#why am i tagging so much when i hope no one sees this atrocity... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldheartedsky · 4 years ago

Text

I told myself I wasn’t going to make a post like this—that I wasn’t going to stoop to the level of making call-out posts—but I really can’t stay silent after what has happened in the last day or so.

The TOG fandom has a serious issue with excusing antisemitism and allowing people who have painfully hurt marginalized groups to continue to ignore, dismiss, and refuse to acknowledge their limits of intersectionality in regards to social justice. I have seen it myself, been on the receiving end of it, and have talked to other Jews in this fandom about what’s been going on and it needs to start being addressed.

Now, I’m not going to name names or tag people (mainly because I have been blocked by almost all of them for this very issue) but if you message me I will gladly tell you the users involved in this. Also, if you have doubts of any of this’s validity and would like screenshots, feel free to reach out to me here or via Discord and I will share them.

A lot of this started when a member of the All&More server had brought up the scientific and medical “discoveries” during the torture and medical experimentation that took place during the Third Reich and how a lot of the origin of it isn’t taught. LR made a comment saying that “we are three-dimensional creatures who are stuck moving forward in time and can’t go back” and added that not using the research won’t make past horrors not happen. When the original user added that there has been a movement in medicine for removing Nazi scientists names off discoveries and that progress was slow moving, she deflected the conversation onto herself, saying “Not using research won’t make my family not harmed by the Japanese” and then immediately pivoted into admitting that, from what she understood, there weren’t any particularly valid scientific discoveries made by them. She then said, in regards to said Nazi atrocities, “Take it, learn about it, put it in context, and then own it and transform it.”

A Jewish member of A&M voiced their discomfort about possibly taking medicine that was a direct result of the murder of their grandparents and other relatives, to which LR said, “Still stuck in the 3rd dimension, still moving forward in time.” I brought up the fact that medicine was built on antisemitism and racism and that starting over would be better than a lot of the procedures we have now. There is a longstanding issue in medicine of disregarding black pain and so much of what we have now is created by eugenicists—including Nazi scientists. There is still a lot of Jewish trauma due to medical experimentation and that is oftentimes dismissed.

LR then made a flippant comment about “Does this count as Godwin’s Law?”—which is about how all internet discussions lead to someone being compared to Nazis/Hitler. When called out on the inappropriateness of the comment, she did not respond and was backed up by one of the mods of the server. There was no apology made nor an acknowledgment about the casual antisemitism of the comments she made and the dismissal of Jewish trauma/pain.

Now, fast forward a couple months when I was contacted by a third party who had not been in the server at the time but had joined and heard about what LR had said there. H said they were friends with LR and had concerns about antisemitism and would like my perspective. I explained what had happened and offered screenshots if they would like them, which they did. They thanked me and apologized that it got to a point that I felt unsafe in the server and had to leave, which I appreciated.

A couple weeks later they reached out to me again and offered to broker a conversation between LR and myself because the situation wasn’t sitting well with them. I was skeptical (because I had been blocked at that point) and didn’t have a lot of hope that this conversation would actually take place but I felt a responsibility to try and be the bigger person and deal with what had been said head on, so I agreed to sit down and have a discussion with her as long as there was a third party in the chat as well—given our history.

After a couple weeks of back and forth with H and hearing that LR had said that she would “think about it”, she finally agreed. I was asked for a time and date and I gave my availability and was told she would be asked for the same. A couple days later, I was suddenly told LR would only be comfortable with this conversation if H acted as a “literal go-between” with us copy-pasting our responses in their DMs so we can “sit with the message and everyone can get to them when they can” rather than it being a session with an actual back and forth and was asked if I was okay with that. I honestly said no, because this was supposed to be a situation where she and I sat down and discussed what she said in the server, not a back and forth message relay where the conversation got dragged out for days or weeks or however long it was going to take. I said if she was serious about meeting me halfway on this, she needed to be able to sit down and actually talk.

H copy-pasted my response to LR and came back that she had backed out of the conversation, which part of me had expected from the beginning—even though all I wanted from this sit down was for her to understand how hurtful the antisemitic comments were and an apology.

These comments that were made in the server are not a secret. It’s pretty well known what was said and again, these were all on record, not privately made in some DM. She has still not owned up to the comments she said, nor has she ever apologized for them. She has ignored message after message about them and blocked more people than I can count. Many of the people defending her when the discourse begins have also been messaged about the comments she’s said and also either block people or ignore the messages completely and refuse to acknowledge them.

Now, this being said, in the most recent conversation about fandom racism, someone brought up the post that was made reducing users on ao3 to faceless, nameless numbers without saying who they were, what they had done, and how they were specifically contributing to the problem of racism in this fandom. They made the comparison of other situations like HR looking at pay stats to see how to fire and included “Nazis, capitalists, and colonizers.”

This is not an invalid argument. There have been other Jews in the fandom who specifically voiced feeling uncomfortable for the exact same reason. However, another person, LT, decided to specifically make a post calling the OP out and drag them for having the audacity to liken it to the Shoah (which, mind you, this person is not Jewish nor did they decide to capitalize Shoah or the Holocaust as they should have). She received a reply saying, “you’re offended by antisemitism? Here’s LR’s (someone LT has agreed with multiple times over racism in fandom) track record of antisemitic comments” which outlined everything I delved into previously.

LT said that they were “unaware of this incident until a couple days ago” but agreed that it was an upsetting display of casual dismissal of Jewish pain and hoped that LR had apologized. She was then called out for being aware of it and still continuing to reblog LR’s posts even after knowing about the comments and was linked to my post clarifying that LR had not apologized and refused a discussion about it, to which LT said that she had gotten “quite a different version outlined in the post linked and corroborated by a third party” and “felt uncomfortable” making a value judgement, insinuating that I was not being truthful about my side of the story.

I messaged LT off-anon and said that I was not lying nor over-exaggerating about what had happened in the server or about the following discussion about trying to broker a conversation with LR, and was immediately blocked by her. I am also not the only Jew who has sent her messages about this topic, only to have their messages ignored.

Now, am I surprised that I was immediately blocked after voicing my issues with what LT had said in that post? No.

She has a history of making antisemitic comments, most of which happened during the brunt of the Israel/Palestine discussion happening, which included statements such as “You cannot be considered indigenous if you hold a position of power”, that, despite having been displaced for 2,000 years, the Jewish diaspora was “integrated” into their respective communities (a wholly untrue statement), as well as linked to and promoted a website with extremely antisemitic articles including one about “Spartan Jews” and how Israeli Jews are violent to “send messages to their deprived self-esteem” that they won’t be victims again. Half of the comments on the site’s front page included such hits as “Death to all Jews” and “Wow, I had no idea this was happening—I guess it is true that Jews control the world and the mass media.” This website was repeated in multiple posts as “unbiased” and “a good resource” for other people to truly know what was going on.

Jewish dissent on the content of some posts and that website went unacknowledged and dismissed.

Being that LT is a relatively big user in the TOG fandom, her posts got circulated frequently. Seeing things like that touted as unbiased was extremely triggering for me and multiple Jews in this fandom that I’ve spoken to.

Now, the reason I made this post in particular was because I have seen a lot of echoing of the sentiment: “no matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is...well aligning yourself with racists.”

This statement NEEDS to become intersectional. If we are criticizing the work of people because of who they hold company with, why does that end at racism? If we are going to have a discussion about racism in this fandom, why are we letting it come from people who have openly said antisemitic things, people who have stood by them and supported them in silence, and people who have silenced Jewish voices speaking up about this issue.

These are not separate issues. This is a really good post regarding the white washing of Jews in social justice discussion and it comes full circle into the medical experimentation discussion. Jews were not seen as white during the Holocaust. The Nazis were trying to cleanse the Aryan race because they did not view Jews as white. They experimented on them because they did not view them as white and, thus, disposable.

Every Jewish diasporic community is still vulnerable. Even though the US has half the world’s Jews, over 50% of the religiously based hate crimes are consistently anti-Jewish even though Jews make up 2% of the population. Chinese Jews are still holding their holiday celebrations in secret due to government crackdowns. The attempted genocide of Beta Israel was less than 50 years ago. Across the Middle East and North Africa, Jewish communities are barely hanging on after centuries of attempted destruction. These are not just Jewish issues but racial issues as well because when people make the sweeping generalization of “Jew” and they only mean white-passing Ashkenazi Jews, it erases so much of our community.

I absolutely agree that this fandom needs to have a discussion about race and portrayal in fic and what we can do better moving forward—and I want to see that done—but we also need to acknowledge what so many people starting this discussion have said and the marginalized groups they have hurt along the way. I see these posts come across my dashboard and know exactly who they're coming from and what they think of people like me. If we are going to say, “No matter how much you disagree with their sentiment, aligning yourself with racists is aligning yourself with racists,” then we NEED to be saying, “If you are aligning yourself with antisemites, you’re aligning yourself with antisemites.”

We all need to move forward. But that means moving forward together. Jews included.

#i just really needed to get this off my chest #I really don’t want to start shit but some of this has been bothering me for months and I can’t stay quiet anymore #I’m just so tired #intersectionality includes Jews pass it on

84 notes · View notes

antigonick · 4 years ago

Text

FIVE CHARACTER TROPES

RULES: List five tropes applicable to your character, then tag others to do the same. (Tropes Wiki), repost / do not reblog.

(okay apparently it’s a Una day today, let’s do this).

tagged by @forestcreatures and @impossible-rat-babies ♡ thank you, I’ve been losing my mind on TV tropes for a full hour. Tagging @ace-of-kings @mihqorio @heartbrreak and @ardellian if you want to!

Una.

FALLEN HERO / ANTI-HERO / FACE-HEEL TURN Not all villains are born. Some are made, and none are more tragic than the Fallen Hero. As the name implies, the Fallen Hero used to be a hero before doing a Face–Heel Turn. They may even have been an Ideal Hero or another equally optimistic archetype, up until the moment when they suffered something bad enough for them to lose all faith in good and idealism, be it the loss of a loved one, too many good deeds coming back to bite them hard, betrayal by someone they trusted the most, too much distrust from those who should have been allies, or some other faith-shattering event. It might even be a drawn out process of seduction to The Dark Side or fall from grace. Some Evil Old Folks happened to be this type in their younger days.

What they choose to do about it determines what they become:

If they retreat into themselves and fight evil mercilessly to dull the pain, they become an Anti-Hero, though if this fight is motivated by vengeance, they may run the risk of becoming like the very monsters they have sworn to destroy.

DETERMINATOR

A character — good or evil, male or female, young or old — who never gives up. Ever. No matter what.

There is no stopping the Determinator. They do not understand tact. They do not Know When to Fold 'Em, and it's a waste of time to tell them the odds. No one can reason with them. They'll do whatever they have to without question. No price is too great to pay for success, up to and including their own life. Do not expect them to realize they might be better off letting it go, even if they can barely stand. If you're ever kidnapped or lost with no hope of rescue, they'll be the one who will find you. Their adversaries will shout, in exasperated rage, "Why Won't You Die?!". For them, there is no line between "perseverance" and "insanity."

The nobility of their goal is not necessarily proportionate to their persistence. This is just as often an obsessive rival with a grudge as it is a hero on a chivalrous quest, and where their willpower ultimately leads them will depend both on their role and on where the work stands on the Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism.

TELL ME HOW YOU FIGHT

and I will tell you what you are. You can tell a lot about a person by the way he fights. This is when a character's fighting style reflects his personality or methodology. Similar to Weapon of Choice except here, it's not so much what you use as how you use it.

• Suicidal Tactics: Character launches forward, not caring about leaving himself wide open to attack. It is a style appropriate for Blood Knight, a Death Seeker, a Leeroy Jenkins or a Berserker. Could be an Action Bomb.

• Self-Imposed Challenge: Character eschews weapons when everyone else uses them, or otherwise limits his power (and it may not be by choice); appropriate for a Proud Warrior Race Guy or variety of Martial Pacifist or "smiling, wrinkly old man" types. May be used by Blood Knights or Worthy Opponentswho can't get a satisfying fight any other way, which shows deserved overconfidence. May be fond of saying I Am Not Left-Handed.

• Fights Like a Normal: If a superpowered character prefers good old martial arts, then either he is too arrogant (villain) or afraid (hero) to use his powers, or he might simply find "normal" skills more enjoyable (either hero or villain).

• Close-Range Combatant: The character in this case is strong, confident and/or reckless, shining on hand-to-hand combat and often overlapping with the suicidal tactics described above, but with an emphasis on this character's lack of reach being a potentially crippling weakness.

ENEMY WITHIN

A specific form of Split Personality. Maybe the Body Horror became a bit too fused with someone. Maybe the Unstoppable Rage is getting... too unstoppable. Perhaps The Atoner's past is taking on a life of its own. Either way, the enemy is behind the hero's eyes, and its time is coming when it can take over. Until then, it'll do all it can to control him and get him to give in to its Horror Hunger. The thing to stress most is that the Enemy Within is the hero. He or she cannot simply exorcise it out. Often the Enemy Within is the cause of the powers that the hero has that allows them to do what they do. With Great Power Comes Great Insanity, remember?Often, since Evil Is Cool and Evil Feels Good, other characters may realize the danger before the hero and need to convince him.

SHE WHO FIGHTS MONSTERS

Usually, not quite a villain, but they act antagonistically enough that they're little better. Something has happened to our Fallen Hero: his village was destroyed, his friends killed, his puppy roasted on an open spit, his bike stolen, whatever. All that matters is that It's Personal, and he feels that the law just isn't suitable enough (or has become too corrupt and ignorant) to be of any use to him in settling the matter. He may justify his actions by claiming that it's Justice he's after, not vengeance, but anyone with half a brain can easily see that he's out for Revenge... unfortunately, we can also see that the more he hunts the cause of his woes, the more he takes on the villain's personality and mannerisms—something that our "hero" is too blinded by his single-minded goal to realize.

Our avenger may have good intentions—the fiend may well be too dangerous to be kept alive—but ultimately, his obsession with dealing out due punishment (or worse) and his refusal to think about what he's doing twists him into a monster just as bad as, or even worse than, the one he's hunting. And even before he gets to that point, it's nigh-impossible to turn him away; calling him out on it will be ignored or retaliated against. The Power of Friendship and The Power of Love were lost to him the moment the atrocity that sent him on his wild goose chasehappened; he feels that Team Spirit is just a hindrance, and that Love Is a Weakness that he can't afford to have.

Also includes, but not limited to (can you tell I’m cheating yet?): What You Are In The Dark, Beneath The Mask / Becoming The Mask, Escaped From the Lab / Become a Real Boy, Unreliable Narrator, No-Holds-Barred Beatdown, Berserk Button, Blood Knight / Knight Templar / Death Seeker / in Harm’s Way, Don’t You Dare Pity Me!, Heroic Sacrifice, Cute Bruiser, Mugging The Monster, Jerk With a Heart of Gold, Sir Swears-A-Lot, Telepathy, Love is a Weakness, Mind Rape, Roaring Rampage of Revenge, Humans Are the Real Monsters, The Power of Hate, and, indulgently, Birds of a Feather, Interplay of Sex and Violence, In Love With Your Carnage, Undying Loyalty, The Only One Allowed to Defeat You, I Know Your True Name.

#DONE. GOD.#kendall mwah you make my brain sizzle #u #about fallen hero

23 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter Two

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Content Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Abductions Words: 4448

Lilya conducts her marriage interview with His Majesty. Please reblog and leave feedback!

There was a tense moment in which no one moved. The triplets and the king’s attendants watched apprehensively as Lilya stood there, taking in the sight she was seeing. Slowly, she took a step forward, and then another, and stopped right in front of the desk.

“Does that hurt?” Lilya asked softly.

The king actually took a small step backward, clearly not expecting this. For a moment, no one knew how to react to her question. After a minute of heavy silence, His Majesty picked up a pad of paper that lay on the desk in front of him and began to write.

~No, it doesn’t hurt.~

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Lilya said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’ve seen people lose their heads before; it always looked like it hurt terribly.”

The king began to write again. ~You were present during such barbaric acts?~

Lilya nodded shakily. “The royal family in Tritsia was captured during the war and were forced to witness many terrible things. Able-bodied countrymen were rounded up and executed en masse in a horrible show of power, even if they were just farmers or merchants. We were made to watch them all.”

All five attendants exchanged looks of horror.

~That must have been harrowing. How old were you when this happened?~

“It started when I was ten, after my father was killed, and carried on until Couliea claimed our land for themselves three years ago. I helped dig a fair number graves during that time.”

~How old are you now?~

“Nineteen, Your Majesty,” Lilya said.

Conversation died briefly, but after a moment, the king began to write again.

~Would you like to sit down?~

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Lilya said. Raba brought a chair for her and she took a seat. His Majesty waved his hand, and all five of the attendants bowed and left the room, closing the door behind them. Peridot winked at them as she exited.

~Are you not afraid of me?~ His Majesty asked.

“Not really, no,” Lilya replied. “After all that’s happened, I’m not afraid of very much anymore. Should I be scared?”

~This meeting marks three thousand, six hundred and sixty-two marriage interviews that I’ve conducted. You are the first and only woman who has seen me and not screamed, run, fainted, vomited, burst into hysterics, or begged me to let them go, fearful that I’d eat them or some other nonsense.~

“How awful. I couldn’t imagine someone treating you so cruelly. Why would they even come if they didn’t want to?”

~Pressure from their families. The political gain of a union with Banfarie would be a boon to any country on the continent. The appeal of that power and influence drives people to do things they don’t want to do. Either the women would cry hysterically and run away, or they would swallow their disgust and force themselves to conduct the interviews as if it were normal, all the while looking as if the idea of marrying me made them sick.~

“That was terribly rude of them,” Lilya replied, incensed.

His Majesty’s shoulders shook slightly, and Lilya thought he might be laughing.

~In all fairness to them, I am unusual and a little frightening.~

“That’s no excuse! So what if you’re a bit different? That’s no reason to make such a fuss. How would they like it if people acted that way around them? I know my feelings would be hurt. They should have been more considerate.”

His Majesty was completely still for a full minute. Lilya was beginning to wonder if he was alright, when he started to write again.

~You’re rather unusual, aren’t you?~

Lilya laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose so.” She looked at the paper and pen in his hand thoughtfully. “It must be difficult for you to communicate sometimes. I know most people of royal or noble birth are required to learn to read and write, but even in a prosperous nation like this one, many people are illiterate. Do you have trouble communicating with your staff?”

He moved his shoulders in such a way that it put Lilya in mind of someone shaking their head.

~No, since most of my staff are made up of fairies and spirits, my magic allows me to communicate telepathically with them. If needed, they can convey my thoughts to others.~

“Oh, I see! That’s how you spoke to Raba when the door was closed.”

~Yes.~

“Do you know any of the signing languages? Perhaps we could talk that way.”

His Majesty visibly perked up and began gesturing.

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I don’t know the signing languages, I just meant that I’d be willing to learn it so that we could communicate easier with each other.”

He stopped signing, but he didn’t seem disappointed. Rather the opposite, he seemed touched.

~You’d be willing to learn an entire language just to be able to talk to me?~

“Well, yes. After all, if you accept me, I’d also need to learn this country’s native language to talk to the citizens. Adding another language to my curriculum wouldn’t be so bad.” She leaned forward a little, and His Majesty leaned back, as if intimidated. “This may be an impertinent question and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but may I ask how you lost your head?”

~It’s alright. I removed it myself.~

Lilya looked both horrified and impressed. “Whatever for?”

He paused for a moment before writing again, and this time he wrote out an extended statement.

~I was the son of a concubine who died during my birth. Apparently, I resembled her very much and did not take after my father, the king, at all. The queen’s children, my half-siblings, bullied me relentlessly, often questioning the legitimacy of my birth and whether or not I was indeed my father’s son. They spread rumors about me and my mother, which eventually got back to my father. He also began to question my birthright and threatened to send me into exile. In anger, I somehow managed to pry off my own head and throw it into the Aurora. I think I’d meant to end my own life, but I survived somehow. When my father saw this display of my magical power, he reversed his position and put me first in line for the throne, even though he had four sons by the queen who were all older than me. I was crowned king the following year, and the year after, my father passed away.~

“How old where you when you became king?”

~Twenty-two.~

“How old are you now?”

~One hundred and sixty years old.~

Lilya’s eyes widened in shock.

~Does my age upset you?~

“No, not at all, it’s just…” She frowned in sympathy but fell silent. It must be lonely to have lived alone for so long, she thought to herself.

~I have not aged since I lost my head. I think the magic of the Aurora is what keeps me alive.~

“That’s incredible,” Lilya breathed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”

~My family has always been strange.~

Lilya chuckled a little. “How are you able to see and hear without a head?”

~Magic. It’s hard to explain to in simple terms, but I don’t see or hear in the same way as normal humans. It’s more of a perception of the wavelengths created by light, shadow, and sound by my whole body instead of my head. I can perceive those sensations similarly to true sight and hearing, but it’s not quite the same.~

“That’s fascinating,” She said, leaning closer. “May I ask you something else that might be a little personal?”

He seemed to laugh again. ~More so than you have already done? Please do.~

“You’ve only been conducting marriage interviews for the last sixty years, right? That means you had already been ruling for almost eighty years without a queen. Why did you suddenly start looking for a wife?”

~My attendants began to pressure me to marry and sire an heir.~

“Is that the only reason?”

~What other reason would there be?~

“Weren’t you lonely?”

His Majesty’s hands were motionless and he seemed to be thinking.

~Perhaps.~

Then he fell still again, as if he didn’t know what else to say.

Lilya smiled a little. “You don’t enjoy these interviews, do you, my Lord?”

He gave another shoulder-shake of laughter. ~No, not at all. I believe this may have been the longest conversation I’ve had with a human woman in my entire life.~

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said, holding a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I hope I haven’t bored you, my Lord.”

~Not in the slightest. This has been surprisingly pleasant.~

“Oh good,” She said, relieved.

~You’ve asked me a fair number of questions. May I ask you something in return?~

“Of course, My Lord.”

~What is one thing you wish for more than anything?~

Lilya looked out of the far window and thought about the question. She had never spent much time wishing for anything, knowing that wishes did little to affect reality. After all, she had wished for her father back numerous times, and for the terrible atrocities committed against her country to stop, and that had never happened. The only thing she really wished for was the safety of her people, but how could she achieve that?

“Walls,” She said suddenly.

~Walls?~

“The borders of my homeland have no defenses. People from outside the kingdom come in and steal food, destroy crops, take livestock, and even abduct people right out of the fields, and we have nothing to stop them. My land grows smaller every day because people just come in and take whatever they like, whenever they like. I wish we could do more to protect ourselves, but we have no military or security forces. Walls would be just as effective as guards, perhaps more so.”

You care very much about your home and people, at your own expense, it seems.

“Yes,” Lilya said, clutching the pendant on her neck. “I… I sold the tiara you sent to me so that I could feed the people affected by a famine on our southern border. It was a lovely gift and I was quite touched by it, Peridot even took this jewel off for me to keep,” She pulled it up to show him. “But… my people needed food more than I needed a crown. I hope you won’t be too disappointed in me, but… I didn’t want to lie or mislead you.”

