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hesgunnalovethis · 4 years ago

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Greenhouse Planet

Prompt : ( ty @write-it-motherfuckers )

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are”

Leonard x Reader

Word count: 2755

TW: OC death, blood mention, medbay

A/N: you ever make up your own planet and species? me too apparently.

Greenhouse Planet:

“Jim stand still will you.” You watched as Leonard McCoy struggled through the small gathering in the transporter room completing his pre-mission checks. Usually he liked to be more prepared but with Jim Kirk - the worst patient in the fleet - leading the Enterprise, he had to make exceptions.

“Bones, please, I had a check-up last month.” Kirk said punching co-ordinates into the control desk, much to Scotty’s dismay.

“You had 6 broken bones that month, Jim.”

“Yeh and I’m sure they’ve healed.”

You watched Lee’s face curl looking at the results of the little readings he’d gathered from Jim before admitting defeat and sliding his tricorder back into his pocket.

You followed the others onto the transporter platform ready to face whatever was waiting planetside when you felt familiar hands wrap round your waist. Instinctively, you let yourself relax into the curves of your partner. Every inch of you belonged together, bodies fitting seamlessly.

“You don’t have to come, Y/N” Leonard rumbled softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your back.

You wrapped your hand around his, turning to look into his incomparable blue eyes and throwing a playful look over his lips “Good to know you still worry about me even after all these years.”

“Worry? Me? Never.” Leonard scoffed, “It’s just, part of me just thinks you’re too pretty to be doing this kind of dirty work”

“Maybe you can make it up to me later?” You said running your hand up his arm to rest on his bicep. An intimate moment positively overlooked by the rush of the room.

“You know I hate talking about ‘later’ before this kind of thing.” Leonard sighed more to himself than to you.

You had often spoken about the increasing dangers on recent fieldwork.

“Ah, my Southern pessimist.” You said giving Leonard’s arm a comforting tap.

“One of these days I’m going to be right.” The infamous grumpy doctor persona had returned.

“You’ll never be right, Leonard. Not while I’m around.” You smirked and joined the others settling on the transporter platform.

Leonard followed. You could feel his eyes burning into you while Jim finished conferring with Scotty at the panel. His gaze didn’t budge.

“Okay, Scotty” Jim said taking his place at the front of the crew “Standby.”

***

Once your body had reconfigured itself you were in a jungle like landscape. Surrounded by tall plants you watched as your crewmates looked around equally confused, some picking unidentified green out of their hair and clothes.

Jim addressed the group. “This planet belongs to Bokencams. Bokencams are known for their botany but also for their lack of humanity. That means stay on task, stay out of sight. Starfleet had cultivated a healing plant which was promptly stolen. It’s our job to get it back. I’ll go in to reason with them while Andrews, Clarke and Y/L/N look for a point of entry. These creatures aren’t known for their intellect which means the plant should be easy to locate once inside. Got it?”

Mumbles of assurance rippled through the group.

“Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura you’ll be here listening in for language and translation. The rest of you cover ground and cover each other. Eyes everywhere and comm anything unusual in.”

Everyone began to prepare for their own tasks: Jim shirt off and wiring himself, the red shirts activating phasers and Bones looking high strung. He pulled Jim aside, “Don’t you think I should be closer in on this action, Jim? I don’t recall anyone else having years of medical training to hand?”

“I need your brains here, Bones.” Jim said clapping his back pointing Leonard towards his portable control panel.

“Come on you three” Jim said pulling his top back over his head, “The sooner we get out of here the better. I hate greens.”

You, Jim and the 2 others began towards the seemingly empty green dome which sat perfectly isolated amongst the greenhouse planet. Getting closer Jim signalled for you all to split off, Clarke taking east, you taking west, Andrews taking south and Jim taking north towards the front door.

The tall plants made it easy to slip into your assigned station unseen and to your surprise the entire building seemed unguarded.

You could see Jim beginning his strut towards the front door of the dome with no attempt to conceal himself. He wanted the attention on him. That was how his plans often went. Very Aries of him.

After all three of you had confirmed your position Jim stepped into the building without any trouble.

The comms were silent.

Getting to work you ran your eyes over the immense building. It stretched for miles each way. You began looking for any entrance. The distinct lack of windows was the first thing to jump out at you. The second was the space between the dome and the moss covered ground giving the building the appearance it was floating.

You waited what seemed like hours with the anticipation but was likely a plethora of minutes before emerging from your cover bolting towards the underneath of the dome.

Drowned in darkness on your hands and knees you dragged your hands across the underneath of the building. The material was nothing like you had felt before. Somewhere between glass and beads.

You crawled through the damp ground for miles every inch of the underneath feeling eerily the same. You were beginning to lose hope when you felt a crack. You froze and ran your hand back over the beaded glass. Definitely a space. You crawled again searching for the same space parallel which could suggest a door.

“Y/L/N come in.” rang from your comm. You ignored it. “McCoy to Y/L/N come in.”

Your hand ran over another definite space. Rolling into the centre of the somewhat door you lifted your feet and hands to the beaded glass and began to push. With very little effort the hatch lifted enough for you to climb inside.

You appeared to be in a lab. Green seemed to cover the entirety of the inside as well. You grabbed your comm, and rang to all ground comms “Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Repeat. This is Y/L/N, stationed West, inside dome. Over.” Leonard’s voice came immediately “I love you. Be careful.” You switched off your comm.

***

Bones knew you’d be the first in. You were good at your job. He just didn’t let himself admit it until he heard the message through the comm. Uhura reached out to squeeze his hand but Leonard pulled away. He would detach and get on with the job. Or try. They listened into Jim’s meeting with the Bokencams,

“You have nothing to collect. It’s property of this planet. Here it can be stored at its optimum.”

“And how have you been storing it exactly?”

Jim was stalling. Giving as much time as possible to those working around the dome. And it could’ve worked.

***

The dome was silent. You couldn’t tell if it was empty or sound proof. You weaved in and out of the green rows scrutinising every plant. One seemed to have stories written on the stems, another with the softest looking leaves you had ever seen. You ran your hand over the soft looking plant which sent a searing cut over your palm. ‘Should’ve seen that one coming’ you thought.

Behind the soft plant was a small glass cube. Inside was the purest green your eyes had ever met. The edges of the leaves appeared whitened as if touched by a December morning. That had to be what you were here for.

You slid the top off of the cube and carefully removed a cultivation of the plant. Unsure how else to test your theory you picked off a leaf and placed it on your tongue. Instantly you gashed hand sealed without a scar. You pressed the plant into your pocket and headed back for the hatch when you saw a green creature sliding through the space you had made. His eyes fixated on you before you had a chance to move. His thick fingers reached towards your arm extending way past where they should’ve. He bound your arms with a vine and marched you out of the lab door.

You couldn’t be sure where he was taking you but you knew it couldn’t be good. The creature had moved you round enough corners to be totally disoriented. Every green wall looked the same and there was no way to retrace your steps back to the hatch.

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar looking red through a window amongst the green. Your head shot backwards making eye contact with Clarke. So you were east. Good to know.

“Y/N?!” Clarke mouthed through the window.

A segment of wall opened. A disguised door. And Clarke stood phaser pointed, face stern. All around him identical green creatures materialised from walls and ceilings crowding him. The Bokencam guarding you extended his arm into the crowd and released a phaser shot. Several of the green creatures fell backwards. Dead. He shot again and Clarke’s body thudded to the ground.

Your chest tightened enough to double you over. You felt winded. You tried to call his name but nothing came out. Your feet could barely support your weight never mind fight against the direction you were pushed. The creature holding you continued to march not batting an eyelid. He had killed tens of his own for one of you. The lack of humanity brief truly was not a warning. You kept your eyes on Clarke willing the blood to spill back into his body until he was completely out of sight.

***

Bones was barely listening to the conversation anymore. His thoughts were consumed by you. His mind immediately considering the worst possible outcome. Assuring himself he was overthinking he tuned back into the conversation.

“Guess I’ll pack it up then. Thank you for your time.” Jim began to close out the meeting.

“Now that you have wasted our time I think you should be offering some sort of penance. Would you not agree, Captain?” The green creature in front of him snarled back.

“I don’t think that’s necessary at all. I would actually argue that we’re now even.”

“Maybe we could change your mind.”

Bones sat up bracing himself for whatever mess Jim had talked himself into.

“No,” Jim said with no attempt to hide his own panic, “Y/N?”

Bones’ body went stiff.

“Y/N?!” Uhura asked, “Did he just say Y/N?”

Bones picked up his phaser and started towards to dome.

***

“Y/N are you alright?” Jim asked as tears began to fall from your eyes, Clarke’s body falling to the ground replaying over and over in your mind. “Y/N what happened.” Jim took a few steps towards you as all of the creatures raised their phasers.

“DON’T” you yelled to Jim, “They killed Clarke. They killed him right in front of me. They killed their own to do it.”

You watched as man who didn’t believe in no win scenarios calculated this in his head.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen.” Jim said to the creatures, a clear switch in his persona. “You’re going to hand over Lieutenant Y/L/N to me, right now. We’re going to walk out of that door and return to where our crew is stationed. We’re going to pack up and we’re going to leave.”

“No Captain I think that’s what you want to happen. But let me tell you how it goes here. First-“ The creature was cut off by the sound of doors clambering.

You looked up to see Leonard McCoy - hater of fieldwork - standing in the doorway accompanied by a plethora of red shirts, phasers charged.

“Hand her over. Now.” Bones said stalking towards you.

“Is this all about her?” The creature who had led you through the green corridors said kicking your back, sending your body forward and the leaf which had been resting on your tongue down your throat. Leonard’s face stiffened. “It is isn’t it?” The creature laughed “Well then let me make this very easy for you.”

The world went in slow motion.

Your eyes focussed on Leonard, managing the weakest of smiles as the phaser behind you released and shattered into your side.

The rush of familiar coloured shirts flooded the room you were in. Phasers shot in all directions and your body seized.

You found yourself laying across Leonard’s lap, as if it had always been there. Together you lay as one. Fitting seamlessly.

Leonard fussed over your side speaking words you couldn’t fully understand. You grabbed his working hands in yours.

“Hey,” he said brushing stray hair out of your face “You’re doing really well stay with me. Tell me something. Anything.”

“Maybe you were right.” you whispered looking up at him.

“I’ll never be right, Y/N, not while you’re around.” He placed a bloody hand behind your neck, thumb stroking your jawline.

“Bones!” Jim shouted through the fighting, “Help them!”

But you could see on Leonard’s face, there was nothing he could do.

Leonard pulled you close releasing a gentle sob by your ear.

“I love you too.” You whispered into the darkness

***

Leonard McCoy stood in a private room in his medbay looking at his soulmates cold body. He half heartily picked up the chart which lay on the bedside as he had so many times before. He read over the details as he had so many times before.

‘Lutenient Y/N Y/L/N

Time of death: 15:34

Killed in Action’

He checked his watch.

18:32.

Maybe it was time.

He brushed his hand over your forehead tucking your hair behind your ears. He had no more tears left to spill. He took your hand in his and placed a forceful kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He stated. Not remorseful. Not angrily. Just stated.

His pressed the buzzer by the bed letting the on duty nurses know you were ready to be collected.

A small team arrived flashing sympathetic smiles towards Leonard.

He instinctively started to help until Nurse Chapel put a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to do this bit Leonard.” He nodded his head and stood back as the rest of the nurses wheeled your bed out of the room. “Go home.” She said squeezing his hands and then she left closing the door behind her.

Leonard knew he would still be expected to work. They were too far into deep space to get extra crew. But for now Chapel was right Leonard needed to go home. To his empty quarters you both called home.

Leonard began to cry again. Because now it was over.

He could hear a situation in the corridor. Biobeds going wild. Nurses shouting. But his instincts didn’t kick in until he heard them call out his name.

“DOCTOR MCCOY!” They shouted for the second time as Leonard drew a hand down his face picking up his medical pack and moved into the corridor were you sat upright on the bed.

Leonard was frozen for a minute. Legs stuck to the ground. Then he heard your voice.

“Move! MOVE!” He shouted as he rushed to your side his eyes flickering all over your face and then to the monitors beside you. “How the hell are you still alive?!”

“Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.” You leaped forward from the bed towards Leonard but he pushed you backwards lifting your top to look at your wound, brows knitted.

“Really, Leonard? You’re really killing the moment here.”

“It’s gone? How the hell is it gone?” He ran his fingers over your side.

You reached your hand into your pocket revealing the greenest plant with the crystallised leaves.

“You FOUND IT?!”

“Believe it or not Leonard I’m not awful at my job.”

“How did that- but how did it work?”

You cast your mind back to Leonard appearing at the dome doors, “I swallowed it. I had one of its leaves in my mouth, I accidentally swallowed it when they pushed me.”

“Sorry, you ATE an unidentified plant you’d JUST found?” Leonard said, disgust covering his face.

“...Yeh.”

“Again. How the HELL are you still alive.” Leonard wrapped his arms around your back lifting you from the bed. You wrapped your legs around his body.

An intimate moment that was positively seen by the room. Neither of you cared. It made sense. Every inch of you belonged together. There you stayed, fitting together seamlessly.

#star trek #star trek fic #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek imagines #leonard mccoy imagines #leonard mccoy fanfiction #leonard mccoy x reader #bones star trek #bones x reader #doctor mccoy #dr mccoy #mccoy x reader #mccoy

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yurimother · 5 years ago

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LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.

This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.

The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.

Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.

There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.

The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!

Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.

The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.

However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.

The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.

Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7

Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23

Consider supporting Yuri news, reviews, and content on the YuriMother Patreon

#Yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #reivew #a summer's end #hong kong #girls love #gl #wlw #lesbian #visual novel #games #video games #gaming #manga #anime #reviews

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ecto-american · 4 years ago

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The Other Side

Phic Phight Oneshot for Kiinotasha and KC: (AU) Born a halfa and raised in the Ghost Zone by his mother, Danny struggles with his human identity when a permanent man made portal appears in the Ghost Zone.

On AO3 and FFN

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

Danny never questioned his life until that man made portal spawned. He never forgot when he first saw it six years ago while playing with Youngblood.

Naturally, they were playing aliens and spacemen, Danny's favorite. Earlier in the play session, they had found it, and it was deemed part of their spaceship. It was just a metal outline, an octagon. Thick enough that they could sit, and they pretended that the limited space was the entrance. Obviously on the left side was space, and the right side was their ship. Eventually their moms called them home, and during dinner when asked about his day, he told his mom about it.

She frowned, and she asked him for more details. Having played on it all day, he described it perfectly. His mom paled, and she forbid him from going there again, but she didn't expand on why.

He saw no reason to be afraid. It was just a metal shape. There were far more dangerous places in the Ghost Zone. So the next day, he told Youngblood about his mom's weird reaction. His mom had reacted the same, but didn't say why. His dad explained that it was dangerous, but not what about it was dangerous. Danny didn't have a dad, but he was sure that if he did, he probably would have said the same thing. But neither child could get it. What was dangerous about a shape?

So they just played with it again the next day, and they lied to their moms about what they did.

Two years later, another ghost had join to make them a trio. Her name was Box Lunch, and she was honestly a lot of fun. But she was still a girl, and they didn't tell her about their secret fun location until they were sure she didn't have cooties. When they showed her, she instantly knew what it was.

"That's a ghost portal!" she exclaimed. Youngblood and Danny thought she was stupid. Ghost portals didn't stay anywhere permanently. They opened and closed at random, when the human world and Ghost Zone would temporarily merge and allow for a rip to tear. But it always mended back together quickly.

"No it's not," Youngblood scowled. Box Lunch made a face at him.

"Yeah-huh!" she insisted. "My mommy and daddy get into the human world all the time! She said some people there have been trying to make a permanent portal to here!"

"Nu-uh!" Youngblood argued. "My dad said that humans wouldn't do that, they're more afraid of us than we are of them!"

"Yeah-huh!" Box Lunch said more forcefully. "My parents were human once, they said that people constantly wanna hunt us in the human world! And that they're coming here!"

"If they're afraid of us, then why come here?" Youngblood challenged.

"What else would it be?" Box Lunch asked, crossing her arms.

"It's a weirdo ghost's lair!"

And as they bickered back and forth, Danny had remained quiet. He didn't know how to feel about any of this. His friends often forgot that Danny wasn't just a ghost. He was also human.

Not that he was a ghost who was once human, that died. He was both, and he always had been. Born that way, according to his mom, because his dad was human. Danny didn't know too much about him, and he never really thought to ask.

He knew that his name was Jack, and how he looked like. His mom had hung a photo of him in his room so that he'd know; blue eyes, black hair, with a square jaw and in a distinctive orange jumpsuit. The orange suit always reminded him of the blue one his mom wore underneath a lab coat. She said he looked just like his dad when he was in his human form, and he could absolutely see it. Though as a ghost he had white hair that he seemingly inherited from nobody, with his mom's light blue skin and yellow-green eyes. As a ghost, he matched with a black jumpsuit, though as a human, he preferred regular clothes.

Most ghosts had learned of Danny's true nature early on as the news slowly spread when he was born. They loved him and accepted him as one of them. He could go out into the Zone as a human, but it always felt weird. So he was always a ghost.

That night, as he got tucked in for bed, he decided to bring the metallic object up again.

"Box Lunch said that the big metal shape is a permanent ghost portal," he blurted out. His mom stared at him with wide yellow eyes, and so he knew that Box Lunch was actually right. "Is it?"

She sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I believe so," she confirmed. Danny sat up.

"Is that why you don't want me going near it?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. Danny cocked his head curiously.

"But if I'm also human, wouldn't they be okay with me?" he wondered. His mom paused for a long, long time. "I'm also one of them."

"I don't know, honey," she admitted. He could tell that she did know. She kissed his forehead. "I'll talk to you about it when you're a little bit older, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now good night, sweetie."

It was four more years before it really became relevant again. He had essentially forgotten about the unoperational portal as homeschooling, other friends, and general undead life had continued on for him and his mom.

Youngblood didn't age, since he was once human and died, and so as Danny got older, they hung out less. While Box Lunch, a born ghost, grew, he became distant from her too for unrelated reasons. Danny wasn't alone, however. For a while, he hung out with other ghosts who had died young before he met his best friend. He was a bit older than him when he had died, sixteen to his fourteen, but Johnny 13 (and his shadow) and him had almost instantly become friends and hung out nearly every day. Often his girlfriend joined them too. His mom also allowed him to keep a newly dead dog that had followed him home, that alternated from a puppy to a large hulking beast of a monster dog. Danny named him Cujo.

Ghost Writer provided lessons in the arts on Tuesdays and Thursdays for him and a few other younger ghosts, which did include Johnny and Kitty. On the other days, his mom homeschooled him in her passion: the sciences. His favorite memories were of him and his mother in her lab, doing home experiments and building a wide variety of things.

She indulged in whatever nonsense he wanted to build, which included but wasn't limited to: rock cannon, small spaceships, figuring out how they could grow potatoes on the moon like the man in the martian book did, using ecto energy to cook poptarts.

Often her friend, Technus, but better known to Danny as Uncle Nico, came by to do more of the tech-based stuff. Danny believed that Uncle Nico could do anything with technology. He was one of the ghosts that often went through the natural portals, and whenever he came back, he had something for Danny. Typically game consoles and games, but sometimes fun little useless knick knacks that Danny treasured deeply. He fixed those game consoles many times, and also showed him how to download and install cheats and mods to make them more fun.

And after a morning full of science or the arts, Danny would eat lunch then rush off to play with his friends, Cujo always on his heels.

Looking back, he never did much as a human. He had to resort to his human side to rest, or would default to it if he fell asleep. It felt weird being in human form amongst ghosts, and so he was just always a ghost. He never thought much about it, and nobody ever asked him to be a human around them. It was just how things were.

On the day he'd never forget, it was just him and Johnny. His girlfriend had opted not to come. Danny couldn't remember the original topic, but it made him remember the portal. As soon as he told Johnny about it, the two idly scratching Cujo as the dog slept in between them in puppy form, the ghost's eyes lit up excitedly.

"Dude! We have to check it out!" Johnny insisted.

"I dunno," Danny hesitated. "My mom said that I should stay away."

"Come on, it'll be sick! I've always wanted to go back to the human world," Johnny begged. "And you've never even been there, despite being half-human!"

Danny paused. Well, when you put it like that...

"Okay!" he agreed. He floated up from his seat a bit so he could untangle his legs to stand. Cujo immediately got up from his spot laying near them, tail wagging excitedly. "Let's go! I think I still know where it is!"

It had changed since he last saw it. It now had huge yellow and black doors in place of the previous blank space, and it seemed somehow bigger than he remembered it years ago. But it was unmistakably the man made portal.

Even now, he didn't get what would be too scary about it that his mom would encourage him to stay far away. It was just a door.

"This is so fucking cool," Johnny whispered as he touched the door. "Imagine...no more trying to hunt down a portal. We can just come and go as we please...seeing our lost loved ones...seeing my mom again…It's been so long...I dunno if she'd even remember me..."

Danny didn't say anything, but he did begin to think and truly wonder for the first time what his dad was like. His mom never talked about him, and he never really asked. He and his mom were happy, and he also had Uncle Nico. Was his dad kind? Did he also like science? Why wasn't he here? Did his dad even know about him?

"Do you think we can open it?" Danny asked. Cujo licked his fingers, and Danny scratched his head. Johnny glanced over his shoulder at him.

"I dunno," he admitted. His hand turned into a fist and he knocked on the door. "It seems really solid. I don't think we can just break it or something."

"Hm. Lemme see," Danny mused. He came closer, and he put his hand on the door. It was cold, and Johnny was right; it was metallic, just like the outer edge he used to play on, and it would not break easily. His finger traced the middle line of the two doors. "Hm. Maybe we can pry the door open."

"The humans made this," Johnny spoke. Danny stared at him. No shit. "No, no, I mean. Maybe you should do something to it as a human." Danny thought on this, and he shrugged. Couldn't hurt.

His transformation rings came and went, leaving him in his human state. He was just in a t-shirt and jeans today, and he stayed floating near the portal.

His hand had barely touched the portal when it opened for him.

Danny gasped in shock, jerking his hand back as it opened. Johnny had also jumped, going backwards a bit, and Cujo's fur went up as he barked. It fully opened, and he couldn't see anything but the green ooze. This wasn't anything like Uncle Nico had mentioned natural portals being like. They normally acted like a window you could see through. But it was an unnatural portal made by man.

"Maybe this isn't such a-" Johnny began, but Danny had already stepped through.

There was a weird in between area that shined bright blue that he never heard Uncle Nico describe. But in this in between, he could see exactly what the ghost had mentioned. He knew he was still in the Zone, but he could look out the portal into the human world like a window.

A man in an orange jumpsuit, with black hair that was graying, was sitting in a room that reminded him very much of his mom's lab. He was staring at the portal in confusion, likely because it had randomly opened, and Danny instantly knew who it was. He had no idea if his dad could see him, but he found himself rushing backwards, and back into the Zone.

The second he returned, he became a ghost again, and he silently began to fly away as he tried to process. Johnny asked no questions, only following, Cujo following them both.

That night, at dinner, he finally asked.

"What was dad like?"

His mom stared at him for a moment.

"Well, he was very sweet," she said slowly. "Very bubbly personality. Always went out of his way to help his friends." She smiled softly as she talked about him. "Adored fudge."

"Did he like science?" Danny wondered. His mom gave a short laugh.

"Oh boy he adored it. Not the best at it, but he had a lot of enthusiasm," he replied. "We used to do experiments together all the time."

Danny stared down at his food as he thought. He looked up to her, and he could tell that she already knew what he was going to ask.

"How come I never met him?" he wondered. She sighed.

"...He doesn't like ghosts," she replied. "Aspiring ghost hunter when I met him, actually. I was alive then. Had the same ambitions." At his shocked look, she laughed again. "I know, ironic. We had dated for about two years officially. But then...I died. It was winter, and I was driving late at night during a snowstorm. My car slid off the road, and into a river. And I died from my injuries. I found that I could disguise myself as human, and I was in denial. So I just...continued on."

"...Why?" he asked. His mom shrugged in defeat.

"I guess I just didn't want to admit that it was over. I hadn't done everything I wanted to do yet. I was still in college, and I felt like my life had been forcibly finished before it had even truly started," she admitted. "Jack had proposed, but I had declined. I was too afraid to tell him. He began pursuing ghost hunting more seriously as a profession and building weapons and portals. I found out I was having you, and he was so excited to be a dad. I began getting scared. I didn't know how long I could continue the lie. I didn't know how it all would affect you. Then the police found my car and body, and I knew I couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. So I left. I had no clue how to face him, or even how safe you might be if we talked. Especially after you were born, and I realized that you were half ghost."

The more she talked, she more somber she became. By the end, she was sniffling a little. Guilt began to wash over him.

"Have you ever talked to him again? Like after I was born?" he wondered. She shook her head no. "How come you've never taken me to the human world?"

"I had considered it. But it's too dangerous," she explained. "Humans aren't like ghosts. If they knew that you were also ghost...you wouldn't wanna find out what happens."

"...Do you regret any of it?" Do you regret me?

She smiled softly despite the conversation.

"You were the best thing to ever happen to me," she told him. "I may have been very anxious about being alone, and how you may turn out despite it all. But you were born healthy and perfect in every way. You're absolutely the light of my afterlife."

Danny smiled back, feeling some reassurance. His mom stood up, leaning over to peck his forehead before picking up her plate. He heard Cujo scramble out from under the table, ears up in excitement.

"I think I'll finish this later," she told him. "I'm not too hungry tonight." She glanced down at the dog. "This isn't for you."

Cujo whined, following her as she put her plate in the microwave. Danny nodded, sparing a small smile to Cujo and ushering for him to come over. He slipped him a piece of chicken as his mom left.

Later that night, Danny couldn't sleep. He was too busy sorting out his rushing thoughts. He was of course still him. Nothing really changed, but there was this new growing emptiness. Danny was still Danny, but there was a whole other side to him that knew nothing about. It began to eat at him more and more. Who was this human side besides just human Danny who lived in the Ghost Zone? He didn't know.

He now wished that his mom had taken him to the human world before so that he could know. She did say that there was a risk in the humans knowing he was also a ghost, which he didn't get. The ghosts accepted him as one of their own, so why wouldn't the humans? He didn't get humans at all. And he needed to know more about them. He was one of them.

By breakfast, his mind was made up.

After an unusually boring lesson with Ghost Writer together, Danny immediately went to Johnny once their small class of sorts were dismissed.

"I have to go back." Danny couldn't breath for a moment. "I have to see what it's like. Like you said, I'm also human, and I've never been there. All my unlife, I've been a ghost, here, in the Ghost Zone. My dad's in the human world. And I need to know what it's like to be human. What it means. So I can maybe meet him one day."

Johnny nodded.

"I think I get it," he said slowly. "I'll come with you. Keep you company. I think I could pass for human pretty well, even if I have to say that I have some kind of sickly disease that keeps me pale."

