks of ice, his shield completely dissipated, as Blossom towered over him. She had his wrists in her hands and her boot on the back of his head, grinding him further into the ground. Ice coated her arms like armor, and there was no mercy in her eyes.

“B-Blossom, babe, c’mon,” Butch said in what was meant to be a playful tone, but came out sounding like a whimper.

Blossom leaned down over him. “Call me babe again.” She drove her heel harder into the side of his head, sinking him deeper into the earth.

Butch struggled against her. He fired green energy beams from his palms, but Blossom pulled harder on his arms and sent them harmlessly awry.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Butch. You’re going to leave my sister alone for the rest of the month while you both recover.” She peered at him over her knee until his green eye swiveled to see her. “Tell me you understand.”

He grinned, and his teeth were a red ruin. “I don’t take orders from you—ah fuck!”

Blossom yanked his left arm back and dislocated it with a severe pop. She twisted the other one behind his back and hauled him up by his hair. “You do now.”

Her eyes glowed red, her hair was a windswept mess, and she had Butch—Butch, the fiercest fighter—on his fucking knees under her absolute control, and it was single-handedly the most beautiful sight Brick had ever seen in his life. It was perfect, and she was…

For a mad moment, he imagined her pinning him on his knees, her hand fisting his hair, exerting that control he had always pursued but never from her, until this moment.

“Brick, shouldn’t you…?” Boomer said.

Realizing she and Butch had an audience, Blossom looked up and locked eyes with Brick, and he shivered.

Oh hell.

“Hey, I like you on your knees,” Buttercup said, approaching Butch and Blossom. “Definitely your best angle.”

Butch spit blood and a piece of broken tooth. Nonetheless, he managed a smirk for her. “Next time, just ask.”

Blossom shoved him back into the dirt, and he promptly shut up.

Boomer sighed and floated over. “C’mon, dude. Let’s get you home.”

“I got it,” Butch complained, but he struggled to get to his feet.

“You seriously don’t. Can you even stand? Jesus.”

“Blossom!” Bubbles hugged her sister, who winced at the pressure.

“Bubbles, not so tight! I’m a little sore.” She smiled and brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

“You were amazing!”

Blossom grinned. “I know.”

“Serves you right, moron,” Buttercup said to Butch. “You’ll be pissing sitting down for a week.”

Boomer snorted as he looped Butch’s arm over his shoulder. “You got that right.”

“Ha ha, hilarious. Fuck you both,” Butch groused. His eyes flickered to Blossom, guarded.

“Brick? You coming?” Boomer asked.

Brick rubbed his mouth. He felt woozy. Bubbles shot him a curious look that he chose not to dwell on. “Take that idiot home. Make sure he doesn’t bleed all over the place.”

“Uh, right… What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m right behind you.”

His brothers flew off—or rather, Boomer flew and Butch dangled precariously from his shoulder. Finally, Brick turned his attention to Blossom.

“Blossom,” he said, his voice tight.

She looked up at him. “Brick.”

He swallowed, the image of her dominating Butch while she looked at him burned into his mind’s eye. So that was never going away… “Butch is my problem. Next time, you leave him to me.”

She regarded him, and so slowly he may have imagined it had he not been hyper-focused on her every movement, her lips curled in little smirk. “There’s not going to be a next time.”

In that moment, Brick had never felt so bewildered and so attracted to another person in his entire life. It was over all too soon as she showed him her back and spoke to her sisters. They were heading home. Like a fucking idiot, he just stood there, mind blown.

Did that really just happen?

Oh god, she was talking to him again. He blinked and tried to focus.

“What?” he said, fucking idiot that he was.

“The repairs. Look, I know you would rather chew glass than be around me, but you know the Mayor appreciates an in-person explanation and apology for this kind of damage. Are you coming, or do I have to tell him once again that you couldn’t be bothered?”

“No, I’m coming. I’ll talk to the Mayor with you.”

She peered at him like she didn’t quite recognize him. “All right… Thanks.”

xxx

That evening, after all was said and done and Boomer was showered and ready to go to Julie’s party, he gave Brick one more chance to come along instead of languor at home with a passed out Butch. The guy was out cold and would likely remain so for the next day after the beating Blossom had dealt him.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asked.

Brick was lounging on the living room sofa where he had his nose in a Kurt Vonnegut novel. “No.”

“Everyone’s gonna be there, you know.”

“Great.” Ignore.

Boomer shrugged. “Wes and Kim, Mike, Robin, Bubbles, Harry, the Floyjoydson Twins.”

Brick grunted noncommittally.

Boomer adjusted his jacket and pretended not to watch Brick like a hawk. “Blossom too.”

Pause.

Brick’s gaze flickered over the top of his book to catch Boomer’s eye. “This isn’t some themed shit like that last one, is it?”

“Nope. Just friends, drinking games, the usual. But if your migraine’s still bugging you, I’d get you wanting to go to bed early—”

“I’ll go for an hour.” Brick closed his book and got up off the sofa.

“Cool. Cool cool cool…” It took every ounce of self control Boomer had in him not to smile at his brother’s expense.

Brick when to change his shirt, and Boomer pulled out his phone and texted Bubbles.

[Boomer: I think you’re right. He’s finally seen the light.]

[Bubbles: I told you! Did you see the way he was staring at her??? Shook.]

Boomer laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Brick asked as he reemerged in a button down shirt. Had he brushed his hair? Christ, he’d actually brushed his hair.

Shooketh.

Boomer grinned. “Nothing, man. Just looking forward to a fun night.”

“Whatever.”

They headed out, and Boomer trailed his brother’s red streak.

Something told him it would be a very fun night.

#Blossick #Reds #Brick #Blossom #Butch #Buttercup #Bubbles #Boomer #Greens if you squint #Powerpuff Girls #Powerpuff Girls fanfiction #PPG #PPG fic #repost #February Fic Prompts #ppg shook

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ineffably-good · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt: Force

It is day 4 of #GOC2020 themes! Happy Good omens Anniversary month!

Summary: Aziraphale discovers he may have a little PTSD from the events of the apocalypse. Crowley helps him put himself back together.

Want to read all of them in one place? Go visit me on AO3!

_________________________

It was a perfectly ordinary summer’s evening. They were at a public concert at St. James Park – lounging on their blanket on the grass and listening to a military brass band play Sousa marches. Aziraphale loved Sousa marches; they were thrilling, he thought, and always roused in him a feeling of vigor and pride, like he should hop up and guard something.

Perhaps, in retrospect, that was why it happened.

They were just lying there, minding their own business, while other humans and their families and loved ones did the same. Crowley was just rummaging through the picnic basket in search of a corkscrew when a number of unruly children came caterwauling across the corner of their blanket and all but fell into his lap.

Crowley blinked at the two youngsters who were essentially tangled up in his legs. “Careful there,” he said, reaching out a hand to one. The kid took it and pulled himself upright, freeing the smaller child who was trapped under him. They looked like they were possibly seven or eight, both boys.

“Thanks mister,” the smaller one said. The older one, showing no such good manners, smirked at him, stuck out his tongue, and leapt away. And then they were off like a flash, rejoining a group of probably six other children who were dashing around throwing things and, in Aziraphale’s mind, being rather a nuisance. He watched them for a moment as they tackled each other in the spaces between concert-goers, then returned his attention to the music.

“Are you all right, love?” the angel asked.

“Of course. Just a couple of kids.”

“Little hellions,” Aziraphale sniffed, taking another sip of the lovely chilled Riesling they had brought. “Where are their parents?”

The music ended after another half hour, and many of their fellow enthusiasts packed up and left right away. Crowley and Aziraphale stayed to finish the last little bit of their wine and enjoy the warm air. On their way out, they suddenly found themselves surrounded by the same group of children – this time with their parents nearby. They all looked rather worse for the wear, Aziraphale thought, in the way of children who are up past their bedtimes and have had too much sugar and sunshine. All except the one who had stuck his tongue out before, who still seemed like he had a strange glint in his eye.

“Well hello there, you,” Crowley said, leaning down to eye level to face the two children who had stumbled over them earlier. “Did you have a good time?”

The little rugrat responded by pulling a water gun out from behind her back and pointing it at Crowley’s face. And in the moment when the child’s finger began to pull back on the trigger and Crowley instinctively began to rear back --

Time stopped around them. A blazing light shot out from what seemed like all directions at once and the humans quivered to an instant stop.

Crowley looked up to find that the angel in full battle glory, wings and eyes aglitter with a blinding intensity, had inserted himself between Crowley and the child, from whose water gun a small stream of liquid now hung motionless in the air like so many drops of misshapen diamonds. He flung a hand backwards at Crowley, pushing him further behind him, and rounded on the child.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted. He knew how hard it was to get the angel’s attention when his blood was thrumming for battle. He took a step forward and tugged on the angel’s arm. “Angel! ANGEL!”

Aziraphale turned to look at him and faltered.

“What are you doing, angel?” Crowley asked frantically. “Stop. It’s just a child.”

“Water,” Aziraphale intoned, his voice a combination of musical notes and vibrations that would have struck terror into the heart of any being who wasn’t used to it. “Could be holy. A trick. A plot.”

“You’re not going to smite a little boy, Aziraphale,” Crowley said reasonably, praying to whoever might be listening that it was true. “I know you. You’re not. That’s way more force than this situation requires. You know that.”

Aziraphale dropped to a crouch beside the child and put a glowing finger into the droplets, then took a quick taste.

“It’s just water,” he said, shaking his head. “What am I doing?”