~I see. He sat quietly, as if in thought. Very well. It will be done. I’ll have construction teams sent out to Tritsia right away.~

Lilya looked up in shock. “Wha… You’re Majesty! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”

~I know you didn’t. It is my gift to you for your understanding and patience. This has been one of the most enjoyable mornings I’ve had in many years. That alone is worth giving you some peace of mind.~

He stood up and made for the door. Overwhelmed by his generosity and on the verge of tears, Lilya jumped out of her chair as his Majesty passed her.

“I’ll marry you!”

His Majesty stopped dead in his tracks and turned. He hadn’t brought the paper with him so he couldn’t respond, but he was rooted to the spot as if frozen.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me or my people. How could I possibly refuse?”

This spurred him to action. He walked briskly back to the desk and wrote on the notepad.

~I didn’t do it to buy your cooperation,~ He protested. ~It’s only a gift, nothing more. I expected for us to continue the interview after I made the arrangements. You don’t have to accept because you feel obligated to repay me.~

“No, that’s not it at all!” Lilya protested. “I don’t know what all those women saw when they looked at you, but it can’t be the same thing I see.”

~What is it that you see?~

She took a deep breath and attempt to gather her thoughts into a coherent fashion. “Maybe when they saw you, you reminded them of a storm that covered the sky at night, full of destructive power, and it made them afraid. But… all I can see when I look at you is what’s behind the storm.”

~Which is?~

“You’re the stars, not the storm. Your Majesty, you’re the light that shines when the storm passes.” She shook her head and laid it in her hands, unable to keep her overwhelmed tears from spilling. “Oh, I don’t even know if I’m making sense. But, Your Majesty, please believe me when I tell you that I don’t just want to marry you because I feel as if I’m in your debt, even though I most certainly am in your debt. I want to marry you because… I… I just do! I don’t even know how to explain it properly. I just… I would be happy to be your wife and honored to be your queen. If that’s what you want.”

~Wouldn’t you be happier marrying a normal man?~

“My Lord, I had no thoughts of marrying at all before I received your summons. If I did marry, it would most likely have been someone my family chose for me. With you, I get a choice. And I’ve chosen you.”

Slowly, he wrote, ~Are you sure?~

“Yes, I’m certain.”

~Then why are you crying?~

“Because I’m happy,” She replied, her voice shuddering as she laughed.

He held out his hand to her. ~You truly mean this? You’re accepting the proposal?~

“Yes,” She replied, taking his hand. “I’ll marry you right now if you want.”

He seemed to chuckle. ~It is enough that you said yes freely and without reservation. I am pleased.~

He turned toward the door, and it flew open after a moment, and all five of the attendants stood there with their mouths hanging open, staring at the pair holding hands. He must have told them the good news telepathically.

“Sire, congratulations!” Larima said. “It’s about time one of these women saw sense!”

“Larima, hold you’re tongue!” Aquamarine said, boxing one of his ears.

“His Majesty says that the wedding will have to be soon,” Raba told Lilya. “He regrets to have to rush it, but there is a political upheaval brewing to the west that he must take care of. He honestly hadn’t expected you to accept, so he hadn’t canceled his plans to intervene.”

“That’s quite alright,” Lilya said, grinning a little giddily. I can’t believe it! I’m really getting married! “I understand his Majesty must be terribly busy. I don’t mind if the wedding is soon. Oh!” She turned back to the king. “Can my family attend the wedding? I promised that I’d keep in touch with them, and I’d like them to meet you. Would that be alright?”

“He says that would be fine, except he’s worried that your family will not like him, which doesn’t normally bother him, but that it may cause trouble for you,” Raba said.

“It’s fine, I’ll explain everything to them. Thank you, Your Majesty!”

Lilya threw her arms around His Majesty’s waist, hugging him. He went completely still and his body tensed under hers, as if he were at the mercy of a pack of rabid dogs. Lilya, sensing his discomfort, released him immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep! I was just so excited that I acted without thinking.”

If a headless person could gulp, His Majesty would have done so. He straightened his lace collar and waved his hand.

“He says it’s alright, he was just startled,” Peridot said. “He also says that as his chosen queen, your word is equal to his. You may give any order you wish and the staff with follow it without hesitation.”

“I understand, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

He bowed deeply in response, his arm across his chest as a show of respect.

Peridot clapped her hands eagerly. “Come now, princess! There’s much to do to get ready for the wedding and only a short amount of time to do it!”

The triplets led Lilya from the room, tittering happily. Once the door closed behind them, the king fell into a chair as if exhausted.

She’s like a whirlwind, He said to Raba and Larima. I am completely at her mercy.

“I’ve never seen you like this, My Lord,” Raba said. “She must have made one hell of a first impression.”

That is an understatement. Send a letter to her family inviting them to the wedding. It’ll make her happy to see them.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Larima said. “But… are you sure she’s the one? In all these years, after all those interviews, are you sure you’ve found your queen?”

It’s her; I knew it the moment I saw her, the second I heard her voice.

“The second she didn’t scream, you mean, sire?” Larima said. Raba flicked him in the forehead.

I’ve spent sixty years… no, much longer than that, looking for her. I’m not going to wait anymore. Begin preparations for the wedding immediately.

“Yes, My Lord.”

It took only a week for the preparations to be complete, seeing as the wedding would be a small affair. His Majesty said he would give Lilya any kind of wedding she wanted, no matter the expense, but she said all she wanted was for her family to be there and nothing else. All that was left now was to wait for Lilya’s family to arrive.

She hadn’t seen his Majesty since the interview, but she knew he had to have been incredibly busy. He was the monarch of a vast empire, after all, and he genuinely didn’t think he’d be getting married so soon.

A day before her family was due to arrive, a dress appeared in her quarters. It was gorgeous; a white, princess cut ball gown with a sheer layer of silk over the top painted with pink roses. The neckline was a low square-cut and it had half-sleeves with lace frills. On top of the mannequin holding it was a lace veil that trailed the ground and glittered as though it was woven from diamonds.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Lilya said. “Is this for me?”

“Yes, it’s your wedding gown,” Aquamarine said. “His Majesty had it sent down for a fitting.”

“It’s lovely,” She breathed, daring to reach out and touch the fabric, though it looked so delicate that it might disintegrate under her fingertips.

“Here, let us help you,” Garnet said, beginning to untie the laces.

Garnet, Aquarmarine, and Peridot assisted Lilya in putting the dress on. Though it fit like a glove around the waist, the skirt was just slightly too long. The sisters assured her it was a quick and easy fix.

That night, she was alone in her room looking at the dress, newly tailored and ready to be worn, and began to get anxious.

“What if I trip and tear it?” She fretted. “A dress like this couldn’t have been made in just a few days, no matter how many seamstresses worked on it; The lace on the train alone would have taken months to tat. It must be some kind of imperial heirloom. What would I do if I destroyed it? Would His Majesty be angry or cancel the wedding? What if he decides he doesn’t want a klutz for a wife?” Lilya scrubbed her face and sighed forcefully. “I need some air.”

She went to the long gable windows and unlatched one side, letting it swing open. The night air was cool and refreshing, and the aroma of the nearby gardens was soothing.

As she was about to close the window again, a wild gust of wind rushed in and caught up the veil, blowing it out of the window.

“No!” Lilya yelled, throwing her foot out of the window and jumping to the ground. It was a good thing her room was on the ground floor. She chased the veil across the lawn until it eventually got caught in the branches of a tree.

“Oh, come on!” She groused. The branched were too high for her to reach, so she was going to have to climb the tree in her nightgown to get it back. It didn’t help that there were no low branches for her to grab on, so she was basically going to have to shimmy up the trunk. How dignified.

“Okay,” She said, taking a breath before she started up. One foot, one hand, over and over. It seemed to take ages, and when she looked down, it was as if she hadn’t moved at all. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have stopped working in the stables. I have no core strength anymore.”

She was nearly at the lower-most branch when her foot slipped and she lost her grip, falling from the tree. She expected to hit the ground pretty hard, but she fell onto something soft. Looking around, she realized to her horror that His Majesty, was on his back underneath her, having broken her fall. He was dressed in a casual white buttoned-up shirt and simple black slacks, likely his sleepwear.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She said, scrambling to get off of him. “Are you alright?”

He pulled out a small pad of paper from the inside of his shirt and a fountain pen.

~I’m fine. Are you alright? Why were you climbing a tree at this hour?~

“My veil,” She replied, pointing at the branches. “It flew out of the window. I was trying to get it back down.”

~Why didn’t you call the sisters?~

She laughed a little self-consciously. “I panicked. I was scared that I’d tear it and you’d be upset with me.”

~I wouldn’t be upset over such a trivial thing. It’s just a piece of fabric.~

“How did you know I was out here?”

~I saw you from the window of my suite. I was worried you would hurt yourself or that you were running away.~

She was a little alarmed. “Were you chasing me down to bring me back?”

~No, I was going to watch over you until you got somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re free to change your mind at any time. I wouldn’t hold that against you.~

“Oh,” She said, surprised. “Your Majesty, I have no intention on going back on my decision. I meant it when I said I’m happy to be your bride. You feel the same, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and easily reached the branch with the veil. He was quite a bit taller than she was. Pulling it down carefully, he folded it and handed it back to her.

“Sorry to have caused you trouble,” She said, worried by his silence. “I’m afraid you’re bride-to-be is a little clumsy.”

~It’s nothing. Let’s go back.~ He held out his hand for her to stand up, and she took it, feeling sad.

He doesn’t want to marry me, She thought. He’s just doing it because I’m the only one who didn’t refuse him. I like him very much, but he doesn’t feel anything for me. That’s not fair to him.

The triplets met them back at the castle and escorted her back to her room. His Majesty left her in their care with a bow and went back to his quarters.

“Just call us next time, My Lady!” Garnet said. “His Majesty would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

“He might be inconvenienced, but I think devastated might be too strong a word,” She said. “He doesn’t even really want to marry me, he just thinks he has to.”

Peridot scoffed. “Why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m just the only person who accepted. I’ve only seen him once since the marriage interview, and that’s because he was rescuing me from a fall. He doesn’t really want to be with me.”

“My Lady, that’s absurd, of course he wants to marry you!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Look,” Aquamarine said as they reached her room. She opened the door and lay the veil back on the mannequin with the dress. “You see this? Where do you think it came from?”

“It’s an heirloom, right? Something that’s been in the royal family forever? It couldn’t have been made just for me, there wasn’t enough time for that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Garnet said. “His Majesty himself made this gown for you.”

“He did?” Lilya exclaimed, looking more carefully at the gown.

“Yes, with his magic. Do you know what he said to us when we were waiting outside of the office door after you agreed to marry him?”

“What?”

“’She said yes!’ he said. Every interview before always ended the same. He would tell us, ‘I don’t like her’ or ‘she’s lying’ or ‘she looks like she’s going to pass out, take her back to her room and let her go home’ or ‘why do they keep sending these women with dirty souls to me?’ He always sounded so dejected. But when you accepted, he was so excited. I’ve never heard him sound so happy.”

“Miss Lilya, you must understand,” Peridot said. “His Majesty’s mother died when he was born, and he was raised by nurses. In truth, he grew up never knowing the love of another person. Now as a man, he has no idea how to express affection for others. Until now, it’s never come up as a problem, but he sincerely wants you to be happy.” She pointed at the dress as an example, and then to the pad of paper on her desk. “You see those notebooks?”

“Yes?”

“Ordinarily, those would only be in one place: and His Majesty’s office, since that is the only place His Majesty meets with people who can’t hear him telepathically. But now, every single room in the castle has a notebook, just in case you’d like to talk to him. He’s doing everything he knows how to do to make it comfortable and easy for you, he’s just operating outside of his, admittedly, vast expertise. Give him some time. He’s very intelligent, if a little dense and insensitive. He’ll learn.”

Lilya smiled softly, touched. “I had no idea.” She pulled the sisters in for a hug. “You’re right, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. His Majesty and I don’t know each other well, for all that we’ll be married in a few days. I think when he gets back from the diplomatic trip, we should spend time rectifying that.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Aquamarine said.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

51 notes · View notes

asahipleaseloveme · 4 years ago

Text

I Could Have Dance All Night ~ Nishinoya

Nishinoya x reader

Warnings: None; let me know if I missed something, please.

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this! I really enjoyed writing it. Feedback is appreciated :)

Tagging: @goldenshoyo

Based on "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady

Bed! Bed! I couldn't go to bed My head's too light to try to set it down

I could have danced all night And still have begged for more I could have spread my wings And done a thousand things

You had sworn after the last time you went to a club with your friend that you would never go again. The last encounter you had was less than ideal. The man had no rhythm and no game, to be frank. He had gotten so sloshed that he spilled not one, but two drinks all over you and found it funny. He even had the audacity to ask for your number and when you two could meet again. “Hard pass,” you told him with ice in your voice. He shrugged and went to find another victim of his antics.

And yet, here you were again. Maybe hoping that this time would be different and praying you would not bump into that man again.

“C’mon ______, this time will be different. I promise! Just loosen up and keep an open mind. If you see that idiot, you can just avoid him, ya know?” Your friend was always able to keep a positive attitude and it’s the reason why you agreed to come with her to this place again, despite your worries.

Standing at the bar sipping on your favorite cocktail, you scoped the dance floor. There looked to be a few potential people out there. Until you saw him. He was like a firecracker. Chaotic, but so beautiful. He clearly knew what he was doing. You couldn’t help but to gawk at him.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered to yourself.

It was almost as if he heard you, because he looked you right in your eyes. Your eyes locked and you felt an immediate connection. When he didn’t break the contact, you could feel your face turn red. You were the first to break your eyes away. You had turned back to the bar to set your empty drink down. You were trying to wave the bartender down, when you felt a hand brush against your shoulder and a raspy voice call out.

“Hey, I saw you from the dance floor. What’re you doing over here by yourself? Come dance with me!”

You turned to see that it was the man you had been staring at. He was even more handsome up close. You both shared the same eye level. After last time, you said you would not do this again, but something about him seemed so genuine. He held his hand out, waiting for yours. Your hand seemed to move of it’s own free will and you found yourself being dragged out onto the dance floor.

Right as you were in the middle, one of the more popular songs came on and the dance floor seemed to be more crowded than it was just a few moments ago. People were bumping up against you and you were starting to get a little flustered.

“Hey, just keep your eyes on me,” the man said with a seriousness on his face. “I won’t let you get lost in the crowd.”

He pulled your body into his. He was smooth and kept with the tempo of the song perfectly. His swagger was starting to rub off onto you, because you began keeping time with the song. Your bodies were syncing up perfectly.

You were at this for hours. You and him were laughing and giving each other endearing glances.

It was the last song of the night and you two were sorry that you had to be parted. Your friend had managed to (finally) find you.

“_____, I’ve been looking for you!” She shouted as she grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the club.

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

Nishinoya was on cloud 9. He got back to his apartment and just had to tell his roommate all about this magical encounter.

He swung open the door of his roommate and flipped the light switch.

“Asahi! Wake up, man. I have to tell you about this girl I met at the club tonight!”

Asahi grumbled and turned to face his friend.

“Noya, can’t this wait until the morning, dude. What time is it?” He looked at the clock.

“It’s 3:45 am, dude, it’s technically the morning. But I promise you can go back to sleep after I tell you about her. She was so beautiful, man. I can’t describe it. We locked eyes and I could feel an immediate connection. She could dance, too! It’s like our bodies were meant to dance together.”

“That’s great. Now, please shut up and go to bed,” Asahi said in a low tone.

“Oh, but I can’t Asahi! I just wanted to keep dancing with her!” He was pacing back and forth as he spoke. “I don’t know, man. I’ve danced with other girls before, but this one was different. She had rhythm and we flowed so well together. I felt like I could do anything. I just-”

A pillow hit him square in the face before he could finish what he was about to say.

“If you really liked her so much, then just call her tomorrow, dude. I’m sure if you feel this way about her, she could feel the same way too. Just please, get some sleep and call her tomorrow,” the tired roommate pleaded.

Nishinoya clutched the pillow, a wave of sadness flooded over him.

“OH MY GOD. Asahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, I forgot to get her phone number!” Tears started to roll down his face. “I never even caught her name. And I never gave her mine! How could I be so stupid, oh my god!”

“Noya, please calm it down. Just go back to the club tomorrow or next week or something. I’m sure she’ll be there again. Now, please. Please. Go to bed,” Asahi said, placing his other pillow over his head in hopes to drown out the cries of his disheartened roommate.

“I can’t just go to bed and forget the atrocity that I’ve just commited, Asahi. I’ve just blown the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Agh!” He let out a frustrated sigh.

“Wait, I know. I’ll just go back to the club tomorrow! Maybe she’ll be there again!” Nishinoya shouted like he just came up with the best idea.

“Sounds great, Noya. Now is it time for you to get out?” Asahi was more than ready for his friend to get out and let him sleep.

“But what if she doesn’t go back tomorrow, what will I do? How am I supposed to find her? What can I do?”

Asahi sighed and finally got up to escort Noya to the living room. Nishinoya continued blabbering on about what he would do if he never saw you again.

“You said it yourself, man. Just go back to the club tomorrow night. I’m sure you two will dance the night away again,” Asahi tried to reassure his friend.

Nishinoya looked at his roommate with puppy dog eyes. “Do you really think so, Asahi?”

“Yes. You danced all night tonight. I’m sure you could dance all night, every night with this girl.”

A smile replaced the frown upon Noya’s face. Asahi always understood him.

“Just don’t forget to get her name and number next time, dummy.”

#nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya #haikyuu!#haikyuu! drabble #nishinoya drabble #Karasuno and Broadway #i had a lot of fun writing this one

22 notes · View notes

gingersnap-propaganda · 4 years ago

Text

Top 10 Moshlings That Deserve a License to Kill

#10: Peppy

It's no secret that this rad little dude loves doing sick stunts, and when stunts happen, sometimes accidents do too. I don't think Peppy would ever deliberately kill someone, but one of these days a stunt is going to go South, and when that happens, I don't want him to be charged with moshslaughter! Because I only think Peppy should have a license to kill for liability coverage rather than because I think he'd put the it to good use, he comes in at #10.

#9: White Fang

Listen, I'm not actually sure if White Fang would make good use of the license or not, but the little dude literally bit off a man's entire hand. Listen I know that apparently it was because "he thought it was some sausages", but are you sure that was the case? Are you really sure he didn't intentionally create Strangeglove's villian orgin story? Again listen, this is all just speculation, it might have been an accident! But what I'm saying is that if it wasn't, just imagine what future villians he could inspire if given permission to kill freely without legal repercussion. Because this is all purely speculation and White Fang could just be some normie who doesn't fantasize about causing murder and mayhem, he only earns a spot at #9.

#8: Boomer

Boomer is a sweet little boy and would NEVER do anything wrong, but if someone where to wrong him, and God damn those who would even dare think about committing such a heinous crime, Boomer should be allowed to kill them, without mercy. In fact he should be allowed to kill anyone. Because giving Boomer a license to kill is pretty obvious and wouldn't necessarily be all the interesting, Boomer ranks it at #8.

#7: I.G.G.Y.

We can't stop him. We've tried to stop him. So, so many innocent lives, lost trying to detain this man. At this point, more lives would be saved if we just let him do what he wants. Let's just hope he doesn't go after the orphans again..... God save us all...... Oh and yeah, this earns him #7 or whatever.

#6: Mr Snoodle

Have you ever seen this man doodle doodle doodle? Self explanatory, #6.