Danny grinned.

"Thanks," he replied. "Come on."

It took no time at all to find the portal. Danny stared up at it, his breath once more stolen as he tried to think of a reason why he shouldn't go through it.

Nothing came to mind.

"It's okay if you don't wanna," Johnny said. Danny shook his head no.

"I have to do this," he replied. "I need to do this."

Johnny patted his back, and that was all the subconscious encouragement Danny needed to turn human and press his hand to the door. Once more, it opened. The fact that he's even able to open it made him know that this was something he was meant to do. He once again stepped through with Johnny right behind him.

#phic phight #the other side #my phics #phics #danny fenton #danny phantom #maddie fenton #johnny 13

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polandspringz · 3 years ago

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First Impressions of Tokyo 24-Ku

Just as a warning, if you really liked the first episode, then don’t read this! I’m going to come off as very critical, and I don’t want to dampen anyone’s fun with this new original series.

Now, I had made a post before the show aired about how I was already skeptical (although I guess more interested) in Cloverworks doing a series with the main characters design being red, green, blue, and having them called RGB, because I was familiar with Cloverworks having done the music video for Yoasobi’s song RGB. I’m not linking the post because this won’t show up in the tags, but there is a famous Japanese novel that uses this RGB concept and is essentially about three friends who had a fight and went their separate ways and later reunite (or that is how it was presented in the RGB music video/song). Tokyo 24-ku takes inspiration from this in a quite obvious way, and I don’t think you can really argue otherwise that they just thought about the RGB idea since it is a prominent novel and their studio worked on something for it.

This isn’t criticism, I just wanted to explain my thoughts that I had going into the show, because I did go in ready to be every critical of it. Tokyo 24-ku just uses that as a baseline idea and for the character designs, and has its own distinct identity with a sci-fi esque action plot. I was interested to see what they would do, especially it’s an anime original, and I always want to support those.

However, this is Cloverworks. The last year has been very rough on their image as a studio, with Promised Neverland S2 last January, and then the amazing set up of Wonder Egg Priority to the way it crashed and burned in the finale. I would argue that they’ve been struggling with their projects since Persona 5 the Animation (their first after branding themselves differently from A-1 Pictures). Cloverworks obviously has some very talented animators working under their name, and are doing a good job welcoming original stories and ideas. But, with their track record, I was very concerned when I saw their lineup for Winter 2021. They are spread across three series again- Tokyo 24-ku, My Dress Up Darling, and Akebi-chan no Sailor Fuku.

So going into the pilot, I was looking out for a few things: 1) How would the work set itself apart as an original with the knowledge that it was somewhat based/inspired by a novel? 2) How will the animation look? 3) Should I be concerned by too much good animation? 4) And just general story telling flaws with it being a risk to create an original story and not having a source to adapt from.

So, now my actual thoughts on the episode.

I didn’t like it. The set-up/plot is interesting, and I probably will keep watching to see how it goes. The one hour runtime was something I didn’t realize until around fifteen minutes in, and while it acts as a good pilot, the pacing bothered me. Mainly once the big conflict of the episode started, once the three protagonists got the phone call and began to take action, everything seemed to be taking off. Aoi started running to the tracks, jumping onto buildings to avoid traffic, but then he started doing flips and parkour. Tension would start and it seemed like we were just going to rush to the scene but then Kouki had to stop and talk to the assistant, and every time we would start taking action to solve the problem, we had to stop and explain. Aoi’s flips were obviously to show off animation to hook people in on a “cool scene”, but I was so frustrated because he was wasting time by not just running across the rooftops, but jumping down to hop on street signs and then go back up a building again. If we were so short on time, it just broke my immersion.

And while there were a lot of well animated shots (the ear shot was kind of gross but well animated) the reason I’m concerned is Cloverworks did a ONE HOUR SPECIAL PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS and they still have to animate two other shows this season. With their track record of submitting WEP’s episodes minutes before they were supposed to air, I am extremely worried to see them going all out like this. I get that they are probably doing this because it is an original, and its a risk so they need to hook people more. That’s the same reason why I believe that Cloverworks decided to “let TPN S2 sink so WEP could continue to float” because they had a serious story to tell in WEP and they could not let it crumble (until the finale of course). I am worried that we will see Tokyo 24-ku’s quality drop, or the other shows will also have great pilots and then they all will start fall apart across the episodes until they pick only ONE to focus on. I said this last year when discussing the issues with TPN and WEP, but compared to other studios, Cloverworks is based mainly in one building, they don’t have three to four studios like Bones, and they were just a small side studio from A-1 until they broke off. The backlash against Cloverworks last year is also why I believe they are working with Wit Studio on Spy X Family, another studio that is struggling (but financially). I think the parent company(/companies) might have decided that it was for the best to have both these studios work together to help them both from collapsing.

TLDR: When the big running sequence started at the end of the episode as Aoi went to rescue Mari, I was crying because I already thought about how they had blown their budget.

But, back to Tokyo 24-ku. I was unable to really get into the first episode. The character designs were nice and I do like the art style of Kanoko Noko (I love Prince of Stride), but some of the women looked a little strange in their proportions. I’m also a bit confused because on the official promotional art, the protagonists’ eye colors all match their hair (green w/ green, blue w/ blue, etc.), but in the actual show they’re mixed and matched (green w/ red, blue w/ green, etc.) There’s also the fact that the show starts in 2020, and goes into 2021, so while it is an alternate universe where the pandemic couldn’t have happened, it also breaks immersion. While I’m sure some scenes are building to something greater, some of the scenes were a bit odd. Like the opening scene of the kid getting hit by a car, and then in the flashback where the protagonists are just standing there and then someone punches the other. They both made me laugh at their suddenness, but should I have laughed at that? I laughed because they felt awkward. But those are my more minor gripes with the first episode, so I’ll leave it at that.

#tokyo 24-ku #cloverworks

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janumun · 4 years ago

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Afbranden [11: Her (Their) Resolve]

Game: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Theo/Female Reader, Arthur/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Warning Tags: infidelity, explicit sexual content, hurt and comfort, eventual second relationship, Arthur main story spoilers, sad with a happy ending, physical violence

Summary: Slow fractures creep across what you considered a happy, loving relationship; the inevitable break bleeding into your and Arthur’s lives, sure and sinister until it’s finally too much. The woman Theo holds untoward affections for finds herself lost and he… he is unable to stay and watch from the shadows as he has, all this time.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

“—finish Van Gogh off.”

Your lids are heavy, as if a weight’s pressing down against them. Your body; of lead. Voices; garbled then distinct as they slip in and out of your mind in a constant stream. Clutching for consciousness a struggle you try and grapple through as memories unfurl within your mind slow but sure. Inhaling quiet through your nose to gain control of your senses.

“You were supposed to capture Van Gogh along with the woman!”

Your breath freezes within your lungs at the words your mind gradually strings into coherency.

They’re after Theo?

And then; quick, sharp relief. At the knowledge of Theo’s safety. Temporary as it may be, for you recall the way you’d promised Theo you’d take care of yourself; that you’d be back soon — the thought of these men wounding him in any manner is an exposed glass edge your heart cuts itself on. Fear thrums through you, holding you captive but knowing Theo is safe out there helps keep you sane just that bit longer.

You struggle to comprehend the last few moments of your abduction, Arthur’s face flashes within your mind and along with it worry for his safety.

“...I apologize. There was another man there. The bastard wouldn’t let go so we had to make do with the woman.” Careful not to force your lids open, you try regulating your breaths; the voices of your captors sound distant but you can’t be sure you’re not being guarded or watched as they speak.

“No matter. Van Gogh shall follow soon. The man’s attached to the most worthless of things. Surely his lover is worth much in his eyes.”

No.

Swallowing around the tight knot within your throat, you force your still muddled mind to focus —

“You won’t achieve a thing, letting panic rule you where rational thought matters most,” Arthur’s instructions uttered to you once upon a time while working on a case rush through your mind. You repeat the words to yourself: Try to grip a clear, comprehensive picture of your surroundings as best as you can. Keep your wits about you.

Even as fear grips your heart, for Theo’s safety. Hoping for all its worth that he seeks help before following them right into the trap they’ve laid for him.

Goupil and Cie. You’re sure of the perpetrators’ identities as they speak amongst themselves, fragments of their conversation you understand — the night they had had Theo’s office vandalized. The way they wished harm upon the man you’d grown to dearly care for over the past several months. You couldn’t bear to hear their vile thoughts for a man who was a thorn in the sides of selfish nobles, begrudging him for his ideals.

Inexplicable anger courses through you at their conversation; nails digging bitter crescents into the palms of bound hands.

“It’s time. Take the woman away.”

Before you have the time to fully comprehend those words, rough hands are dragging your body upwards once more; your captor hauling a heavy cloth over you — probably to conceal your form as they move you — before he lugs you onto his shoulder. You try and breathe slower through the stifling material of the cloth even as your rattling heartbeat thunders loud within your ears. You’re afraid of what they’d do to you were they to find out you’re conscious.

Cool air hits your face for an instant, indicating your departure from the stifling place they’d held you at. Straining your senses for any signs, anything, to give you an estimate of where you might be.

It’s late into the night — you recall leaving the office with Theo around midnight — and the men wouldn’t risk moving you about during daylight. The way your bonds ache still, instead of feeling numb against skin — it hasn’t been longer than hours at most since your capture.

Your surroundings are silent, save for the occasional hushed whispers of your captors. The sounds of horses whinnying nearby — a carriage perhaps. Your guess confirmed at the sound of a door creaking open; the man carrying you, struggling as he tries and maneuvers your body into the carriage.

And something else: the soft babbling of flowing water nearby — calmer than the seas. Are you near the River Seine?

A sharp, profound pain lances through your skull then — most probably a side-effect of whatever they drugged you with — dulling your thoughts. You bite your lip against a cry of pain, your body protesting exhaustion, wanting to fall right back into darkness.

You couldn’t move your limbs yet even if you might’ve wanted to. Muted efforts; earning you more pain than reward were you to try and struggle your way through, your body in no condition to make a break for it.

As despair courses through you at your current predicament, the one face your mind conjures in that moment provides you some modicum of relief and courage.

In this moment, the thought that you want to see him once more, sears onto your heart, branding hot. It physically hurts.

I’ll be alright Theo. We’ll make it through this, I promise. So please—

A commotion outside drowns your thoughts, hushed whispers rising into agitated cacophony. The carriage rocks violently as you’re almost thrown against the opposite seat. The rocking once settled; your captor, cursing, drags you carelessly and out of the carriage, letting your body drop onto the cool pavement as soon as you’re outside once more. Your cry of pain muffled underneath the angry voices that surround you. Straining your ears to hear for the source of the disorder—

“Where is she?”

Your breaths lump within your throat at that familiar voice, as if you might’ve conjured him out of your thoughts. Overwhelming euphoria, relief and horror commingle within your mind as you crack your eyes open at last to see all focused upon the sole man amongst their midst — wild, preternatural eyes of a predator; the blood-curdling chill you see within them leaving you just as disconcerted as the rest.

The gibbering echoes of barely curbed violence within fists; the frightening disquietude of one whose body knows of the savagery of fights amplified further by the unearthly chill of a vampire’s strength.

Theo please, don’t give yourself away. Don’t endanger yourself.

As if he seems to hear you, those seeking eyes, formerly wandering over the crowd to try and locate you, find yours —relief mottled quick by harsh emotions that fulgurate within that gaze; vehement, unbridled ire — then stray.

The twitch of a brow is all the evident reaction afforded his anger — as much as he might loathe staying his fists, he realizes how the thugs hold their advantage over him. A wrong move and either of you could be in serious danger.

Stillness. Quiet descends upon the place as the ring of ruffians eye Theo cautiously.

Broken crisply by the sounds of a fractured groan as Theo rounds a swift kick onto the men nearest, taking them down —movements too brisk, impossible to be followed by the naked eye. Pandemonium descends upon the place as the men charge Theo all at once.

You try and lift yourself through the bundle of cloth that impedes your movements, succeeding only in palms skidding useless across the pavement as you fall back onto the ground. Cursing your weakened body, you try and pull apart the cloth still clinging to you. Once you find yourself free, you reach over to the carriage for support. Placing your palms against the door, you try and force your legs underneath you. Managing to stand on trembling legs.

Your eyes meet with one of the ruffians’ in that moment, choking your breaths. You’ve been noticed.

Opening his mouth to alert his companions before Theo catches the man with a swift punch to the temple with the side of his fist, knocking him out cold.

Theo’s eyes meet yours once more, a brief second allowed, of comfort, before a looming foe captures his attentions once more as he leaps back into the fight.

Cover is what you need first and foremost. As much as it frustrates you, your current state leaves you a liability: an easy, exploitable target.

Trembling fingers; you try and find purchase upon the handle of the carriage — there’s no other place in immediate sight where you might avoid detection. One failure follows another — several fruitless efforts you try and force your limbs to work through, the draught used on you earlier and fear for Theo’s safety impending your movements with the rising sounds of distressed groans and dropping bodies behind.

The handle turns, at last, and you stagger inwards; going down onto the cramped carriage floor in your haste to get inside. Your knee throbs in protest; the sting of an abrasion you feel against skin, as you move, reaching a weak hand out to pull the carriage door shut.

Before it swings back open with a violent force.

No.

Feeble relief shatters; a choked sound of crushing terror and dismay leaves you as you scrabble to crowd yourself as far back into the carriage as possible... all to no avail. A large hand clamps around your injured leg and you scream. Weak attempts to kick the man off of you unsuccessful as he drags you out of the carriage. Arms feeling coiled in liquid lead weighting them down, you push and prod at your captor’s body; pathetic movements snubbed almost instantly by the firm grasp around your wrists.