Crowley pulled him back up to his feet by the shoulders and into a tight hug. It hurt, a bit, hugging the angel when he was leaking this much avenging heavenly energy, but some things couldn’t be helped. Aziraphale allowed himself to be hugged but did not move to wrap his arms around his friend in return.

The demon concentrated, sending as much calmness and warmth through the link between them as he could. It’s okay, he tried to say with his touch. I’m safe. I’m right here.

After a few moments, the angel visibly relaxed a tad or two, and pulled his wings and extra eyes that were part of his fighting form back into his physical shell, extinguishing most of the light flowing out of him.

“I suppose we should undo this mess,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“Since when can you stop time, anyways?” Crowley asked. “I thought that was my thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t really,” Aziraphale said, pointing to the figures near them. “I just slowed them way down. See? Still moving.”

Crowley bent in for a closer look and did notice that the stream of water was moving infinitesimally slowly.

He stood back and took a closer look at the angel, noting his intense embarrassment and unease. “How about a magic trick?” he said quietly. “We’ll just pop ourselves home a second before you restore the normal flow of time.”

“That will be quite shocking to the family, Crowley,” Aziraphale said disapprovingly.

“Eh, look at them – the only one that’s even looking is the kid. It will give him quite a story!”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It might be best,” he said. “I don’t know how to explain any of this anyways.”

Crowley held Aziraphale’s elbow in his left hand and raised his right to snapping position. “Ready?” he said.

“Ready,” Aziraphale said.

A fraction of a second later, they materialized in the bookshop. In the park, a very surprised eight-year-old boy watched as the man in front of him vanished into thin air and the water from his gun hit the grass without impediment.

“Mom! Mom!” he shouted. “Did you see that man disappear? I swear, he was just right here!”

Crowley took a while getting Aziraphale settled. He was a bit subdued. Nearly smiting a child for no reason would do that to anyone, Crowley thought. He needed to get some tea into him, and he needed to get him talking.

Tea was the more immediate issue, so he tackled that first. And just as he thought, once tea was applied directly to the issue at hand, the words were not far behind.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered in anguish. “Why did I do that? I nearly hurt a child.”

“A child who surprised us both with a water gun that we didn’t know he had,” Crowley said.

“A water gun is a perfectly normal thing for a child to be playing with in the summer at the park!” Aziraphale said. “I didn’t even think, I just saw that water coming at you and thought of – and thought of –”

“The bathtub,” Crowley said quietly. “And the last time we were caught unawares in a park.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, slumping against the couch in a posture most unlike him.

Crowley felt his heart swell at the sight of the angel’s dejection.

“Angel,” he said gently. “We’ve been through a lot. Heaven and Hell trying to kill us, Satan showing up to smack us both down, God herself missing in action, averting a war with hardly any help from anyone. You’re allowed to have a little – what do they call it? Post traumatic stress.”

Aziraphale perked up a little. “Oh, I’ve heard of that. Shell shock, they called it in the Great War. Of course you were asleep then. But I did try to help rather a large number of lovely young fellows through that after the trenches. Most of them eventually recovered.”

“And so will you,” Crowley said. “And we have each other, to keep an eye on things and make sure noting bad happens.”

“Our side,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s right.”

The angel took a deep breath and Crowley felt the stress seeping out of him.

“Thank you, though,” the demon said lightly, “for keeping me dry. Water would’ve destroyed this jacket. The cleaning bill would’ve been murder.”

The angel cracked a tiny grin. “You are going to go on about this, aren’t you?”

“Might,” Crowley affirmed, “from time to time. It’s just too good to pass up.”

#goc2020 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x crowley #angel PTSD #Crowley knows how to help

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crysta-cub · 5 years ago

Text

Daylight’s Edge

Edge wakes up during the day and isn't sure why he has awoken. When he finds his family is in trouble there is no doubt in his mind that he would do something about it. A Gift piece for @itsladykit‘s Atypical stories. :3

my inspiration for this piece

AO3

Edge’s sockets slitted open slowly. His body felt like lead, the magic coursing through his mana-lines was sluggish as his mind felt foggy and muddled. It wasn’t right, not at all. He felt around the bed to find it empty. He could have sworn he fell asleep with Rus laying right behind him. The sex demon usually stayed in bed, enjoying the vampire’s cuddles closeness and the potential for post waking intimacy, but it wasn’t too unusual for the demon to seek out the company of the other members of the castle.

Something in Edge told him that he wasn’t supposed to be awake yet. Very little could arouse the vampire from his dead sleep. There was the occasional exception of one of his lovers in distress, though they tended to be close enough to be wrapped up in his arms to settle them down. The castle was silent, not a sound to be heard. So why in the world was he awake?

Edge blinked his heavy eye sockets, he heard it, it was faint but there was a sound coming from outside. With more effort than he cared to admit, Edge pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to distinguish what those sounds were. It couldn't be that dragon, he had flown out on one of his ‘patrols’ just the other night and probably wouldn’t be back for another night or so. That is if Twist didn’t get distracted by something shiny, the damn wyrm. Cash and Rus have taken to avoiding each other so bickering has fallen to the nill side as of late, much to his skull’s blessing. Pup’s garden was on the other side of the castle, so it couldn’t be him or the forest spirit milling about.

Edge pushed off the bed, wobbling on his feet, ‘like a newborn baby deer’ Twist once rattled off some ancient time ago. Edge remembered the dragon earning a shoe to the face for that comment. He stumbled over to the window, heavy curtains drawn to keep out any semblance of light from attempting to trickle in. He just wanted to know what the noise beyond the curtain was and why it had woken him from his slumber.

Peaking between the curtains, the vampire was reminded how bright the sun could be, flinching before adjusting to the sting and looking outside. His sockets widen at the sight that laid out before him. Out across the field, where the road met the forest stood a group of men. One was dragging Rus, bound and unconscious, red splashed over his cranium, towards a wagon. Within the wagon thrashed the Siren, muzzle over his already silenced face, bound so tight, Edge could already make out some bruises.

Then there was Pup on his knees, half formed and gripping at either ropes or chains that connected at his neck, held by two of the men on opposite sides of him. The Werewolf was growling at a burly looking man with a hunter insignia on his chest, walked around the wagon and lifted a heavy sap and struck Cash across the skull, causing the siren’s movements to cease. Edge really tasted marrow as the same human walked up to Pup, belted out a laugh before kicking the wolf in the chest, knocking him down with a yelp.

Edge turned swiftly, throwing on a discarded pair of trousers before going for his cloak, only to find the article missing. Thinking fast, the vampire yanked a sheet from the bed and tied it over his shoulders creating a semblance of a hood. It may have been thin, but would make due as some form of protection against the accursed sun. With a harsh yank, Edge pulled the decorative sword that graced the wall over his dresser, dull but was better than nothing. Without a second thought Edge leaped out of the window, landing hard on the ground before dashing towards those that dared to harm his family.

The men surrounding the wagon, laughed and jeered at the monsters they had captured. The Hunter sneered down at Pup as the one dragging Rus approached.

“Oy, got teh demon Boss, put up a bit o’ a fight, but those rags yah gave me, really did tah trick in knocking ‘im out aftah the scuffle.” The man hefted Rus up in his arms before tossing the demon into the wagon, onto the siren like a sack of potatoes. “Should git a fair price from teh king on these lots.”

“So long as we bring ‘em in alive,” The burly man boomed. “The King likes ta witness their destruction himself. Such pitiful creatures. Their protector gone and guardian warded off. Nothing but simple prey at that. Thought we’d have more of a struggle from this one but seems this pathetic beast couldn’t even fully shift before we brought him down.”

“We still haveta fin’ teh vampire, sir, wasn’t in the rooms of tah other side, had one more wing to search en.” The brute dusted his hands. “Should be ‘sleepin’ like tah ded at that. Easiest of em all ta git.”

Pup let out a whine as he struggled against his bonds, feeling his energy being strangely zapped. There was a dark chuckle from above as he glanced up to see the burly man raising the sap high above his head, “Say night night wolfie.”

A sudden commotion in the group distracted the large man from striking down the werewolf. The man turned to see one of his men gripping at a sword speared through his midsection before falling to the ground. Left standing was the heavily panting Vampire, the sheet turned cloak left askew over his head.

Edge glared down the larger man, before dodging out of the way of another of the attackers, hefting up the sword to knock him in the gut.

“Oh ho ho,” The large male laughed, “The Vamp be awake. He’s a feisty one at that.”

“Let them go, hunter.” Edge growled at him, eye-lights blazing crimson. Edge stalked forward, nearly stumbling over himself as his strength faltered.

The man belted out a laugh. “Look at you, vampire, can barely stand. What makes you think I’m afraid of you. You barely have any strength to hold that sword.”

“I don’t have to be at full strength to take on the likes of you.” Edge charged at the man, heaving the sword to strike. The man withdrew his own sword to block and push back Edge with a terrible smirk across his face. Edge stumbled backwards, stepping on the sheet a few times before he caught his balance. Another member of the hunter’s party charged at Edge, daggers drawn. Edge dodge back, feeling the sheet loosen over his shoulders as he tripped up the attacker and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of the sword, causing the human to fall to the ground, face straight in a puddle of mud.

Edge swayed on his feet, magic beading as sweat on his brows. He could hear Pup whining towards him as he fought his restraints. Edge ignored him, keeping his eye-lights trained on the hunter, even as his vision doubled. The drain from the sun was hitting him hard, he nearly missed the shorter man circling behind him and jumped on his back.