#5: Raffy

Let him kill. Let Him Kill. LET HIM KILL. L̶E̶T̴ ̶H̶I̸M̷ ̴K̸I̶L̸L̵.̴ L̶̝̗̤̘̺̄̈̏̃̚Ȩ̶̻̪͇̀͊̔͛͠T̴̛̪̣̒̕ ̴̳̺͇͇͚͌H̶̗̦̩̉I̸̪̹͐̊̈́M̸̰̱̂ ̴̿ͅK̴̬͙̱̬̂I̴̝̙͒̅̀L̵̹̼̈́̅̈́L̶̝̣̬̯̟̆͑̂.̴̮͌ L̶͈̠͍͙̲̈̒͑̀̉͆̓̄̊͛͊͘E̴̦̘̻͙̻̐́̎͆̑̓́̈́͌̇͛͊̚͘͜͜͝ͅT̸̨̢̢̢̻̟̙̤͖͔̱͍̔̋̇͗̐̓̇̂̔̀͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̡̛͔̤̝̟̙͓̤̼̠̊́̍̾̈̂̾̈́͑̔͘͝H̵̨̢͇̩͕̘̹̹̮̩̻͕͖̟̙̟̠͕̞̮͉̭̙̣͇̲̀̐̓́̊͆̔̈́̾̇̓̌̈́́͊̀́͑̎̇̏̾̕̕͜͝I̷̢̛̛̼͖̻̣̹̱̦̘̘͚͎̋̀̉̓͌͊̾̓̋͐̅͗̒͐̐̈́͌̌͑̌̃̓̃͘ͅM̷̱̗͉̭͙̩͍͕͂̋̒̍̑̃̆̋ͅ ̶̬̜̱̤̦̱͗͊̔́̓͒͊̅͘͠ͅK̷̢̨̰̥̲̮̱̽͌̀̓́͒̔̂̑̍̈́̈́͑̑̀̆̏̍͆̊̌͝͠I̴̾͒̽̈̒͋̑̀͝��̨̨̛͓̟̦͖͔̖̲͍̺͔͈͙̹̲̭̩̟̜͇̬͚̇͐̃́̔̐̿̊̊̎͗͛͘͠͝L̵̡̨͙͍̭͎͇̰̟̣̂̃̀̍̕L̵͔͙͓̈́̆͑̅̇̈̾̏͋͒̃͋̽̽̓͂͗̇̑̾̇́̐̀̚͝. Ļ̵̛̛̛̜̫͙͔̬̽̂̓̐̈́͗͂̀́͌̓̀̐͋̉͐̑̈͐̔͂͌̇̑̇̏̿̔̽̋͗̍̆̇͐̀̈́͋̌͗͋̎̕͝͝͝͝Ę̶̛̛͍̪͙͉̠͓̻̆̂͆̿̌̅̀̑̓̌͐͌̀̎̑̊̍͒̈́̾͆̀̈́͋͐̔̃̔̅̽͋͐̐̐̽̓͂̃́͗͆͑͆́͛͘̚͠͝ͅŤ̶̛͓͈̻̥͈̣̮͚̇̒̒̍̍̈̇̈́͒̂̿̈́̌̒̊̑̒͒̽͂̆̽͌̄̅̑̐̀͘͠͝͝ ̶̛̛̛͋͂͑̇̽̾͛̾̂̎̈́́̓̎͌͗̅̓͂̆̆̋̇̾́͆̂̆̉̓́̔̏͂̇̍͆̈́͊̅̏̏̕͘̕͘͘͠͝͝͝��̨̡̡̡̛̘̺̤̯̹̞͙̗̘̳̬̲̠̘̠̩͉̬̺͍̦͔̗̘̣͇͎̗͙͖̹̼̭̹͇̙͗̀͂̾̀̍̽͂̐̂̈́̾͗̆͌̊̽̚͜͜ͅH̵̡̨̨̨̧̛̛͈̥̞͍̬̥͚̭̙̰̙̬̟̙͉̰̼̱̹͎̞̘͕͉͙̖̙̮̖̤̲͚͕̜̯̻̹̬̟̮͕̻͙̲̩̖͔̦̠̳͈̱̠̺̙̜͚̦͚̱̣͚͉͐͒̐̾̓̇͛̒͋͊͐̓̀͐̑̈́̊́̔̓̎̾́̊̓̀͊̔̀̈́͒̾̈́̎̆̋͂͊͗̏̋̊̾̋̐̂̊̓̈̎̂͌̾̃̀̈́̔̕̚̚̕̕͜͠͝Į̴̢̧̧̧̛̛̛̣͉̟̫̟͖̟̪̫͎̦̻͈̭͖͓̗̥͈͕̤͇̘̖̙̲̼̩̱͕͙̫̬͎̩̝̭̠͇͚͇̘̯̪̮̗͎̺̘̜̙͍̯̱̼̣͚͍̫̼̪̦̥̹̘͖͍͍̦͌͊̑͐̌̾͐̇̆̿́̊̃̄̐͛̓͋̌̐̀̄̂̍̊́̈́̔̓̒̓̓̉̾͌́͊̀̈́̉̃͑͐͊̔̎̐̀̈́̓̓́̆̀̔̉͗̾̎͂́͐̍̊̽́̓́͊̒͘͘͘͘͜͜͝͝͠ͅͅM̴̧̧̡̨̨̡̢̛͇͕͔͓̙̘͍͖̥̺̮̰͓̥̲͍̲̮͈͓̗̟̖̠̳͉̠͕̩̤̰̦̖͍̗̻̰̖̮͈̼̥̯͔̳̰͚̮͉̝͈̟̙̥̣͖̩̤͉͈̙̱̪͉͚̤̤̅̿͂́̌̅̐͐̓̒̄̒̎̊͐̌̉̈̅̒̎̎͗̒͗͛̒͌̿͆̋̓̕͝͠ͅͅ ̷̡̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̺͚̠͖̠̝̦̭͈͈̝͉̦̺̗̩̯͍͈̦̥͚̙̣̳͍͓̪̯̯̳͇̱̯̬͍̘̟̩͇͓͉͈̰̲̖̞͉̬̱̫̤̳̦̝̰͂͑̂̒̑̈́̓͑́̔́́̾̿̓̋̀̂̈́̇̒̇̉̃͆͂͆̄̾͑̈́̔͛̾̊̽̈̅͒̀̉̉̀̍̃͋̂̽̓͐̕̕͘̚͜͝͝͠͝͠͠Ķ̵̢̧̡̡̨͚͍̪̜̱̰̲̟̻̱͇͙̜͕͈̙̱̲͓̪̝̖̞͇̤͎̻̼̰͖̪̬̫̻̰̞̱̤͚̥̘̙̥̭͖̬̤̹͚̼̩̭̖̯̲͚̲̮̼̟̭̪̝̜̗̄̓̒̂́̔̿̊̈̐͗͋̌͋̀̽̋͗͆͑̍͛́̍̈͛̎̚͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅĮ̷̹̬͎̗̖̞̒̓̆̅̀̿́̃̾͋̎̅̔̔͂̒̐̀͒̽́̕̚͠L̵̢̡̧̨̧̨̡̨̡̛̛̻͓̟͉̮̼̻͕̹̺̪͙̳̹͖͕͉̥͔̙͇̗̩̪͖̩͓̥͓̳̘͙̻̹̟͎͉̞̦͎̮̳̙̦̣̹͓̫̰͙̙̳̦̫̥̙̻̰͈͍͙̀̇̂̄͋́͒̆̍͒́̆̽͛̈̎̀͆͌̀͗̀̽̐̓͒̅̈́͗̓̓͗̎͊̈̇̋͌͒̇͛͆͂̆̐̆͊̃̓̄̌̒̌̋̕͘͜͜͠͝ͅͅͅͅL̷̡̡̧̧̢̡̛̙͙͍͈͉͚̣̘̯̪͙̯̤͙̩̞̞͓̜͚̭̬̞̫̠̮̣̘̣̠̠͖̼͙͍̖̯̻̣͙̝̳͂̐̀̊̓̌̉̄̔̎̍̊̆̀̌̄̇̌̐̋̿͒̓̍̐͗͛̇͆̆͗͛̾̀̇̑̄̎̈́̀͋̕͘͜ͅͅ.̶̠̠̠̯̰̩̳͉͔̗̬̰͍͓̗̼͉̯̼͇͇͚̮̫͙̣͖̺̩͍̻͎̗̻̘͔͉͎̬̩̘͎̫̮̭̞͈̼̫̯͗̎̉̇͗̉̀͐̋͊̈́̎̈́͊͋̈̑̾̋̈́͋͛̊̀̀̏̀̅̓͌̎͂͑̃̇̈́̉͋̐̋͋̚̚͘̚̕͘̕͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ

#4: Gingersnap

Wait, #4? What happened to #5?? Umm, hold up guys, let me check my notes here.. #10, #9, #8, #7, #6... where's #5? Well, sorry about that guys, but it looks like I've misplaced my notes here for #5, guess it's going to really be a "Top 9" list. Aw beans, sorry to disappoint....

Well moving on, you know I had to put my darling boy on this list!!! As you all know, Gingersnap is a man of the people and an enemy of the bourgeoisie, so you know that'd he'd use his license to dispose of billionaires like Jeff Begross and Elon Mush. I will admit that I am a bit biased towards Gingersnap's entry on this list, which is why I put him in a #4 to assure that I'm trying to remain somewhat objective.

#3: Jen

(yes this is the best image I could find of him, I'm sorry)

Okay, so a judge's job is to decide who is innocent or guilty, right? Who better to decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die? Actually now that I think about it, wouldn't all law enforcement be more effective if we let judges take over the police's job? Think about it, rather than having to go through the process of arresting someone only to have to take them to court afterwards, the judge can decide right then and there if the person should be arrested or not, and carry out the conviction immediately. It would save so much time! Anyways, I think that although Jen would be logically the best moshling to receive a license to kill, however responsible murder is not particularly interesting, thus placing him in at #3.

#2: Dustbin Beaver

Dustbin Beaver should have a license to kill for one reason only: so he can throttle Zack Binspin to death with his bare hands. Zack Binspin has taken Everything away from Dustbin, from his music career, to title of Moptop Tweenybop. He even profited off of it by making it a song! The Audacity. Dustbin👏deserves👏vengeance👏. Dustbin Beaver would definitely make effective use of the license, even if it'd be only for one purpose, which earns him a spot at #2.

#1: Weegul

Look deeply into Weegul's eyes and tell me what you see. Ah, do you see it? The intense desire for extreme violence. Weegul is a good law-abiding citizen, and would never break a law, but if the law no longer applied to them, they would commit horrific atrocities beyond human imagination. Imagine the incident with I.G.G.Y. at the orphanage and multiply that by 10⁹⁹⁹⁹. Yeah. "But wait!" you might be saying, "why would you want this? What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?" and to that I say, you're not my therapist lmao. I want my reality to, for once, become more horrifying than my own imagination, and this might be the only way of accomplishing that, which is why I placed Weegul at #1.

I hope you enjoyed this top 10 list! Feel free to tell me which moshlings you think deserve a license to kill, either in the tags, replies, my inbox or whatever! As usual, like, reblog and follow for more top 10 lists in the future, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know!

43 notes · View notes

superhusbands4ever · 3 years ago

Text

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.

#cady writes #the chain #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #captain rex #my fic

9 notes · View notes

scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 15

After shooting Mulder to prevent him from implicating himself in his father's murder, Scully takes Mulder & Melissa on a road trip to Albert Hosteen's Navajo reservation in New Mexico.

TW for mentions of guns/shooting, death, funerals

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

His eyes flutter open to some place like Heaven, which pisses him off cause that’s not supposed to exist, and if it does, then how in the hell did he make it here? A fiery-haired angel lays a gilded hand upon his chest, her touch made out of air. Tendrils of hair fall against her face, and Mulder wonders where one gets haircuts in Heaven.

He must be floating on a cloud, so close to the sun that it is stained an earthly golden-yellow. His sky accommodation is not as comfortable as all those Renaissance painters made it look, and for that he feels deceived. Is the soul so solid that it is weighed down, even in Heaven? And if it is, well, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a soul?

He is fatigued, and it’s bullshit, in his opinion, that he could be dead and still feel anything but blissful numbness. He’s about to voice this particular grievance when he realizes where he is, and sure English is turning into a lingua franca of sorts, but something tells him that God isn’t spending his spare time teaching the angels the difference between too and to. So he keeps his mouth shut, unnerved by not knowing whether he’ll ever be able to speak his mind again.

“Hey,” a soft voice breathes, and he’s surprised to understand it, but not altogether upset. He tries to respond, but his tongue has tethered itself to the base of his mouth.

“Mulder…” the voice says, and it registers in his mind that it’s not an angel--not technically--but Dana Katherine Scully, and my god, what atrocity has dared to send her to Heaven so damn soon?

He coughs, then grumbles from deep in his throat. He’s got to be the most undignified person in this joint, and he can only hope his welcome dinner with God isn’t anytime soon. The angel’s hand that is actually his partner’s drifts over his forelock, her fingers guiding his hair back into its part.

“Mulder, can you hear me?”

He nods, hungry for some sense of things.

“You were shot, Mulder. By me. Because you were acting very stupid.”

She killed him?!? Maybe he shouldn’t be so shocked by this, but he can’t help himself. And she’s here too, so how did that happen? Murder-suicide?

Her hand sweeps his shoulder, and he looks down to see the space where her bullet must have pierced him. Patched up right above his heart. He didn’t expect to carry wounds into the afterlife.

Her eyes meet his, blue as ever. “I’ve been taking care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”

His lips form an O, but no sound follows.

“Let me get you some water.” Scully disappears from his line of sight, and he realizes that his cloud has a roof and an open door. You can’t see those from the ground.

Scully returns with a plastic water bottle. Deer Park, to be exact--another thing he didn’t expect to find in Heaven. She holds it to his lips, tilting the liquid gently into his mouth. He revels in it, vitality slowly being returned to him.

At last, his tongue functions as it should. “Where are we, Scully?” he asks, his voice creaky. He’s beginning to think it’s not Heaven after all, but the back of his partner’s Chevy. Which feels about as equally likely, if he’s honest.

“At a gas station In Texas, about two miles off I-40,” she answers, twisting the cap back on the bottle. “We’re headed to a Navajo reservation in New Mexico.”

Met with the realization that his life is not, in fact, over, Mulder tries to piece together the last moments he can remember. He squints, the sun outside the vehicle colliding with the darkness in his brain. He remembers a fever and a bed that was not his.

“Did I sleep in your bed?” he asks, fairly confident that more important things before and after have slipped his mind.

“You did indeed,” Scully replies. And before he can get to it--”Melissa and I shared.”

“Ah.” He pushes himself up, every muscle in his arms rebelling.

Scully pats his shoulder. “You should stay reclined.”

“I’m like a whale in a fish bowl back here,” he protests. And he’s not wrong, Scully knows this. To fit him in, she leaned his head against the driver’s side windowsill and let his bare feet push against the passenger side door, then said a silent prayer that there would be no potholes.

“Why can’t I come up front?” he whines. “I’ll lean the seat back.”

“Because Missy’s sitting there.”

Mulder glances into the front, his expectations of privacy shattered. Still, an empty passenger’s seat meets his gaze. “Well, where is she then?” he pesters, more pointed than intended.

Scully chuckles. You can put a hole in the man’s chest, but you can’t take the restlessness out of him. “She’s inside getting snacks.” Scully smiles at her partner, fondness flowing out in a way she rarely lets it. He’s been out for a couple days now--and while she was closely monitoring him and knew he was okay--she’s so glad that he has come back to her. “Do you want sunflower seeds?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

He nods. “Sp--”

“Spitz.” The moments that have gotten them there, that have indebted her with that knowledge, flash through her mind. “I know.”

And it feels almost prophetic, to Mulder, that she does.

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

The plains of North Texas roll past them, headlights and moonlight meeting in a demure embrace. The two-lane road bears a great resemblance to many they’ve gone down in days past. There’s no one else in sight.

Mulder has been relieved of his back seat duties, taking Melissa’s place at the passenger side so she could get some sleep. He’s slipped on the shirt Scully swiped from his apartment, a Knicks 1990 tee that she must have found in the corner of the living room where he throws his dirty clothes. He wonders if she even packed anything for herself before she hightailed it out of the city.

He couldn’t have imagined that punching Skinner would lead to his father dead, him shot by his partner, and them on the run across the country. And yet, there’s no place he’d rather be. The desert gifting them with a stunningly clear night, he’s opened the car’s sunroof and kicked back to stare up at the stars. The radio having long turned to static, quiet permeates the car.

“I’d gladly live in the middle of nowhere if I got this view every night,” Mulder remarks, drinking in the night sky.

Scully glances at him. There’s a rogue part of her brain that hoped he’d be looking back at her. Alas, the sky is his mistress.

They continue barreling down the highway, about seven hours out from their destination. The speedometer reads 87 mph...Scully is prone to speeding when she can get away with it.

“Keep it up and we’ll beat the sunrise,” Mulder jests.

“That’s the plan.”

Mulder pulls his seat back into place, popping suddenly into Scully’s peripheral vision. “Hey Scully, can I ask you a question?”

“If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Negative.”

“Go on, then.”

“Setting aside the why--though I’d be interested in that, too--how exactly did you decide that shooting me near the heart would be the safest bet?...Unless you wanted to kill me.”

“Well, I was pretty certain I’d be able to remove the bullet with what you had in your apartment, since the wound isn’t near a bone. That also makes it easier to prevent infection.”

“So you either have an insane amount of confidence in your shot, or you don’t value me very much,” he quips.

Scully smirks. “Lucky for you, I consider target practice a great stress reliever.”

“Does the Bureau psychologist know that?”

She bats his arm playfully, the car swerving as she does.

“Hey, that’s no way to treat a patient. Now I know why you’re not practicing.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention…? I’ve decided that I prefer Dr. Scully to Special Agent Scully, so this is the last you’ll be hearing from me.”

Mulder chuckles, though the very idea that there could be any truth to that gives him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There are millions of doctors out there,” he says, “and some of them aren’t even the cool type. Special Agent? That’s way sexier.”

“Oh, is that the metric we’re measuring at now?”

“That’s the metric I’m always measuring at,” he deadpans.

“Mmm.” Scully looks at the rearview mirror, her sister’s steady-breathed sleep reflecting back at her. Good. She’d never hear the end of it if Missy overheard this conversation.

Mulder rubs his eyes, the events prior to his blackout having flowed back to him through the waking hours. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this,” he begins, “but am I a fugitive?”

Scully glances out the driver’s window, as if she were going to change lanes though there is nowhere to go and no one else around. “I took your weapon to ballistics and proved it wasn’t the one used in the murder.” She says it so casually, Mulder notices, distancing them from the fact that the victim was his father. “But you’re still the only one placed at the scene, and it doesn’t look good that you called the police then ran. Still, the evidence implies that it wasn’t you. Of course, there’ll be suspicion…”

“Especially since we’ve both disappeared…”

“Hey, we’re on FBI business,” Scully declares. “We didn’t go through the official channels, but this is related to the X-Files.”

“Maybe Skinner will believe that if he hears it from you.”

“That’s what I’m banking on.”

Mulder smiles. She’s using her reputation to pull off a ruse. And damn, does that turn him on.

He breathes in the scents of the car--the McDonalds fries they bought with Melissa’s credit card (just to be safe), his own eau de cologne from three days without a shower, but, above all, Scully’s sweetness. Her, just...her. A hint of strawberry, a swipe of gardenia perfume, and her honey-suckle skin. Smoke was never a fitting scent for her, and he is glad she has given it up.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you never caught up to Krycek,” Mulder mutters, balling up the fast-food straw paper and tossing it in the air. “Unless you’ve got him in the trunk.”

Scully shakes her head. “No stowaways besides you. He ran off after I shot and catching him wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

“So you do value my life…”

Scully flashes a brilliant but bashful smile. “You caught me.”

What a relationship they have. They are each other’s slayer and savior; a cut of the knife stitched by a meticulous hand. Hurt then healed on the other’s command.

“Fox…”

Mulder glances at the backseat. He finds Melissa sound asleep, snoring softly, and his gaze snaps back to the other Scully in the car. What glitch in the universe has led her to address him by his dreaded name?

He has never been so sure as in this moment---his partner is an otherworldly being, something supernatural. Not an alien, nothing so sinister...but perhaps the angel he imagined, or a fairy who has guided mankind for millennia, or a genie granting his wishes in freeze-frames. She looks through him...not in a way which makes him invisible, but one that takes the physical aspect out of it entirely. She sees his soul. He knows this.

“Fox,” she continues, layering on the vulnerability, “I’m sorry about your father. I know you loved him, above it all.”

Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Something like that...I don’t know, honestly, that he ever loved me.” He looks at his lap. “He spent his last breath asking for forgiveness. You have to wonder what he’s done with his life to end up there.”

“It all becomes clear at the end,” Scully responds, not so much a hypothesis as a statement of fact, drawn from experience. “His regrets caught up to him, and he loathed some things he did while cursing himself for the things he left undone...And in that moment, an apology was all he could do to right some wrongs.”

Mulder looks at her through the corner of his eye, somewhat disturbed by the oracle she has become. “He asked me to forgive him,” Mulder replies. “That’s not the same as an apology.”

“Isn’t it, though?’

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest, the lumpy gauze of his wound rubbing him through his shirt. “Well, first of all, he didn’t even specify what I was supposed to forgive him for, so I don’t see how that can yield any sort of apology. And the very fact that was saying it at the end of his life means that it wasn’t actually about soothing my feelings, but lessening his guilt. Really, it didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.”

“So you’re saying it was a selfish apology, and that doesn’t count.”

“Exactly.”

“So do apologies only work if the recipient accepts them?” Scully interjects. “Is there no value in the attempt?”

Mulder bites his lip.

“I’m not trying to play devil’s advocate,” she clarifies. “I’m genuinely curious about what you think.”

He sighs. “I think...what matters is not necessarily if the apology is accepted, but the intent of it. Like in this case, it was ill-timed, and so I don’t accept it. Maybe if he had said it to me ten years ago, it would have mattered, even if I were too stubborn to accept it at the time.”

“So if your father had apologized to you ten years ago, you would accept it now that he’s dead…?”

Mulder shrugs. “I think I’d realize that he actually meant it, and so I should cut him some slack.”

“Interesting.” Scully says nothing else, keeping her attention straight ahead.

Mulder smirks. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”

She pulls her lips into a tightly-knitted line. “No, no, that makes sense. I just think there are instances when a poorly-timed apology is accepted, and what then? Is the inevitable misunderstanding that will result the recipient’s fault for being so naive? Or do they get to place all the blame on the dishonest person?”

“How about a little bit of both, ey? Spread the blame out nice and evenly. A sprinkle there, a pinch here...”

Scully cracks a smile. Of course he’d make this conversation dirty. “You know, you scare me sometimes, Mulder.”

And just like that, they’re back to his preferred name. He lets out a sideways smile. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because I think that maybe you’re truly crazy, you’re not just faking it.”

He laughs, deep and sudden. Pulled from the trenches of his being. “Glad to hear it,” he snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

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

As the motorcycle rumbles over the desert dust, Scully wonders how she could be so stupid. Barely out of psychosis and she sends Mulder to a burial ground. She didn’t intend for it to be his final resting place.

Eric had tried to warn him before the helicopter men, as he called them when describing the scene to Scully and Melissa, burned the place. But Mulder couldn’t hear him over the whirl of the blades--that’s what Eric suspected. As he recounted to the girls, the smoking man had threatened him, had laid a grotesque hand on him and forced him to show the way back to his house. They interrogated his father Albert and bruised and bloodied him. The conclusion, all around, was that nobody knew where Mulder was. Regardless of whether he had burned in that boxcar or somehow disappeared into the desert beforehand, he was gone.

Scully has a pretty clear idea of who’s responsible, and she wishes she had a helicopter she could ram into their dumb black helicopter to wipe them off the face of the Earth... and prevent them from wiping anyone else off the face of the Earth. Thwarting their ambitions will have to be enough.

But how? Desert heat mixes with smoldering ash as she stands over what’s left of the boxcar, making the moment unbearable. It is obvious to her that if Mulder was still in the boxcar when the ignitor went off, he is now dead. No human can survive that magnitude of burning--he would, in fact, be incinerated. Not a piece of him left behind, identifiable even to Scully’s trained eye.

And if he wasn’t in the boxcar, if he heard the helicopter and gave himself over to the desert? What then? Surely he would have found his way back to where she was standing by now. Surely she’d be able to see him, hear him, touch him. There’d be proof he was something more than ashes. Maybe even, he might have made it back to the motel. But Melissa is keeping watch, and she hasn’t said a word. Missy would not play games about this.

Logic prevailing, as it often does with her, Scully lets Eric drive her back to the motel. If he’s not here, then he’s there. And if he’s not there then--well, she knows. And isn’t it just like Mulder to leave her enough evidence to point one way without giving her the proof she needs to conclude? She imagines a funeral sans a body and shutters.

When they get back to the motel and Missy opens the door and she is alone in the room, Scully is not surprised. She is shattered. It’s like learning the day you’ll die, then waking up on that day and recoiling at the calendar. What will be cannot be stopped. Not by any power of persuasion. Any.

She wants to scream, cry, file a personal complaint with God. Instead, she walks through the door, thanks Eric for his help, then asks her sister what she wants for dinner. Scully’s not hungry--she rarely is these days, and how could she be at a time like this?--but Melissa, she’s human, and she’s been waiting around all day, and all they have in the room is a quarter-full bag of gummy worms, so yeah, Scully decides, Missy probably is hungry. And that’s something she can take care of.

Missy looks at her sister like--well, like she said she just saw an alien. “Dana, you’re not well.” Then, after getting no reaction--”It’s okay to be upset.”

Scully throws her blazer over a chair. ”I didn’t say I wasn’t upset.”

Missy sits down on the bed and pats the space next to her. “Come on, let’s talk about it.”

Scully throws her hands in the air. “He’s gone, Melissa, what else can I say?” She paces through the room. “If he was in the box car, he burned to death. And if he wasn’t, then shouldn’t we have found him by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Missy counters. “Albert told me about the Anasazi, a tribe that lived here hundreds of years ago.”

“I know, I know. They disappeared, historians have no explanation for it.”

‘“That’s what they say. But, honestly, Dana--nothing disappears without a trace. Mulder included.”

Scully shoots her a look. “So what is your explanation? That he was abducted, despite there being multiple witnesses who didn’t see a thing?”

“He called you, he said he saw something in the boxcar.”

Scully nods. “Bodies...lots of them. He said they didn’t look human. And they all had smallpox vaccination scars.”

“What do you make of that?”

Scully shrugs. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the Anasazi.”

“So why did the men burn the boxcar?”

“It could have been because Mulder was in there, and they wanted to kill him. Or because what’s in there was damning to them.”

Missy bites her lip. “Did the boxcar blow up?”

“No, but it’s still smoldering.”

“Could you go in tomorrow and take a look? See what you can find?”