Continuing to struggle even as he propels you forward; acute horror takes you to realize the frightening gravity of your situation. “Let go of me, you disgusting bru— ah!!” Pain lances through your scalp, swift and sharp, as the fiend wrenches your head up by a fistful of your hair. Your vision blurs as you try and focus a glare at the brute.

“You’ll make me blush if you stare at me so, mademoiselle. And right after you’ve been such a pain in the ass.” The man forces you back against his body; throwing an around you in a vice-like grip he tightens with each struggling movement. The stench of his breath against your skin churns something nauseous within your belly; his voice rising above the pandemonium — an awful knelling sound. “Come! Lift your chin up and introduce yourself now that you’re awake.” The incessant clamor of violence; fists and shouts, tapers into silence as it descends heavy upon the place at his crowing declaration.

No. No.

Your eyes flitter across the scene, immediately finding his in helpless distress. Theo’s body goes rigid to find yours; something akin to shock... and agony streaks through that gaze, before it’s too much to take and you force your eyes closed. Feeble attempts to try and thresh through your captor’s grip; twisting and turning in an attempt to conceal yourself from the torment in his gaze, you see still burning behind your lids.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was drag you down.

A kiss of steel; cold and cruel snicking against your skin forces your lids open just as you hear Theo’s snarl of warning shred through the quiet of the night. He lunges forward just before he’s over-whelmed by the remaining thugs in his one moment of peril. The cutting edge of a knife you feel pressing harsh into your neck, you bite back a cry of pain, watching Theo tackled to the ground in one savage force. His eyes do not stray from yours; cold ocean wrung into violent storms.

Struggling against the hands that hold him down, his voice a thick, guttural sound. “…Let go of her. Let go of her right now, you zakkenwasser .” His resistance sheered through with the dagger’s warning press into your throat, deeper; it burns, you feel the warm trickle of blood against your skin and force your trembling body to still against instinct.

“You haven’t been very cooperative, Monsieur Theodorus,” the man says, amiable only as one with the taste of victory within near grasp. “I suggest you start doing so if you wish for the mademoiselle to avoid a gruesome fate.” The knife presses steady against your throat in emphasis just as one of Theo’s assailants brings a heavy boot down onto his back in a sickening crack. You jolt towards him on instinct. “Theo!”

“S-Stop moving...” He rasps, eyes still fixated to the point of pressure against your neck; red beading fast against your skin, hot and aching.

Behind you, you hear the man’s sickening laughter; rising as it takes his entire body to witness the cruel sight. Right before you hear his whispered command — “...Kill the stupid bastard.”

The tip of a cruel heel comes harsh down upon Theo’s cheek before your mind’s comprehended the full horror of your captor’s words. “Stop—” You begin to scream; struggles frail as they are, reckless against the knife that arcs a shallow groove against your skin.

Pleas sheared through by a beefy hand that clamps against your mouth, stifling and fetid. Your detainer forcing you back against him as he whispers in glee, “Fret not, mademoiselle, you’ll be able to join him soon on the other side. Aren’t you glad to have gained a few more precious moments of life thanks to the generosity of your lover?”

You're not hearing your insane captor anymore; the sight of Theo as he struggles to defend himself against the countless blows that land against his body. Futile efforts; with each sickening sound of fist meeting flesh that reaches your ears to tear you apart. Agony, the likes of which you’ve never felt before rends you into two — useless and far lesser in the face of his suffering — your screams muffled against the palm digging firm against your mouth, tears that travel unabated down your cheeks to feel this helpless.

Theo’s gaze meets yours in that moment; fierce as you know it. His mouth pressing into a firm line, a bloodied hand he edges your way across cold cobblestone before the sole of a boot comes down onto it followed by the sound of vicious laughter. Drowning his startled groan of pain; you hear the nauseous crush of bones beneath the savage press of the shoe’s heel as his assailant digs in deeper, reveling in the unnecessary torture of his sick actions.

They're really going to murder him.

“Stop struggling, you filthy little harlot!” Your movements turning frenetic, incite the rage of your captor as he moves to haul you back towards the river’s edge, right where the carriage stands. Watching as you move farther away from where they continue to land blows upon Theo’s fallen body.

Witnessing how he scrambles to hoist himself up; focused gaze — moonlight upon sharpened steel — following you still as you’re dragged towards the waiting carriage.

Save yourself. Please.

You want to scream at him, watching how he tries and drags his wounded body across cold stone; the men observing in morbid amusement before catching at his collar, heaving him back and up to totter unsteady on his feet. Pushing harsh at his back to propel him forwards, Theo flounders through his steps towards you.

Blood stains dark strokes down the line of his temples, his jaw. The split of his lip cruel and pronounced as his mouth settles into a snarl directed at your captor. His brows twist in emotion, sapphire gaze flitting to seize yours, holding the contact without mercy.

You hear the quiet ripples of ominous laughter behind you a split second before your gaze rips apart from Theo’s to catch the menacing glint off the edge of a knife just at his shoulder, right as it arcs swift through the air—

“NO! Sto—”

—finding its target into Theo’s back by the hand of a barbarous thug who twists the knife deeper, the slit of his sneer murderous and menacing as Theo’s head jerks backwards, blood spurting crimson past his lips on a vicious cough he strangles into his palm.

An awful, piercing sound rattles through your skull at the terror that seeps beneath your skin, slow and terrible. Watching as if from afar as the man wrenches the dagger out of Theo’s body, the gradual pitch blackness spreading sinister right over his heart to steal the very life out of your own body, leaving you devoid of warmth. Broken, as you watch the light seeping in and out of those brilliant eyes; ink spilling onto cobalt.

You cannot feel anymore, all you see is Theo, wrestling to stand upright through the sheer strength afforded the body of a near immortal being.

Scuffling, as if a half-mad thing, you strain against your bonds. Scratching against whatever skin you find access to, clawing to rip your way towards him even as the blade at your throat cuts deeper into your skin.

“Stop struggling, you bit—” You bite down, vicious, into flesh, just as the man closes in a hand to restrain you, tasting blood against your tongue, tepid. But your captor’s grip loosens and you’re freed at last to stumble towards Theo as he falters in his steps, palm pressing harsh against the sickening stain at his chest.

Dark eyes meet yours, the quivering but sure pull to his mouth, as if in reassurance, before Theo pitches forward and you scrabble to gather his body into your arms, overwhelmed by the sagging weight of him against you.

You hear the angry bellow of your assailant behind as he darts forward to grab you; Theo’s breath judders against your neck a swift second before he thrusts an arm out, taking the brunt of the man’s attack. Shoving his arm back hard enough against the rogue's body, it sends him reeling several steps backwards.

“H–how in the devil’s name is he still moving?” The man sputters, rage and confusion. “What a fucking monster.”

Out the corner of your eye, you watch the remaining men inch closer, wary as they eye the man they’d expected a corpse of by now.

Theo’s grip around your body tightens, head lolling against your shoulder, you’re almost terrified of how long he stills before his ragged breath finds your skin once more, gripped by the fever of near-death. His fangs, now slipped free of blood loss, scrape against your flesh, his whisper almost lost to the soft babbling waters of the River Seine. “’Vertrouwme.’”

“Theo—”

Before he drives you both several steps backwards and over the brink of the River Seine.

Vertrouw me.

And as the surge of the water’s currents take you under, a frigid deluge taking over; drowning your thoughts along with your body, your mind comprehends his words into clarity, at last.

Trust me.

The man spits in distaste at the distant sound of police whistles, stepping back as he barks orders to what remains of his band of thugs. “Get out of here now! Van Gogh and that lover of his are as good as dead. I’ll drag their corpses back to the boss once the cops are out of my hair.”

His subordinates need no further incentive as they scatter; movements hasty as they disappear under the cover of darkness.

Their leader turns to watch the now pliant waters of the Seine once more, a nasty sneer taking his features to note the tranquil surface: an apt end to his master’s adversary.

The approaching tap of boots against cobblestone snags his attention, panic rising as he moves to whip his gun out, all caution thrown to the winds to avoid capture at all costs.

All he witnesses is the looming silhouette of the new arrival; amber flashing within the dark. Before the cold wind slicing through his ears is all the indication of the strange man’s unnatural movements, quick, without sound.

The illusive flutter of the man’s coat as it settles tranquil around him once more belies the mortal fear that takes the thug to watch how the stranger now stands mere inches from him, a large hand flexing its leaden hold around his wrist. Twisting until the weapon clatters onto the ground, useless in the face of the terrifying strength of his unearthly opponent.

A strangled sound; he hears, of terror, leave his throat at the preternatural glow to the man’s tawny gaze as it holds him captive. “W-What are you...” All bravado lost as he sinks onto his knees, trembling underneath the ferocity of those eyes.

The man — devil — scrapes a hand through his hair as he watches, loosing a tired exhale. “...I dislike running troublesome errands in his absence.”

The ruffian shrinks back at that low voice, dispassionate, even as his words make no sense; turning hard and guttural as the strange man continues. “Playtime’s over, kid. You lot have been running around stirring trouble for the younger Van Gogh brother and cara mia for a while now.”

The large man squats in front of the quivering criminal. “Can’t say I like the idea of you bringing harm upon any of ours very much.” His voice drops, dangerous; light flittering upon deadly blades, poised to strike. “Speak. Where are they?”

The raw, biting cold of the waters is all you possess; limbs numbed and weakened. You can’t breathe. It’s a struggle; slowly unwinding into defeat to draw air into parched lungs. Reaching for the dark surfaces of the waters; grasping for nothing.

Until a large form wraps itself around you, comforting, warm; hands you feel curve against the shape of your cheeks, drawing you back to consciousness. Your gaze snagging upon sapphire against the inky blackness of the waters before you feel him propelling you both upwards.

Your head breaks the surface and all at once, you can breathe once more. Dragging precious lungfuls of air back into your starved body as your savior drags you both over to the border of the River Seine, heaving you up and over the edge. You turn towards Theo just in time to witness his grip falter, letting go as he starts drifting back into the waters.

Dredging up a strength you do not possess, you throw a desperate arm out for him, holding on firm. “Come on Theo... just a bit more!” Groaning under the weight of injuries suffered, he lets you haul him up and over, the two of you collapsing into a heap as soon as safety’s in reach.

And as you feel the warmth of him upon you, the terror of his near loss ebbs away just that little bit. Before the touch of his skin against yours startles you back to coherence.

He’s ice cold.

Your hands immediately move to skirt across the length of his body, reaching for the wound across his chest but just as your fingers brush against clammy skin, Theo’s voice rips from him on a startled groan of pain, insistent hands shoving against your body, jolting backwards to scramble off of you.

“Theo!” You move forward to help ease his pain, eyes roving over the countless wounds you catch sight of through torn cloth; a few re-bleeding as he recoils from your touch. “Stay away from me!” He growls, ferocious. His gaze, that of a predator, sapphire edged, as it flits across your body in ravenous hunger. Settling upon your neck, it falters and breaks. A trembling hand he dares forward, thumb barely grazing the edges of the cut at your throat — you wince at the touch — before wrenching it back.

A low, deep sound, awful as it rises from the depths of his chest; fangs ripping free on a snarl. But the catch of his palms into pale fists, nails scouring painful crescents into his skin leave him more helpless than terrifying, it wounds you to see him in such agony.

His body’s stopped healing on its own.

Gripping terror starts to seep in: recalling those few moments you’d watched in helpless agony as the knife had sunk through flesh, close to where his heart lay. Horror, desolation, the likes of which you’d never known in those awful seconds stretching into eternity; to not know if he’d survive the strike. Watching his pendulous trek between life and death. You do not want to bear the burden of that cold, terrifying feeling of loss ever again.

He is so, so important to you.

Theo’s hands spasm against yours as you move to grip them, inching closer. Watching the hungry tread of that gaze as it slants a path across your body, his leaning into the promise of blood before he blenches. Forcing his writhing body into stillness, miserable efforts ending in failure. “L–Let go… hondje. Let go of me n… agh… ”

Ignoring his agonizing efforts to shove you backwards, you grab hold onto his arms. Trembling fingers reaching to tear open your collar, you push the edge of your shirt down against your shoulder. A choked sound gurgles up his throat at the sight. Mouth pulling apart on a ferocious snarl, Theo strains against you; a half wild thing, mad with the primal lust to sink his teeth into you. You feel his hot breaths cascade across your skin; shattered by grunts of torment, each second he forces himself to endure the urge to feed, driving himself closer to the brink.

”Listen to me Theo.” Grasping his head tight in between decisive hands, you force his gaze upon yours, the cobalt of his gaze wavering in between lucidity and darkness. “I want you to bite me right now.”

Even through the fever haze of agony, you see rage and terror streak across his gaze. Words he forces through on a menacing growl. “No.” Struggles vehement against your grip as he rebels against the very notion. “G-Get the hell away from m—” He tapers off into a fractured sound of misery, doubling over in a violent fit; spatters of blood spilling forth on his next onerous breath.

“Please Theo! I beg of you—” You jerk forward to support him, an effort he shakes of, violent enough it leaves you momentarily startled.

Rounding a dark, savage glare upon you; whetted sapphire edged to cut through — you’ve never seen him look at you the way he does in this moment — he snarls in between pained breaths,” D-Don’t make me… despise—” Before he breaks off, collapsing back onto his arms, blood seeping fresh from the injury to his chest with his fervid efforts to reject you even at the cost of his own life, denial fierce enough he’d despise you were you to force him through.