Edge cried out, dropping the sword and using his sharp claws to dig in and score the attacker’s arms. The man howled in his ear canal before Edge threw him off of his back. The sheet came completely undone, exposing Edge fully to the sun’s unforgiving rays. Edge didn’t have time for his legs to falter as a large object connected with his ribs, hearing a crack as he was sent flying towards the wagon.

Edge groaned as he felt pain fire up in his chest, turning over to look at the hunter, tree branch in hand.

“You should stay down Vampire. Why fight a losing battle, eh?” The hunter mocked before grabbing Edge by the ribcage and hoisting him up into the air. “You don’t stand a chance against me.”

Edge reached out and sank his claws into the man’s arm, causing him to hiss in pain. The Hunter lifted the vampire higher into the air before throwing him down at the wagon. Edge cried out as he heard a few more cracks he was sure was not from the wooden frame. As he slid down the wagon’s side, Edge caught onto one of the warding, ripping it in half. Edge breathed raggedly as he glared up at the human defiantly.

“I didn’t have to fight you to beat you, just enough to buy him time.” At that moment a large shadow flew across the field followed by a ferocious roar. The Hunter looked up as he took a step back. “Also,” Edge coughed out, holding the ruined warding sheet in his hand, “what happens when you lose one of these?” Edge fell back, sight fading before he could see the look on the hunter’s face. The last thing Edge heard before falling into the grasp of unconsciousness was the sound of childlike laughter and the screams of men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twist landed next to Pup, partially formed, ripping the bonds that held and drained him. Pup was up in an instant rushing over towards Edge. “Get him inside, Now. I’ll get the other two once I’m done here.”

Pup nodded frantically before scooping Edge up in his arms and rushing back to the castle. Edge was light in his arms, too light. All Pup could hope for was that they weren’t going to be too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could feel his chest rise and fall with a faint ache in his ribs as he began to stir into consciousness. A large tale-tell warmth wrapped around him on his right while another presence, projecting healing/comfort/support/care/safety/security/love curled up to his left. His first blink was barely a twitch, while the second one offered shadows and haze, the following grating more clarity.

Without warning, his face was grasped by bony hands and he was met with a searing kiss. Edge inhaled deeply as he attempted to follow and return it only to pull back and hiss in pain as his ribs flared up.

“sorry, sorry. you’re still healing.” Rus began to apologize, pushing Edge back down into the large nest of blankets and pillows. “you had us so worried, precious. you’ve been out for a few nights.”

Edge reached out to Rus with a shaky hand to cup his cheekbone, stroking his jaw before Rus’ own hand joined his and held him there. “Didn’t mean to worry you.” Edge grimaced at the sound of his hoarse voice.

Twist rumbled beside him, shifting into a better position. He was still partially shifted into his dragon form, watching the exits intensely and poise, ready to strike any that dared to invade. “We tried ta get some magic in ya, Love, got ‘nough ta make sure ya don’ dust on us.” Twist swallowed before glancing down at the injured vampire before adding sternly. “We’ll need ta hav’ ya feed ta take care o’ ta rest, precious.”

Edge stiffened at the thought, breath held as his gaze began to slip from their locked position on Rus.

Twist expression softened. “Not right now tho. Later, when yer feelin’ more comfortable, yea?”

Edge let out a breath at the compromise and nodded. He glanced around the room before asking with a croak. “Where are Pup and Cash?”

Rus looked torn between affection and annoyance. “though none of us really wanted to leave your side, some needs still needed to be met. they volunteered to make dinner.” Rus was quick to hold Edge down as the vampire attempted to rise. “whoa, there. they’re being very careful. nothing too difficult. seemed ya managed to teach fish brains a thing or two about cooking, though he and twisted have enjoyed a few raw meals.” Rus lowered Edge's hand and bent to kiss his forehead. “nothing to worry your pretty little head over. you’re going to be taking it easy for a few more days, ok precious.”

Edge grunted at the thought before slumping into the blankets once again. His ribs were already protesting all of the movements he’s been making. His attention was soon turned towards the door as Pup and Cash made their appearance. Both carried a tray heaping with food, and appeared surprised, as well as relieved, to see Edge awake. Pup brought in his tray and placed it at the foot of the bed before going back for Cash’s, allowing the siren to take his plate. All the while Cash and Rus were locked in a heated glare off. Cash positioned himself at the door frame to guard the entrance as well as spike some glares back at Rus.

Rus settled in close, taking a helping of food. He poured a pitcher of water before helping to ease Edge up to drink. “I know it’s not magic, but this should help some.” Rus purposely ignored Cash as he helped serve Edge with a few bites of food.

After the first few bites, Edge turned towards Pup and Cash. “This is good, thank you.”

Pup smiled sheepishly before nodding his acceptance, while Cash shrugged it off to look out into the empty hallway.

Once the food was devoured and dishes cleared, everyone seemed to settle in around Edge. Twist never really moved from his spot, though the purr he was emitting did seem to amp up. Rus snuggled in close, being mindful of Edge’s ribs while Pup curled into a spot between Edge and Twist, head tucked right under his arm.

The only one who still didn’t join in the bed was Cash, stubbornly staying at the doorway, glancing back at the group periodically. Edge could feel his sockets grow heave, sensing that the sun was about to rise. Catching Cash’s eye, Edge attempted to wave the siren to join them while ignoring the roll of the Sex demon’s eye-lights. Cash seemed to startle before turning to look back out the door.

With the heaviest of agitated sighs, Rus teleported over to Cash before grabbing him and teleporting him back onto the bed, nearly shoving the siren into Pup’s arms. Cash silently hissed at Rus, allowing the werewolf to pull him into the nest. Rus flipped him off in response and curled back in next to Edge. “go to sleep, fish breath.” Rus growled, nuzzling into the crook of Edge’s neck.

Pup began to stroke Cash’s coronal suture to calm him down, smiling peacefully between the skeleton in his arms and the ones by his side. The last thing Edge saw, as he drifted to sleep, was Twist’s frame, still on guard as his wing carefully folded protectively over the nest. Edge didn’t need their projections to know that he was safe, secure, loved and at peace.

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vanaera · 5 years ago

Text

You Will Feel A Flash of Red

Synopsis | Seokjin colors your life with his outrageous ideas and unnecessarily wild adventures, along with his stupid mission to always scare you whenever you run into each other. Against your better judgment, you’ve already started to entertain foreign feelings in your heart concerning the certain boy. And it doesn’t help you already get scared easily without him adding his shenanigans in the mix. You just want Seokjin to stop…making you feel too much all at once. Genre | Fluff, semi-crack Characters | Seokjin x Reader (College!AU bc I’m soft and my uni life is mundane af) Wordcount | 2.7k A/N | Hi hons, this is something short and fluffy I came up with while I’m resting from my recent 21k-wordsmash-work Daffodil Rings. Hope you like this!

Everything can be colorful if you will them enough to. Grocery shoppings can be filled with oranges and greens that warm you up as you push past the cold airconditioned mart. Laundry days can be cooled with the tranquility of blues and whites that coax your eyes to relax from such a fast-paced week. You learned to make this your coping mechanism ever since you started associating colors for everything that lived in your grey, mundane life.

Your study table and work station are your usual pliant canvases to your color imageries. However, your biggest coloring book has to be the people that surround you. For instance, your bestfriend, Park Jimin, is a golden drizzle of yellow for his unfailing optimism whether it be finals week or rush hour dashes. Meanwhile, your other friend, Kim Namjoon, is an inky indigo for his strange concurrent displays of placidity and chaos wherever he goes. Your roommate, Wendy Seon, is an easy magenta for her innateness to attract attention wherever she goes. Unlike her, Min Yoongi, your batch representative, was a hard-to-determine cream white for his introvertedness and tough-bitch acts. But among these people you have met, there is one who stands out like a sore thumb: Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin is a friend of Namjoon and you only knew about it when you shared a general education film class with him in sophomore year. He was easy to say…a different story from anyone you’ve met.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Your eyes flit to your left to meet the eyes of the boy seated next to you and you nodded slowly. How did he know you? Much more your name? You’re sure you’ve never met him before and you’re much surer you’re someone everyone can easily miss.

“Namjoon told me your name when I asked him about you. I’m Kim Seokjin,” he offers a hand. You shook it slowly, your head tilted to the side, still bewildered as to how he knew you. Unfazed by your questioning stare, Seokjin grins. “I didn’t know you’re also taking this class.”

“I…I like films so yeah,” you shrug.

“Me too!” Seokjin chuckles. He leans closer to your seat. “You’re in the biochemistry program right?”

Your forehead furrows. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I am in the biology program and I saw you going out of the lab when our class was about to start in the same lab. Your blue scrunchie gave you away.”

Your hand deftly reached up to your ponytail and Seokjin laughs. “Don’t worry, you look cute with it,” he waves off and the furrows on your forehead only grow deeper. What is this man spouting about? Is he outright hitting on you–

The door swings open and the professor barks the usual morning greeting. Your thoughts were immediately halted. A few minutes is all it takes for everything to settledown into a metronome of students whispering across each other and pens scribbling notes. You wouldn’t have found yourself bothered again by the strange man sitting beside you if Seokjin didn’t just open his mouth to say the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life when the professor asked everyone what names they would like to be called in class.

“Señorita. Call me señorita.”

Needless to say, the class erupted into a hysterics and you’re left wondering for days (and oddly irritated) why everyone finds it so funny to bring that scenario up again and again until the next two weeks.