“Missy, I doubt there’s anything left. And besides, I’ve already ignored about thirty calls from Director Skinner. I need to get back to DC...I’m lucky if I’ll still have a job.”

“Fuck the job. Think of Mulder.”

“I need to consider both if I’m actually to uncover any of the conspiracies that Mulder--and his father and so many others--died as a result of.”

Melissa frowns. Dana’s already counting her partner out...that’s hard to come back from, being christened as a corpse. She sighs. ”Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying that I truly don’t believe that Mulder’s dead, and I know you will find him.”

Scully’s eyes narrow, intrigued by her sister’s shift in tone. “Okay…”

“There’s a technique that I learned from my therapist friend,” Missy begins, already setting off alarm bells in Scully’s head, “that is meant to help process complicated feelings about a person.”

Scully purses her lips as Missy continues--”It’s used to find clarity and--if it’s someone you’ve lost, literally or metaphorically--to give closure. I think it would help you establish a clear motivation to keep up your work on the X-Files.”

Scully’s forehead creases right between the eyebrows. “I just told you, I have one.”

“Yes, but if you go back to Washington, bureaucracy’s gonna get in the way of all of that. That’s why you drove out here in the first place, isn’t it? To avoid bureaucracy and push forward with the case?”

“I suppose,” Scully mumbles.

“And that’s exactly what Mulder would have done, and that’s what he would want you to do now.”

“This is beginning to sound like one of those ‘if x jumped off a bridge, would you?’ scenarios,” Scully retorts.

“But with the opposite sentiment,” Melissa clarifies. “You and Mulder have never been closer to finding the truth. Now do you want to hear my suggestion or not?”

Hands on her hips, Scully’s silence commands Missy to continue.

“Let me remind you that Mulder is not dead, and this is just an exercise.”

Scully nods, more to keep her moving than in agreement.

“I want you to write a eulogy for him.”

Scully’s mouth drops open in protest. “And this is going to advance the investigation how?”

“By giving you emotional clarity. Essentially, you’ll realize how much he means to you, and it will push you to do whatever you can to complete the investigation.”

Scully scoffs. “You act like I don’t even like him or something.”

“You like him, but you’re afraid of imitating him. There’s a lack of...respect for his methods. And they’re the only way this case is gonna get solved.”

Scully crosses her arms. “Gee, apparently you should have gone to Quantico in my place.” It’s not that she’s afraid, per say, but that she doesn’t think Mulder’s unconventional approach will work. Two plus years in and she still believes herself more than him. She wishes she didn’t.

“You don’t have to read the eulogy out loud,” Missy coos, knowing full well that she’ll be sneaking around during the night to get her hands on it when her sister refuses to share.

“Wow, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” Scully groans.

Melissa squeezes her sister’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll find him, and this will help you know what to say when you do.”

Scully leans into the hug. “For the record, I think this is insane, alright? I’m only doing it because it’s getting too late to search the desert.”

“Understood.” Missy stands up. “Oh, and to answer your question, Albert invited us over for a traditional tribal feast at his house.”

“What?”

“You asked what I wanted for dinner. Those are our plans.”

“Oh.” Scully looks at her lap. It seems unfair to have to face the world at a time like this. Especially when her head is plagued with thoughts about what she would--will?--say at her partner’s funeral. And still, she continues.

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

Crowding around Albert’s dining table, the party finishes the last bites left on their plates. It has been a long day--or days, more accurately--and the desolate black sky outside makes Scully feel like it’s 4am, though the clock only reads 7. She blinks toward her company, trying to remain present.

“I am thankful we could share this meal,” Albert says, nodding to Scully and her sister. “It is not often we get outsiders here, and even less often that we’re able to indulge in the foods of our ancestors.”

Missy reaches for the final piece of fry bread, biting into it daintily.

“There’s not a lot here,” Albert tells them, eyes downcast. “Nowadays, we take what we can get, and that means eating to survive...your processed foods and non-perishables have become the staples of our diets.”

Scully tries not to frown. “Well, we’re very glad that you prepared this for us. It was delicious,” she says, trying to inject enthusiasm into her downtrodden heart.

“Yes, thank you very much,” Missy affirms.

Albert casts his eyes in Scully’s direction. A shadow falls over her. From where, she is not certain.

“You are hurting, but you do not need to be. What is yours will find you. There is no such thing as disappearance.”

Scully pulls her lips into a solemn smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“It is the truth. The desert acts in its own way, and it is never wrong.”

Scully nods, trying to believe him. Trying to have faith. “Thank you, Albert.”

From across the table, he extends his palms toward her. “Pray with me.”

She clasps his hands and closes her eyes. Prayer is not normally something she engages in with others around, but neither is grief.

Albert begins speaking in the language written on the Defense Department files. She doesn’t understand the words, but his sincerity transcends semantics. The spirit of faith--the spirit of God--is there.

She has been thinking lately of faith. The faith she has been feeling is not that of Sunday mornings and ‘forgive me Father for I have sinned.’ It’s something else entirely, something that has compelled her to do things she would never do... until she looked down at her hands and she was doing them.

So many transgressions to count, and yet she hesitates to even call them that. Injured her partner--a suspected fugitive--to keep him from implicating himself, tapped her sister as her sidekick to take him halfway across the country, and deserted her duties at the FBI, all in favor of the truth.

Maybe truth is faith that good will prevail.

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

When Scully sits down that night with the motel notepad and a pen, she becomes a conduit for everything she couldn’t say out loud. She copies the entire Mulder file from her brain, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t capture any of his essence, the unique flavor of humanity that he bravely faced the world with which made him so...him.

It is then that Scully realizes you can know all the details of someone’s life without ever really knowing them, and that scares her because she gets the inkling that she has never truly let Mulder in--though he has opened up to her--and what if he dies feeling like he never got further than the young woman whose physics thesis he read? That’s not fair, not when she knows him so well.

She takes a breath and puts the pen down. She can’t compose Mulder to life. Resurrection doesn’t work that way. What she can do--and what she realizes is what every person does in this situation, and there must be something wrong with her because it wasn’t her first instinct--is write about how the man she knows (knew?) made her feel. About the impact his life had on her life.

Her vision blurs as she works to consolidate her unauthorized biography of Fox William Mulder into a passage that suggests the joy their partnership brought into her life. Though Missy said she wouldn’t have to share, Scully can’t shake the feeling that she will need this at some point in time, that having a eulogy on call might not be such a bad idea. It’s a terrible thought, but a truth every agent knows. After all, she and Mulder witnessed each other writing their wills, and that was considered a customary work duty. Nothing is out of reach.

And so she wrote as if she’ll have to read it one day, letting her emotions flow within the confines of her finely tuned self-awareness. The end product turns out somewhat more sentimental than she envisioned, but she caps her pen and walks away, giving herself permission to take up space.

--Fox William Mulder--

As he despised being called by his first name, I must take the liberty of referring to my partner as Mulder one last time. I was lucky to know him. Not as Spooky or the alien-obsessed man in the basement, but for who he truly was. Nothing was more important to Mulder than the truth. And the truest truth I know about him is that he loved his sister, and he wanted justice for her. It’s what he spent his life on, and ultimately, what he sacrificed it for. I am honored to have played any role in his mission, and I hope to continue it in his memory.

If there’s one piece of Mulder that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life, it’s his tenacity. Mulder never, never let any obstacle get in his way. I can’t tell you how many times I wasn’t sure where he was, only to learn that he had flown to the ends of the Earth to investigate whatever lead he found promising that day. I doubt that I’ll ever encounter anyone who lives up to the passion and determination he contained within him. And it’s a shame because the world needs that...The world needed him.

I needed him too. He challenged me in ways I never dreamed of. Sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out, but mostly, I just kept thinking about how boring my life would be if I never met him. And now...I don’t know what’s next. There were so many possible futures ahead for us and the X-Files. This isn’t just a eulogy for Mulder, it’s a eulogy for all that could have been. He was my best friend. There’s nothing more I can say.

When she reads it back the next morning, she falls to her knees in conversation with God, pleading for a miracle to bring the man she has finally realized she loves back into her life.

#this got tender as hell #truly a labor of love <3 #thank you for reading as always #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #the x-files #txf fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #melissa scully #mine

25 notes · View notes

silvadraconis · 4 years ago

Text

Choking Fears

A one shot between Silva and Dantes, and about avoiding nightmares

(Tagging @panyum )

"Accomplice" A short call as a figure rises up out of the shadows at their feet "Ah. he's looking for me. right" Dantes only ever called Silva Accomplice, they were both his master, but the name of Accomplice was given to Silva alone Just as she was the only one allowed to call him Edmond Her and Guada swap places, having retired to their room after a bout of training in the sim. She takes a bit of a breath and faces the aforementioned Count who's looking at her with an impassive gaze She gives a bit of a sheepish wave "Hello, you called for me?" she had a feeling she knew what this was about, though she hoped she was wrong

A subtle shift of his form as he fully comes out of the shadows, before taking a seat in a chair and crossing his legs "May I ask where you've been lately?" "Oh crap, this is not about the training, fuckkk" she had assumed he was here to chastise her and Guada for being reckless in the sim today, tackling enemies on their own as Silva gave Guada advice But turns out she was quite wrong on that account She gives him a confused look that's almost perfectly done "What do you mean, I'm kinda stuck to Guada I'm usually not too far away" she chuckles a bit He gives her a knowing look "You know very well that's not what I meant. You haven't been sleeping lately, and even I can't seem to track you down, where have you been going?" He'd never admit it, but it bothered him that she was harder to find than Guada when she decided to go wandering off, something about the way her soul was tied to his other masters that made things difficult. Not that he was that worried about her in the grand scheme of things(he lied to himself). He knew she was fully capable as she continued to remind him She huffs a sigh and sits on the bed, looking so very different in posture from Guada despite it being the same body. At least he never had any issues in telling them apart like that, they were both so very distinctive in the way they moved and acted. "Edmond, I don't exactly need to sleep, and I'm a ghost, I'm fine I assure you" He narrows his eyes at her a bit She's deflecting, as she often tries to do when he confronts her at first with these sorts of things, convinced she's some sort of burden still He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and regarding her with a piercing gaze that causes her to shift slightly "Hmph, and how many times have we talked about how despite being a ghost rest is needed?" She rubs the back of her neck, a tic that gives her away despite her trying to deflect "I mean, yes, but-" He asks her bluntly "How bad have they been as of late? They must be hounding you quite severely to cause you to avoid sleep to such a degree" He's seen the horrid nightmares that plague her mind, the terrible memories that filled his blackened rage filled heart to the brim with hate for those who did this to her If it wasn't for the fact that the world was currently burnt to ash, he'd have already done something about the people responsible for such atrocities She stills, going into that unnatural silence as a reflex. He waits patiently for her to answer, knowing that pressing her is not the way to get her to talk usually After a few moment she finds her speaking voice again and answers quietly "It's not those ones that are, bad recently." she looks to the ground in embarrassment Ah. that would explain why she'd been avoiding him in particular then. He sighs a bit "Silva, it matters not the hell I drag you out of, I promised you I'd come when you called. You're my accomplice, and I won't abandon you in any hell, be they real or ones of your own making" She rubs the back of her neck again, curling in on herself a bit "Edmond I, it's not fair to you though. I'm constantly having nightmares as it is, and those one are…" "Are what? Nothing more than shadows and fabricated hells, you've made it through them before, and I would never leave you to traverse such hells alone, be they real or imagined" She looks at him now, brown eyes piercing straight back "I know you won't! That's what I mean! You deserve rest too! You're constantly saving me from my nightmares, and those ones in particular are so hard to drag me out of, it's not right!" His eyes flash back with some of that rage, not at her but at her situation "Are you saying it's right then to let you deal with them alone? We're partners Silva. No one deserves to face such hells alone" She rubs her arms and looks at the ground Finally some of her walls are starting to crack, and he can feel her through the bond again Worry, care, concern, and behind it all, the sticky cloying feeling of fear coating everything Suddenly he there instead of the chair, sitting behind her, and wrapping her in his cloak

For reasons that he initially couldn't fathom, she felt safe with him, despite who and what he was. He's seen his masters charge at wild manticors and spriggans, face down impossible odds without so much as a trickle of fear, and if there was they pushed past it just the same. But this cloying fear was stopping his Accomplice in her tracks, preventing her from resting, from relying on him like she used to She starts in surprise at him suddenly being behind her "Edmond! Hey what are you doing?! I'm fine its just-" Her voice dies in her throat as he looks at her, with eyes demanding honesty and a soft smile He chuckles a bit "Kuhaha, you know Accomplice, your stubbornness is as much a virtue as it is a detriment sometimes. But you know that I too share in the same determination. So what is it that has you so fearful? What is it that keeps you from calling out to me and resting like you should?" He suspects the answer already, but he wants to hear it from her. If she truly wanted to keep hiding it he wouldn't press her She looks to the ground again, avoiding his gaze Her will is crumbling though as he holds her steadfast, and finally after a long moment she sighs "It terrifies me, those nightmares. Moreso than the regular ones, there's something about that place that, clings to me" She shivers a bit in his grip, and he tightens his hold on her "I get, worried, that...maybe this time will be the time I wont find my way out" He tilts her head with his hand gently, getting her to look at him "My beloved Accomplice, are you saying you don't trust me to find you?" "N-no that's not! Shadow I'm not saying-" she tries to backpedal but fails to do so He smiles, his sharp teeth glinting as he looks at her "Kuhaha, then surely there is nothing to fear? There is nothing wrong with being afraid, but allowing such fear to consume you helps nothing. Nomatter what prison your soul falls into my Accomplice, I swear I will find you. Do you trust me to find you? Do you trust in me to wait for me?" She sighs and leans into him "Of course I do Edmond but, that's part of the problem. You help me so much, I want you to get some rest too" He sighs and pulls off his hat, plopping it on her head "Hmph, well, I'd certainly be getting more rest if I wasn't concerned with finding where exactly you go off too, even Robin Hood couldn't find you these past few nights." He had gone to Robin when he failed to find her, him seeming to have a knack at tracking her down, but even he had been coming up empty handed "Ah. That, I-" she flushes a bit in embarrassment, not having considered that fact at all He chuckles again, sensing that he had swiftly flattened her arguments in one fell blow "Kuhaha, so, will you stop hiding away now? Else I'll be forced to bring in reinforcements, including a certain detective, as much as I am loath to give him the satisfaction of solving this mystery" She blanches at that a bit. She knows damn well Sherlock could sus out where she went, cause of freakin course he could She tries to rally herself and offers a counter argument "What if I just tell you where I am? That'd solve both problems yeah?" He looks at her flatly "No. You need rest. Would you prefer I go and find Hektor to get him to convince you along with me?" She looks at him in protest "Hey! Now you're just trying to gang up on me!" "Kuhahaha, if it takes an army to force your stubbornness to listen than an army I shall raise my Accomplice" He tightens his hold on her, looking at her with a smile and eyes full of that determined gleam She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder "Fine, I surrender. But only cause you and everyone else in this damned Chaldea are stubborn as hell too" He chuckles "As I expected from my beloved Accomplice, you know how to pick your battles. Now then, where is it that you're going off to?" She gets a cheeky grin of her own "Nuh uh, that's my secret to keep, I'll rest don't worry. But I'm keeping my hidey hold for future use" He frowns as he looks at her, then sighs, realizing that while he may have won this battle he may have lost the war on this one She chuckles in victory and he looks at her with a wide grin, his eyes getting the slightest trickle of flames "Kuhahah! So be it then my Accomplice! Next time you decide to use such a place I'll find you even then!" She grins and laughs with him "We'll just have to see won't we my Shadow?" He grins widely and plucks his hat off of her head, putting it back on "Kuhaha, see we shall. There's not a prison or place I cannot break into. I have followed you into the depths of hell and the void itself, I will surely find you next time!"

#mastersona #silva #edmond dantes #fate grand order #if tumblr could stop f'ing up my formatting thatd be great

14 notes · View notes

kae-karo · 4 years ago

Note

"how will you survive" and kaeya!

i am so sorry this prompted SO much angst asdkljsdjklfjkls (send me one of these prompts and a genshin character!)

hands of fate - T - 2k

tags: zhongli & kaeya enemies to allies, introspection, mentions of killing but nobody dies, lots of guilt, lil bit of tartali mention

[read on ao3]

In all his time on Teyvat since that dark night, Zhongli has not encountered a descendant of Khaenri’ah. Perhaps fate skewed heavily in his favor, or perhaps fate is not so kind a force to give him that reprieve when it intends only to return for him, to bring him to his knees.

He wishes - and perhaps it is a naive, belated thing to wish - that he had ventured a little farther from the borders of Liyue before today. That he had happened upon the famed winery some ten or so years ago, that he’d encountered the child of Khaenri’ah that stands before him now.

That bares his teeth in a smirk that does not feel lighthearted. And could not be, he chides himself - a child of Khaenri’ah, one that grew up in its festering remains, that was taught the truth about the archons. A child steeped in resentment - how could he be anything but burdened?

Zhongli cannot blame him.

“You were there,” he says, too casual. Kaeya, a Khaenri’ahn name. Zhongli dips his head.

“I was.”

“And you did nothing.” Not a question.

“I was bound by my gnosis.” An excuse. Behind his eyes, Khaenri’ah burns, a destruction wrought upon thousands of innocent people for the act of few, and still an act that did not warrant such merciless slaughter. Zhongli does not deserve excuses.

“You chose your path,” Kaeya says, as cool as the ice he’s used to freeze Zhongli here, on his knees. He could break free, of course. Kaeya does not hold the same power that he does - but is it fair of him to deny fate? To deny Kaeya what he so very righteously deserves?

Perhaps his contract was never with the Tsaritsa. Never something so small, so minute in the face of the hands of fate. Perhaps his contract has always been far larger than that, far more sinister. Far more binding than a gnosis, than the promise of the powers of Celestia at his fingertips.

Cool metal tips Zhongli’s chin up, and he lifts his gaze to meet Kaeya’s - one blue eye, one black, entirely corrupted by the Abyss that has long since consumed Khaenri’ah. Would he be anything different, if Zhongli had found him? How many times can he shift the hands of fate to his bidding, to his selfish desires?

Never enough, he knows. They will always find a way back to him.

“I should kill you for what you did.” He sounds bored as he speaks, and Zhongli wants to know, rather suddenly: is his emotionless tone borne from years of coping with that anger, that hatred for the gods who abandoned him? Or is it borne of something deeper, something far more sinister?

Would it matter, in the end? If there was a time that Zhongli might’ve stepped outside Liyue’s borders, that he might’ve happened upon Kaeya living in Mondstadt, could he have changed this outcome?

Would he have? It is not in his nature to involve himself heavily, even in Liyue. To do so in another archon’s territory would have certainly been a breach of well-established boundaries.

“I would not begrudge you that decision,” Zhongli says carefully, and holds Kaeya’s stare. Feels again the press of cool metal under his chin. It’s grown warmer over time, as the ice holding him captive begins to creep under his skin.

Kaeya huffs out a breath, lowers his sword.

“You’re certainly taking all the fun out of this,” he grumbles, more to himself than to Zhongli, and Zhongli tips his head. Thinks of Childe, and lets that spark warm his chest for a moment. Hopes a distant hope that Childe is safe, that he is not in danger at the moment. Or, rather, that he is in a danger he can handle, for Zhongli would never dare to underestimate him.

“I apologize.”

“Why?” A scoff, and Kaeya tips his head in Zhongli’s direction. “It’s far too late for an apology to make much of a difference. Won’t bring anyone back.”

“I am aware.” What he does not say: I watched thousands die at the hands of angry gods. Thousands of your people, and I stood aside and did nothing to stop it. Did not even fight the control that held me still, though it could not force me to partake in the slaughter.

Kaeya huffs out an irritated breath, and Zhongli inhales as much as the rigid ice will allow. He is no stranger to death, though he’s gone quite a while without its presence hovering nearby. And yet, he cannot blame Kaeya for this anger, for this hatred. How to mourn a culture torn from Teyvat before he’d even been born? How to grieve for thousands dead when he had not been there to see their slaughter?

Perhaps it was inevitable, the hands of fate guiding them to this moment. For Zhongli can grieve, can mourn in a way that Kaeya cannot, and Kaeya in a way that Zhongli cannot. Fate that drew them together, so that their sorrow might mean something more.

“I expected an eons-old god to beg for his life,” Kaeya adds aloud, but quieter. Less of this show he’s been putting on, and Zhongli sees the pain beneath the surface - the true pain, the kind of hurt he’s borne through his life, not the distant kind for people he never knew himself.

What a lonely existence, to be the last of one’s kind. To be set so thoroughly apart from all others, what a burden to bear. To find no home, to feel out of place even in the home built for oneself. Zhongli does not want to take away from the right that Kaeya has to experience his pain, but a part of Zhongli’s heart goes out, calls out for him to say that he understands.

That he feels the same, in so very many ways.

“I have lived a very long time, but I do not think the world would stop turning if I no longer walked Teyvat.” He chooses his words carefully, and does not think of broken contracts sworn to those he holds dearest.

I will see you again. A promise to Childe sworn in shared breaths under warm covers.

I will always protect you. Another, to Xiao, dear Xiao, his ever-vigilant yaksha.

It pains Zhongli to think that they might suffer for his absence, that they might grieve. The world may not cease its turning, but the ache in his heart for their sadness…

But they are not alone any longer - Zhongli has watched them find others to depend upon, others to share in their sorrows should something irreversible happen tonight. And he has been afforded an opportunity he might not otherwise see: to give Kaeya some peace, to bring a kind of amends to the very last of Khaenri’ah. It is not the worst way to leave the world behind.

“Well, that dulls the revenge aspect of this quite a bit, doesn’t it,” Kaeya says, quiet and- and rather lackluster, for all his earlier enthusiasm. Pain flickers through his features with each movement, cracks in the glacial ice of his expression, and Zhongli exhales slowly.

“You watched the destruction of an entire civilization,” Kaeya hisses under his breath, low and forceful, and Zhongli dips his head. Wonders at this repetition - is it for Zhongli, now, or for himself? Which of them does he wish to remind of the atrocities that Zhongli was complicit in?

“And there is nothing I will ever be able to do to atone for the pain I enabled.” He lets his eyes drift shut, sees the ruins of Khaenri’ah, hears the screams and wails and feels the tears that’d fallen unbidden from his eyes even as he stood utterly still, even as he did not fight to protect the innocent.

So very long...for so very long, Zhongli fought through the Archon war for a promised peace. Perhaps some might’ve called him soft for how his heart ached in those horrible, horrible hours of Khaenri’ah’s massacre. Perhaps he is not the rigid, unfeeling stone he once was.

His eyes flick open at the clattering of metal on wood, surprised to find Kaeya’s hand limp at his side, his sword at his feet. Surprised more to feel the drip of water against his skin, the gradual loosening of the ice’s hold on his body.

It melts away around him, and the weight of his body returns without the ice supporting it. The weight of his heart drags him further, though, and he slumps, bows over with the ache of it in his chest. His hands press into the wood, unfeeling for the ice that’d encased them. He sees blood that is not there, blood of thousands upon thousands, and does not feel the sick warmth of it.

“You can help.”

Kaeya’s voice is quiet, broken. Zhongli knows without asking what his words truly mean, what he requests of Zhongli.