Cold; your own heart and mind numb to realize the intensity of his emotions, his unfinished sentence ricocheting within but… you’re not strong enough to respect his wishes.

Losing Theo hasn’t been an option for you for a long, long time now.

…Even loathe you as he may.

Reaching a steady hand forward, you let your fingers map a light, brief path against his jaw before trailing your index down towards his open mouth; Theo’s breaths difficult to draw with each second wasted as his pants turn harsher—

You try and smile, even as you see his gaze shift in and out of focus. “Unfortunately for you, Theodorus van Gogh… I’ve never been one to do as I’m told.” Swift, you slice open the pad of your index against his exposed fang, pressing deep before he can muster the strength to move away.

Blood blooms quick against your finger, ample enough you witness the black of his pupils expand and contract, consuming the blue. His response is instant; Theo’s mouth latching onto your digit, fierce, as he slurps up your blood, pulling your finger deeper against a hot, desperate tongue to feel the pulses of it, drawing on whatever strength remains in your body. “Yes, that’s it. Please… please Theo, be good and bite me. I can’t — won’t lose you, even to your own damn bull-headed self.”

Temporary clarity sweeps the mist from sapphire, leaving him coherent enough he fixes you with that sharp, piercing stare you’ve come to know and adore. Before his body tightens with purpose; you feel the strength in those corded arms as they come around you. Fingers slipping up along your back to sift through your hair before they twine through the strands, using the leverage to tip your head backwards.

And as you let his large, solid frame tumble you back onto cold cobblestone, the sound of fabric tearing apart, the sensation of fangs piercing skin sparks sweet relief… and pleasure, blinding enough it pumps through your veins, ripping through you from within. Vehement enough, you cry out loud, feeling him buried this deep within. The strands of his damp hair tickling against your neck, a cool respite from the fire that runs rampant through your body.

Consciousness, as if sand, slips slow but sure, you feel your lips move — important words you want him to hear — you don’t know whether he catches them… before the world spirals down into bone-less euphoria.

Scarlet bleeds across his vision; agony and thirst ripping through with each labored breath suffused, torturous, with the scent of her. Fangs aching to sink into her sweet flesh and have her until he’s quenched; agony and desire so acute Theo does not know where one begins to let the other end. And yet, he’s aware: were he to bite her now, he would be nigh insatiable, the thought terrifies him enough he tries and pushes her away with what remaining strength he musters.

Don’t you dare. Don’t make me despise myself for hurting you.

He’d wanted to yell at her, desperate; she’s naïve, not realizing the sheer magnitude of his desire for her blood, the scent of her so strong, he can almost taste it, honeyed, against his tongue—

Theo swallows heavily, biting back another groan of pain. She stares at him following his outburst; vacant eyes, speechless as if she’s the one whose life seeps slow through her fingers. As if her very world’s falling apart in front of her, it wounds Theo deeper than any physical injury to see her look at him that way.

Wanting to reach for her even as darkness fogs his mind before another bout of hunger courses through him, violent enough he collapses back onto his arms. Harsh pants trying to force burning air into his body, useless.

The familiar, cold embrace of death fast approaching; a second time.

The soft warmth of her ghosts across his cheek, he wants to speak, to tell her not to make that face but she continues tracing his features, trekking her finger across his mouth before slipping it past open lips.

Hondje, what are you—

He comprehends her actions a second too late.

Lust so strong, blood-red it takes his mind; ravenous mouth clamping around her digit, coveting hand reaching to grasp her wrist tight and hold in place as he drinks of her. The taste just as reminiscent of that single drop of blood he’d craved time after time, flowing anew onto a famished tongue as it laps hungrily against the pad of her finger, insatiable, without end. “Yes, that’s it. Please… please Theo, be good and bite me.”

Liquid fire scours savage down his throat, each sweet pulse of her blood his body aches and yearns for; the primal beast within rattling against its shackles, demanding her in her entirety. Consciousness contracted to that singular point of pleasure.

More. I need more of you. It’s not enough.

“…I can’t — won’t lose you, even to your own damn bull-headed self.”

Temporary clarity floats up through that haze of lust to hear those quiet words whispered against him; his eyes catching sight of that heart-rending smile to leave him just that desolate once more; slow comprehension drawing in, inconceivable.

Hondje… are you—

Theo bites back further protests — queries he’d scrounge answers to later on — responding eager to her one desperate plea at last. Body giving in, the tight leash of control he slowly unclenches; reaching to crush her body against his, firm. Until he tumbles them both onto the ground.

Restless fingers reach to tear apart impeding cloth before her skin lies, dewy and exposed, beneath him. Fisting a hand at the back of her head to maneuver with as much care as he can muster in that moment, Theo’s face sinks into the welcoming, pliant expanse between her neck and shoulder.

Hot breaths branding back against his own cheeks a second before devastating hunger takes him under once more; aching fangs plunging into her flesh; euphoria and life bursting forth onto his tongue.

Her writhing, helpless, beneath him forces Theo’s body harder against hers and she moans beneath him; a soft, soughing sound sending the vibrations of it singeing straight to his groin. A precarious fling upon the precipice of pleasure and death.

Her fingers reach for, twining with his and Theo holds on to that sole thread binding his sanity to her. Before she drags their threaded fingers forward to let go once, grasping his hand as she presses a shuddering kiss into his palm. “…Y-You told me to…mm… trust you, didn’t you…?” Her digits he feels splaying across his hair, carding through the locks in slow, soothing motions it breaks and mends his heart a thousand times over.

You are precious to me, shatje.

This one time, hateful remorse does not char through his veins as his tongue tests a final time against her healing wound, savoring the blood of the woman he loves before darkness consumes every last bit of conscious thought.

Go to Chapters: 1-10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (End)

Author’s Notes: This chapter gave me fits and I never want to see it again for the rest of my life. Thank you for reading, lovely folks! It’s always a delight to hear your thoughts on the story so far. 🙇‍♀️

If you liked what you read and would like to be tagged in future updates of this story only, please let me know in the comments!

#ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfiction #a pickle writes

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

Text

Taken

Part 2

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped by a perp whose real objective is her colleague and boyfriend Jake. Will he get to her in time?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, angst and more angst

There is at least one big moment in every young woman's life that she regrets immensely. Sometimes it's dating a horrible person and realizing far too late. Or maybe it's that outfit that truly belonged in a dumpster but somehow ended up in your closet instead. My biggest regret was being considerate of Jake's sleep.

We went to his place after work for date night because he'd finally found an old movie we were looking for and I didn't have a DVD player. We've been together long enough to love each other and we do, the topic of living together brought up a couple times before we both realized that neither of us are quite ready to give up our separate spaces yet. So we go to Jake's and we watch a movie.

"In hindsight, this probably wasn't the best mood to set on date night," Jake muttered as he turned to me, wiping a few tears from his cheeks.

"Nonsense! I think ugly crying to a great American heartbreaking tale with my boyfriend is completely romantic!" I countered through chuckles to cover up my lingering sobs, causing Jake to laugh with me.

"You're a riot." He helped me clear my cheeks as well before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'm exhausted. Wanna call it one? I'm too tired for sexy times but I'm willing to compromise and do hand stuff."

I rolled my eyes playfully at him as I allowed myself to sink into his hold for a moment. "No, I shouldn't stay."

"What? You always stay on date night. Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Everything's fine. The surgery scene just reminded me that I'm supposed to drop my mom off in the morning for a minor procedure before work. My mom's house and the hospital are on the other side of town and if I leave from here, I'll have to wake up like half an hour earlier."

"I don't mind getting up with you, babe."

"Jacob." I pushed myself into a sitting position, my tone falling flat so he knew to take me seriously. "You've been busting your ass for weeks now to catch your perp, and you got the next best thing--his right hand man. You deserve every second of rest you can get."

He stared at me for a while, a slight pout on his lips. "Alright, fine." He sighed heavily as he stood, pulling me to my feet as well.

"You'll see me in the morning, I promise. I love you, Jakey."

"I love you, too. See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow is here and I still haven't seen Jake. The windowless cement block of a room couldn't tell me how long I was unconscious, but the ache in my stiff muscles told me it was well past morning. A range of emotions hit me as my eyes focused on my current reality.

Fear.

I feared where I was, of course I did. I can't check my surroundings if it's all just gray walls, the only difference being the rusty chains that held me to one of them.

I feared not knowing who brought me here, how many there were, the intention behind bringing me here.

I feared time. How much had passed, how much I had left. How much of it I'd spent in such deafening and suffocating silence and what would finally disrupt the still air.

Worry.

I worried about not being the only one stolen from what I deemed to be my normal life.

I worried about the mess of blood that hadn't been cleared away from the side of my head.

I worried about the foggy in-and-out single stream of consciousness that I just barely held onto.

I worried about whether or not my mom made it to her surgery or if she spent the entire day in the police station worrying even more than I was.

The thought caused anger to rush in like an uninvited guest.

What could I have possibly done to end up here? I arrest criminals all day long, but none of them are capable of this. I'd love to rip these chains out of the wall and tightly wrap them around the throat of my captor. The thought alone caused the nausea bubbling up from my stomach to turn into something else, something stronger, something that was destined to get me into more trouble.

"You mind letting me the fuck out of here?!"

Like that. That kind of trouble.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere as they announced the arrival of another person. With the knowledge that someone else was in fact here came the return of worry. Or maybe it was fear. I can't quite tell the distinction over the little voice in my head that scolds me for being the thing to break the quiet.

A piece of the wall opened up and spit out a tall figure drowning in black fabric. From the tip of their worker boots all the way up to the ski mask that hid their identity from me.

"You want something?"

A male voice was all I was able to catch. I stayed quiet and kept my head down, hoping my silence would irritate him into talking more.

"What, you lost your tongue or something?"

I still couldn't tell who it was on voice alone.

"Oh, I get it. You want to do this face to face."

I lifted my head just as he ripped off his ski mask, and I quickly bit my lip to stifle my gasp. I recognized that stupid face. Unfortunately for me, he could tell.

"You know who I am, baby?" His steps were the only sound in the hollow space as he came to kneel in front of me. Before I could even blink, he had my jaw held tightly in his left hand, his right hand pushing the end of a blade into my skin.

"Say my name," he practically growled, sending shivers down my spine. I quickly obliged, well aware that I did not have the upperhand in the situation.

"Marco."

"My whole name," he demanded as he pressed further into my skin, responding to my involuntary whimper with a shake of his left hand. "Say it."

"Marco Fallio."

"Good." He quickly pocketed the knife, keeping his gaze on me. "I can't wait to hear you scream that later. It's gonna be fun." He winked as he stood finally, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as he turned his back on me.

"What am I doing here, Marco?"

"I figured since Detective Peralta took my right hand man, I was free to take his."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I saw you two disgusting lovebirds kiss after stuffing my boy inside the back of a cop car." He faced me again suddenly, pulling out a burner phone as he approached me. "What's his number?" He noticed my hesitation and laughed. "You want him to know I have you, right? Or should I just kill you now and send pieces of you until your boyfriend gets the hint?"

I sighed, closing my eyes as I recited the number to him. I listened to him dial, only opening my eyes again when the ringing stopped.

"Peralta."

It was only one word, but it was enough to break my heart. He sounded so defeated and tired, like the rest I begged him to get did nothing but further exhaust him. The thought brought tears to my eyes instantly.

"Hey Peralta, buddy. Fallio here."

"If you're calling to negotiate your friend out of jail, it's not going to happen. He's going to lead me straight to you."

Fallio laughs in a light way that suggests he was talking to an old friend, and not a detective that wanted him behind bars. "You know, I thought you may say that. So I got something that I think might change your mind."

In a few lightning fast motions, the knife was out again, slicing the fabric of my jeans and the skin of my thigh underneath. A strangled yell crossed the threshold of my lips before I could stop it as the burning sensation pulsated through the newly opened wound.

"Y/N! Marco I swear to God, you better--"

"Yeah, yeah. Talk soon!" He ended the call with a grin, turning his attention back to me. "Don't worry, I'll call him back. Let's have a little fun first."

I want death. I want to die. It seems to be the quickest and possibly the only way to escape Marco Fallio, and at this point, I'll take anything.

Maybe I'll get lucky and survive this, and I'll apply to work for the FBI. With all the cuts and bruises and dried and not so dry blood that now covers so much of my skin, they'll be sure to think I'm tough enough to handle any case.

Or I could quit law enforcement altogether. Become a baker. I'm good at it, and there's less of a chance of this happening again when you're just minding your business and selling fresh food. However, in this baker fantasy I'd still be dating Jake. So this could very well happen again.

Jake. I miss Jake. His name is the only constant thing I remember every time I come back. Every time I open my eyes and remind myself that I'm locked in this room in God knows where for who knows how much time. Jacob Peralta, the only thing I hear in my head as Marco does some other series of painful acts that makes me scream until my throat burns from the force, or until he pushes just a little too far and I pass out again.

"Hey, wake up."

I feel the light but aggressive pats on my face, a long groan pushing from the depths of my lungs and falling out amidst a heavy breath that smacks right into Marco's face immediately. As he has been for the past seconds, days, months, years, he's entirely too close. Which means I'm in for another beating.

His rough hands pull me off my pathetic position on the cool floor and thrust me back first into the wall behind me once again, gripping my jaw to hold my head in place. His thumb forces my bottom lip to part from the top as he begins to carefully pour water into my mouth.

"You're giving me nothing and this is growing old. Time to light some fire under your man's ass."

He pulled the phone out again and talked as I focused on swallowing the water, struggling to keep my eyes open. I felt the phone being pressed to my ear followed by Marco's voice.

"Any last words, Y/N?"