Such small timeframe is also enough for you to say Seokjin’s a mess. But oh, everyone will disagree. They will say “Oh my God, how can Seokjin be a mess? He’s like the university crush and he has damn good grades and have you seen him wearing those goggles during lab hours?! He’s the only one handsome enough to pull it off as a fashion statement! ” in their wistfully annoying voice. First of all, you don’t care whether he’s good in what he does or he has a really good-looking face. What else but a mess will be someone who’s all-over-the-place?

Some days, Seokjin is a calm sky blue you can actually have fun with talking about film what-ifs and chemistry memes.

“Yo Y/N, imagine if The Princess and The Frog was remade and instead of a frog, the prince is a pterodactyl.”

“I don’t want to imagine that.”

“The solution of the plot will still work though. You can’t kiss pterodactyls though, but guess what?”

“I don’t want to guess.”

“C’mon, just play along!”

“Fine, what?”

“They will peck you!”

“Have you ever wondered what Australia will be called if it suddenly finds itself abundant of silver.”

“No. Leave Australia alone.”

Seokjin doesn’t hear you and bursts out “Agstralia!” He guffaws at his own joke and you can’t help but snicker at his priceless face and laugh at yourself in pity for finding it even remotely funny.

When his laughter dies down, Seokjin goes again, “Then what if it’s filled with copper?”

You don’t want to answer him, already biting your lip in silent laughter.

“Custralia!”

Most of the days, Seokjin’s a fiery orange of fireworks who drags you into the wildest rides of your life with his ever loud, but oddly inviting, “Yo, Y/N!” Like that one Monday afternoon he coaxed you (in some goddamn way you dumbly agreed to) to scavenge for some specimen of Bermuda grass to see it under the microscope and check if it has any semblance to the Bermuda Triangle (of course it has none). You accomplished nothing that day but run around like cockroaches with no heads when an old woman chased you for trampling on her “garden” which is just a plain expanse of grass. Or that one Wednesday morning he asked you to accompany him in his dorm just in case he managed to summon a demon when he tries to cook using an old Latin cookbook he found in some thrift store. You didn’t summon anything that day but you ended up with you two getting summoned by the condominium’s landlord because Seokjin accidentally set off the unit’s fire alarm.

There are also times when Seokjin’s an endearing bloom of pink. Like those days when his hand casually brushes against yours as you walk side by side to your film class and he’ll send you one of his goofy smiles. Or those weekends where he’ll accompany you to study in the library, helping you make flash cards for your upcoming long quizzes. Seokjin makes you feel warm at the slightest of stares and lingering gazes. Especially in those nights where he lays his head on your shoulder as you watch required films, and he’ll stare at you while doing kissy faces when you tell him his head is too heavy. You never knew you would be able to fill something, no someone, in such a delicate color you know you have already started to reflect on your cheeks just at the sight of him.

But all of that gets ruined because Seokjin always, always, makes you see blazing scarlet everytime he carries on his life mission to scare you whenever you meet. It started when your professor assigned your class to watch The Shining for a horror genre essay and you, like the scaredy cat you are, begged Seokjin to watch it with you. Of course you didn’t tell him you’re not too fond of horror films, afraid of being called out. Obviously, it only takes one stare at your curled up form for Seokjin to put two and two together and realize you’re such a…coward. And of course, like the obnoxious boy he is, Seokjin takes advantage of such knowledge and decides you need a little spice in your life–a spice you didn’t really need, nor will ever need in your entire life.

Whenever you’ll meet him on the corridors of your film class, Seokjin is now nowhere to be found. Instead, he’ll demand you to answer a quick survey first, a condition for him to show up, and you, like the exasperated idiot you are, answer it just to get on and over with it. Like always, you end up screaming at a scary video mid-answering the questions and you never learn your lesson. Everytime you’ll pass by each other in hallways, Seokjin bellows a loud “Boo!” with a thunderous clap of his huge ass hands and you always jump in shock like a cat on her hackles. You never knew how to expect the shits he pull up because Seokjin always changes his patterns. One day, he even pulled up a Scream mask by your locker just right after you closed it shut, making you scream as you fall on your bum.

At the end of the day, Seokjin always makes sure to apologize and assure you that it’s just his way to bond with you. “I just can’t get enough of your priceless face” he snickers and you start to chuckle too at his attempts – because even if you’re scared, his shenanigans actually helped you, in some way, get less scared of horror film jump scares.

However today–today is a different straw.

It was nine o'clock in the evening and you just got out of your building after an org meeting. The campus gate you usually take in your commute home was already locked closed at eight so you have no choice but to take the other gate–the one on the far left boundary of the campus. All would have been fine about that gate if you hadn't read the Facebook freedom wall post concerning it yesterday. Apparently, some student was jogging around the route towards the gate every night before he goes back to his dorm. In the entirety of his jog, he hears footsteps behind him that he didn't mind at first– until he passes by a guard who greets him and asks him what's he's doing alone so late. When he glances to the left, there was actually no one following him.

At the thought of the Facebook post, you grab the straps of your bagpack tighter. All is well. You just have about twenty meters to go before the gate and after that, you'll get on a bus. Just a little bit more and–

Step. Step. Step.

Jesus fucking Christ. You bit your lip and walked faster. Your steps are frantic and you could feel cold perspiration start to form on your nape. You could feel yourself tripping on your shoes anytime soon but the only thought running in your mind now is outrunning the thing behind you.

However, the steps behind you also quickened its pace.

Fucking shit. You break into a run. You don't care about social conventions nor how ridiculous you probably look right now with your eyes teary, mouth dry, and hair frazzled. All you know is that you have to get OUT of there.

But your effort is not enough because just five steps in, a hand shoots out behind you and you have nothing to do but scream. Scream, drop down, and cry.

“Leave me a-alone please. Just let m-me go home. I'm to-too young to die!”

“Yo Y/N. It's me, Seokjin.”

You cried harder.

In the next second, you feel him squat down and gesture toward your arms, tightly corded around your knees with your head still buried between them. But you didn't move. You can't move. Your fingers are still shaking, and your heart won't stop pounding too fast. And you feel like any second right now, you're about to explode.

“Y/N, I'm sorry I scared you. I just saw you going out and I have something to say to you before you go home.”

You couldn't hold it in. You pin Seokjin with the meanest glare you can muster. “WHY DO YOU HAVE TO COME AT ME LIKE THAT THEN?!”

�� “I was just running after you! You were walking too fast and you didn't see me so I–”

“I thought you were a ghost! Jesus Christ!”

“A ghost?” Jin sputters before breaking out into a loud guffaw. “I'm so handsome to be a ghost. Seriously, Y/N–”

“It's not funny anymore you know,” you whisper. Seokjin's chuckles immediately die down. “Can you just stop,” you hiccup, “scaring me everytime we meet? It's not good for my heart.”

“I...I didn't know you felt like that,” Seokjin mumbles and he looks down, rubbing his nape. “I...I thought you were also having fun because you always laugh after it.”

“It was fun,” you admit, “but it's also scary. I'm a coward you know. I have my limits.”

“I'm sorry,” Seokjin mumbles. But before you can reply that it's alright as long as he doesn't do this shit again, he has already cupped your face in his hands, leaving you no choice but to look at him. Look at him in all your snotty glory.

Seokjin however, doesn't seem to care. “I'm sorry I scared you that bad. I would not have started doing this scaring thing if I knew it will end up with you breaking down. I'm sorry I didn't know you get scared this bad. I don't like...making you cry.” At this, you feel his thumbs pressing on your cheeks and wiping away the tears that have streaked down in your panic. You can't move, this time for a different reason. You can't feel anything but the presence of the boy in front of you. His warm, beautiful eyes that only look like that when they meet your eyes; his much warmer hand that feels too big on your face–big and secure enough for your hand to hold with an assurance he’ll never let go. His cheeks are rosy, just like his ears and you feel oddly elated it has grown pinker just in five more seconds of staring at his eyes. And his lips–pink and plump and looking so soft–fills your senses into sensory overload that you honestly feel you're heating up like a boiling kettle by now.

Good for you, Seokjin doesn't question your frozen stance and silently helps you up on your feet. “Sorry’s not enough. I'll make up for what I did. C'mon.”

Before you knew it, he's already steering you away from the gate and back into the campus. And now at ten thirty, you find yourself munching on a strawberry ice cream cone with Seokjin beside you, your knees bumping into each other.

“Why do you do it anyway?”

“What do I do?”

“Scaring me,” You answer, wiping your lips.

“Are you...still angry about it? I'm sorr–”

“No,” you wave off, “I'm just...curious, yeah. I've never had someone doing that to me and you're probably the only one crazy enough to do that. I'm just curious why you do it in the first place.”

“Well, you already said it," Seokjin chuckles. “No one has ever done it to you yet. So I did.”

Your brows raise, your forehead furrows. "Wh-why?”

“Because I want to be different when it comes to you. I've seen you goofing off with Jimin on hallways and–I don't know why, I just get this feeling that I have to be unique when it comes to you.”

“Why? I mean," you sputter, "I don't require you to be…different to be my friend.”

“I just want to. It feels good that I get to be the wild adventure of your life. It feels good that I get you to look only at me like that–begrudging but curious, skeptical but willing, and," he smiles, "cute. Especially when I get you to laugh.”

You look at him, mouth agape, but Seokjin just laughs and gestures you to eat your ice cream because it's starting to melt. You oblige, but you can't help but let your eyes linger on the boy next to you. The boy you didn’t know was like the biggest hotshot of your batch but was the one to actually remember you from the crowd just by your favorite scrunchie. The boy who used to be your greatest dilemma but now the best highlight of your life. The boy that annoys you to no end but oddly makes your heart flutter at the same time. Seokjin, the boy you can now begrudgingly admit you're definitely crushing on. Because you know there's no other answer to the overwhelming, warm flash of soft red you feel on your chest whenever you're with him.