“I am nothing in the face of Celestia,” he says quickly - not out of fear, but out of warning. He will not be the asset that Kaeya hopes him to be. “But if it will bring you peace-”

“It won’t.” Kaeya’s back remains turned, but his words cut through as sharply as his sword. When he finally faces Zhongli again, a bitter smile touches his lips. “But I have no one else left, and I would rather not die alone.”

Ah, a feeling that Zhongli knows well. And yet, he considers with a strange spark of amusement, he has not yet come face to face with his final end.

Inside his head, Childe grins at him. Demands another fight, for he is ever the insatiable warrior. Xiao dips his head to Zhongli, but never so low as that first time. When he lifts it, a smile touches the corner of his lips. Something like hope glows in Zhongli’s chest - if fate demands his life, he will fight it tooth and nail. Force it to give him one more chance to see those he loves so dearly.

“I owe you and your people far more than my life could repay-” This he knows with grave certainty. “But,” he adds as he stands - on shaking legs, with frozen limbs - “I have made promises I cannot break, and so I will fight with you against Celestia itself.”

Kaeya’s brows furrow minutely.

“You made me no such promise.” His tone speaks of caution, and Zhongli cannot blame him. He wonders, too, if Kaeya wishes to reach for his sword.

But he remains still, and Zhongli’s lip ticks up at the corner as he exhales a short breath - on another day, in another life, it might be amusement that sparks his reaction, but now, it is only a desperate kind of hope.

“No, but I promised others that I would return,” Kaeya’s brows lift, “and return I must, for what is a god of contracts if he cannot keep his word?”

“That’s rather bold, when you couldn’t manage to stand up to Celestia the last time,” Kaeya says with a quirked brow, now, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “What was it you just said? That you’re nothing in the face of Celestia?”

A bitter, stinging sort of dread worms its way through Zhongli’s chest. A fear he hasn’t felt in many years, fear that he might not escape this battle alive. Fear that he will leave Childe and Xiao behind with no warning. That he will break their hearts.

“How will you survive?” Kaeya asks, but his voice is not so harsh this time. His gaze looks distant, too, and Zhongli wonders if he is not as alone as he claims.

“I will do whatever it takes, as I presume you will.” He will rely on every tactic he has left untouched for eons, will fight bitterly and without remorse. Will be selfish for the sake of others - for Kaeya, for Khaenri’ah, and for Childe and Xiao. For his own heart, and for theirs.

Kaeya’s eyes narrow at him, and Zhongli holds his stare.

“Very well, god of contracts.” Kaeya extends a hand, and Zhongli reaches out in turn. Finds Kaeya’s palm warm in spite of the ice that he wields. “I believe we have a deal.”

#genshin #genshin impact #kaeya #zhongli #genshin fic #prompts

7 notes · View notes

the-odd-job · 4 years ago

Text

Up in Flames chapter 14 - Tear Into You (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Megatron Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 5342

Am I beautiful As I tear you to pieces? Am I beautiful? Even at my ugliest, you always say I'm beautiful As you tear me to pieces You are beautiful Even at your ugliest, I always say You're beautiful and sick like me

— In This Moment – Sick Like Me

( Previous )

It turned into a public event, as little of a surprise as that was. They were gladiators. Fighting for show was what they did, even if the glory days of the Pits were long gone, brought down by Megatron himself.

But gone or not, their world was still familiar to most of the Decepticon army. There were many among their ranks that could appreciate a good showdown between skilled fighters—and Sunstreaker quite enjoyed providing shows of that nature. Didn’t he deserve to be the center of attention, both for what he was and what he could do?

And Megatron as his opponent only did him justice. Could he win? Probably not. Megatron had beaten him every time they had ever fought, rightfully proving himself superior no matter the circumstances.

Would he still give it his best go? Pit yeah. Anything less would’ve been nothing but an embarrassment. As much as winning was the goal, so was entertaining, and testing yourself, pushing yourself to your limit in front of so many appreciative optics.

And this side of the war definitely could appreciate real fights like the Autobots never did. The Autobots were more concerned with not going overt with the damage inflicted during sparring, and real fights were supposed to be off the table entirely, as little as Sunstreaker had ever followed that rule.

The Decepticons didn’t have such concerns. They were a violent bunch and seemed to only consider the injuries racked up as inevitable, without seeing any reason to change their actions because someone or other got hurt and required repairs. Part of life, no? Nothing more, nothing less. No reason to make a number out of it. With continued access to Cybertron, they didn't even need to worry about resources—aside from the ever elusive energon—as the Autobots did.

That suited Sunstreaker just fine, as did the fact no one thought twice about him suffering injuries the same as everyone else, despite the fact he was carrying. The only reason anyone spent time having second thoughts before fighting him was his sheer proven prowess. He could scrap most of the mecha on either side of the war. Did you really want to mess with him?

Megatron didn’t need to worry about things like that, though. Sunstreaker could provide him with a good fight, and he would do so, but Megatron’s strength and ability exceeded even his own. Everyone knew that.

Didn’t stop Sunstreaker from immediately agreeing to the suggestion of another no holds barred fight, and that saw them here, in the training room with the majority of the Decepticon army on Earth standing aside, optics sharp on them. Megatron’s sword was extended and Sunstreaker held his own thermal sword, ready to carve his fragging name in the warlord’s armor. As much as they were both weapons just by existing… Well, additional aids were damage multipliers, weren’t they? They evened the odds a little, allowed for greater damage on both sides. That came in quite handy.

Especially now. Megatron was, in frame, more of a weapon than he was. Once upon a time Sunstreaker would have considered them equal as far as their armaments went, but since then, he’d lost his claws, his fangs, his edges—things Megatron still retained because who would dare try to take those from him.

Didn’t matter. Sunstreaker still knew how to hit and how to tear, blunt digits or not, and he damn well knew how to handle a sword. Maybe he was at a disadvantage, maybe he was the underdog—then let it be so. It wouldn’t stop him from giving as good as he got.

“Haven’t we done this enough times already?” Sunstreaker asked as Megatron nodded at him, inviting him to make the first move. He did, rushing the warlord, dodging the blade that moved to intercept him, although he couldn’t break through Megatron’s defense enough to actually land a hit. Neither did he receive a hit either, though, dancing out of the way of Megatron’s attack on light pedes.

“Do you complain?” Megatron asked in return, moving on him, but Sunstreaker moved with him, staying just half a step ahead. Enough to save him until he could try to take an opening.

It didn’t work. Megatron blocked him, and wasn’t it satisfying to feel like his skill was truly matched, like he’d be made to work for every attack he could possibly land.

Sunstreaker’s mouth tugged into a smirk. “No. Why would I ever say no to a chance of slagging you? Fragging well deserve it, at least.”

“Do I now?” the tyrant rumbled in amusement, sending Sunstreaker stumbling back with a strike of his sword, cutting too deep into his plating. Megatron moved to a follow up attack in one fluent motion, but Sunstreaker wasn’t there anymore when it was supposed to reach him, moving out of the way like quicksilver.

“Damn well. Or did you forget everything you’ve done?” Sunstreaker’s sword connected with Megatron’s side, too shallow, a second before he had to dodge again. There was no way it would’ve been that easy, anyway.

He’d be disappointed if it was. Megatron was supposed to be better than that, and he was.

“How large of a scale are we talking about, here?” Megatron humored him. Sunstreaker could surmise what he meant. There was many a mech who would take an issue with the whole war Megatron had thrust Cybertron into—the atrocities he’d committed in the name of his cause. Genocide.

Did Sunstreaker think he deserved an ass kicking for all that? He should have. He had been an Autobot, a faction whose entire purpose was to oppose Megatron and everything he did and wanted to do. It was that insignia that still painted his chest, scratched out now. Why was he ever one of the red faction if he didn’t think Megatron deserved to pay for his supposed crimes?

They knew already.

What, then? Did he think Megatron had been right all along, justified in what he did? All the death he’d caused, the innocent he’d killed? What did he think of that?

“Scale of my goddamn life,” Sunstreaker growled, jumping out of the way of Megatron’s slash that would have beyond hurt had it connected, and taking his chances with an attack of his own. It landed. Muted satisfaction burst in his spark. The sparklet in his chamber vibrated, its excitement joining his own.

This was right. Fighting, testing his mettle, against its sire too, proving to it and to himself once again that Megatron was powerful enough to be considered beyond desirable for the role.

“Hm. And everything else I’ve done?” the tyrant asked from him. Why? Was he genuinely curious?

Or was he testing him? Megatron wanted him to fight. Not just like this—blades clashing against each other before one broke through, sharp cuts from Megatron’s, searing slashes from Sunstreaker's—but in the war. For him. Was this an attempt at gauging his current stance on the whole matter?

“You didn’t do any of that to me,” came Sunstreaker’s answer. He dove past Megatron’s defense again, and this time his sword sank deep into Megatron’s side, as much as the warlord knew how to angle himself to reduce the severity of the damage. Getting out of the way of the retaliation was as important as delivering hurt, but he only managed that with a hair’s breadth away from the harm Megatron wanted to inflict on him.

Good enough, all the same.

“Selfish,” Megatron commented, but it didn’t sound like an accusation as it would’ve been coming from any Autobot. More just an… Observation.

“You know it,” Sunstreaker grinned, unrepentant. As if it wasn’t common knowledge Sunstreaker didn’t really give a crap about anyone but himself. More reasons for the Autobots to dislike him. They put so much weight on altruism, Optimus in particular. Oh, all the talks he had gotten for putting himself first, at the cost of others.

Hadn’t really worked, any of those chastisements. He was yet to see the error of his ways.

“And what of all the good I’ve brought upon your life?” Megatron went on to ask. Sunstreaker frowned a second before he was too slow and received a strike that sliced clean through his armor. He ignored the ache of the cut in favor of dodging to the side, away from Megatron’s follow up attack. But, if he’d hoped to take the chance to deliver an attack of his own, Megatron was quick to squash those dreams.

“What fucking good?” Sunstreaker growled after he’d gathered his bearings and they were back to their scheduled dancing, injuries, wounds on both of them slowly piling up. “You destroyed it.”

“As was necessary. I freed you from the Autobots,” came Megatron’s argument, delivered in time with a feign Sunstreaker didn’t recognize as such, followed by a fast attack that landed and had him reeling and scrambling out of the way for a precious second that ended with a cut on Megatron when the tyrant was a little too slow to turn to face him.

Sunstreaker couldn’t really disagree with Megatron on this one, though. He growled again instead, veering to the side quickly enough to deliver another attack that landed almost as it was intended to before Megatron could force him away.

“Ends justify the means, huh?” Sunstreaker asked after he’d dodged again, diving right back in the next moment to deliver a vicious strike upon the larger mech. “Waltz right in, announce my crimes to the whole damn world, but that’s fine because it would roast me out of the Autobots?” Fragger.

“Do you disagree it was for the best?” Megatron asked from him, then moved far faster than he had any right to. Sunstreaker couldn’t get out of the way quickly enough and Megatron’s blade sank into his armor, leaving yet another gaping tear behind.

But not deep enough to bleed. Yet.

“What does it matter? A little too late to go back, now,” Sunstreaker hissed back. Whatever he thought of it wouldn’t change things anymore. There was no fixing what Megatron had done.

“But not too late to move forward,” the tyrant said—and why the slag did Sunstreaker feel like they were again circling back to the matter of would he or would he not fight? He couldn’t go back to being an Autobot, not after everything… Not that he really wanted to, either.

Did he want to be Neutral, then? Denounce his planet and his species for the sake of being outside the fight, picking no side?

Or would he rather continue fighting?

“You’re not really winning me over,” he growled at Megatron all the same, performing one attack, another�� But the third was blocked and countered. Sunstreaker was forced to backpedal fast as he could manage, his engine revving in aggravation.

“You’re as stubborn as they come,” Megatron snarled back at him. Sunstreaker chuckled, twice so when he managed to turn the tables for a moment and jam his sword into a gap in Megatron’s armor.

“You’re only now noticing that?” he purred at the warlord even as he was forced to take a step back again, then another, and another before he could slip to Megatron’s side. But no, even that didn’t work. This time there was blood when Megatron swept his sword into him, deep enough to nick fuel lines. Sunstreaker could feel the wetness running down his internals, but he made damn sure Megatron’s plating melted under his own sword before he dodged out of the way. Wouldn’t do to give Megatron a chance to do something even worse, but there was no fragging way Sunstreaker was going to get the bastard get away with slag, either.

Now all he needed to do was return to the favor for real and have Megatron’s blood drip along his frame as Sunstreaker’s was.

“Hardly. Headstrong—it’s one of your more attractive qualities.”

This time Sunstreaker laughed outright, although he didn’t let it distract him from the fight, weaving his frame out of the way of Megatron’s attacks. The sparkling was pulsing urgently, growing even more excited at the feeling of his amusement.

And it was amusement. Pleasure, too, though no surprise. Maybe there should’ve been some, with the trouble his stubbornness had caused Megatron. Lack of cooperation and whatnot.

But Sunstreaker was a creature of confidence that some said he took to a sick level. True to that form, “Do I even have any unattractive qualities?” Sunstreaker asked.

“I think you answered that question yourself,” Megatron responded, his field flaring with faint mirth of his own. Sunstreaker growled at the suggestion behind the words—that his self-regard went over the top and that wasn’t a positive quality.

Well, frag that. The insecure wastes of space just couldn’t understand the comfort of loving yourself.

Sunstreaker dismissed Megatron’s opinion entirely with, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And nearly got his arm cut off for not reading Megatron’s movement fast enough. That, though, wasn’t enough to distract either of them from their conversation.

“I won’t claim it’s not refreshing, as well,” Megatron conceded in time with Sunstreaker moving in, dodging past the tyrant’s attempted block and– Ah, now there was blood from Megatron too. His blade cut deep and true before Megatron could jerk out of the way. Sunstreaker didn’t let him go so easily, even if he paid for his second attack with a deep groove on his own armor.

But the pain was rewarding. He’d earned it.

And now that they were both bloodied, it felt like the fight was really starting. No Pit fight should be dry; it just wasn’t entertaining without spilled energon tainting the ground. Sunstreaker vowed that Megatron’s blood would pool on the floor before they were done—and acknowledged that his own would likely join it in no small amount. If it didn’t, what were they even doing this for?

So he pressed his attack, no matter how Megatron gave no quarter—no matter how he had to work to evade the injuries that would’ve otherwise piled on him in truly painful amounts. But frag, what else was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to do anything else. All he wanted was to dance on that blade’s edge, feel it every time he was too slow and it scraped along his body.

But also every time Megatron wasn’t fast enough and it was Sunstreaker’s sword that dug into him. Blood, they both wanted that—and they both got it.

“So what you’re really saying–” Sunstreaker continued, bringing his sword to block Megatron’s when it came down at him, and taking just that moment to meet the warlord’s optics. Sunstreaker smirked. “–Is that I have no unattractive qualities.” Even the one Megatron named he only rescinded by calling it refreshing in the next moment.

What surprise was it, though? He was beautiful, physically—but he also embodied so many of the things their city had admired, in his behavior and personality. The Autobots had never appreciated his spirit. He was unyielding, ruthless, comfortable with himself, oft violent, temperamental. He wasn’t a pushover. He knew his worth and demanded others acknowledge it too.

He wasn’t a meek little thing like the Autobots would’ve wanted him to be. He wasn’t humble, he wasn’t good.

He was everything an Autobot shouldn’t be, but everything a Kaonite should be—and could it be that he was what a Decepticon should be, too?

Maybe.

“You love to flatter yourself, don’t you?” Megatron rumbled. Slice, cut. Sunstreaker could feel the pain, relished in it.

Ignored it. Delivered it. Megatron ignored it too, showing no signs of feeling his injuries any more than Sunstreaker was. They both possessed well trained pain tolerances, and when nothing vital had been severed yet… Well, there was no reason to act on the pain they were both feeling, and that was multiplying with every moment, with every time one of them couldn’t block or dodge and paid for it.

Blood was beginning to flow faster, attacks on old wounds cutting deeper than the first pass had. Hurting more, too, as their frames informed them of the mounting damage.

Fragging right. Bring it on, give more, back down none.

Sunstreaker’s fans were running faster as the exertion began to build its effects, excitement and emotion only adding to the mess. He could hear the murmur of the Decepticons watching them, but ignored it with age old professionalism. Distractions weren’t acceptable.

Especially not now, with Megatron as intent on bringing him down as Sunstreaker was on not allowing that.

“Is it flattery if it’s just speaking the truth?” he asked, twisting his frame out of the way and into Megatron, bringing his sword to where it would fragging well hurt. And he was hurt in return, and so it went.

Had he still had his claws, he would’ve used those on the tyrant too. He could picture all the ways he could’ve employed them in tandem with his sword, dig them in preexisting wounds, tear every time he was within reach, accentuate the use of his blade and add to the damage he could deliver.

Because Megatron was definitely putting his claws to use, and every time they scratched into him, Sunstreaker envied him for still having them. They drew more blood from him, tore at his armor, bent it, built atop the wounds already littering him.

More and more blood, but it wasn’t just his. His sword damaged near as many lines on Megatron as what were being cut in his own frame. Pink was dribbling from the seams of their armors, all the way to the floor it began to slick.

Better not lose your footing.

“Do you truly think yourself flawless?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Megatron growled at him, and it was just insanity when the warlord stepped forward, right where Sunstreaker could drive his blade through his abdomen–

Only to misread Megatron’s intent and have the back of his helm grabbed. “You’re lucky you have your looks. Your attitude would be very tiresome otherwise,” Megatron growled lowly at him. Sunstreaker wasn’t sure if anyone else could even hear him—or if anyone else was meant to hear him.

But where Megatron could have caught him tight enough to crush… He didn’t. In fact, Sunstreaker was able to pull himself free and retreat a couple of steps away. “I don’t think you mind my attitude as much as you say you do,” he grinned before he dove right back in. Their swords clashed, then they didn’t, then they cut—more blood joined the mess on the floor, more armor was mutilated. Char from the heat of Sunstreaker’s sword tainted the edges of Megatron’s injuries; the edges of Sunstreaker’s wounds were ragged where Megatron’s had torn deeper into them.

Deep, shallow, it all hurt, all piled on top of each other and itself until important parts were reached after all this time, when even their thick plating wasn’t enough to protect them anymore. The engine in Sunstreaker’s left arm suffered under Megatron’s sword—Sunstreaker switched his sword to his right hand. Megatron’s engine was rattling where Sunstreaker had managed to sink his sword into it. Something in his leg was severed, giving the tyrant a limp.

Yet that wasn’t enough to noticeably slow either of them down—not enough to end their fight so soon.

But it was entering its twilight phase all the same. They could only carry on for so long at the pace they were building injuries on each other. Their ventilations turned more ragged, both from the heat that built in their systems, as well as the damage their vents suffered along with the rest of their frames. The floor was painted in pink; it was harder to not slip on the steps they took, back and forth. Harder yet for Sunstreaker as the one who had to move more, when he couldn’t possibly accept the same amount of damage Megatron could put up with if it meant hurting Sunstreaker worse.

And oh, he was hurting. His injuries throbbed at him in time with the rapid pulse of his spark—his excitement, the sparkling’s excitement, his thrill, the sparkling’s thrill merging together until there was more emotion than Sunstreaker could have ever managed on his own. His frame was on the verge of lagging dangerously, too, as much as he could force it into full cooperation for now.

Megatron was only doing better to an extent, but it was still becoming obvious he was gaining the upper hand, his size and durability simply surpassing Sunstreaker’s—and Sunstreaker couldn’t make up for it by causing more damage than what was being caused on him. Quite the opposite.

Didn’t matter. What mattered was that Megatron had a limp, there was terrible grinding coming from his right arm with every motion he forced it into, and he was bleeding more than just a little. Sunstreaker had done that to him. His armor was split in so many places. He could almost feel Megatron’s injuries as phantom sensations on top of his own.

Never let it be said he had gone down easily. Never let it be said he hadn’t hurt Megatron.

But go down he did. Megatron drove his sword through his abdomen first when Sunstreaker made just one mistake, too slow to get out of the way. Blood gushed forth when energon lines were cut well and proper, but that alone wouldn’t have been enough to down him. No, Sunstreaker merely backed away from his impalement, fast as he could, but before he was free… Megatron yanked his sword sideways.

Sunstreaker gasped when it tore through far too much machinery, his armor barely enough to stop Megatron’s strength before he would have halfway cut him in two.

Even that wasn’t serious enough to bring him down on its own, but it forced him to reorient himself from the damage warnings that, along with the simple pain, clued him in on quite a few parts that stopped working entirely, and others yet that were verging on that point.

He took too long with that, was distracted for too many precious seconds. He jerked away when Megatron kicked at him, but that only put him in the path of the blunt impact of the hilt of Megatron’s sword to his face.

Was he steady on his pedes, he may have been able to overcome even that much.

He wasn’t.

His footing didn’t keep on the blood slicked floor and Sunstreaker came crashing down, landing hard with a grunt as nearly every damn part of his frame complained about the impact. Still, he would have tried to get to his pedes if Megatron hadn’t knelt on his fragging abdomen. Sunstreaker’s vocalizer glitched to static at the agony, thoroughly distracting him from the sword that pressed to his throat.

Decapitation. Not deadly, but more than incapacitating. Sunstreaker’s vents heaved as he tried to push the pain aside enough to focus on his predicament.

His optics eventually found Megatron’s, finding the tyrant staring down at him, his expression unreadable.

Everyone knew he had won, though. Sunstreaker only confirmed that with, “I yield,” spoken loud enough for the observers.

At once the gathered Decepticons broke into cheers and jeers, whooping for the high of a good fight, laughing both for the victory of their leader and for Sunstreaker’s loss. The sparkling shook along with the thrum of the cacophony of noise, dancing to the rapid rotation of Sunstreaker’s spark, asking for more still.

Was nothing enough?

Megatron’s sword disappeared back into his arm and his knee rose from Sunstreaker’s abdomen. Sunstreaker sucked in a sharp ventilation as the damaged parts were again realigned by the lack of pressure. Distracted by it, he jerked when Megatron’s servo came to his chin, taking a hold of it. Sunstreaker met his optics again as the tyrant traced his thumb along his lower lip. “Blood looks good on you,” Megatron commented.

Sunstreaker huffed a laugh. “Ditto.” It was what Megatron deserved, and no doubt the warlord thought the same of him. You know, for his attitude.

But here he was, with Megatron above him, straddling his frame now. Sunstreaker’s optics brightened and Megatron’s optical ridges rose inquisitively in response, right before Sunstreaker forced his aching frame into motion and arched up against the larger frame. Megatron didn’t need any time to understand, his optics coming to glow a little brighter too. His engine rumbled even as Sunstreaker had to fight his ventilations that wanted to again come fast and hard and ragged. Something to do with the pain in his frame, that he dedicated himself to ignoring in favor of locking into a staring contest with the tyrant.

Whose servo slipped between their frames, brushing against his valve cover. “In front of everyone?” Megatron growled at him.

Sunstreaker growled back. “You object?”

“Hardly.” He wasn’t given a chance to retract a damn thing this time. Megatron claws hooked into the seams of his valve panel as they had who knew how many times already, and like who knew how many times before, the cover was torn clean off.