My mind flashed back to the movie Jake and I watched together. The main character's last words were in a suicide note she'd written to her boyfriend. It was a long shot, thinking that Jake would even remember this or that it would help him at all, but as Jake would say, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!" So I finished swallowing the water and took the shot.

"I knew about everything. That's why I died."

His hand released my jaw as he hung up again, allowing me to slide to the floor again. I could only hope now that I'd done enough. That by connecting the dots he'd realized that I--like the main character--was dying slowly in a cement room underground at the hands of someone else after being forced to craft last words to the love of my life. He'd already found Marco's three warehouses. A little more digging would tell him that two of the warehouses don't have basements, so I must be at the third.

Time zoomed past again as I floated away into unconsciousness, brought out of it once again by a gentle slap to the face. This one felt softer but more urgent. Then came voices, all of them fuzzy except for one.

"Y/N, can you hear me, babe?"

Jacob Peralta. The only name I could think of as I fought through the searing pain of every cut, every punch, every moment of being strangled or burned. The only voice I could hear calling my name as I sat there pathetically and waited to be rescued like some princess caught in a tower.

"The ambulance is almost here, Y/N. Can you open your eyes? Come on, baby, please."

Jacob Peralta, the last person to see me before I became a hostage.

"Fuck, Rosa, her pulse is weakening. What do I do?!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Baby, stay with me, come on!"

Jacob Peralta.

"Sir, we need you to clear the area, so we can properly assess her injuries."

Jacob Peralta. The one who kept me alive.

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

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gingersaremytype · 5 years ago

Text

Out of Place - Percy Jackson x Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

Percy Jackson x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Can you make a x reader with Percy Jackson were the reader is feeling insecure and Percy makes her feel better?

Word Count - 1.8k

The summer after your 16th birthday, everything had changed. You'd discovered the truth about your parents after living with your dad your whole life with no mother. Your dad was a regular human and your mum... Well, your mum just happened to be a Goddess. The Goddess of the Hunt and Wilderness to be specific; Artemis.

You'd always been good at Latin in school and then, after realising your true identity, it made sense. The knowledge you had was already rooted deep inside of you and the legends and myths you learned were now your reality. That summer you had gone to Camp Half-Blood and met others like you. People with the skills you had and who were also children of Gods. You moved into Cabin 8 and became a Hunter of Artemis along with your siblings.

You had now been at Camp for at least a year and you understood more about your mother and being a hunter. Being a child of Artemis meant that you were extremely skilled with a bow and arrow, just like your siblings, and that you were quite quick on your feet.

Although you spent a lot of time with your siblings, you were also close to some of the other campers. Including Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon. You were sat at dinner with Grover, Annabeth and a couple of your siblings when Percy walked over, having been talking with Chiron for a while. He sat down in the empty spot next to you and reached for some food, smiling at you.

"Hey, how's your day been?" Percy asked lightly.

"Yeah, good thanks. Yours?" You replied, smiling at him. He nodded in response but gave you a strange look you couldn't quite decipher.

The truth was it hadn't been much of a good day but you didn't need Percy to know that. He already had so much going on his life and you didn't want to complicate it more by overloading him with things he didn't need to worry about. One of those things being that you liked him...

You'd been crushing on Percy pretty much since the day you'd met him but never had the courage to tell him. It was stupid, there's no way the Son of Poseidon would be interested in someone like you. Or at least that's how you viewed it. Sure, you and Percy were close but he was close with everyone, you weren't an exception.

Anyway, you'd struggled through your day no matter how awful it was. First off, one of your younger siblings had borrowed your favourite bow and broken it. You knew you could find another one but you'd liked that one and it was annoying to go through the process of finding another good one. Then you'd had to face a whole load of Ares' kids in one-to-one fights and had pretty much lost them all. Being a Hunter meant you were good at long-distance fighting; shooting and running for example. Up close, you weren't quite as quick as other campers and you hated it.

You continued to tuck into your dinner until one of the Ares campers walked past and shoved you slightly, causing you to spill your drink.

"Oh sorry, Y/n!" She said, full of sarcasm, "I didn't see you there." She smirked, walking on to her table.

You looked up at the rest of your table, hoping no one had noticed. Luckily, they were all deep in conversation and you didn't think anyone had.

Then another Ares girl came along and shoved you just like her sister, a little harder this time. You looked up at her and glared.

"What? Are you gonna get angry little Hunter? I'm sure I could push you to the floor easily just like earlier in the arena." She raised her eyebrows at you and smiled wickedly before moving on.

You'd had enough and mumbled something to the rest of the group about needing to re-string your bow before standing up and walking away. You felt tears threatening to fall. You knew you shouldn't listen to them but you couldn't help it. You felt like you didn't belong here, at all. You weren't good enough to be the child of a Goddess and you knew your mother would never be proud of you. Yes, she had claimed you when you'd arrived but, since then, you never felt a strong connection with her. You wanted to go back to how it was before you knew you were only half human. Things were better then, you'd had loads of friends at school and been on loads of sports teams due to your enhanced speed and strength. Even more, you were happy.

You weren't miserable at camp, but you were far from happy. The first few months it had been excusable, you were new. But now, it was just a joke and you hated how useless you felt.

Wandering through camp lost in your thoughts, you eventually found yourself in the forest by a small stream. You sat down and put your head in your hands, closing your eyes and letting a few tears begin to fall. You didn't want to feel like this but you didn't know how to fix it. You'd tried to train to be better but it just seemed like you weren't improving at all. If anything, the extra training you put in just made you feel even more tired when you had to actually fight. You were so lost in your head that you didn't hear someone in the woods until they sat down next to you, causing you to jump out of your skin.

You knew straight away it was Percy, his distinctive smell floating into the air around you. "I wondered where you'd run off to but I had a feeling it would be here." He muttered, nudging you slightly.

You lifted your head and looked at him. His expression changed to worry when he saw your red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Y/n? What happened?" He asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Nothing," You whispered, shaking your head and trying to wipe the tears away, which was no use because the taps were open now and they just kept falling no matter how hard you tried to stop them.

"You're a terrible liar, you know. You have a tell." He chuckled slightly as you raised your eyebrows questionably.

"Whenever I ask if you're okay or how your day was, you tell me it's good but you always look away straight after and don't look me straight in the eye. You just put on a smile and keep going." He said, smiling sadly.

You looked at him, not knowing what to say.

"So, Y/n... Are you okay?" He asked, taking your hand in his.

You looked into his eyes and knew you couldn't lie to him.

"No, not really," you murmured, looking down at the ground "I... I just feel useless, Perce. Sure, I can fire an arrow but that's about as far as my skill set goes and I've tried so hard to be better but I'm just not. And the Ares girls they just..."

You trailed off trying to fight back a fresh fall of tears.

Percy didn't say anything for a moment, instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug. He rested his head on yours, "Y/n, you are not useless. And you have way more skills than firing arrows, although you are pretty amazing at it. I've never seen anyone hit the middle of a target every time like you." He said, causing you to smile slightly. "And who cares about the Ares kids, they're a bunch of arrogant a-holes with pea-brains." You laughed slightly as he retracted his arms to look at you.

"There it is," He smiled, "that amazing smile." You blushed slightly and looked away.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry it took me so long to realise you were feeling this way. I wish you could see how awesome you are."

"No, it's okay. I didn't want to dump it all on you, you have a lot on your plate." You replied, placing your hand on his.

"I wouldn't mind having more if that meant spending time with you..." He answered, his cheeks flushing slightly pink as he looked at you.

You looked up at him through blurred eyes and your eyebrows moved together as you tried to find out what he was feeling. Normally you could read him like a book because his poker face was not very good but right now, you couldn't read him at all.

His hand moved from yours to your cheek as he wiped away the last few tears that fell.

"You're so beautiful, Y/n. You're unlike anyone I've ever met. You're the kindest, funniest and most brilliant person I know." He whispered, staring into your eyes. You could feel the heat rushing into your cheeks as he looked at you.

His eyes flicked down your lips, only momentarily but you'd caught it. You took the leap and leaned closer into him and closed your eyes. He followed, closing the rest of the gap and pressing his lips onto yours. Your hands moved to the back of his head, tangling in his dark hair, his arms snaking around your waist. The kiss was slightly salty and you thought it was probably a mixture of your tears and the fact that you were kissing the Son of Poseidon.

Percy pulled away and looked at you, seeming mesmerised.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," He smiled down at you. You shook your head and smiled back, "I was just about to say the same thing..."

He kissed you again before pulling away and standing up.

"C'mon, I saved the rest of my dinner for you," He offered his hand and pulled you up.

You suddenly realised that you hadn't really touched much of your food before leaving dinner and you were still hungry. The two of you walked out of the forest and over towards Percy's cabin, where he'd stashed the rest of the food. Once inside, you sat on Percy's bed and rested your head on his shoulder whilst you munched your way through the rest of your meal.

"Y/n," he started, "you know what you said about fighting and everything..."

You looked up at him and hummed in response, your mouth filled with salad.

"What if I trained you?"

You sat up and looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Only if you want to, of course." He added, seeing the quizzical look on your face.

The look quickly morphed into a smile as you nodded, "that would be amazing. Thank you, Perce."

"Hey, anything to show those Ares girls who's boss right?" He chuckled as you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly, sighing happily.

You smiled as he rested his head on yours. He was here for you and right now, that's all you needed.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #out of place #demigod #poseidon #son of poseidon #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics

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sillyguyhotline · 4 years ago

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i hate when people compare shin tsukimi to kokichi ouma/nagito komaeda and here’s why

hi first off spoilers for yttd up to chapter 2-2 and for chapter 5 of sdr2 and ndrv3

hi, this is a little disorganized because it was one of my first analysis posts on here lmao. it’s in lapslock and kinda rushed because i wrote this rant to my friends and then decided to post it here!!

ok so!! first of all, sou has very distinct and established reasons for why he acts the way he does: the survival rates. the game shows us that, prior to the death game, sou (shin tsukimi) was very pleasant, even compassionate, and was generally a good dude.

but the identity he adopted for himself, sou hiyori, the one who trusts nobody and lies to everyone and is a pretty huge dick, is a direct consequence of miley telling him he had no chance at survival. the antagonist characters in danganronpa are just...like that. yeah, they probably have their reasons (we know that nagito lost his parents and has a very weird relationship with luck, and we can infer that kokichi doesnt have parents and probably hasnt for a decent amount of time) but they were turned into their more manipulative selves over time, and that's who they are, whereas "sou hiyori" is more of a mask or an alternate identity than anything

secondly, i know a lot of people lump him in with the dr antags bc they consider him an "antagonist" character, but honestly?? he's really not. (either way, the term antag doesnt really fit kokichi or nagito cuz junko is the antag, they're still technically on our side and id consider them antiheroes). but,,,sou honestly doesnt do the things kokichi and nagito do. those two fuck with you in the trials and then they both have chapter 5, where they stage a murder that is directly intended to confuse either you or the mastermind.

but sou doesn't do any of that shit! yeah, he declares himself as the keymaster and lies about that kind of stuff, but it's not intended to directly oppose you, he's just trying to survive. it just so happens that sara is the keymaster in the first main game, so sara is the one who has to expose his lies. he's a liar, but especially in the first main game (not as much in the second but i'll get to that later) he's more concerned with his survival than anything. both kokichi and nagito, however, have other goals (expose the traitor from the future foundation and get them out alive/end the killing game) and even when they arent executing those goals they go out of their way to oppose the protag.

thirdly, sou embodies his own, very distinct themes. he's still a foil to sara, as the antags are with the dr protags, but in quite a different way. (oh also ive seen some people point out that sou is also a foil to keiji). kokichi, most distinctly, embodies the theme of truth vs. lies; he's a liar and his entire personality is developed out of him constantly lying to everyone including himself, while shuichi, the protag, struggles throughout the game with the burden of exposing the truth of the murders.

a lot of people look at sou and immediately think that the main point of his character is his lies (which is fair, as he lies to both sara and himself, similar to kokichi) but it's not- it's his inability to trust anyone. you'd think that him hiding his true personality and fabricating the "sou hiyori" personality would demonstrate that he is, at his core, a liar, but "sou hiyori," especially in comparison to the "shin tsukimi" he once was, is characterized by how little he trusts everyone. this is how he is different from sara, and why he envies her: sara has managed to gain the trust of the entire group, despite being nothing but a high school girl, and is able to utilize this to her advantage (hence why he breaks down in the first main game; he has already separated himself from the group for his own survival, but panics upon seeing everyone choosing to believe sara instead of him). his separation from the rest of the group and the way he loathes sara for the trust she's gained is what's at the core of his character, not his lies. his lies only aid his lack of trust for everyone else.

also, another thing that separates sou from the other antags is something i outlined earlier: when they die, it is to serve a purpose greater than them. when sou dies, it is to save kanna. he's always been identifiable due to his desire to survive. this is why he becomes sou hiyori, this is why he is unable to trust anyone, this is why we view him as an "antagonist," because we as the player, usually, automatically want as many people as possible to make it out alive. but he forms such a bond with kanna, despite pushing aside everyone else, that he is willing to lose his life, which he's fought so hard to protect, in order to save her. this is also representative of how much more yttd focuses on its characters; nagito and kokichi refuse to die unless it ends the killing game because that is danganronpa's endgame and it's the only reliable point of dr's admittedly shoddy plot. yttd, however, focuses on how the characters grow as people and how relationships between individuals develop, which is why sou's character is so heavily dependent on kanna. he either dies for her or identifies himself as a true threat in order to avenge her, which makes him much more compelling.

sou may be a liar, but he's much more of a human than the danganronpa antags, he presents much less of a threat to the character, and he's able to actually develop bonds with kanna.

i also find it pretty interesting how both nagito and kokichi's relationships with the protag reflect the main themes of their respective games (hope vs despair, truth vs lies) whereas sou's relationship with sara revolves around trust as opposed to the game's overarching theme of logic vs emotion (which he also helps to embody, but through his actions, not his relationship with sara).

this was very long and probably didnt convey my thoughts as well as it could have but in essence sou and the dr antags are very very different from each other, in both character and their role in the game, and when people compare them it feels like they're looking at a sou that they want to see rather than the sou who actually exists.

as an afterthought i find it sort of ironic that most of the humanization and development of the danganronpa characters occurs in fan circles, whereas sou is already developed and humanized by yttd to the extent that fans instead have to boil him down to danganronpa stereotypes.

if you made it this far, tysm!! this was kinda rushed so if there are any flaws in what i said please lmk and i’d like to hear if anyone else has any other thoughts on this topic!!