You know you're right because after that night, you start to associate Seokjin mostly with red. Fresh roses, picnic dates, heart-shaped promises, sweet laughter, cherry kisses–a plethora of everything your heart started to long for.

A/N | HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST GIRL @sophrosinn!!! Thank you for being a stable shoulder I can lean on in times of problems, for being a great listener to everything I rant about, and for being one of my bestest friends who never failed to support me in my dreams. (Thank you for also comforting me when I broke down in our live news presentation in our media literacy class. I’ll never forget that). I never imagined you’ll be one of my few friends I get to keep ‘til now since it’s only two years ago we got to really, really talk with each other. Remember how we just used to pass by and greet each other in our freshman until 11thgrade year in high school? Such a great plot twist. Time sure flies fast when you’re with the best people. Meeting you is surely a blessing. I wish you more amazing years ahead of you and may you accomplish all your endeavors. I love you!

P.S. I hope you liked this fluffy fic hehe this idea started to bother me ever since your birthday started to near. And yeah, I HAVE to include the pterodactyl joke because it’s your and Jin’s trademark uwu

#kwritersworldnet #bangtan bookclub #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #seokjin scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #bts x you #seokjin x you #AHHHHH IT'S HERE #FINALLY SOMETHING NEW

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inkedmyths · 5 years ago

Text

Monstrous roars and mistakes

Wow, another update within only a couple days? Wow Myth, you crazy.

Almost as crazy as this update.

Also, special thanks to @thehufflepuffleboi and @spacemalarkey for inspiring some of the events in this chapter

Also @theonlytrashpanda you said you wanted a ping when I posted it

---

"What are we hiding from?"

They were crouching down behind a crumbling stone wall, one of the few pieces of cover in the nearby area. Most of the surroundings at this point were hills and grasses, the trees having dwindled behind them. They'd ducked suddenly at Wild's insistence, though Twilight was still unsure as to why.

"Shut up, Frog Foot!"

"Excuse me?" Twilight blinked incredulously at Feral, who grinned while he put a finger to his lips.

"You heard me. Now be quiet!"

Twilight had to bite down to keep from snapping back. Just like Feral to give him a ridiculous nickname over that incident.

Wild gestured at them both. Be quiet, he signed. Then he paused, glancing at Twilight as though a thought occurred to him.

You're good, go on, Twilight signed back.

Relief flickered in Wild's eyes. Didn't think to ask if you knew sign. Sorry.

Twilight waved him off. It's fine. What are we doing?

Plotting, Feral replied.

What for?

You never approach a - Twilight wasn't sure what that sign was, he'd never seen it before - unprepared.

A what? I didn't catch that.

L - Y - N - E - L. Wild signed each individual letter, then repeated the sign Feral had used. Must be a sign specific to their Hyrule, he guessed.

What's that?

Wild paused before moving quietly to the edge of the rock. Peeking around the corner, he waited a moment before gesturing to Twilight to come over. He followed the example set and was careful to steady himself silently as he peered over the top of the younger hero's head. What he saw made him suddenly understand the need for stealth.

It was definitely a monster, no question about it, but it was no monster he'd ever seen. Even from far away he could tell it was huge, likely more than twice his height. It had the lower body of a powerful horse, but where the head would normally be was the meaty torso of a humanoid. Thick arms no doubt capable of delivering a blow like a rock slide held some sorts of objects (weapons, he guessed by the sunlight glinting now and again). A mane that blazed like fire burst from the head of the beast, that turned this way and that as it plodded slowly through the grasses.

He slipped back behind the rock. Yikes, he signed, grimacing. Looks nasty.

It is, Wild signed back.

I was wondering why we ducked out of the way so suddenly.

Sorry. There isn't one here, usually. Wild frowned as he signed this.

Since the fall of the Calamity, they no longer seem to be bound to one place, Feral commented.

Yeah, true. But I'm fairly sure there were none even close to this area!

Maybe it's on vacation.

Okay, Twilight signed, gesturing to get their attention before they got to preoccupied with monster vacations. Regardless of why, it's here for now. What's the plan?

I'm surprised you're not making one, Feral signed, raising an eyebrow in what Twilight was quickly associating as his signature expression.

Your Hyrule, your monster. You two have experience with this kind of monster. I don't.

Wild tapped his chin thoughtfully. Well, in theory we could just go around it. The issue there is the possibility it will notice us as we try and sneak by.

I say we do operation Y - A - H - A - H - A.

Yahaha? Twilight was lost. Operation what now?

Wild, on the other hand, was grinning. Sure, why not? Sounds like fun.

Fun? Uh oh. Considering the appearance of the 'lynel', as they called it, fun was the last thing he thought of. That could only mean bad things. Hang on-

But Feral had already disappeared. Literally. He dissolved into the shadow of the wall, and within seconds it was as if he was never there. Vaguely, Twilight registered this ability was important information, but he was a bit preoccupied by his other thoughts. Namely the ones that said this was probably going to go very badly in a moment.

Wild had scooted out from behind the wall, and was slowly making his way around the lynel, inching closer with each step. Twilight saw that he'd pulled out a bow and some arrows.

The beast paused. It's great head sniffed the air, searching. It slowly turned, ears pricked as it's path changed to a direct course for Wild. The closer it got, the more tense it seemed, the more positive it seemed of a presence. Twilight wanted to yell at Wild to move, to retreat, but he knew that wouldn't help anything. He saw the hero draw back his bow, arrow readied. The beast grew closer, pulling its weapons up in ready position-

"YAHAHA!"

Feral leaped out of the shadows near the beast's feet, startling it to its hind legs. At the same moment, Wild fired off the arrow, which exploded on impact on the creature. Bomb arrows? Feral launched himself up and grabbed on the creature's mane, whooping in a decidedly too excited manner. Twilight thought he could hear him say "You found me!" over the lynel's enraged roars.

Dear Hylia help him. Twilight sighed, gathered his thoughts, and drew his sword. Unknown monster or no, he was a hero. He'd improvised plenty of times, and lived to tell the tale. Better that he learn how to deal with this monster first hand then just watch. Dashing out from behind the rock, he joined Wild as the lynel rampaged, trying to shake the shadowy nuisance off.

"A bomb arrow? That was your plan?!"

Wild shrugged. "Does a lot of damage from the get go. These things can take awhile to take down." He traded out the bow for the Master Sword and ran forward. Pivoting to avoid a hoof as it kicked out, he slashed at the lynel's side as it raged by.

Feral, meanwhile was cackling madly on top of the furious monster. He'd drawn his own sword and was slashing repeatedly at its arms and head. This only seemed to make the beast angrier, and it increased its vehement bucking. One arm reached back to grab the shadow, but he dodged, using the mane as a hold to swing himself out of the way. With one last slash across the lynel's chest, he dropped and rolled out of the way.

Incensed, the beast roared it's fury, brandishing its weapons in preparation to counter the pesky lifeforms that dared challenge it. Wild was once again next to Twilight.

"The trick is to not get hit by it."

"That's the trick with every monster!" Twilight hissed.

He stared up at the fearsome beast, sizing it up. It was truly a sight to behold, and not one he relished in. Muscles rippled under thick, red skin. A sword and shield that looked able to tear and break in unison were brandished by unyielding arms. Eyes a sickly, brilliant yellow glared them down, malice emanating from its gaze. He also noted a bow and a quiver of arrows on its back, making it capable of still attacking at long range.

Twilight had never seen a lynel in his life. Never even heard of one until now. Yet, looking at the looming beast, he couldn't help but feel something was off with it. He couldn't be sure what, but his instincts were blaring alarm bells all over the place. Was it just the beast being unfamiliar with his experiences? He glanced at Wild, who was brandishing the Master Sword in preparation for another go, which dripped with the lynel's blood from his attack-

His veins turned to ice.

Twilight put his hand out to try and tell him to stop, to hold on, wait a moment, but it was too late. Wild charged forward, swinging the blade upwards to knock the beast's swing off its course. He slashed at it's feet as he ran by. A roar of rage answered. The huge blade of the monster followed Wild, but he rolled to the side as it carved out a divet in the soil where his feet had been. Feral took advantage of the switch in focus, slashing at one of the front legs of the beast before flipping away.

They had to stop. This was really bad. "Feral, Wild! Hold on a minute!"

But his yells fell on deaf ears. Possibly literally, he thought, as the enraged monster gave another earsplitting roar. The two of them slashed and hacked at the lynel, neither seeming to notice what Twilight had. It was clear they wouldn't listen to him. He had to do something...

Then the beast stopped, inhaled. And when it exhaled, a blast of fire seared past him, singeing the edges of his cloak. At that point, instinct took over.

He sprinted forward to where Wild was. Without pause, he picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. Wild yelped in confusion. "No time to explain." Twilight could feel something hot and slick drip on his arm, and knew the younger hero had gotten injured. Worry about that later. Keep running.

He streaked past Feral, who protested as he scooped him up in his free arm. No time to talk, no time to deal with this. Keep running.

The lynel's thunderous roars boomed behind them as it realized they were getting away. Twilight recalled the bow and quiver on its back, and resolved to run faster. Then, he heard a distant snap. Keep running.

"Shock arrows!" Wild yelled. Twilight changed course immediately, and he felt the electricity crackle at his heels as the arrows barely missed.

He ended up dodging three volleys of shock arrows before finally the roars faded behind them. After a moment he slowed his pace, but only a little. He didn't want to take any risks.