The sting of that was completely eclipsed by everything else his frame was going through. He didn’t give a frag about it, he only cared about the digits that pushed into his valve without the obstruction in the way. It was as slick as the floor, lubricant making the entrance of Megatron’s claws a smooth glide. The headiness of the preceding fight wasn’t lost to either of them, and Sunstreaker’s ventilations were quick to speed up for reasons that had nothing to do with the aches of his frame.

The Decepticons had quickly caught on to the shift, and their cheers had rather changed in nature. Catcalls filled the air as well as dirty encouragements and lewd laughter. Clearly, they weren’t the prudish lot in the slightest.

Sunstreaker didn’t mind being the center of attention in this, either. Fighting, fucking, was there so much difference? Both were raw sports that laid you bare for others to see. Blood, internals—lubricant and transfluid, retracted covers. They weren’t so far removed.

Megatron was all on board with this, by all appearances. His digits thrust in and out until Sunstreaker was well and truly ready—as if he hadn’t been so all the while—only for the tyrant to release his spike and replace his digits with it.

Sunstreaker hiked his hips up for better angle as Megatron pushed into him, despite the pain of his midsection. He wasn’t about to let that stop him, no matter how the way Megatron fetched his spike only to slam back in made his vents hitch and vocalizer produce some more static.

Primus, it hurt. His abdomen loudly told him all about how it hated him right then, even as his valve sang its praises as Megatron set up a pace that was no less punishing than usual, only this time made all the more so by the multitude of injuries they both sported.

Megatron had to feel it too. There was no way he was unaffected by forcing his frame into motion like this, this fast, this violent, right after the bloodshed they’d just inflicted on each other.

But he didn’t let that slow him, and pits, Sunstreaker fragging well didn’t ask him to slow down, to go easy on him just because he was hurting.

No, Sunstreaker arched into him. Sunstreaker wove his arms behind the warlord’s neck and pulled him down as his damage warnings piled in even greater numbers on his HUD. As his frame informed him of how much more it was breaking under Megatron’s administrations, Sunstreaker pressed their lips together, moaning—no fake—when Megatron overtook him, his glossa slipping into his mouth, lips pressing tighter, and his hips pistoning harder, if that was even possible. It was stretch and fullness like always, the abuse of what felt like every last sensor in his valve.

Sunstreaker shuddered from pleasure and agony both until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The sensations melded together until one only added to the other, and he fragging hurt, but he felt spectacular, his valve clenching as his frame was brutally driven towards completion.

He could taste Megatron’s own pain in his field. It was gratification, proof that he had fought well and true, but also, even more proof that Megatron wasn’t weak in any sense of the word. It didn’t matter he was aching, he was still willing and able to take his prize.

Neither of them was weak. The sparkling wouldn’t be weak either, not with creators like them.

And if it was despite that… Well, would they have any need for it? This wasn’t a world for the feeble. He wouldn’t accept that.

But it was unlikely to come to pass. It wasn’t weak in spark, not now, not ever, pushing at him, riding every exhilarating emotion, demanding that he feed it more of it. It was lively, it was gaining more mass with every passing day—it was thriving, healthy. Why would it change that course all of a sudden?

It wouldn’t, he was certain of that as it spun faster in its own rotation in time with the pleasure growing in his frame. He rocked into Megatron’s thrusts no matter the pain, bit down on the tyrant’s lip to another growl from him. A sharp jab of Megatron’s hips had Sunstreaker’s vents seizing when it jarred his injuries.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. His servo grasped the back of Megatron’s helm, locking him in place as the pleasure crested and he groaned against the warlord’s lips. Charge released from his frame and he tensed, further hurting himself, more warnings popping up on his HUD.

Fucking worth it. This was the way to feel, this was the way to live, and he was fragging done having anyone tell him otherwise.

By the continued racket around them, he was no further from his kin here than he had been in Kaon, in the Pits. The noise only increased when Megatron growled his own overload, jerking his hips into Sunstreaker to another pained hiss from him—whooping for their completion, for the sight of charge crackling across both their frames. It was a show from start to finish, all of it.

Never let them forget where Sunstreaker had come from—the very same place as so many of them.

He loosened his hold on Megatron and with another graze of sharp denta across his lips the tyrant pulled away from him until there was enough distance for their gazes to meet, amusement in Megatron’s optics… As well as something else. Sunstreaker couldn’t quite name it. Approval?

Ugh. Frag him and opinions. “Done already?” Sunstreaker growled at him, jabbing his digits into a deep gash on Megatron’s side and relishing in the jerk of the tyrant’s frame. Did that hurt?

Megatron responded by rather meaningfully tracing his damaged midsection, and just the threat of what he could do to injure him further had Sunstreaker snarling some more. “Mercy is so overrated, isn’t it?” the tyrant asked from him in return–

Before driving his claws into the gaping wound of his abdomen, in time with a harsh thrust into his valve. The dual pain on that one area of his frame had Sunstreaker’s helm snapping back against the floor, but he didn’t scream, only ground his denta together and groaned.

“Frag you,” he panted once he could will his optics open again, glaring at the tyrant now sporting an entirely benevolent smile. Megatron drew back… Thrust back in, and his claws remained in his abdomen. It was pain, plain and simple—but also satisfaction, the knowledge of what Megatron was ready and willing to do clouding Sunstreaker’s good sense.

“Backing down already?” Megatron wondered with an innocent tilt of his helm, as if he wasn’t aggravating already severe injuries.

Sunstreaker yanked on Megatron’s wounds a little harder this time, bending his plating until the tyrant was growling a warning at him.

The twin grinned. “Keep fucking dreaming.”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #megatron #megasun #fic #2020 #ashes #up in flames

9 notes · View notes

bnha-ra · 4 years ago

Text

Lily of the Valley ||BNHA

A/N: HELLO LOVIES! IT’S YA GIRL, SKINNY PENIS- THE AUTHOR! If you guys are veterans of this account you know that this blog was birthed because I had a reader story on Quotev and guess what? IT’S GETTING A FUCKING COMEBACK! A REPRISE because I hated my writing on the original, oop not only a name change, but the lore has also (slightly) changed! So, I hope you enjoy!

Themes: Superheros (obviously), superpowers, fighting, romance, etc.

Summary: How it all began and then some

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter! Maybe some tension but that’s about it!

Tags: @prismaroyal @undead0relived

It was the only thing ringing through her head as she curled deeper into herself, her face, earlier bruised and bloody but was now wet with fresh tears, was shoved into her knees and her shaking arms were wrapped weakly around her shaking legs. With each tremble of her already defeated body she seemed to only hug herself tighter, reducing what should have been ear piercing wails into silent sobs, way too spent to even scream about the atrocities she had seen and the things she had lost.

Life...wasn’t fair.

She understood that now. Those little words she had heard adults whisper under their breath with exhaustion or teens cry out in anger. Of course, she understood what the words meant, she was smart enough to realise much more than people bargained for, however, what she didn't understand was the meaning behind the phrase, why people would say it, why people thought it.

Well, until now.

Because they were right, life wasn’t fair.

It was much more crueler than anyone could ever imagine.

The shouting from earlier had stopped. Whoever was outside the hospital room had fallen silent a little bit ago. Either they were whispering now or they had just stopped altogether, it was finally quiet and she could finally suffer in peace, without the screams of adults promoting the painful squeeze of anguish from their choked cries or their weeping.

When the door opened she didn’t look up, no, she stayed in her position in the corner but withheld her crying as the person made it over to her side, sliding down the way to sit themselves next to her and sigh, their hand slowly winding into her hair to give it comforting strokes and tug her head to rest against them.

“Little Wildfire” The child flinched at the name, but raised her head, eyes catching the older man’s who held a incomprehensible grief but understanding sympathy to them “I have a question for you, sweetheart”

She nodded hesitantly.

The man cleared his throat, facing back to the closed door which she followed, finally spotting the other elderly woman who watched, eyes glossed in tears.

“Do you want to come with us-” He gave her a comforting squeeze when the girl sniffed, stuffing her head deeper into his side “-or, do you want to stay here?”

She glanced down at her lap “...will you be upset if I said I want to stay here?”

“No, mia bella bambina” The woman spoke this time, walking into the room and kneeling before her, taking the child’s hand in her own and kissing the skin of her palm “Never”

The lass glanced between the two adults, eyes slowly beginning to gloss over with no found tears as she let out a shaky sob, heart clenching “I don’t want to leave Mamma alone”

The two brought her into a hug, sharing heartbroken tears with the child while they sat on the hospital floor, filled with great grief in that moment. The people outside watched with a similar sadness, heads bowed in despair and chests aching at the scene. It was a painful moment, seeing a family so broken, seeing a child’s perfect life shattered so quickly as though it was glass.

Life really wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, (Name)....”

---

“Yagi!”

(Name) jumped in her spot from the stands, face snapping up to meet the choir teacher’s while the other girls giggled, muttering amongst themselves or sending dirty looks her way. It wasn't her fault that their teacher was still droning on about regionals, to her, it had stopped being relevant when the woman started to, once again, go off about the schools rival; (Name) didn’t care, the others didn’t care so why did the damn teacher still go off about it?

‘Talk about obsessed’ She thought as she continued, finally getting to the end of her big speech.

“I expect you to be here at the same time next week!” The witch spat, “Dismissed!”

‘Jesus Christ- FINALLY’

The teen practically sprinted towards her belongings, running out of the room despite her teacher’s call and pulled out her phone from her blazer pocket, scrolling through the contacts until a familiar name popped up.

“Izuku!” She screamed into the receiver when he answered, feeling a guilty pang at her volume before quickly shaking it off “I’m so sorry! I had choir practice! Are you home yet? If not, we can go to that new hero cafe that’s opened recently! I’ll pay-”

During her sprint, flowers began to sprout from the ground beneath her due to the excitement rushing through her. She had been waiting for ages to finally take him there, Midoriya Izuku, her Quirkless best friend and the most obsessed fanboy she had the luck of knowing. Childhood friends, you see, glued together by youth and fondness for one another, something that she was thought she was so lucky for.

There was something else there too. A hidden desire, one that festered when she was still young, the obligation to protect him, to keep him from any harm that may have fallen upon him.

Ah, she was getting ahead of herself.

The joyful smile faded from her face, her steps slowing to a halt as she listened to him talk; a familiar feeling of sympathy blooming in her chest when she spoke again, glancing around the street that she had found herself.

“Where are you?....” She nodded when he responded “Okay, I’m nearby. Wait. There. I’ll be there soon and I want you to tell me what happened, no buts”

(Name) didn’t even give him a chance to respond, only ended the call with a tap and once again began her sprint, though, faster than she had before.

---

“....He really said that?”

Midoirya nodded into his knees, glancing over to his best friend from the corner of his eyes and flinching at the sight of anger spreading over her face. (Name) let out a shrill cry, jumping to her feet from the spot next to him and pacing before the other teen, face scrunched up in rage with words spewing out of her mouth faster than he could comprehend, well, almost.

“I can’t believe him! How dare he say that! You can’t say stuff like that to your fans- you have to consider their fucking feelings! I don’t care if he thinks it’s realistic- show some damn decency to people who respect you! The bastard-”

“(Name), it’s okay” Midoriya shrugged his shoulders, standing back to full height with hers and his own bags in his hands “It doesn’t matter, he was right anyway-”

“Don’t you say that, Midoriya!” (Name)’s hand was pointed towards him in warning, “You can be a hero if you try, there are heroes with weak Quirks so why can’t someone with no Quirk be a hero? Huh? HUH?”

“Well-I-”

“I AM HERE”

The voice came suddenly and loudly from behind the girl, the two teens jumping in surprise causing (Name) to twist round, both watching as a blur skidded to a stop before them and posed, revealing just the person that the female had so desperately wanted to exchange a few words with.

“All Might, how-” Midoriya had barely gotten the words out when (Name) spoke, eyes narrowed dangerously with poison dripping from her lips.

“You”

All Might had the gall to look confused “Me?”

“How dare you!” Midoriya screamed when (Name) raced towards the hero, her leg flying to meet his shin with vigor, only to howl in pain when it connected, hand coming to hold her wounded toes before she began to send punches his way instead, not caring in any way that the man was not affected, only watching in slight amusement as she continued her barrage of blows in her rageful state. “My friend deserves to be a hero more than you could ever understand! You bastard! How dare you say he can’t-!”

“Please, calm down, (Name)” The hero laughed, placing his hand against the girl’s head and pushing her back, (Name) still continuing to swing.

Midoriya stood in shocked silence, watching the scene with growing confusion.

‘How could All Might know (Name)’s name!?’

“Calm down? Calm down!? No! You are such an arsehole, Toshi! I expected better from you-”

‘TOSHI!? WHAT!?’

The greenette stuttered, trying to find his words as he continued to watch the scene before him. All Might eventually deflated with a huff, coughing blood into his hand while (Name) continued to shout at him, too clouded by her anger to realise Midoriya was walking up to her until a hand was placed on her shoulder and she spun, her glare vanishing with a gulp at her best friend’s befuddled gaze on her.

“Crap” (Name) muttered.

All Might just laughed.

“I think we owe young Midoriya an explanation, don’t we, (Name)?”

“Is something wrong, (Name)? You seem occupied”

The girl jumped from her spot behind the receptionist's desk, eyes snapping up to meet Dr Nakamura’s before a bright smile grew, though her hand came to scratch the back of her neck in embarrassment from the scare.

“It’s nothing, sir! I’ve just been training a lot harder recently so I’m kinda tired, that’s all”

The older man nodded, his ears twitching in contemplation as he rifled through the chest of draws behind her, no doubt looking for a file.

It wasn’t a complete lie. While the U.A entrance exams were still ten months away, it didn’t mean she could slack off, no, she needed to get in as much training as she could before the trials, both going through physical exercise and mental. U.A was a school that only took the best of the best, just like Shiketsu and if she wanted even a chance at studying to become a great hero at any of the two she needed to up her game, because she was positive that if she wasn’t at her best, she would be beaten with no regarde.

However, that wasn’t what she was thinking about.

Dr Nakamura pulled one of the files, flipping through before turning back to the girl with a sharp toothed smile “Well, I wouldn’t expect less from one of our next future heroes”

(Name)’s face grew hot at the compliment and she laughed, “Thanks, sir”

“No problem, kid” His hand ruffled her locks playfully “Don’t overwork yourself, okay? If you need any breaks from work I’ll be sure to give them to you”

He walked away with a wave, entering into another room to leave her alone with her thoughts once again.

Truth be told, she was thinking back to a few days ago and the secret she had been swore to keep underwraps.

“Wait, so, just correct me if I’m wrong” Midoriya’s face was much calmer than (Name) expected, much much calmer. She honestly anticipated screaming, maybe faint if it were a worse kind of day, which from hearing about it, it sounded like it was, but instead, he was calm, eyes shining with curiosity and confusion.

“Ever since your mother was taken-....was comatosed…and your father….died” (Name) hugged herself at those words, trying to ignore the feeling of grief stabbing at her heart “You haven’t been living with relatives but...heroes…real life heroes?”

She nodded.

“That’s so cool!” (Name) looked at him with surprise plastered all over her face. Midoriya took her expression in a negative way, curling into himself with shame “I mean, you already lived with a pro hero before- b-but you’ve met some of the most powerful heroes in Japan! Counting All Might that means the world! Oh my Gosh, I mean- uh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that-”

(Name)’s voice was meek when she spoke again, eyes shining with unshed tears “I thought you would be upset….”

“H-huh!? Why!?”

“Because I never told you…”

Confusion took over his face once again and he tilted his head to the side, “Why would I be upset over you protecting yourself?”

(Name) choked.

“I don’t mean to interrupt” All Might’s hand landed softly on (Name)’s back, moving in soothing circles as he continued, eyes centered on Midoriya “But young Midoriya, your answer?”

“Oh! Right! Uh…” The greenette glanced between the two, both sending him back encouraging looks in return before he released a breath, expression adopting one of determination.

“I accept your power, All Might!”

The hero smiled “I knew you would”

“Oi, (Last)” For a second time that day, (Name) jumped in her seat, looking up to see two familiar boys staring back at her. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, Koji, Hitoshi, Hi!” (Name) began to type away at the computer before her, hoping to ignore the questioning stare from Koda and glare from Shinso when the purple haired boy rolled his eyes in exasperation “You guys finally catch those troublemakers running about?”

Shinso presented the box, (Name) standing to glance in from over the desk and smiling at the sight of the mother cat surrounded by her children before she gestured over to a room nearby.

“Ms Hamada came in a little earlier, why don’t you take them to her”

“Was planning to, but first we gotta show you something"

(Name) brows furrowed “What?”

Shinso nudged Koda softly, prompting the boy to set down his own box. His large hands disappeared into it before pulling back out with another small kitten in his hands who mewled softly towards (Name), pawing at the air.

“Guys, you’re not supposed to separate the young!” She chided, reaching out for the animal who was handed to her, (Name) rocking the animal gently in her grasp and staring pointedly at her friend who cowered back “You both should know better!”

“It’s not from the pack” Shinso responded, nodding to the other box “This was left outside and it’s a little….different”

“Different? How so-...” From her hands, a shifting sound caught her ears and she looked down, the kitten in her hands now replaced with an otter pup who cooed at her.

“...huh”

---

U.A really was a wonder.

(Name) hadn’t really been there a lot, probably a handful of times as she aged, but she hadn’t properly experienced the feeling of excitement passing through the front gate, other examinees walking nearby, no doubt in the same boat as her, glancing around in amazement.

The school were the greatest pro heroes were born and trust her, she had proof of that in the contacts on her phone. She just hoped that all of her hard work during the months would work in her favour, that she would grab her place at this amazing school and she would begin her journey of becoming a great hero.

Just like her mother had been.

(Name) shook her head, hurrying her pace to the front steps of the school. The recommended students took their exams a month before the actual exam, she believed? Meaning she was alone, no Midoriya by her side to push her forward, to reassure her she was set. Although it was the same for him, if she did pass this exam of course, he would be alone too-

‘Ugh, get a hold on yourself-’

(Name) let out a yelp when she ran into someone’s back, apologies dropping from her mouth while the person turned, staring down at her.

He was a huge, mountain of a man with dark buzz cut hair and beady black eyes that seemed to glare straight back into her soul with a unyielding fire that made her gulp nervously and take a step back, her animal instincts clawing to kick in, screaming at her that she was no match for this predator, that she should run while she still could. Then he straightened up, his head flying downward until it smashed against the pavement, body bent over in a bow and practically screaming, gaining the attention of the other examinees.

“I’m so extremely sorry for getting in your way! I promise it won't happen again!”

“Hey, hey!” (Name) cried, hands flying up in a panic “You don’t need to apologise I bumped into you! I’m really sorry about that”

The boy snapped back up, his grin broad on his face and blood running from the small cut on his forehead.

“Oh, hey, you’re bleeding!” Without another though (Name) pulled out a packet of tissues she kept within her jacket, leaping up to tend to the wound, using the air to keep her stable just barely. She really needed more training on that. “Here you go, you should be more careful”

“Woah that’s amazing you’re floating! What’s your Quirk?! Is it like mine!?”

(Name) couldn’t help the laugh she let out “I don’t even know your Quirk, friend”

The boy beamed “It’s called Whirlwind! I can control wind currents and manipulate them however I want! Now you!”

(Name) dropped back down, hands landing on her hips with a smile “Well, my Quirk is called Nat-”

Remember, (Name), keep a low profile. No one can know who you really are, that means no using Nature outside of training.

“-I mean, Element! meaning I can control any kind of elements around me! So, kinda similar to yours”

“Wow, that’s so cool! I’m Yoarashi Inasa!” Yoarashi lent out his hand for her to take, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, Yoarashi, I’m Yagi (Name)”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yagi!”

“Please, call me (Name)!”

“Okay, (Name)! Call me Inasa!”

Seems like this exam won’t seem so bad afterall.

---

It was better than imagined. Yoarashi was a ball of sunshine, standing tall and bright, encouraging those around him despite knowing absolutely nothing of who they were. It was nice, especially due to the fact she didn’t have a lot of friends, having someone by her side inspire her to do better than she thought she could do. He believed her even though he didn’t know who she really was, he thought she was strong only after about an hour of knowing each other and it was...nice.

She really hoped he got the spot here, he deserved it.

The written exam had been an hour and fifteen minutes, all decent material and she was positive that she had passed it with flying colours and now it was time for the physical part of the test, then finally, the interview.

Present Mic’s booming voice was actually soothing to her, probably because of the time he spent after the atta- accident, helping to pull her out of the dark she had buried herself in. The hero was a rock in her life for a long time and she admired him for just as long. He sent her an encouraging wink at the beginning of it all, throwing an extra thumbs up her way before it had all started and she was grateful for it. It was nice that he was giving her extra support, even if he wasn’t really supposed to at that moment.

“Good luck, Inasa!” The giant smiled, throwing a thanks over his shoulder as he got in position for the race.

A sudden coldness surrounded her and (Name) shivered, blinking in surprise when it suddenly got darker.

“You’re in my way, move”

Now usually, (Name) wasn’t one to talk back, actually, she was kind of scared of talking back to people because who knew what they were capable of! But in that moment, those words had just made her angry, so angry in fact that she turned around to face the culprit of such a rude demand, hand poised in a point motion to jab them in the shoulder “Excuse me? Why don’t you watch your fucking tone....”

They stared back at each other in surprise, both sets of eyes wide with recognition.

“I don’t need your pity! Leave me alone!”

(Name) swallowed the heavy lump that was forming in her throat and blinked back the tears that dared try to blur her vision.

“S-Sorry Sho-...Todoroki”

Then she walked back to her spot on the sidelines, wiping away the wetness from her face while Todoroki shook off the feelings that plagued him and took his spot in the race.

This was gonna be a long day.

---

Finally, finally, it was time for the interviews.

Yoarashi had seemed tense after his race, eyes glaring pointedly towards Todoroki as though the smaller teen had stabbed him in the heart and left him for dead. It was kinda odd, especially with her new friend being a pillar of sunshine and greatness, like a giant puppy out to give everyone love, but he had ultimately relaxed when she appeared next to him, stroking his arm gently and asking if he was okay.

“Oh I’m fine!” He had replied, patting her on the head “You’re next right!? Come on, I know you’ll do great!”

(Name) ignored the stare on her back when he led her back to the other participants.

“Please enter”

A breath was released before the door was pushed open, a large office revealing itself to her with a familiar small rodent sitting behind a desk, smiling towards her and gesturing to shut the door. (Name) did, slowly of course, the chattering of other examinees disappearing along with the outside when she walked over, bowing politely in greeting.

“Principal Nedzu, it’s an honour to see you again, it’s been a while”

Nedzu bowed back in return.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Last). Please, take a seat”

(Name) did as she was told, feeling a wave of exhaustion settle over her body at the sinking plush of the cushioned chair. The animal rifled through the many ID forms before landing on the one he needed, her own, and settling it to the top of the pile and smiling kindly towards her.

“Well, Miss (Last)” Nedzu started “Tell me a bit about yourself”

(Name) caught herself before she could say anything, wringing her hands on her lap “I-....what is there to say? You already know a lot about me, Nedzu”

The principal nodded in agreement before leaning forward, smile still as kind as ever “It is true that I know who you really are, what your Quirk is and much about your younger life. However, what I really want to know is why are you here today? What made you take the recommended entrance exam? Why, after what you’ve seen first hand, would you want to experience the life of a hero?”