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

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The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)

A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.

Word Count: 5000+

PLAYLIST

Masterlist

"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."

"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.

Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.

Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."

"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.

Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.

Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.

What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?

From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.

Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.

Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.

Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.

"Gordon?"

Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"

Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."

"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.

He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."

Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."

Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"

Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."

"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."

Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"

Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"

"You can kill him, and I'll help you."

A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.

"Hey Handsome."

Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"

Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."

That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.

"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."

"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"

"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."

Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"

A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."

Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"

Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."

Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."

Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.

It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"

Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.

"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"

Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."

Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.

"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."

Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"

Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"

Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.

There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.

There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.

Or, at least, until death do them part.

"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.

Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."

Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.

A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.

His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.

Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.

It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.

"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."

Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."

"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.

Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.

"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."

Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.

Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.

"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.

Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.

Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.

This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.

Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.

In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.

Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.

A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.

He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.

Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.

This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”

Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”

Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”

Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”

Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.

Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”

Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”

“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”

That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”

“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”

Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”

Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”

Male reader tag List: @sheepfather

#jerome valeska #gothem #male reader #cameron monaghan #jeremiah x bruce #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x imagine #gothem imagine #gothem x reader #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #joker imagine #joker x reader #the best things series

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raybidtickles · 4 years ago

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Trapped

I decided to start writing again and like how I’m redrawing the tickletober prompts, I’m gonna be writing out some of the prompts until I get back into the swing of writing more.

Summary: Collin gets into more trouble than he anticipates when he gets left behind by his friends, and meets new ones in the process!

Collin could not believe his friends ditched him.

Well, no. Collin could definitely believe his friends ditched him. Never on purpose, but they had the habit of getting out of hand and out of sight quickly. Galen and Jaritri were magnets for trouble. If trouble didn’t find them, then they went out looking for it. Collin, who was convinced he was the only voice of reason at this point, always struggled to keep up. Not that he necessarily wanted to help terrorize the local human population, but the satyr’s worry compelled him to follow anyways.

Now he was stuck in an unfamiliar part of the woods with no sense of direction where home was. There wasn’t any way this day could get worse-

Collin’s right leg was quickly ripped out from under him and he landed on the forest floor with solid thud. His right dangled high above his head from a rope.

"Oh, seriously?" An exasperated sigh escaped Collin as he tugged at the rope, only to secure the rope tighter around his ankle. Just his rotten luck. He needed to get out before whoever set the trap got back. The last thing Collim wanted was the attention of whoever set the trap. Collin stretched upward, the knot of the rope only inches from his finger tips. The satyr fell back onto the ground in a huff, regretting the decision to not carry around the knife Gelasia gave him. Collin backed himself up on the grassy ground and yanked. He pushed against the rope around his ankle with his free hoof. If he could just loosen the knot just enough.

"If we didn't get anything this time I'm gonna be pissed." Collin's ears twitched at the sound of voices approaching. The sound of snapping twigs followed and Collin's heart raced to his throat. He wanted to frantically tug and flail to get his leg out of the trap, but his entire body locked into place. His eyes the only part of him able to move, frantically darting across his field of vision.

"Ah, calm down. Don't blame nature because you suck at hu-" Three figures emerged from the brush directly in front of them. Two tall and identical looking fellows along with a shorter man with black, spiky hair. The left twin's voice died the moment the group's gaze turned to Collin.

"Well, you sure caught something." The right twin commented, a confused, but none the less amused smile etched across his features. The smallest of the group huffed in exasperation that reminded Collin far too much of Galen.

"Oh, well this is just perfect!" A heated blush rushed to his cheeks as he glanced between his hunting partners gesturing at Collin's predicament. "Yeah, yeah of course this is what happens. If it's not just a completely empty trap it's this." One of the twins quickly grabbed the back of his cloak's hood and pulled it over to eyes. The short loudmouth yeld and swat at his hands in a struggle to obscure his vision.

"Bix, buddy. I don't think our fair friend over here appreciates being referred to as this." The second twin shoved his head down further as he smiled down at Collin.

"Heeeeey, sorry bout all this uh…" The duo leaned on their smaller friend's head and shoulders, attempting to keep him quiet and down. "...we aren't normally like this we swear." The fear that gripped Collin's chest slowly dissipated. He knew humans could be eccentric, but didn't realize they'd also be giant nerds.

"It's uh...no trouble really?" Collin bit back a smile at the ongoing struggle. He gaze glanced up to his still trapped hoof and he tugged tentatively on more. "Do you think you could…?" Collin's question came out just above a whisper when he pointed up.

"Ah. Right. That." The twins let 'Bix' go, causing the man to nearly trip over himself in a struggle that suddenly stopped. One of the twins rummaged around their bag as they approached. He retrieved a small hunting knife from the bag and flashed Collin a confident smile and wink. "We'll get you out of there in a-"

"Hey, no! Caiden, dont you fucking dare!" Bix latched onto the arm Caiden held the knife with. Caiden immediately shook and yanked at his arm to throw him off. Collin had to give the angry little man props for the persistence.

"What?! What is your problem? We aren't keeping him that's messed up man!" An uncontrolled noise of offense escaped Bix's throat as he narrowed his eyes up at him.

"What-no! What's wrong with you? I can untie him, you don't have to cut the rope." Caiden raised a brow, his eyes lingering over his friend's scrunched up face to decipher if he was serious.

"It's just rope man. What's the big-"

"It's your last length of rope isn't it?" The other twin interrupted, fully enjoying the performance at that point. Bix's composure stiffened, his angry glare quickly turned down to the ground.

Yep. Bix definitely reminded Collin of Galen.

"...shut up shut up I didn't think it would be this bad today." Bix's face burnt bright red while the twins snickered.

"Alright, alright. You wanna try? I'll give ya a few minutes." Caiden finally shook Bix off and plopped the knife back into his satchel. "Aiden and I'll just wait until you admit you can't do it."

"Sorry, you're probably gonna be here for a while." Aiden chipped in, sticking his tongue out at Bix as he grumbled. Bix's glare reached down to Collin, a small shiver ran up his back. His glare softened a bit as he gripped around Collin's ankle.

"Don't listen to them. You'll be out of here in a second. Just stay still…" His thoughts seemed to trail off as his focused turned to the knot. Despite Bix's rough nature Collin could feel how nimble his fingers were. Each gentle brush against his ankle as Bix tried to loosen the knot sent a small ticklish jolt up his leg. Collin bit his lip and tried his best to keep his leg still. Each little twitch made Bix huff a bit out of his nose.

"Can you just sit for a second?" Bix grabbed Collin by the hoof, his thumb pressed slightly against the bottom. Collin couldn't help the startled yelp and twitches that followed.

"W-wahait! Don't press there please!" Collin yanked back, his free hoof digging into the ground to try and scoot away. The three hunters shared a quizitive look before Bix ran his thumb down the length of Collin's hoof. More giggles poured from the saytr, quiet objections went unheard.

"Awww, guys he's ticklish! That's so cute." Aiden cooed.

"On his hooves? How's that even possible?" Bix used both of his thumbs to rub into each toe of Collin's cloven foot.

"Ahahaha! Dohohohon't do that!" Collin's free leg flailed, just barely missing Bix's leg.

"Who cares?? It's adorable!" Collin was forced on his back when Aiden snatched up his other ankle. "Ohhhh I wanna see." Aiden tapped his finger nails across the edges of Collin's hoof. His laughter became punctuated by small shrieks as the constant drumming sent electric ticklish shocks up his leg.

"Plehehease ah-! Please stohop!" Collin set himself up on his elbows, one hand reached out in vain to stop the gentle yet relentless assault.

"How can you expect to stop? You're laugh is just adorable." Aiden teased further, a micheveous smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. He traced an index in circles around the soles of his hoof that made Collin shiver with goosebumps.

"Yeah, besides. Maybe this'll teach you to watch your step next time." Bix allowed himself to smile down at the saytr. Hr glanced down at his satchel, his smile turning to full grin as he reached inside. He pulled a small hand brush out, making a show of pulling it out slow.

"W-wait, what are you gonna-aH WAHAHAIT! NOHOHOH NOT THAHAHAT!" The most the brush connected with his hoof Collin's laugh raised several octaves. He flopped flat on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach as hysterical belly laughs were torn from him. Small tears pricked the edges of his eyes and a small, but distinct bleat cut between his laugh. Almost like a snort or hiccup. After a moment the tickling stopped and Collin was able to breath again. He twitched and shivered as the tingle could still be felt on his hooves. Collin wiped his eyes and glanced up at the hunters, both with faces three shades dark and hands covering their mouths.

"Ohhhh that was really cute." Aiden's voice was muffled by his hand, but Collin heard it plainly and felt heat raise to his own cheeks.

"Alright, that's enough you two." Cadien quickly brandished his knife and with a quick flick Collin's leg thumped to the ground. An annoyed outburst followed from Bix that went ignored. Caiden reached down and gently gripped Collin's upper arms and slowly pulled him upward. Collin's balance wavered slightly, but he managed to stand on his own.

"Sorry bout that. Still swear we aren't normally like this." Caiden chuckled and clapped Collin on the shoulder.

"O-oh, you're fine it was ah..." Collin glanced nervously around, his gaze landing to the grassy ground. "It was kinda fun actually."

"Oh reeeeeally?" Aiden slipped an arm around his brother's shoulder, a large grin plasterd on his face. "Maybe we should meet up again hm? I'm sure Bix would love to." Bix couldn't deny or agree simply for the fact he already slipped away into the underbrush. "...he'd love to I'm sure uhhh…"Aiden glanced him down expectantly."

"O-oh! Collin. If that's what you were asking." Collin crossed an arm over his chest and hesitantly held out his hand. Aiden slipped off Caiden and clapped his hand between both of his.

"Aiden! Though I'm sure you already heard that. You got an address Colli? Lemme send you a letter and maybe we can-ah!" Aiden was quickly tugged away by the back of the coller.

"Aid, I swear if you don't stop." He twirled his brother around and shoved him in the direction they came from. He glanced back at Collin with a small wave. "Sorry about...aaaaall of that. Do hope to see you again though cutie!" Caiden left Collin alone with butterflies floating around in his stomach.

...he needed to lost around here just a bit more often.

#tickling #tickle fiction #tickling fiction #tickle fic #collin #my ocs #my writing #bix #aiden #caiden

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monsterquest · 5 years ago

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A Secret Light, A Sacred Fire

I would like to present to you my not-at-all new Maul/Qi’ra fic that I am currently writing. Both as an introduction to a ship that I adore and my writing, which I hope to share more of in the future. Long story short, this is a fix-it AU which immediately follows the events of Solo: A Star Wars Story and my intention was to give both Maul and Qi’ra a chance to pick a different path and find the belonging they have longed for. I’m not here to subvert expectations.

Rating: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ~nsfw Current Length: 7/? Chapters (ca 37K words)

⸻

Chapter 1

Qi'ra paced nervously in her quarters, every once in a while glancing out of the viewport. She was no more sure of her fate now than she was when the gates of the checkpoint had slammed in her face on Corellia.

"Han..." she thought, her mind spelling out the name as her thoughts wandered back to him. She sincerely hoped he would be okay.

"As long as he's got Chewie with him, he will be," she found a way to quiet her concerns somewhat.

It was strange to have crossed paths with him again after all this time, especially given the way those three years inbetween had changed her. She had fallen back to the embrace of her past feelings for a moment or two, but had soon sensed a disconnection. What he resurfaced in her was no longer true to how she really felt. He was still the same, that sweet Han that she had fallen for. But she was no longer the same woman. And to him, whom she had become, that woman had gone unnoticed. There was nothing left to hold on to, for his reaction to her was to a memory.

There was no future in the cards for them, and wishful thinking wouldn't change that. Han was still much like the boy she'd known – daring, optimistic, exciting and pulsating with a sincere and magnetic warmth. Something far more precious than anything a smuggler should be. Despite his charm, he remained simultaneously impatient and in the long run fickle and unreliable.

Qi'ra had changed in the span of that time, having grown from a street-smart Corellian brat to a woman determined to survive the many moods and whims of the men who saw themselves in charge of her fate. It was easier to succeed in this when she was able to conceal her vulnerabilities, as one needen't look far for someone eager to exploit such attachment.

Under a restrained facade lay a heavy heart, aware of the hurt she had herself caused, a heart longing to feel the freedom to choose for herself and for the love of someone who saw beneath the many faces she had assumed for others.

Inside, she had never let her fate snuff out the light of hope, but it was a secret fire, a sacred fire, and she alone was its keeper.

Even after all that had been said and done, she regarded Han as a friend. Always. He may have been reckless, but that was a luxury she would not afford herself. Not knowing the fate awaiting her, she would not condemn him to it. At least one of them had to get out of this mess alive. Otherwise, what would the struggle and all those losses have amounted to if neither found true freedom?