"What's the big idea? We were doing fine!" Feral grumbled. He kicked out, but Twilight ignored it.

"I'm sure he had a good reason, Feral."

"Really? Well I'd sure like to hear it."

"Just wait a second!"

"I want to know now- are you bleeding?"

"Uh..."

"You're bleeding."

"Only a little! That last swing nicked my arm."

"'Nicked'? Dude, you're bleeding all over Twi's arm."

" 's not that bad."

"I bet that's why he grabbed us."

Twilight spotted the ruins of a building up ahead. It wasn't completely destroyed, and he knew they needed to stop at some point. The sun was getting low in the sky. He slowed, and walked onto the ruined threshold.

"Finally! I'm tired of being carried like a sack of potatoes." Feral complained. "Put me down!"

Twilight dropped him.

While Feral complained about that being rude and that the ground was cold, he was more careful in setting Wild down. He held out his hand expectantly. Wild, somewhat reluctantly, held out his arm. Twilight examined the injury. While it was definitely more than a minor scratch, it wasn't as bad as he'd initially thought. The cut was several centimeters long, but seemed to be relatively shallow. The important thing would be making sure it didn't get infected. Rummaging through his bag produced several first aid supplies, and he immediately set about tending the wound. A little health potion and a bandage later, the wound was wrapped and taken care of. "There, that should do it."

Wild examined the bandage. "Thanks."

"Alright, now that Wild is no longer getting blood everywhere, I want answers!" Feral crossed his arms, making a face somewhere between a scowl and a pout. "Other than Wild's arm, everything was fine! We've taken down plenty of those things in the past."

Twilight sighed. "I'm sure you have, but there was something wrong with that one."

"How do you know? You didn't even know what it was until today!"

"Feral, don't be rude!" Wild looked somewhat nervously between his shadow and the older hero.

Twilight shook his head. "No, it's a valid point. However, I say that because I've seen it in other monsters."

"What do you mean? Seen what?" Feral still looked skeptical, but that was becoming overpowering by curiosity.

"Wild, the sword."

Wild looked confused, but pulled out the Master Sword onto his lap. Twilight looked it over, humming and nodding.

"Unless I am mistaken, that's not a normal thing for blood to do, even a monster's."

Wild and Feral looked at the sword, and for the first time noticed something was happening. The blood from the Lynel was hissing. Faint tendrils of darkness streamed away like smoke in the wind. Much of it was gone by this point, evaporated into nothingness. What was left was dark, too dark.

"What the-" Feral started, then paused, squinting at the vanishing stains.

Wild was wide-eyed. "No, it doesn't - it shouldn't - I, I haven't..." He swallowed, then, quieter: "This isn't normal, no."

Twilight nodded. "That's what I thought. The lynel was unnaturally empowered. It was too risky to stick around and try and fight it off when it wasn't really necessary."

Wild nodded slowly. "Okay that makes sense. See, I told you there was a reason Feral." A moment's silence, and Wild looked up. "Feral?"

The shadow was fixated on the remnants of the blood as it spiraled away on the wind. Twilight hadn't seen Feral so quiet and still. It was unnerving. Slowly, he reached out a hand to the sword, waving it through the wisps trailing off of it. His gaze was unreadable.

"Feral?" Wild asked again, looking worried. "Is everything alright?"

"I didn't notice."

"What?"

"I didn't notice. How didn't I notice? It should have been obvious- !" His brow furrowed in frustration, and he clenched his outstretched hand.

Wild reached out a hand in an attempt to calm him. "Hey, Feral it's okay! We were too busy fighting to notice-"

"No!" Feral jumped to his feet, too fast for a normal person. "I should have noticed! I should have sensed it!" Twilight had to resist the urge to reach for a weapon. He knew by now Feral wasn't a threat to him or Wild, but it was hard to fight instinct. Especially given the fact that Feral seemed to be upset enough that his hold on his form was slipping. Edges of his clothes blurred, darkness curling around his hands and hair as he paced.

"Feral..." Wild seemed at a loss, but stood up. "Hey." He crossed the broken stone floor to his shadow, gently placing his hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. Everything is okay. We're okay."

Feral stiffened, but after a moment seemed to calm down slightly. His form re-solidified, and the shadows dissipated. "Right. Okay."

"Yeah. It's okay." Wild patted his shoulder. "Why are you so upset about not sensing that there was something wrong?"

Feral looked as though he might get agitated again, but bit his lip. "I just... I should have noticed the darkness before. I can't believe I didn't notice until Twilight pointed it out. It should have been glaringly obvious."

"Why's that?"

Feral was silent for a moment. "You remember how we've talked about how light and dark each come in many different forms?"

"Right. Like how the type of light manifested in the Sword is related but different from the light in the Bow?" Twilight didn't quite follow the comparison, but Feral seemed to.

"Yeah."

"So you're saying the darkness in the lynel should have been more-" Wild paused. "That you think you should have noticed it sooner?"

"Exactly."

"Why?"

Feral stared at the sword. "For one thing, it's very different from the Malice of monsters. It's only as related as far as all darkness is related. For another, it's... unique."

"Unique? Have you seen it before?"

"I have, plenty, but... I've only seen it come from one source, and this definitely didn't come from that."

Suddenly, Feral's reaction made sense to Twilight. Of course. No wonder he was so agitated about it. He was a fool for not considering the possibility of him reacting to it earlier.

Wild furrowed his brow. "How do you know it isn't from that source?"

"Because that source is me."

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a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan · 6 years ago

Text

Linked Universe Fanfic Ch. 6: Fire

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name--Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story--I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now split into Chapter 7: Fire, and Chapter 8: Inferno.

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

This continues my @linkeduniverse AU narrative. The length is daunting but trust me when I tell you it’s worth it. Word Count: 4855.

Fire. A gift from the golden goddess Din which can both give life and take it. It can both create and destroy. This fire, however, was the latter on both counts. An entire small settlement was set ablaze, the screams and shouts of the villagers nearly drowned out by the sound of the fire itself. Buildings were collapsing into their own infernos, sending jets of flames into the sky. The Hero of Warriors split the Links into pairs to cover more ground. This was an ambitious rescue mission, and they knew they couldn’t possibly save everyone.

This hell is where the Links found themselves today.

…

The Hero of Legends hadn’t used his Pegasus Boots in a very long time. He remembered this as his sprint reached peak speed; it took more effort than he anticipated to not trip and bury his face in the scorched dirt. Need to get myself under control, he thought. These people need me.

Though Legend and his companions charged into the village at the same time, his boots soon brought him into the lead. Leaving them behind like Warrior told him, he rushed to the far end of the settlement. He chose a building at random and threw open the door.

Sweltering heat hit him with force of a bomb, followed by smoke to match. Squinting and coughing, he entered. It seemed to be a tavern. A long counter ran the length of one wall with shelves of bottles and a closed door behind it. Several round tables and stools lay in disarray across the floor. Shards of glass littered the place. Everything flammable was either burning or about to.

“Hello?” he called, struggling to keep his voice both calm and urgent. “Is anybody in here?”

No reply. Swinging his legs over the counter, he jumped behind the bar and tried to open the door. It was jammed shut. “Damn it,” he muttered. He shoulder-bashed it but it didn’t budge. He rummaged in his pouch a moment then pulled out his hammer. He raised it and swung. It hit its target dead-center. With a satisfying crack, the now-splintered door fell to the ground.

Putting away his hammer, Legend entered the new room. Shelves upon shelves of liquor bottles and barrels filled the room. Liquor. Liquor has alcohol. Alcohol can burn. The place could be about to explode. “Oh no,” he breathed. “Hey! Is there anyone here?!”

A barely audible whimper came from the far corner of the room. Legend whipped his head to the spot. Several wooden beams and shelves were piled there, on fire like nearly everything else. In a flash, he had slipped on his power gloves and was prying the detritus from its place.

After nearly a minute’s work, the area was cleared, revealing a small man huddled in the corner. Hair and clothes singed, skin black with soot, but very much alive and well, he looked up at Legend with tears in his eyes. The hero wasted no time in picking up the man and rushing out of the building. In the relative safety of the street, he put him down.

“Is there anyone else in there?”

The man shook his head

“Are you hurt?

He shook his head again.

“Good,” Legend said while pointing in the direction of the portal Four opened. “Run until you see a glowing circle on the ground. Step in it and it’ll take you to safety.”

The man hesitated, clearly still in shock. “Go!” Legend shouted, jabbing his finger back to the portal. “Now!”

He looked after the man a moment, watching him run to safety. Coughing from all the smoke, he turned back to the tavern. The fire seemed to have reached the drinks, because it promptly exploded. Here we go again, he thought to himself as he turned and ran into the next building.

…

Twilight dashed down a side street. He had recognized the scent of children and followed it. Blazing buildings seemed to crowd around him on all sides, but he ran on. The shackle set above his front paw was heavy, but he never had the heart to take it off. Every so often, a beam or sign would fall just overhead. Twilight would bark and Wind, riding on his back, would activate the Phantom Sword and freeze time just long enough to get past the hazard before it crushed them.

An upcoming road led out to the side, the scent wafting from there. Twilight took the tight corner, nearly unseating Wind. “Watch it!” the youngest hero grunted. Twilight growled back, as if saying hey, I’m trying here.

There at the end of the road was the house they were looking for. Reaching the door, Wind hopped to his feet and the wolf became Hylian again. Wind inspected the house. It didn’t seem to be too damaged yet. He looked over to his partner. “Twi, you sure this is the one?”

“Positive.”

