#why are all of these grown adults trying to kill Mob in the first place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years ago

Text

New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you.

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page.

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing.

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

65 notes · View notes

wannabemobwife · 3 years ago

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Guns, bombing, language, murder, blood, hints to smut (none actual smut), typos, shitty writing, torture I guess

-Words: 4.9K

A/n: Can we get back to mob stuff? Please. I want to apologize for this chapter, it is absolute shit and I could tell by writing it. Kind of a filler chapter. Sorry it is long.

Chapter 13: Revenge Never Felt So Good

Words: 4.9K

It had been a week, since you got your memories back and you declared your love for Tom once more. Right after that, you and Tom were on the first train to Paris, refusing to fly for awhile.

You and Tom returned last night, just in time to see Parker and Rosie off to school the next morning. While you and Tom had been enjoying a second honeymoon in the city of love, Nikki and Dom so graciously offered to watch the kids. Everything was falling back into full swing. Parker and Rosie were going to school regularly. Rosie spending all her time with Henry and Parker still living his secret double life.

Things going back to normal. Somewhat.

It was a typical morning, but anytime everyone every thinks that, something gets massively screwed up. You woke up early to make pancakes and bacon.

“So what is plan for everyone today?” You asked, sipping at your steaming cup of coffee.

“Well, Rosie and I have school,” Parker explained.

“I have plans with Henry,” Rosie chimed in.

“I have meetings all day, love.” Tom said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Ok, so I’m all alone today,” you muttered, a little disappointed.

“I’m sorry darling, you could join me. You know much I love it when you sit in my lap during meetings. Really show them who’s boss,” Tom said, wrapping you in his embrace.

“No, it’s ok. I have some errands to run anyway.”

“Alright, angel. I love you. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“I love you too. Come on, kids. In the car we go.” You said, pushing everyone out the door.

“Why is Jared not driving?” Parker asked.

“Cause, I have errands to run and besides he’s driving your dad today.”

“Now let’s go.” You said as Parker and Rosie hopped into the car.

Tom was having a hard time returning to his mob personality. Some business was conducted in Paris, you tagged along and enjoyed every minute of it. Tom sometimes overcompensated for not being as dangerous and intimidating. He had grown soft taking care of you after the helicopter crash. Helping you get your memory took most of his time, he had to step away from the mob for awhile. But you were his top priority.

Tom couldn’t remember the last time he sat in his office doing business. He missed it. He missed the thrill of torturing someone, having them beg for their life in front of him. He missed the feeling of firing his gun.

“Tom, you’re late,” Haz said as Tom got out of the car.

“Sorry not sorry Haz, I enjoyed breakfast with Y/N and the kids this morning,” Tom responded.

“I have to tell you something.”

“What? It’s never good news if it’s right when I get here.”

“We’re down two more.” Harrison mumbled referring to then decreasing number of soldiers part of the Holland Empire.

“Are you fucking serious? Haz, I’m so fucking tired of this bullshit. My men are getting fucking killed. Everything has gone to shit,” Tom screamed, enraged.

“Tom, we’ll figure it out. Just need to keep your cool.” Haz said, trying to avoid Tom’s wrath.

“Easier said than done. Alright, who’s here,” Tom asked, trying to forget about everything else.

“William.” Haz said with a straight face.

“What? Why? He’s always been loyal,” Tom questioned. One of his most valuable men, working against him, the rat?

“I got word from the soldiers he has been taking bribes from Parker,” Harrison explained.

“What the fuck for? Well, I guess we’ll find out.” Tom said, walking into the main room of the warehouse.

“William, I’d never thought it would be you in this chair.” Tom said, walking up to one of his most trusted employees.

“Tom, you gotta believe me. I didn’t do anything. I’m not the rat,” William pleaded. He knew what had been happening to the mob.

“Did you or did you not take money from Parker?” Tom asked.

“Yes, he just wanted to get out of the manor at night. So, he paid me to turn a blind eye.”

“Where was he going?”

“I don’t know, I assumed to some girl’s house.” “William, I trust you. So I’m going to let you off with a warning, but you can’t let him sneak out anymore. I’m afraid we are being targeted. If he tries to leave, you have to tell me.”

“Yes, boss. I’m sorry.” William apologized.

“It’s ok, but you understand what needs to happen right? I can’t be looking like I’ve gone soft,” Tom asserted.

“Yeah, I can take it. It’s ok,” William said, gritting his teeth as he waited for the collision of Tom’s fist to his cheek. Tom winded up to deliver one swift punch to William’s left eye. Not breaking the skin but creating a dark purple blotch.