She shut her eyes in an attempt to keep back the tears that were now welling up.

"Chewie, please keep him safe," she whispered to herself.

Looking out of the viewport again, Savareen was now but a bright orb in the distance, and First Light was getting ready to make the jump into hyperspace. It would be a long journey – Dathomir lay all the way across the Galaxy, on the other side of the Core Worlds in the Quelli sector, about a day's travel past Mandalore.

Nearly ten days had passed when the star yacht finally dropped out of hyperspace and started its agonizing descent on Dathomir. From above, the planet looked anything but inhabitable, its ominous red glow sending out a warning to anyone that might have strayed there, only emphasized now when the crimson light of its central star penetrated the atmosphere at an angle that made it appear ablaze in a wildfire.

In her mind, Qi'ra kept editing the version of the events she wanted to present to her true master. Her betrayal of Dryden would not remain secret for long and, for all she knew, the news would likely reach him long before she did.

Crimson Dawn's operations were spreading far and wide across the galaxy. She herself had worked diligently to ensure this and make herself hard to replace. Once she had earned her position as Dryden's second in command, the latter had found himself forced to include her in the secret meetings he had with Maul. That is how she'd first learned his identity, and simultaneously found out how Dryden had reached out to him from onboard the yacht.

Her role had remained entirely passive in his presence until a few standard weeks ago. Maul had contacted her directly while Dryden had conveniently been away. He had insisted that Qi'ra report directly to him on any and all peculiarities that stood out in Dryden's dealings. The direct request to spy on her superior had come as no small surprise, but she'd known better than to analyze its significance in too much depth, for she was aware how tempting it was to overestimate it and just how grave the consequences could be. Yet, something about it wouldn't let her feel at ease.

Vos might have only been a business front for the syndicate, but the image he had built mattered a great deal. It had been carefully crafted and curated. Even as a puppet only executing orders he had received from above, Dryden was not one to be easily replaced. However illicit and shady the dealings the business relationships relied not only on fear, but required trust. Regardless of its frailty, that trust had taken time and effort to build.

By killing Vos, she had not only betrayed her commander, but undermined Crimson Dawn at large. That remained true regardless of the motivations behind Maul's request. She had pried the ring from Dryden's lifeless finger, and by doing so she had also made a choice from which there was no turning back.

And now she had come here to answer for all of it.

Every minute seemed like an uncomfortable eternity as First Light glided towards its destination. What had appeared as a flaming red orb in the vast darkness of space now had distinct continents. It wasn't long before she could already make out the terrain – alternating between lush vegetation, swamplands chasing the horizon, mountain ranges that bulked up like jagged teeth, lined up on open jaws, awaiting its prey.

Soon the craft dropped altitude, moving over the sharp peaks like a knife cutting through air. It was barely an hour past high noon, but nothing broke the red twilight reigning here. Qi'ra spotted a series of overgrown ruins, and a heaviness set into her limbs as she took in the sight. This had nothing to do with her own fate, and everything to do with the fate of Dathomir. This world itself was in mourning, and no sign of life could be found in this half-light. Something about the destruction dealt here felt so final to her. She was vaguely aware of a massacre that took place here – courtesy of the separatists – but what she saw now was the destruction of a whole people, their world and a way of life.

Her eyes rose from the ruins to meet her destination in the distance. A peak rising from the surrounding forest, casting an ominous shadow against the red sky.

"This must be it," she thought and struggled to exhale steadily.

There was nothing resembling a landing pad in sight, but she took it she had arrived in the right place when she sighted another few ships at the foot of the mountain. As the yacht approached she noticed a few guards here and there, droids scuttling about, moving cargo.

The extravagantly decorated starcraft touched down with elegant ease, barely making a sound. The effortlessness of the landing was in no way reflected in how Qi'ra felt about her arrival, but there was no going back now. She knew that she had her own part in the forging of whatever fate she had come to greet here. Any hesitation would only give away her reason for concern. Gathering her courage and trying to steady her heart, she made it to the elevator.

She walked down the ramp in cautious steps and looked up, to take in the sight. Barely registering the rest of the surroundings she felt something pulling her straight towards the massive body of rock, as if it were the center of gravity.

A facade was carved into this side of the mountain. A row of massive pillars in the shapes of women, supporting the overhanging rock above, and between them a massive stone face, its gaping mouth forming an entrance.

Upon a quick glance, there didn't seem to be anyone with the intent of engaging her. That wasn't perhaps the welcome she had expected, but a far more promising start than any of the scenarios for which she had been prepared. She felt her experience caution her all the more because of it, and the blasters hanging from her hips felt more decorative than anything as she took her first steps into the darkness.

The coldness of the air hit her suddenly as she entered the tunnel. The instincts she had tried to quieten were heightened.

"Don't you dare lose your nerve now," she muttered as she braced herself.

The light was minimal, coming from a source she could not quite determine. Her steps cautious and light, she placed one foot in front of the other so many times that she stopped paying attention to her movements or whether anyone had heard her walking. She focused entirely on scaling the darkness, rushing towards her destination. She rounded one more bend, and of a sudden there it was.

Her blue eyes took in this world within a world, lit by a glow of the same hue. She was paralyzed by the sight, weighed down by the heaviness in her chest and tugged by the invisible force that had led her down there.

The enormity of the cave was hard to gauge, expanding beyond her sight into the unknown. The tunnel had opened up to a bridge connecting it with the first of what seemed to be massive columns, broader at the base with enough room on the slopes to be built on. And so, each of those pillars was circled by three or more levels of structures, carved from the same stone comprising houses, temples and galleries, stairs, bridges and balconies all lined with lanterns unlit. The only light remaining now was that of the iridescent water, moving slowly in the glowing pools, falling in narrow streams from the darkness above, evoking eternity.

And that's when she saw him. A dark shadow outlined against the light of the water, standing in complete stillness on a leveled mass of rock in the middle of the cave. Deep in thought, with his head down and hands joined behind his back, the figure remained seemingly undisturbed by her approach as she made her way towards him with quiet resolve.

Something in the Force kept prodding at Maul, telling him to come back to the present, but his eyes remained transfixed on the iridescent pool. Whether it was some lingering remnant of Nightsister magic or the oppressing weight of everything that he hadn't yet figured out, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the water. The persistent motion seemed to him like the last bit of life left here in the wake of the massacre.

His mind was clearer now than it had been for a very long time, but he couldn't completely fight the hypnotic effect that only grew more potent the longer his gaze held it. A moment grew into several, becoming a while, growing longer. The water was like a conduit of dark energies with a will of its own, locking his mind into a downward spiral.

Whether or not he could admit it, he was still hoping to find meaning, a place, a belonging, something that would be his own, and not handed to him by any master. The thought left a bitterness on his tongue. He had believed that coming to this place one more time would show him his path. Instead, what he found was a world sunk into ruin, much like he was, reminding him everything from which he had hoped to escape.

He felt a growing irritation erupting at the thought that there was something that both he and the water had in common, both giving the apparent sense of movement when remaining stagnant. The longer he looked at it, the emptier he felt. Perhaps he too was just a dead thing, his body moving with no life left inside.

Realizing he would not find any answers here, his mind began to clear just as he sensed something else intruding into his awareness. He had detected a signature of fear without having to make any effort to read the presence, and knew instinctively whom it was. He could feel it before she'd exited her ship, but it was mixed with something else. She had not come to apologize or to beg. The woman's presence in the Force was like an electric breeze vibrating through him now that she was so close. He snapped back into the moment. She was here.

Qi'ra was already crossing the last bridge when the shadowy form slowly turned around and moved forward to meet her. There was something reflexive rising to the surface in response to Maul approaching her. Despite being expected, despite external composure and a certain awareness of what to expect of him, she had to will her legs forward.

Once she had locked her eyes onto the advancing figure, she couldn't remove them, in the same breath realizing the source of the pull. The dark form grew more distinct with each step she advanced, until she could make out the solid frame of a warrior, draped in black.

She had seen him before in holographic form, but true sight of him still came as a surprise.

The bluish glow of the surrounding water outlined a crown of sharp horns above strong cheekbones and a defined jawline, all of his features emphasized by the symmetrical tattoos covering his face, and–

But most striking of all were his eyes, flaming in amber tones. Much like his home planet, they glowed as if lit from within.

Finally standing before him, she bowed cautiously, a gesture Maul returned to her surprise. The Zabrak's expression was impossible to read with certainty, but he was struggling to hide the ongoing conflict below the surface. It seemed as if he was himself unsure how this would unfold.

To her surprise, what she saw in the eyes of the man looking down at her was neither anger nor accusation. More than anything else, it was an all-encompassing tiredness, mixed with something else she couldn't quite fathom. He was looking at her as if trying to find an answer to a question far more complex than simply inquiring about her guilt.

Qi'ra found her eyes drawn away from his unexpected gaze, making their way down across all the places where red skin met black, until they came to a halt on his chest where the golden gleam of the familiar Crimson Dawn emblem hung. No further thought fully formed before the sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Qi'ra," she heard her name ring in a voice far too soft and mellow for someone this dangerous. This put her more on the defensive.

"Lord Maul–" she started, but found herself all out of ideas.

Suddenly she was unsure if she should remain as silent or seize the first opportunity to start justifying herself. Somehow neither felt like it would increase her chances of redeeming the fact that the public face of the syndicate was now orbiting Savareen among various other kinds of space trash.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said casually, putting an end to her inner monologue.

“Oh. I wasn’t there when it happened. So I wasn't really in harm's way,” Qi'ra prevaricated, regretting it instantly.

Maul gave her a look that let her know just how obvious the lie had been, equally irritated and amused, but there was something else in his expression too that she could not decipher.

“Save it for someone who doesn't have such easy access to your thoughts," he said in a dismissive tone.

"I trained him myself, in Teräs Käsi. You either surpass all expectations or were just lucky to beat him in combat."

The man's face resumed its unreadable expression.

"In any case, you are here now. That is... a relief.” His last words stretched out, as if to emphasize their generosity.

“A relief?! I–” she couldn’t hide her surprise.

Qi'ra was stunned by his overall lack of concern for Dryden's death, her role in it and her subsequent ill-advised attempt to lie about it. This was definitely not one of the scenarios that she had played through in her head.

“But... I don’t understand. You know I killed him, but you act as if I have done you a favor?”

"You did," Maul replied with resolve, furrowing his brow.

"There is a reason I contacted you directly, which I'm sure you've realized by now," Maul's tone sounding as if he was trying to distance himself somehow. He looked over her shoulder briefly, before setting his eyes back on her.

"Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you," he replied to the question he read on Qi'ra's face. His tone was growing impatient, while his eyes retained some inexplicable understanding.

"I'm–" she began, but stopped herself as she caught his look.

"You know exactly what he was like," he continued, while turning to the water again.

"He was clever, I'll give him that. But even that came second to his greed and thirst for power. The sycophancy, it was only feigned, allowing him to move closer to real power – or so he thought – in his hubris believing that his true motivations would go unnoticed as long as he played his role and remained agreeable with me."

The corners of his mouth curled into a snarl at the thought.

"He may have been the face of the operation, but he was a greedy fool, arrogantly believing that he would be so easily trusted, in return for ass-kissing."

The Zabrak's face contorted into a grimace that was split between a smirk and heartfelt disgust.

"In time he only grew bolder, but not a single one of his indiscretions remained a secret to me. I also have you to thank. You may have betrayed him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you have betrayed me."

Qi'ra was unable to look at him, but she could feel him fixed on her.

"I trust you will make better decisions in the future," he concluded.

Maul felt mighty foolish, registering just how out of the norm this was for him, a fact he took no comfort in. Not at the idea that he'd allow someone to prove their worth and loyalty, but that he hadn't even properly considered the risks such a chance would entail and whether it was really worth his gamble.

He was trying to remember what exactly had led him to believe that this was a good idea, giving her a chance to prove herself to be smarter than Vos. Would she not have learned from Dryden's obvious mistakes and perhaps succeed where her former boss had failed? The thought gnawed at him.

Why did he even want her to be loyal to him? Though she had been Dryden's lieutenant, and though she may have shown greater loyalty to him than to that greedy piece of filth, in the greater scheme of things she remained of no apparent importance.

He had somehow arrived at an answer that felt obvious, and yet, why exactly it was, he really couldn't say. Salvaging her from this ordeal, he thought, was something he would have once considered simply done out of laziness. What other purpose could she serve that would amount to more than it already had?

But she had come, after all. She had contacted him straight away. She was afraid, and he could tell just how much, but she had braved that fear and met him face-to-face. Something about that was tugging at him. He cringed ever so slightly when he realized what that feeling was.

At some point he had started pacing but was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice his movements. When he did, he turned around so suddenly that it made the titanium bearings in his cybernetic knees release a cutting sound that came unexpectedly to them both.

Maul caught her looking at his most recent pair of feet that peeked out from under his long cape. Despite her best efforts, she could not hide her reaction from him but, to his surprise, it was neither disgust nor pity that he saw reflected in her face. If anything, she looked saddened, something else he was not prepared for.

The man's eyes dropped to the ground between them and he stood there for a moment with a perplexed look on his face. He had just realized how he would test her loyalty.

"There's somewhere I have to go, and you will be coming with me. Pack what you need, we're leaving shortly and won't return for a while," he announced after a moment of silence.

⸻

If you have reached here, I sincerely hope you have enjoyed reading the story so far. In case you would like to keep reading:

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ...

#Maul #Darth Maul #Qi'ra #Maura #Maul x Qi'ra #fic #my writing #SLSF #i mean Maul's only half-human so technically this checks out...

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