“Alrighty. Let’s go.”

Naturally, the door was jammed. Not bothering to find some fancy solution, Twilight kicked hard. The door blew off its hinges. He ran in, Wind on his heels. The former had put away his weapons, afraid they would scare the children. The latter kept his out. His sword had a valuable power, and a shield might be helpful in a burning building with falling debris. They took a quick look at the main room.

The furniture was already scorched, leaving husks of a dining room set, sofa, cushioned rocking chair, child’s rocking horse, cabinets, and other amenities. Fine china lay shattered below what used to be their cabinet. The house’s owners were clearly rather wealthy. There was no sign of the children Twilight smelled. Several doors led out into other rooms. Twilight started for one of them. “Split up,” he said. “Take that side.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Wind replied, heading for another door.

Twilight shook his head. He hated being considered a leader, but he supposed it came naturally to him. Maybe it came from growing up around younger children, or being born with the Triforce of Courage… he neither knew nor cared. He hurried to the door he chose. This one was not jammed.

He shoved the door open, finding stairs that led up into a hallway. The smoke was even heavier here. Seven doors lay ahead: three on either side, one at the end. There’s not enough time for this, he thought. For a moment, he transformed to use his heightened wolf senses. All the doors had traces of the children’s scent. After changing back, he called out “Hey! I’m—cough—here to save you! Come on out!”

There was no reply. “Damn,” he cursed to himself. Look’s like we’re doing this the hard way. He picked a door and opened it. The room was a mess. The walls were covered in soot, the closed windows bottling up the smoke. A bed was smoldering in a corner, and a chest of drawers in another. No one was inside.

Twilight checked the next door. This room was more damaged than the other, bits of ceiling falling to the floor. Active flames licked the blackened walls. Whatever furniture was there was unrecognizable. Still, no one was inside. The next four rooms bore similar results.

When he finally got to the seventh door, he found it was sealed shut. He kicked the door, but it didn’t work this time. He drew his shield, backed up, charged forward, and full-on tackled the door. It splintered and flew off its hinges into the room. Twilight noticed a new sour smell mingling with the children’s. His eyes swept the room, and his stomach lurched.

The children were dead. The fire took them hours ago, by the looks of them. They were huddled together. What appeared to be three boys and a girl sat in a corner, burnt and deformed. An image of Talo, Malo, Beth, and Colin flashed in Twilight’s mind. Now realizing the source of the sour scent, he winced and threw up a little in his mouth. Was it the smoke or emotions that made him blink away tears as he turned from the horror? He didn’t have the time to decide.

…

Meanwhile, Wind was having his own problems. The side of the house he chose was far more damaged than his partner’s. Beams, floorboards from upstairs, and light fixtures kept falling around him. His decision to keep his weapons equipped was a smart one. “Hey!” he shouted. “Is there—hrrk” he grunted as his shield blocked a chuck of wood from dropping on his head. “Is there anybody in here?!”

He had called this out repeatedly for several minutes as he wove his way through the high-ceilinged rooms. He had yet to get a reply. The intense heat and effort of defending himself were starting to really tire him out. Unfortunately, his sword’s time-stop was just as tiring to use as manually preventing being squashed like a bug. He silently wished he still had Ciela to help him.

Wind spotted the last room he hadn’t entered. He tried the handle, but it was jammed and burning hot. Mirroring Twilight, he kicked at the door. He yelped in pain from the door not opening. Guess I’m not as strong as him… he thought. He looked closer at the door. Oh. It opens this way. Silly.

He reached in his pouch and brought out his grappling hook. With the claw latched onto the doorknob, he yanked on the rope and the door burst open. The sudden lack of resistance caused him to fall backward onto the floor. Shaking his head to clear it, he spotted another falling lamp about to crush him. With a roll to the side, he just barely cleared it. “When Time says it’s gonna be a long day,” he muttered, “it’s gonna be a long day.”

Remembering the door was now open, Wind hurried to his feet and went through it. He took in the sight. He had really hoped there was someone to save in there. Anything to make all the effort worth it. Lo and behold, there was nothing in this small closet but a few musty coats and boots. “You have got to kidding me,” he groaned.

Disappointed and tired, he ran out of the house and back onto the narrow road. Twilight emerged from the flaming wreck a few seconds later. He looked thoroughly disturbed. “No survivors,” he said just loud enough for Wind to hear over the din. “You?”

“Na-da.”

“Well, that was much ado about nothing.”

Wind pointed to another nearby house intact enough that there might be survivors. “Let’s try there.”

Twilight nodded and the two broke into a run to the house.

“Twi?”

“Yeah?”

“What started this fire?”

“That’s a very good question. It’s been eating at me. We can’t worry about that now, though,” Twilight said as they reached the door. “Ready up, we’re going in.”

…

“You’re good at setting fires, right?” Warrior asked while running between buildings.

“Yep,” Wild answered, side by side with his partner.

“How do you put them out?”

“I don’t.”

“I see.”

“Besides, you said yourself that we’re trying to save the people, not the buildings.”

“Fair point,” Warrior admitted. “How many people have we saved?”

“You know my memory’s a joke,” Wild shot back. He paused. “…maybe a dozen?”

“For a settlement this size and us being here for what, an hour? You’d think we would have more.”

“We still have the others doing their bit, but this seems futile. For every building we search, three more just collapse.”

Warrior frowned. “That does seem to be a problem.”

“How did this thing start, anyway? Village-destroying fires don’t just pop out of nowhere.”

“You’re thinking arson?” Warrior said with some incredulity.

“Maybe,” Wild said. “Think. From what I’ve been able to tell, the entire area is equally damaged; it’s all been burning the same amount of time.”

“So?”

“There’s no epicenter. If it was an accident, one point would be the most damaged. There’s got to be a reason why. I suspect foul play.”

“Good point. How could someone ignite the whole village at once, though?”

“I’m thinking it’s more of a “something” than a “someone.”

Warrior was silent a moment. “A monster?”

“Has to be, or at least some evil force.”

“Arson usually isn’t up there on a monster’s list of go-to ways to terrorize people. Maybe a wizzrobe…”

“A wizzrobe would have been laughing and dancing around waiting to be killed,” Wild pointed out.

“Right.”

“Don’t forget there’s something seriously wrong with this place. We couldn’t see it at first. It’s not even on my map.”

“So, we don’t rule anything out.”

“Exactly.”

The two Links stayed silent for a while, rushing into another semi-intact building and finding no one to save. Any villagers able to run away had clearly done so already. This was all very disheartening.

“I’m getting a really bad feeling about this place,” Wild said finally.

“Me too, and if I know our companions,” Warrior replied, “we all are.”

…

Four heard hacking behind him. He stopped running and turned around. Sky had his hands on his knees, coughing madly. Nearly two hours in, the smoke was taking its toll on him. Four ran back and put his hand on his partner’s back. “You okay?”

“Sure, when—cough—we get out of—cough—here!”

“I’m not sure that will be much longer,” Four said, looking up at their surroundings. “Look.”

Sky followed his gaze. Most of the buildings around them had already collapsed into their own flames. They were running out of places to look for survivors. All this might be over very soon. He would be glad to be rid of the place, but the number of people they’d saved was disturbingly low.

They still hadn’t gotten the chance to think about what to do once that happened. Where would all the people go? Follow the Links as refugees to the next village? Protecting dozens of weak villagers in a possibly monster-infested forest wasn’t going to be easy. Going back through the cave was impossible, so they would have to go forward or not go at all.

When Sky’s coughs let up, Four helped him back up to a standing position. “You don’t look so good,” he observed.

“Sorry,” Sky replied. “I’m ju—cough—just used to really clean air. I’ll be fine. We have a job to do.”

“That we do,” Four affirmed, jerking his head in the direction of what looked like a sort of schoolhouse. “Let’s try this one.”

Sky pulled the sail his Zelda gave him up over his nose and took point. The front door was left ajar, so they wasted no time getting inside. They were standing in a hallway with two doors on the left and two on the right. The entire place looked about to collapse. Sky and Four looked at each other, nodded, and parted ways.

Four entered the first room on the right. Overturned desks littered the floor. Glass shards and burnt quills indicated where inkwells had fallen and shattered. The bookcases lining the walls were already burnt to a crisp; the books were perfect kindling. Four coughed and wiped his sweating brow. “Hello?!” he called. “Anyone here?!”

Silence. Four shook his head and went back to the hall. He ran over to the next door on his side. The same scene as before played out. He exited the room to check on Sky. Just as he got to the room Sky had entered, the roof above the door collapsed in flames. The door was blocked. “Sky!” Four yelled. “Are you okay?!”

The shortest hero waited a moment, but no reply came. He tried again, panic creeping into his voice. “Sky! Hey! You okay?!” Again, no response. Four nervously ran his hands through his hair, knocking his hood back. “Oh no, no no no no no. Sky, come on, talk to me!”

Four remembered the second door on this side of the hall. Before relief could kick in, this door collapsed as well. Desperate, he drew his Gust Jar from his pouch and tried to blow out the flames on the wood blocking the doors. The moment they were extinguished, they came back stronger. It was the first time he considered that this fire was unnatural. The structure seemed on the cusp of utter destruction. There was nothing he could do for his partner.

He ran outside the schoolhouse, eyes wildly darting around for any of his companions. The smoke was so heavy now that he could barely see in front of him. Now he was really panicking. “Anybody!” he called as loud as he could. “Somebody, help!”

The smoke was filling his lungs and he began to cough heavily. “Please, help! Any—cough—anyone!”