Trust (Name) to know that curiosity. She still asked herself that everyday. Why, after experiencing such a traumatic tragedy would she still want to become a hero and face something that horrible, that life shattering every single day of her life?

(Last) (Name), why did you want to torture yourself for the rest of life?

“Simple” The girl started, eyes shining with a light that Nedzu had only seen with a few heroes in his lifetime.

“I don’t want anyone else to suffer like I did”

#lily of the valley fic #mha imagine #mha x reader #mha scenario #bnha scenario #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

11 notes · View notes

sope-and-shine · 4 years ago

Text

Lamb & Wolf: Chapter 2

-> Jimin x Reader -> SFW // Utopia!AU // angst with a fair amount of fluff // -> Word Count: 10k (I didn’t realize how much I wrote oH MY GOSH) ->Summary: Death has been asleep for 1,000 years and is awoken from their slumber. Humanity has forgotten them, but they will not be forgotten. After the first death in the many years after their disappearance, Death has returned to make the world right again. In an attempt to keep Death from taking lives away, a group of individuals seek them out to stop their acts of injustice, but will they really stop death? -> Warning(s): mild gun violence - there’s a brief fight, character death, character injury, loss, grief, guilt, mild language, mild violence.

Once again, Death will play a major role in this series. This is a sensitive topic, so please use caution!

A/N: This chapter really took me for a spin! I hate writing actions, so this one was a lot of work for me! I am very excited to be posting this. Belle and I really put a lot of thought into this storyline! Also, if you see that I missed anything in my warnings that I should have put, PLEASE do not hesitate to tell me! I’ve spent about 20 minutes trying to make sure I’ve tagged and warned correctly, but I wanna make sure!

And a big, big, big thank you to @multycoloredtaco, @sakuraguks, and my pals in the cypher writers net for helping me out! This chapter was a lot of work, and I’m so happy to be posting it!

After the new Pangea settled into the super continent known today, there was debate across the already established nations on how they should continue to divide. A handful of world leaders at the time wanted to take advantage of the destruction as a way to secure more land to claim as their own in hopes of ruling over all of Pangea one day now that it was a much more achievable means. However, there was still a large portion of the congregation at the time that rejected the idea. If they were to survive as they had before, then they had to accommodate for the new climates and habitual changes that had occurred when the plates shifted.

So, it was decided that they would leave country borders as is, however, there would be major changes to ensure everyone’s safety. Large cities and small towns alike were given materials to construct a protective wall to keep out the large, dangerous animals that were now a threat. No longer would they be known by their previous names, but by specific sanction numbers and providence abbreviation.

In 1,000 years, you’d never traveled anywhere beyond KOR Sanction 34. You have a vague memory of visiting another “country” to visit family, but the memory was so long ago it feels more like a dream than anything. Now, you were traveling on a train going South from the tip of Pangea to the warmer climates below in hopes of making it to ITA Sanction 5,193 in 2 days time.

“I know each and everyone of you will do your best to see that we succeed.” Ambassador Carrol had said as his staff prepared your cars behind him, “I have high hopes for this mission and this team.”

His presence was calming and his fatherly smile quelled your nerves for the impending trip. No one knew how long the mission would last, especially once groups from all over came into contact in hopes of finding a way to end Death’s sudden reign of terror.

“Hoseok. (Y/n).” He called for the two of you as everyone in the group went to the cars. He made sure to isolate you both from his daughter as he carefully waved her off to a designated car. He made sure she was out of ears reach before he turned his attention to the two of you. His confident smile has weakened, “Take care of Lina for me, okay? I know you always do, but please make sure she comes home.”

“We’ll all come home safe and sound.” Hoseok assured him with his radiant heart-shaped smile. Always so confident and sure of himself and others. You knew if you couldn’t take care of Lina while on the trip, he would do anything in his power to bring her back safe, “It’s your plan anyways, so we know it’ll work!”

You had merely nodded in agreement before being ushered into the car with Lina and Bomi, the beautiful sight of city hall fading from view as you drove away.

2 and a half weeks. That’s how long it took to assemble a team after Death’s reappearance and send you on your way with everything that you would need. In that time, the death toll had grown larger, nearing 300,000 people in such a short time. In your life, you couldn’t remember a time when so many people had died, you couldn’t even name 2 people that had died back when it was a normal occurrence. To witness such an atrocity after so many years without a single death, it was a lot to handle. But at least you’d have your friends there with you.

And the new members of your team.

There wasn’t much time to acquaint yourself with the others that had joined the task force when you arrived at City Hall. As soon as you’d arrived at the building, you were all debriefed on the mission with a case file for each of you before you were sent on your way in a government car to the train station. Now, you were left awkwardly sitting on a train car with 3 people that you knew well and 5 people that you’d never met before in your life.

“What do we even do?” You ask, peaking over Hoseok’s shoulder to look at the men spread around the car.

The space itself is very luxurious and spread out, filled with large, brown leather armchairs on swivel bases along the windows up to the back where you sit at a mahogany table with four chairs on each side, a couch just off to the right by the windows before it.

One lone man sat at the front of the car opposite to the door, nursing a glass of what you assumed to be brandy or whiskey in one hand with his eyes shut in content. Two chairs from him, two more men sat opposite to one another. One with blue hair and a boxy smile, and the other a deep chestnut brown with a cheeky grin. They looked to be making small talk with one another, getting excited every so often during their conversation. Finally, there were the two men sitting on the only couch in the car, a blonde with his nose tucked into the manila folder gifted to everyone and a man with purple hair resting his chin on the man’s shoulder - presumably to read along with him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t comfortable working with others on the spot. Working at the hospital, you’d worked plenty of shifts with nurses from all over your hospital, as well as other hospitals within the city. You were more than happy to work in a team, but with these new guys joining your already established group?

Lina spares a glance your way, “We need to read the files my Dad’s team made and make sure we understand them before we make it to ITA Sanction 5,193 to meet with the other teams.” She says, returning to the file in front of her to continue reading through her own manila folder.

“Yeah, I get that part.” You sigh, looking once more to the men behind them. You catch the eyes of the broad shouldered, purple haired man sitting next to a blonde by the window. You keep his gaze until he winks at you, causing you to roll eyes, “I meant them.”

Hoseok laughs, “What are you? 112? They’re just boys, (Y/n).”

“Wow, Hoseok, you’re so funny. Do you do stand-up on weekends too?” Bomi asks, sarcasm evident in her voice. Hoseok himself only pouts, a slight glare pointed back at the woman next to you, “Now, who’s the funny one?”

”Don’t act like children!” Lina scolds, closing her folder for the first time since you’d arrived on the train and sat down at the table. She moves a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear, closing her eyes to give herself a moment's peace before speaking again. “We are here to work together for who knows how long, so we’re going to have to introduce ourselves.”

“I’m just concerned to be working with strangers on something like this.” You say, trying to emphasize the importance of the mission you’ve been assigned.

“Then let’s fix that.” You watch as Lina stands from her chair, adjusting her shirt momentarily before placing a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder for balance. “Hey!” She grabs their attention, “Did you guys want to go over this together? We can toss some ideas around and get to know each other while we still can.”

”I was hoping someone would ask!” The bored, purple haired man is fast to stand from his seat and approach the table. “Kim Seokjin-” He grabs the chair next to Lina and pulls it back for him to take a seat next to her, “I volunteered to be here, but I don’t know if there’s much I’ll really be able to help with.”

”(L/n) (Y/n). Nice to meet you.” You say, offering a small nod his way.

Lina takes her seat between him and Hoseok, ”I’m sure there’s something you can do to help.”

Seokjin flashes her an appreciative smile before turning in his seat to look behind him, his eyes landing on the blonde now standing behind him. ”Joon, sit down already.” He says, reaching his arm over the table to pat the empty spot in front of him for the man to sit. “Joon” moves to do so and Seokjin turns to everyone again, a proud smile on his face, “This is my husband.”

Namjoon offers a shy nod and a bashful smile, ”Kim Namjoon. I’m the Research Scientist assigned to the mission.”

”Good to see we have someone that knows what’s going on.” Bomi says.

“Taehyung-” The blue haired man from the center of the car plops down next to you, “I will be your weapons expert for this trip.”

His title takes you by surprise. Why you needed a weapons expert was beyond you, and it seemed like you weren’t the only one. Hoseok speaks up for you, “We need a weapons expert?”

“Did you want to beat Death up in a fist fight?” You turn to see the man from the front of the train leaning against the wall to your left instead of sitting in the chair closest to the table.

“I’ll do it!” The man that sat across from Taehyung slams a hand on the table, making you jump. “Jeon Jeongguk. I’m always ready to throw hands, just name a time and place.”

“Min Yoongi.” The red haired man scans over the table with an unamused expression, “I don’t recommend throwing hands with me if you plan to use them later.”

“Nice to know…” Bomi mutters, pulling a laugh from both you and Namjoon.

“It’s nice to meet you all! I’m Jung Lina and this is my husband Hoseok-” Lina turns to him and he raises a hand, “Good to meet you. We’re both volunteers for the mission.”

Bomi leans forward a bit so the men on the other side of you can see her, “Lee Bomi. I’m a volunteer as well.”

An awkward silence falls over the car, no one really knowing where to go from there. You exchange a glance with Hoseok and turn to the folder you haven’t even touched in front of you. When you signed up for this mission, you forgot that you’d have to revisit teachings that stopped years ago, “So...do we just jump into it?”

Lina is quick to dive in, “Reading over these files, it looks like our main priority should be to take in as much information about Death as possible.” She plays with the folder in front of her, a brief, faraway glance taking over her vision. Hoseok places a hand over hers after noticing her brief silence, pulling her back from her slump. She squeezes his hand and smiles, “I know I myself haven’t thought about Death much since we welcomed the New Age.”

“Agreed. I know a lot of information about Death, but not as much as I hear they do in ITA Sanction 5,193.” Namjoon says, adding in his own two cents, “I heard they still teach about Death in their classrooms.”

“Not every full sanction was as convinced as ours that Death just disappeared.” Yoongi moves closer to the table, choosing to sit on the edge over leaning against the wall, “I’ve been to plenty of sanctions across Pangea and there are plenty that talk about Death more than you would think.”

“You’ve left the KOR Sanctions?! What are you? A government employee?!” Taehyung asks, a new light to his face. Leaving full sanctions is a big deal, mainly only for vacations, work trips, or volunteer work with missionaries. It would seem even “weapons experts” are excluded from that list.

Yoongi gives Taehyung a once over before shrugging, “Sure.”

Jeongguk leans on the table, the cheeky grin you’d seen earlier now resembling that of a child who got a new toy, “Well, I’m no government official or anything, but I’ve been out once or twice myself to visit the other Old Asia Sanctions. A few have a whole festival that celebrates Death!”

“I don’t see what good comes from celebrating a monster...” Bomi says. You can’t really blame her for feeling that way. If you lost your husband like she had, then you’d probably feel the same way.

“Well, maybe we can learn something from them that will be useful.” Lina reaches out and takes Bomi’s hands in her own, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She turns to everyone else at the table and offers a bright smile, “I’m excited to work with all of you!”

“Likewise.” Seokjin nods.

Working with everyone slowly became easier than you thought it would. Everyone at the table had something to offer to the cause, whether it be survival skills with Yoongi and Jin - as he’d prefer to be called - or to communication skills with Lina and Namjoon. Somehow, everyone just seemed to fit into the mold. Even Jeongguk fit in with the weird personality you’d picked up from him, but you could only blame that on Taehyung and Hobi. Even so, it was clear as day why they all were there.

Jeongguk may be overly confident, but that’s what makes him fearless. At least, that’s what you’d picked up from the various stories he’s already told you in the span of 3 hours. Not only that, but every time someone even mentions Death, a light shines in his eyes like a puppy being offered a bone. Having a trained fighter on your side with no fear of jumping in and taking charge is a big plus for your team.

Then there’s Jin and Namjoon. Namjoon is a wonderful asset to the team, bouncing theories and ideas back and forth with Lina so easily. Hoseok would probably be jealous if it weren’t for the fact that Jin has Namjoon wrapped around his finger. In the short time that you’ve all been talking, it’s easy to see that Namjoon finds comfort in his partner. Every time he’d mention a new idea or theory he’d been working on, he’d squeeze Jin’s hands on top of the table. Jin in return would run his thumbs over Namjoon’s knuckles, and you’d see the tension just leave his body. They remind you of Hoseok and Lina.

You almost let Taehyung slide at first. Being a weapons expert seemed simple enough, but his attitude will shift every now and then. For the most part, he’s all smiles and jokes, but he’ll slip into a more serious facade when the conversation shifts to the actual hunt for Death. He and Yoongi seem to be much more alike than you thought they’d be. Especially, since the only time Yoongi talked at all was to go over the plan or demean someone. Not necessarily out of hatred, but more so annoyance than anything. Either way, you’d have plenty of time to figure him out. Or at the very least, get used to him.

You certainly weren’t going to do that over dinner.

It wasn’t like the car you were eating in wasn’t a nice place to start a conversation, but it was surprisingly very packed, to say the least. Talking to anyone about what you were really doing there wasn’t an option, and there was no room to talk about some of their real jobs lest anyone overhear that information. Instead, your dinner was filled with the clatter of plates and utensils, and minor chit chat from everyday life.

Of course, Hoseok was more than happy to rave about everyone of his 127 children, Lina jumping in every now and then to correct him when he’d mess up a detail. But they had Namjoon, Jin, and Taehyung to add in with their own children as well. Namjoon was more than happy to tell the table about his girls, pulling out his wallet to show off the photos he kept there. Of course, Taehyung countered with his own personal photo album dedicated solely to his children - including his pomeranian. At one point, after you’d all moved back to the comfort of the caboose, Bomi even got in on the child praising! But it was easy to tell that it was more of a distraction for her than anything. Even so, it makes you happy knowing she’s still taking care of herself after everything that happened.

Soon enough, everyone but you had retired for the night. For some reason, you just couldn’t convince yourself to sleep. It was like a part of you just wasn’t ready to sleep after the fiasco you’ve been through in the past two and half weeks.

Instead, you opt to change cars, choosing to get a drink or two to coax yourself to relax before the real work begins. At this point in the night, it shouldn’t be a problem to get a quick drink without being bothered by anyone. Hopefully, they’d all be asleep on their arms or returning to their own cabins. However, you’re surprised to see the same red head from earlier perched on a stool. To your knowledge, alcohol was all he’d been drinking since you got on the train. You weren’t one to judge, it’s not like he could really do any major damage.

But still...

You take the seat next to him, setting your card on the counter in front of you. When you don’t see the bartender, you decide that now would be as good a time as any to try and make conversation. “Can’t sleep?”

He takes a sip from his glass, “Sleeping is something I do at my own convenience.”

“Wouldn’t now be convenient?” You ask. When you’re met with a blank stare, you turn to face the wall of liquor in front of you, “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

After a couple minutes of awkward silence the bartender comes back from another car and makes his way over to you, “Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”

“As much as I need a drink, could I bother you for a Coke?” You ask,

“Sure thing.” He turns to grab your drink and you rest yourself on the counter to help yourself relax from such a long day. You’d taken in so much information in such a short span of time. History you’d forgotten existed being shoved down your throat almost as violently as the sudden realization that Death had returned.

Of course, unlike most of the other members in your group, you didn’t have much to worry about. You had your parents to worry about, as well as your god children and their children. But you didn’t have anyone immediate of your own. It was just you. You don’t mind though. You haven’t cared for 1,000 years, so why start now?

Then again, it would be nice to have someone there to comfort you in times like these. Times when you rely on some carbonated liquid to lift you up.

You thank the bartender as he hands you a glass of coke, deciding to leave it resting on the counter before you take a sip. Instead, you let your hands sit on either side of the glass, letting your mind wander in thought as you stare into the dark pool of bubbly liquid.

Do you regret not putting yourself out there to find someone? Sometimes. It wasn’t as if you really needed anyone by your side to make you happy, but it wasn’t as if you never tried. You’d had more than several relationships in your many years of life, and you’d had strong feelings for the other party on many occasions! But living in a world where no one dies, where you can do anything with seemingly no dire consequences...

It’s a world where no one wants or needs to settle down.

A love like Lina and Hobi’s or Namjoon and Jin’s is a love so rare it’s almost unheard of. Even if Jin did mention it took them a few hundred years to find each other, you can’t help but envy them and their happiness together.

Yoongi suddenly stiffens and turns towards you, his right hand covering one of your own, “Do not make any sudden movements.” You freeze. You knew Yoongi was shady, but you didn’t think he was this shady! He’s got you blocked from view of the rest of the car, making sure the only thing you can see is his face and the bartender. Not only that, but his stare is intense and completely focused. If it weren’t for the serious look on his face, you probably would’ve screamed for help.

“I’m going to stand up and you’re going to smile and wish me goodnight. Tell me you’ll see me in a bit and keep doing what you were doing. Do not leave until I come back. Do you understand?” He asks. You nod, trying to turn your surprised expression into a smile. Yoongi wastes no time for you to act the part correctly and stands up, “I’m going to bed.”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, but I’ll join you soon.” You say, trying to keep a steady voice. Your left hand is balled in a fist, your own thumb rubbing at your hand to keep yourself calm. You have no idea what changed Yoongi’s mood to suddenly wanting you to pretend you’re buddy-buddy, but you weren’t going to question it. “Sleep well!”

Yoongi leans in close next to your ear, his hand coming to rest on the arm making a fist, “Don’t tell anyone why you’re on this train or who you are. Tell them you don’t want to talk and it’s not any of their business to know. Now, laugh and pretend I told you something funny.”

“I get it! Don’t be vulgar.” You say, faking a laugh and playing along as he asked. To say you were terrified of him leaving you now would be an understatement. You place your free hand on top of the one on your forearm and squeeze, keeping a smile as you face him, “I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Yoongi nods and walks away. To anyone around you, it looks like a regular interaction, but you know it was an understanding of what you were trying to convey to him. He tells you to do what he says, gives you vague instructions for a hypothetical situation, and then leaves you alone like you couldn’t go with him in the first place? You were going to need a better explanation than that to remain calm, and he better come back soon and explain to you what mood he just went through.

Toughing it up, you return to your drink, choosing to keep your head downcast instead of where people can see it. There were still plenty of people in the room, so anyone one of them could have set him off. The only question is why?

“Mind if I have a seat here?” You turn your head to see a tall man with short black hair swept back out of his face, revealing a scar from his chin to his left temple that cuts through his haughty grin. His green eyes would have held you captivated if not for the clear warning Yoongi had given you about talking to anyone.

“There’s an empty seat over there.” You point to the seat two chairs away, trying your best to be as standoffish as possible. You turn back to your glass of soda and pick it up, trying to keep a steady grip over a hard one. This guy didn’t look sketchy, but if Yoongi wasn’t assigned to your group, then you’d never suspect him either.

The man ignores you, deciding to sit right next to you anyways, “You don’t have to be shy.”

You take a deep breath, refusing to spare another glance at the man, “I’d like to enjoy my drink in peace and quiet, thank you.”

He rests his arm on the counter, moving his face to get closer to yours, “My name’s Im Hajun. You?”

“I’m not looking to make friends.” You say, turning your body away from him.

“C’mon~ Just tell me your name.” He whines.

Persistence will only take a person so far, and this guy was not going to get anywhere if he kept acting like this. Even if Yoongi hadn’t told you not to talk to anyone, you’d still be a little standoffish to this type of advance. Still, you force a polite smile, “Why don’t I buy you a drink and you forget about getting to know me?”

“Playful...I like it.” His cocky smile sends a shiver down your spine. Men like him were what made you curious for a few hundred years. To have your boundaries brushed away like a bug in his shoulder was not what you came to get a drink for. You didn’t sit down for his enjoyment. “Where are you headed?”

“Away.” You respond shortly.

“Really?” He asks.

“Yes.” You nod, taking a sip of your drink to distract yourself.

“Are you here alone?” He asks, leaning in closer to you.

You pull away from him, as far as you can without falling back, “That’s none of your business.”

“You gotta tell me something!”

“I don’t owe you anything. I don’t know you.” You remind him.

“Just tell me why you’re going to the ITA Sanctions!” His outburst makes you pause. This train makes several stops along the way, so how does he know you’re getting off in the ITA Sanction?

“Baby.” You turn away from the man in front of you to face Yoongi who’s changed from the nice clothes he was wearing earlier. Sporting jeans, a grey tee, and a leather jacket, he stands just a few feet away from you.

You glance over his new appearance, “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I want to talk to you...about what I said earlier.” His hands are inside of his jacket pockets, the one on the right hanging out just a bit more than the one in his left, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let’s go back to the room and talk.” You leave the glass in your hand on the counter and move yourself to hop down. As you turn, you look to Hajun, “Sorry to cut- uh...this short.”

He nods, “Nice talking to you.”

You hop down from your stool and join Yoongi, his left arm leaving his pocket to wrap over your shoulder and pull you closer to him to his into your ear, “I told you not to talk to him.”

“I didn’t tell him anything!” You whisper back. You enter into the next car holding your cabins and see light at the end of the hall in the caboose, “Why is everyone in the other car?”

Yoongi ignores your question, leading you to your cabin three doors from the end of the car, “Get your stuff. Pack light.”

The door closest to the last car opens and Taehyung steps out, carrying a medium sized handgun in his right hand and a bag on his back, “Why is Taehyung walking around with a gun?!”

“No time to ask questions! Now, move!” Yoongi pushes you into your car by the small of your back, causing you to stumble for a moment. You want answers, but you’ll have to do what he asks first. You grab the backpack that held your laptop and pull it onto your bed, deciding to fill it with a change of clothes, your medical bag, and a few toiletries. You had a feeling you weren’t staying on this train.

“Done?” Yoongi asks as you pull your bag onto your back. You nod and he takes your arm, “Let’s go!”

He exits the room first, pulling you along behind him into the narrow corridor. As soon as you're both out in the open, the car door at the opposite end of the car slides open. You turn to look, and catch a small glimpse of another gun before you're pushed back into your cabin. You fall to the floor with Yoongi’s body covering your own, shots ringing out from both sides of the train car. Your face is tucked into his chest with his forearms resting at the top of your head to shield you from any stray bullets.

“Are you okay?” He asks, unmoving from your current position.

“Classify ‘okay’!” You yell back, voice muffled by the closeness of his body.

“Ah, good, you’re fine.”

‘Fine? Did he really just say that to you?!’ You wonder. You were slowly starting to figure out why Yoongi’s job was so secretive, and a part of you wished you’d never been so curious.

“As soon as I land a hit on this guy, you need to run!” You hear Taehyung call out as the bullets continue to ricochet off the walls of the outside corridor.

Yoongi removes himself from you and crawls to the door, keeping himself low and close to the ground, “C’mon, we need to be ready.”

“Are you crazy?!” You ask. Did he really expect you to just run in the middle of gun fire? “No way!”

He glares at you, “You can run when we get an opening or you can stay here and die. I couldn’t care either way, I’m just trying to be nice and do my job.” You didn’t like how blunt he was. Nor did you like how willing he was to let you die. He’s a teammate, but he’s willing to leave you behind? You’d have to really listen to him if you don’t want to end up dead.