No one called back. No one came dashing out of the smoke. No one was going to help. Four had to decide whether to stay by the schoolhouse or run for help. He was afraid it might go down, but he also feared that he wouldn’t be able to find anyone or even find his way back. His friend was in there, but he was helpless to save him. He just stood there in manic indecision. Oh Goddesses, what can I do?

…

As Sky left Four’s side, he burst through the door he chose. A thoroughly destroyed classroom stared him in the face. He didn’t know it, but it was almost identical to the one Four was currently in. He noticed another closed door on the far side of the room. Probably some sort of closet, he thought. May as well.

Still covering his nose and mouth with his sail, he jogged to the door and tried to open it. Of course it’s jammed, he thought. He drew his sword and backed up just far enough that its point would fit in the doorframe, but not any farther. In four deft swipes, the Master Sword sliced through the frame. The door, now cut free, fell forward with a clatter.

A little girl was curled in the fetal position against the wall. Sky rushed forward and knelt in front of her. He lowered the sail. “Hey there,” he said in a soothing tone. “My name is Link, and I’m going to get you out of here.”

The girl looked up at him. Her wide, teary eyes were filled with fear and shock. She was completely silent. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have any burns on her. Sky sighed in relief. As much as he wanted to make all this effort worth it, he hated knowing she had trapped here for Hylia knows how long.

“What’s your name?” Sky asked gently.

Her answer came as a choked whisper: “Mira.”

“Okay, Mira. Can you stand?”

She nodded.

“Good.”

The girl pushed herself to a stand. She was so young she was barely half his height. Sky sheathed his sword, unhooked the sail from around his neck, and held it out to her. “Hold this up to your face; it’ll keep the smoke out. Stay close to me, understand?”

She nodded again.

“Good. Let’s get you to safety.”

He held out his hand. She took it. They left the closet and started for the door. They were almost there when the ceiling above it came crashing down. Mira shrieked. Sky’s mind raced. How would they get out of here now? “Four!” he called out, hoping beyond hope his partner heard him. “Four, are you there?!”

Sky was certain Four didn’t hear him. The fire was almost deafening. Time for Plan B, he decided. He let go of Mira’s hand, took out the Gust Bellows, and blew. The fires came back the moment they went out. Damn it, he cursed to himself to spare the little girl hearing.

He took another look around the room. He spotted a door that likely led into the neighboring room. It was completely consumed in flames. He wisely decided that wouldn’t work. The walls were all aflame, so even if he could cut through them, it would be suicide to jump through.

Jump through? An idea struck him like a lightning bolt. He gave the room another glance. A soot-stained window was set in one wall slightly above his eye level. He grimaced. “That’ll have to do.”

The hero turned back to Mira. Her features hidden by his sail, she was staring at him with terror in her eyes. Flames licked at the floorboards near her bare feet. A pang of guilt hit Sky. He hadn’t done a very good job rescuing her so far. That would change. Hopefully. He went to her and scooped her up in his arms.

“Mira,” Sky whispered in her ear. He stifled a cough. “I need you to hold on tight, now. Okay?”

Sky felt her head nod against his chest. He sprinted at full speed at the window, pivoted, and leaped back-first at the window. He felt the glass shatter against him as he fell. The ground came up sooner than expected. It knocked the wind out of Sky’s lungs. His everything ached.

He gently moved Mira off him. She seemed unhurt, still clutching his sail. All things considered, that was a miracle. It took everything he had to bring himself up to a stand. He was dizzy and was confused by the voice he heard getting nearer him. His head cleared, and he saw Four running at him.

“Sky!” Four exclaimed. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah, are you o—oof!"

Sky was cut off by Four practically tackling him into a hug. “Oh, thank the Goddesses, Four cried, releasing Sky. “I didn’t find anything on my side, so I went to find you. Then the ceiling collapsed, and I couldn’t get to you and—”

“Hey,” Sky interrupted, putting a hand on his rambling friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, we’re fine.”

He gestured toward Mira, standing where they fell. Her eyes darted between the two of them. It was as if she knew their relation. Sky began, “This, my friend, is Mira. She was stuck in a closet on my side. I got her out safe. Can’t say the same for—cough—myself, though.”

Sky now noticed that the entire village was just about ready to come down. Luckily the now incinerating schoolhouse was near the edge of the settlement. “I don’t think there’s anyone left to save,” he said with new severity. “Let’s go back to the portal and find the others.”

Four nodded. Sky went to Mira and picked her up again. The two heroes ran clear of the village and into the field. The portal was dead ahead of them. For whatever reason, none of the survivors had gone through it. Independently deciding that wasn’t important for now, the Links approached them.

One of the men noticed them and shouted out, “Mira!”

“Daddy!” she called back. Her voice was still hoarse.

Sky set Mira down and she ran to her father. They embraced, sobbing into each other’s shoulders. It was a beautiful sight, as if the Goddesses were shining their divine light on them.

Sky nudged Four. “See that?” he said. “That’s what we’re doing all this for. All our pain, all our suffering, it’s all for them. We’d better not forget that next time a map shorts out or something silly like that.”

Four did indeed see that. It was wonderful. He was about to reply when the other Links started emerging out of the fire themselves. Legend came first. He was running so fast he nearly faceplanted when he stopped. Next up came Twilight and Wind, then Warrior and Wild.

They all looked around and spotted each other. Beaming, they ran to each other and hugged. After that ordeal, seeing each other’s sooty faces was the best sight they could think of. They began to tell each other tales of their separate adventures when Twilight noticed something.

“Wait, wait. Where are Time and Hyrule?”

As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. It came from the direction of the village. They whipped around and tried to see its source. They saw nothing but a wall of flames. “What the hell was that?!” Legend exclaimed.

Twilight had had enough death and misery today. Still, he had to admit, “something tells me we’re going to find out very soon.”

…

More than two hours had passed since the Links entered the village. The smoke and heat had only gotten worse. Time wished he had held onto the tunic Darunia’s son had given to him. If it could resist the heat of an active volcano, it surely would have helped here. He considered using Darmani’s mask, but dismissed the thought immediately. No, not if I absolutely need to. I can take this.

Hyrule had so such thoughts. He was just hot and sweaty and took that at face value. Had he asked Time, they would have agreed that this was taking too long. Many of the villagers had clearly fled the moment they saw the fire, yet somehow there were stragglers trapped behind flames and sealed doors.

This whole scenario troubled Time. His mind was filled with questions he had no answers to. Why is this village hidden? Why isn’t it on Wild’s map? Why is it on fire? Who started the fire? Where are they? Why did no one stop to help their trapped fellows? Why is it only us trying to save people? What in the Golden Goddesses’ names is going on here?

“Time?” Hyrule snapped Time out of his thoughts.

The two of them were standing in a square of sorts. At first glance, it looked like they were enclosed by a towering wall of fire. Truly, those were just the houses on the edge of the square. Hyrule was looking around them, taking in the rampant destruction. He turned to Time. Hopelessness played across his face. His arms hung limply at his sides. “Time? Where do we go now?”

Time recognized that expression. It mirrored his own throughout his adventures. His friends, his home, his everything had been taken away from him at one point or another. Malon had been that one beacon of light in a world of darkness Ganondorf didn’t even try to create. He couldn’t look Hyrule in the eye.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think we can do any more good here.”

Hyrule had never seen Time look so defeated. “Yeah,” he sighed.

“Let’s rendezvous with the others. We’ve done all we can.”

The heroes, eyes stinging and throats sore from the smoke, turned to leave the way they came. Fire had sprung up that road as well. They were trapped. “No,” Hyrule breathed, “we can’t die here. Not after all of this. We still have a job to do.”

“You’re right.”

The resignation in Time’s voice made Hyrule turn to face him. The oldest of the nine was expressionless as he rummaged in his pouch. He withdrew his hand holding a mask. To Hyrule, it looked like how the others had described Gorons. They were about to die, and this was Time’s plan?

“What good will playing dress-up do for us?!” Hyrule’s voice cracked as he shouted.

Time had wanted anything but this. This was where he betrayed his friends’ trust, where his lies and half-truths fell apart. There was no other way. He couldn’t bear to look at his friend as he said, “I’m sorry.”

Hyrule didn’t a chance to ask what for before Time put on this cursed mask. It seemed to close in on him, latching to his flesh. He writhed in pain, trying his best not to cry out. Even so, it was too much. A guttural, tortured scream pierced the smoke-filled air. It was laced with hopelessness, regret, guilt, and unfathomable agony. Hyrule had never heard anything so awful in his entire life.

A blinding light shone, stunning Hyrule. When his vision cleared, a Goron towered over him. A jagged scar ran down his closed right eye. Hyrule barely managed to stammer “T—Time?” before being swept off his feet.

This shade of a great Goron hero brought Hyrule in close to his chest. Hyrule struggled to break free, but the grip was hard as rock. The Goron rolled itself into a jagged boulder covered in massive, razor-sharp spines. Protecting Hyrule, it rolled across the square, building speed. It showed no sign of slowing as it neared the flames. With a deafening crash, it broke its way through rows and rows buildings.

Free of the inferno, the boulder stopped on the tall grass. It unrolled and Hyrule fell to the ground. He was shaken but intact. The Goron stood up and the blinding light shone again. When it faded, the Hero of Time was left in its place.

He opened his eye to see his eight companions staring at him. The villagers they had saved stood behind them. Betrayal, fear, shock, and awe played across the Links’ features. Before Time could even begin to comprehend the sight, the world went dark.

#linkeduniverse fanfiction #linkeduniverse #my own #my writing #fanfiction #Fire

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