Two last shots ring out before you hear a thud followed by silence, “C’mon! I’ll hold it!” Taehyung calls out. Yoongi takes your arm to pull you out again when another shot rings from the end of the hall, stopping the both of you before you can make it out the doorway.

“God damnit!” Yoongi yells. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handgun of his own, reaching his arm around the doorway and just peeking over to see the other gunman, “Piece of shit!”

“Why are they shooting at us?!” You ask, clinging onto Yoongi’s jacket.

“Do I look like I fucking know?!” He asks, pausing his shooting to glare at you before returning to the matter at hand. He and Taehyung fire a few more rounds until the gunfire from the opposite end stops.

“They’re pulling back!” Taehyung yells.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second to grab you again, “This is our chance!” You both run from your cabin to the car door where Taehyung awaits with his gun. The area surrounding the door frame is covered in bullet holes; however, Taehyung himself doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him.

“(Y/n)!” Bomi yells from behind a chair as you enter the room.

“I’m fine,” You assure her. At least on the outside you can say you’re okay. In your head, your thoughts race a mile a minute trying to comprehend what just happened. How did that guy know where you were going? Why do Yoongi and Taehyung have guns on them? You didn’t mind so much given the fact that they saved your life, but they shouldn’t have had to do that.

Yoongi removes himself from your grip - one you didn’t realize you even had on him, “Let’s get the car uncoupled before they come back with more ammunition, there’s no telling how long they-”

Yoongi is cut off by an object flying through the window, a light beeping noise and red glow coming from the small object. You have a good idea of what it is, but Taehyung seems to know exactly what it is as he picks it up and throws it back through the window, “Get down!”

You reach out for a chair in front of you, but your body pushes itself forward before you can grab it. You feel your body fly into someone else's, knocking you both into the hard wood of the table at the end of the car. You feel warm and cold at the same time, a slight breeze rushing over your face. A window had to be open, but you can’t hear the rumble of the train over the buzzing in your ears. Your senses feel muffled and overstimulated, leaving you feeling as if you’re walking on a boat in the middle of a storm with nothing holding you down to the boat deck.

You feel yourself slide back into something solid and cold, a dead weight landing on your chest. The sensation of your falling backwards with your stomach dropping to its lowest point pulls you down headfirst with the weight on your chest rolling off your body to cushion your next fall.

You’re falling.

Falling with someone.

You’re playing a game of tag as you go back and forth cushioning the fall for one another until it stops and you’re left laying on top. It’s dark and your ears hurt, most likely from the explosion that pushed you into whoever you’ve landed on. If you were like this, then the others were probably just as bad. You have to get to them and make sure they’re okay.

You have to help them...

“..hey…”

The darkness that covers your vision is familiar, almost like a haze of fog on an early Sunday morning after a fresh rainfall. Something you hadn’t even thought about in a very long time.

“..(Y/n)...wake up..”

The voice is familiar. You’ve heard it before, but where?

“..has a pulse…..grab snow...put it down her shirt...” Another voice adds in.

Yoongi.

The train.

The explosion.

Your group.

You force your eyes open, meeting the harsh shine of a flashlight. Behind it, you see the outline of Namjoon as he sits off to your right in the dim moonlight. You can’t see much of him - even with the glow of more flashlights behind him- but he looks to be in good enough shape. Even if he has an injury, he still manages a relieved smile in the limited lighting you can see him with, “There you are. I thought you’d never wake up.”

“Is everyone okay?” You ask, voice hoarse and groggy. You took quite the beating before you passed out, you can only guess what kind of injuries you must have with the headache resting at the top of your neck. Surely, others had it worse than you did. You push yourself to sit up with help from Namjoon. You look around, seeing outlines of others, but not seeing who is who, “Lina! Bomi! Hoseok!”

“We’re okay!” Hoseok calls out from another side of the car. Namjoon shines his light to him to give you a better look, placing Hoseok in the middle of the train using a slightly broken chair to lean his back against. The light shows off a bruise forming on his jaw, just slightly glistening in the light. He turns his head away from the shine, wincing as it hits his eyes. He seemed to be coherent enough, but he most likely has a concussion at best. His right hand rests on a pair of legs behind him, most likely Lina’s, “We’re just...getting used to our new surroundings.”

“I’m okay..” Bomi groans, peeking her head around the chair Hoseok leans against. She looked to have a few scrapes of her own. As soon as you’re able to pull yourself together, you’ll have to walk around and assess everyone’s injuries to make sure they’re okay. You have no clue how far the train fell, nor do you have any idea how long you’ve been out. If anyone’s injuries were fatal, you could be too late at this point.

“We should do that again!” You hear Jeongguk say from across the train.

“Are you serious?” Namjoon asks, pointing the flashlight in his direction over Hoseok’s. He - just like the others - had injuries of his own. His face looked to be fine, and he didn’t seem to have any bruising on the appendages visible to you. You’d have to really look him over when you find the will to stand.

However, Jeongguk didn’t seem to have any remorse for the statement he made. He looked more excited than anything, “Hell yeah!”

You feel someone stand, seeing Jin move with a slight limp into the light where Jeongguk is, “Someone give me a gun. I just wanna shoot him.”

“Nobody is shooting anyone!” Lina yells.

Figuring now was the best time, you add in your own thoughts, “I want to know why they were shooting at us!”

“Yoongi, you didn’t tell her?” Taehyung asks, his body partially being uncovered by the flashlight still focused on the man-child wanting to roll down the hill again. He was standing, but he looked to be leaning against something as well. Most likely another person based on how he teeters in and out of the light.

“Sorry, should I have told her in between the gunshots or while we were taking cover from the explosion?!” Yoongi scoffs, his voice coming from the shadow holding Taehyung. The both of them were closest to the explosion with you, but they both probably had fast enough reflexes to grab something unlike you.

Did you know that guy?” You force yourself to stand, ignoring the pain in your back and chest as you stretch out.

“That’s not important right now.” Yoongi pushes from the darkness into the light so everyone can see him. He still has his bag on him, but it looks to be torn in a few spots, “We need to gather our stuff, make sure everyone can move, and get the hell out of here before they come to make sure we’re dead.”

“Dead?” Bomi asks.

Taehyung looks over to her, squinting to see her in the darkness, “Why else would they be shooting at us?”

“Facism?!” You answer.

Yoongi glares in your direction and adjusts the bag on his back, “Let’s not waste anymore time and get moving.”

Not wanting to anger the man who saved your life, you follow his lead. You - as well as Bomi - take some time to look over everyone before you all move out, cleaning up any scrapes or cuts and securing any hurting limbs. Debris from the wreck was collected and placed into bags, stored away for later if needed. Some of it came in handy for creating a makeshift brace for Jin - lucky for him. Any head injuries couldn’t be helped, but at least no one had any broken bones. For now, it would be enough to start.

Under the cover of night, Yoongi leads your group back up the hill with Taehyung taking the back. Over the broken trees and melted snow - stopping occasionally so everyone stays with the group - you all make your way back up the hill and cross the train tracks where you first went over the side. The debris from your cabins lay scattered across the winter snow and metal tracks, the beverage car you’d been in earlier that night sits just around the edge of the turn.

“They probably uncoupled the car before setting off the explosion,” Taehyung explains, watching Jeongguk and Hoseok follow Yoongi to collect anything they could salvage for the rest of your trip. He turns to you, a gun you didn’t know he had casually hanging at his side. He smirks in the low glow of the moonlight, “They probably weren’t expecting me to throw it back.”

You take a moment to think before answering him. You’d been through a lot in one night, and the events from the past 2 weeks were still weighing on you. However, at this moment in time, you felt more numb than anything. You sigh, “I don’t think anyone would expect you to grab a live explosive with your bare hands and throw it.”

Trekking through cold winter snow was not a part of the plan. It was never on the agenda, and no one had packed for this weather. It wasn’t necessarily harsh or overbearing, but the climate was still killing your stamina. It didn’t help that most of you were starting to feel the effects of your injuries after hours of walking. It would seem you weren’t the only one feeling the same way.

Bomi stops walking, causing those behind her to stop as well, “We shouldn’t put so much stress on our bodies after an accident like that. We should rest for a bit.”

Yoongi continues walking without sparing a glance behind him, “Well, unless you want to die from a bullet wound, we’ll keep going.”

“Do we really know that they’re going to come back for us?” Hoseok asks, watching Yoongi’s back as he continues to walk ahead of you.

“My body isn’t really bulletproof, so I don’t want to take any chances.” Seokjin says. He was probably hurt the most besides you and Namjoon. If anyone needed to take a break it was Seokjin, but you can’t really blame him for not wanting to take a chance.

On the other hand, you knew better than anyone what hidden injuries could do if not treated properly or as soon as possible, “We won’t know the extent of everyone’s injuries if we don’t take a break and rest soon.”

Yoongi stops walking to turn and look at everyone, “We’ll rest as soon as we get far enough away from the train cars.”

“Shouldn’t we have followed the tracks? Or maybe a stream or something?” Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk scoffs, “Dude, following the tracks is the sure fire way to get us caught if someone is following us.”

“It’s best if we head Northeast away from the tracks. That’ll take us towards the outer CHN Sanctions and we can find a smaller train back to KOR Sanction 34.” Taehyung explains.

“We’ll still have to change to a larger train to get into the city.” Lina says.

Yoongi sighs and turns back around to continue walking, “We’ll deal with that when we get there.”

So, the journey continues with everyone trudging along. Even as the sun begins to rise into the sky and stomachs begin to ache, Yoongi refuses to stop. If you weren’t scared by the notion of someone chasing you down with a gun, you probably would’ve stopped a while ago to ice your bruised midsection. But your survival skills were not as strong as your medical abilities, and if you wanted to make it to a safe, warmer space, then you’d have to continue following behind Yoongi to get to where you need to go. Thankfully, you didn’t have to go much further.

Yoongi stops at the top of the hill you all climb, having taken the lead. He turns to everyone and nods, “We can rest here.”

As you finish climbing the hill covered in a thin coat of snow, you all come to the entrance of a cave covered in shards of ice and frozen snow. The large, frozen crystals hang off the cave’s mouth like jewels on a wealthy woman’s neck. Just below the longest shard, loose powder can be seen dusting the rock floor inside and disappearing into the darkness of the cavern.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asks.

“We’re up high enough and far enough from a real trail that anyone walking won’t be able to smell clearly anymore.” He explains, “We can make a small camp here, rest until tomorrow morning, and continue on foot to the next town.”

“You’re very knowledgeable in things like this...” Namjoon points out, looking Yoongi up and down, “You knew that guy was a hitman that was supposedly locked up, and you’ve been carrying a gun this whole time.”

There were only so many jobs that would give someone access to that kind of information and resources. After spending the past few hours really getting to see him in action, there was no doubt what Yoongi’s job really was.

Hoseok meets Yoongi’s eyes, “You’re a hit man too.”

He only shrugs in return, “I’d like to think of myself as a lethal bounty hunter.”

“Your whole personality is really starting to come together.” Bomi mumbles.

You all enter the cave, ducking under the large crystals and stepping into a narrow cavern. Yoongi turns on his flashlight, showing off a tunnel leading to another opening, “We should head further into the cave so we don’t attract any large animals.”

You all follow Yoongi further into the cavern, two more flashlights roaring to life from Namjoon and Jeongguk. When you reach the next opening, you’re shocked to see the much larger cavern that opens for you, illuminated in a soft blue from spare light that hits the ice lining the cave’s walls. At the far end of the shaft, are two more dark tunnels leading further into the cave.

“I think we’ll be safe in here.”

Namjoon removes his bag and hands it over to Jin, “We should see about finding dry wood for a fire or collecting snow for drinking water.”

“I’ll come help.” Taehyung says. He pulls off his own bag and turns to you, “Can you take this for me?”

“Sure.” You take his bag, struggling at first to keep it from falling from it’s unexpected weight. You had an idea as to what Taehyung had stored in his bag, and it wasn’t spare clothes or toiletries. It makes you wonder why he hasn’t asked for a break sooner, though there is another part of you that probably doesn’t want to know or imagine why in the first place.

It didn’t take long for them to come back with a pile of sticks and snow for the group. After they returned it was a lot easier for everyone to settle down after a long morning of walking. Taehyung made sure to bring as much snow as he could carry for you and Bomi to tend to the small injuries from the crash, and Yoongi helped Namjoon get a fire started as soon as he set the wood he found on the cavern floor. They were taking this situation in fairly well considering the circumstances, and that alone scared you. Granted, Seokjin was also calm and Lina and Hobi were huddled together talking among themselves, but all three were very level-headed and knew this wasn’t the time to start freaking out.

Next to you, Bomi sits with her back flat against the floor staring off into the space above her. You can’t help but wonder what’s going through her mind at a time like this after losing so much already.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

Her body jerks at the contact, dark brown eyes looking to your hand and then to you, “Huh-?” She tilts her head in confusion and then a look of understanding comes to her face. She gives you a smile, “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine!” She turns back to the ceiling of the cave and you watch as her smile becomes forced, “I just need some rest is all.”

It doesn’t take a lot to tell that she’s not okay, but you know better than to pry at a moment like this. Instead, you muster your own sincere smile, “Okay, just let me know if you need anything. We have a lot of walking to do.”

Maybe if she hadn’t lost her husband, if you hadn’t been targeted, if you hadn’t been in a train accident, if you hadn’t been walking all day in the cold you would have asked if she was okay. But you didn’t want to bombard her and add another stress on top of her pre-existing ones.

Bomi smiles in your direction again, this time more sincere, “Of course. You get some rest too.” You nod, taking one last look over the room of everyone else who seems to be doing the same before settling yourself on the cave floor with your head on your bag and closing your eyes.

“Hey!” Bomi calls. You open your eyes to see her staring back, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Anytime.”

You can’t help but let your mind wander to yesterday. You had been so sure of this trip yesterday morning, so sure that this would be the best decision you’ve made in hundreds of years. But with the events of last night and the high tension of trying to survive in an area where winter was at its peak, it’s hard to truly let your mind rid itself of the fears ahead of you.

"This next one will be easy." A man whispers, his words so clear it feels as though he’s right next to you.

"And if not?" A more delicate voice asks.

"More fun." The first voice growls, his tone making him sound so pleased with himself you can almost see the invisible grin.

They’re both so close, yet you know they’re distant. The anxiety within you pulses as you recognize both owners from that very first night.

You bolt up, having willed yourself awake in hopes that what you’ve heard is a nightmare. However, as you look around the fire it’s easy to see that the other’s have heard their whispers as well.

A dark chuckle resonates in your ears, "Its heart beats fast now!"

"It knows..." The more feminine of the two voices taunts, "Your time has come."

Everyone looks to each other, none of them coming to the realization of what’s happening around them. It’s hard to tell if the voices are far or close now that they echo off the cave walls. However, chills run down your spine as the gruff voice of the male resonates off the walls again, much closer than anyone had realized, "Ready or not!"

“Go.” Yoongi demands, jumping from his spot on the floor, “Everybody, go now!”

Chaos ensues as everyone grabs their things, shoving whatever they may have taken out back into their bags. The dim embers of your fire are easily forgotten as Jeongguk and Namjoon lead the way to venture further into the cave away from the taunting voices that follow you. Yoongi takes up the rear to cover the path behind you.

"We have your name." The ghostly woman calls, a hint of pleasure laced in her voice as you all move through the unknown caverns. There’s another area, another open source of light if you can just move faster.

"And your scent!" The man yells.

Their voices never seem to waver, never falter. It’s impossible for them to be right behind you, but you can’t help but feel as if they’re right on your heels. The light is so close, but there’s something keeping you back. Something that only has you moving slower.

Someone that can’t move any faster.

You stop for just a moment to turn around, seeing Bomi stumble over herself as Yoongi tries to hold her up, “Bomi! Let’s go!”

She stops when she reaches you, her hands forming a loose grip on your arms, “(Y/n)...I can’t…”

“We have to move!” You remind her. You can hear how weak she is, you can feel it in her grip as she tries to hold onto you. Even so, now is not the time for her to stop moving.

Yoongi takes Bomi by the arm and firmly pushes your shoulder, “Stop standing around and get moving!”

“She’s hurt, we have to help her.” You argue, trying your best to keep your friend up on her feet.

Yoongi groans in frustration, “Open your eyes! They’re here for her!”

“Shouldn’t we try and stop them?!” You ask. You know he’s right. Every part of you knows he’s right but it doesn’t change the part of you that knows you can’t leave her.

“We don’t know how to kill them!” He tries to remove Bomi’s hand from your arm, but you grab her wrist to keep her close, “Shoot them!”

“I’m working with the dumbest people alive.” He mutters under his breath.

Within a moment, you’re taken by surprise. Bomi’s hands are ripped off of you as another hand takes the back of your shirt and pushes you forward again, rougher than the first time Yoongi had done so. You try to fight against him, but the lean man is much stronger than he looks.

“Hey! NO!” You yell, pushing back against him to go back. His grip only tightens on your clothing as his pace picks up. You have no choice but to match his pace even as you try to wiggle free, “Let me go! We have to help her! BOMI!”

“You’ll die too if you don’t move your feet!” Yoongi warns.

Tears stream down your face as you move forward, hearing the dark voice of the man again, “The scent’s grown stronger Lamb, but this one’s become yours.”

“Oh, how sweet it is to end the suffering life brings.” His partner responds, sounding almost satisfied with what they were implying.

Yoongi doesn’t let you go until you’ve hit the next part of the cavern that’s gifted with light, pushing you in front of him towards the rest of the group.

“There. You can thank me later.” He says, voice void of any emotion.

“I can thank you later?!” You ask in utter disbelief. You could understand his strange behavior on the train to save everyone, his reasoning for wanting to keep moving in the mountain was justified, but leaving Bomi behind didn’t have to be an option! “You let them kill her!”

He shrugs his shoulders, “She was dying anyways!”

“We could’ve saved her!” You argue. He saved your life at the cost of Bomi’s! If he had picked her up instead of you then you could’ve saved her! He let her go!

“Oh, really?! Enlighten me! How could we have saved her?” He asks, eyes turned into slits as he glares at you. It wasn’t hard to tell he didn’t take you seriously, that Death held nothing against him like it did you. He didn’t care. “Stop acting like a fucking child and open your eyes to what’s going on around you! I’ve saved your life twice and I won’t be doing it again!”

Your rage and grief morph into one, clouding your judgement in your current situation. You can’t help but run at him, resolving to take your guilt out on him even if deep down you know he was in the right to pull you away. You don’t care if you look like a total lunatic as you scream and throw your hands at him, fists clenched and ready to make contact with the stubborn man who claims to hunt others. Even when he grabs your wrists to hold you away and fight against your kicks powered by your own sadness, you don’t stop your outburst until someone grabs your waist from behind.

“(Y/n)! Stop it!” Hoseok scolds, pulling your smaller frame away from Yoongi who doesn’t even look like he broke a sweat during the ordeal. He just casts his eyes away from yours and walks away as you continue to thrash in the arms of your friend. “(Y/n), this won’t bring her back! You need to knock it off and get it together!”

Your thrashing ceases as it all comes crashing down around you. You’d learned about the 5 stages of grief when it came to relationships, but never before did you think they could wash over you as fast as they did. Perhaps part of it was from Hansol’s death hitting you as well, but the fact that you were right there with Bomi and you let her go seemed to be what hurt you the most.

“I asked her to be here,” You fall lax in Hoseok’s arms and let it all flow out of you, “This is my fault…”

“This isn’t your fault…” You feel the man sigh from behind you and pull you closer, his chin resting on your shoulder, “Bomi volunteered with you because she wanted to. If she didn’t want to come, then she wouldn’t have signed up. She knew this could be dangerous.”

“We didn’t even make it to our first stop, Hobi!” You cry, hands flying to cover your face as more tears fall from your eyes.

Another hand places itself on your shoulder, Lina making herself known by gently stroking a small area with her thumb, “I know this isn’t easy, but we have to focus on doing what we can for everyone.”

You know she’s right. You know that in this situation you have no choice but to move on as if nothing happened, even if that choice makes you sick to your stomach. It feels so wrong to just walk away, to from the path you had come from and left her behind. But if you don’t turn away, then what more will you be risking? What will you risk when you finally face everyone else?

Against your own emotions, you turn around. You see the somber expressions of both Hoseok and Lina in the dim lighting the hole in the cave’s ceiling provides you, the small trails still damp on Lina’s cheeks glistening like the tears that refuse to fall from her husband’s. Bomi wasn’t just your friend. She was their friend too. And though you felt all the guilt in the world for dragging her along and allowing Yoongi to pull you away, they felt the same guilt that you did for not being able to help her.

Hoseok - the radiant ball of sunshine that he is - pulls the both of you into a firm hug, “We’ll honor her as soon as we get home and solve everything. She’s gone, but we won’t forget her.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this cave doesn’t have another opening.” Jeongguk says. The three of you pull away from each other to look at him, noticing the distress written across his face.

The new area surrounding you is mainly lit where you stand and the area surrounding a small pool of water in the center of the room. Two flashlights still glow behind Jeongguk on the other side of the pool, probably continuing the search for any other way out. Part of you is tempted to find out if the pool goes anywhere, but you know you’ll probably die of hypothermia before you can find out.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” Seokjin - who stands closest to the pool of water - sighs, “Where are we supposed to go? What if they don’t go away?!”

“Well, we can’t stay here to find out. We’re sitting ducks!” Hoseok reminds everyone.

“Do you feel it, Lamb?” The man’s voice asks, sending shivers down your spine.

“Do I feel the fear?” His partner asks in return. It’s strange how in so little time you’ve become used to their mannerisms. It’s so easy to tell how pleased they are to be taunting you. “I do. Doesn’t it just make your entire being flutter?”

“They’re afraid.” His voice growls in return.

Lina grabs both your and Hoseok’s hands and tugs them towards the other side of the pool where the other’s have unconsciously began to congregate, “We can’t stay here!”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Taehyung asks, the weapon he once held loosely at his side now held firm in front of him.

The soft voice of the woman draws near, “Every elongated step I take fills me with their anticipation for what’s to come.”

“They’re not suffering enough, Lamb.” Her friend complains.

“But Wolf, this suffering is my kind of fun.” Her reply only confirms your suspicion of their enjoyment in your pain. Her deranged excitement reminds you of a child.

“Lina…” Hoseok pulls his wife closer to him, tucking her into his side as if that would shield her from whatever stalks closer to you.

She - in response - is more determined to move, “We can’t back down now, Hobi. Can they really catch all of us?” She asks, confident on the balls of her feet, yet still so unsure of any plan to escape.

“Aren’t they spirits or something?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi nods, his own weapon having made an appearance in his hands, “That’s probably something they can do.”

Jeongguk interlocks his fingers together and pushes them in front of himself to crack them, pulling them back into fists. With a quick nod of his head from side to side, he grins, “Well, I’m sure I can still show them the old razzle-dazzle.”

“Why don’t you ask them?” Jin asks.

The hair on the back of your neck stands tall, goosebumps popping to the top of your skin. In the short amount of time you spent planning and debating your escape, the beings hot on your trail had made their entrance. Stood in the entryway to the cavern, still tucked away in the shadows you see them.

They found you.

8 notes · View notes