All of Tom’s frustrations have been channeled into his mob duties. Each punch riddled with anger and frustration. A release of catharsis combined with blood. Tom wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume.

The rest of the day was full of uneventful meetings. Meetings with business associates, actual business associates for the company.

When Tom came home, he planned to confront Parker about his whereabouts if he tried to sneak out again. Everyone retired, you went to sleep first and Rosie went to her room. Parker said, he was going to bed but Tom could see right through him.

Tom was sitting in the den, sipping a glass of watered down whiskey. Waiting for his son to disobey him. At 11:55 PM, Parker made his way downstairs ever so slightly. Only to be met with the dagger eyes of Tom.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” Tom asked as Parker tried to sneakily leave.

“I… I thought I heard noise outside and I’m going to go check on it,” Parker stammered. Getting caught by Tom was not part of the plan.

“Oh, ok. Parker the guards can do that. Go back to bed.” Tom said, turning back to the TV in the den, broadcasting Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Ok. Night, dad,” Parker said, trudging himself back up the steps.

“Night…. I know, you’re lying,” Tom whispered loud enough for Parker to hear.

“What? I’m not lying.”

“Parker, I know you’ve sneaking out for weeks and bribing William.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Parker immediately started apologizing, no bother in trying to lie himself out of this one.

“Why have you been sneaking out?” Tom questioned, seething with anger but refusing to show it. Trying to have a mature adult conversation.

“I’ve been going to a girl’s house, her name is Jamie.”

“Oh, glad you find someone. You know after everything with Charlotte,” Tom replied.

“Well since I told you the truth, can I go? We made the plan a couple days ago and don’t want to cancel,” Parker lied.

“Alright, just be back before sunrise or your mother will have may head,” Tom informed him.

“Thanks dad, you should get some sleep,” Parker said, making his way out of the heavily guarded house.

Parker left as quickly as possible. He knew Wilson would be pissed for him being late. The talk with Tom was not how this was supposed to happen.

He couldn’t betray his family and himself anymore.

Parker hoped this was the last time he would have to talk to him. He planned to quit, after the conversation with Dom. Parker had become everything he hated, someone who kills for sport.

“Wilson, this is the last thing I’m doing then, I’m out,” Parker said, walking towards Wilson.

“We’ll talk about it later, my boy,” Wilson said, patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Alright who am I killing? You never gave me a target.” Parker shouted at Wilson walking.

“Oh, this isn’t a hit, it’s a robbery. Here’s your new firearm,” One of Wilson’s men explained, tossing a MP5K at him.

“You okay kid? You know if you’re too much of pussy the boss might understand,” jeered one of the men as Parker gulped at the size of the weapon.

“Fuck you, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Parker barked, trying to put his mind aside. He has never done anything like this. It wasn’t just one person he was killing, it was the possibility of having many causalities. Altering his persona from a hitman to a mass murderer.

A million thoughts flooded Parker’s mind. He wouldn’t be killing people who deserved it like before, contract killers or drug dealers, these were innocent people. Stupid people for gambling all their hard earned money away but nonetheless innocent.

Parker’s heart nearly stopped when he saw where the van pulled up to. A place he knew all too well, it was one of Tom’s casinos.

The company that Dom had built, but all the Holland boys sent thriving in the new century, was more than it seemed. Holland Exportation and Luxuries was much more than exporting goods.

It was casinos that ran all along the French Riviera, more specifically Monaco. It was hotels across the entire globe. It was a business but not the family one. More of a front for the mob but it paid the bills. Harry and Sam had been in charge of running and establishing the hotels and casinos across Europe.

“Y’know your way around, right? That’s why the boss put you on this.” One of men asked Parker as he fiddled with his new machine gun.

“I guess so.” Parker replied.

“Here’s a map. Where are the guards? Which posts?” Asked a soldier, pointing to the main entrance hallways, where security was sure to be.

“I don’t know.”

“So we’re going in there fucking blind? Fuck, thought you’d be good for something. Just stay out of our way,” yelled one of the capos.

“No. I’m taking point. If you have a problem, you can fucking talk to me about it along with my Glock,” Parker threatened.

“Alright. Don’t screw this up. The boss wants big bucks from this. Says “it’s step two in the fall of the empire.” Whatever the fuck that means.”

“On my count, 1, 2… 3,” Parker screamed.

They came storming in, barricading all the entrances and exits. Parker and Wilson’s men clad in all black and payday masks. All various colors and designs. They looked as they were trick or treating.

This was the last thing Parker wanted to be doing. He came today to quit and now he was robbing a casino.

Parker kept repeating a mantra in his head “Last one, then I’m done” as held his gun high. Pointing it directly at innocents, he could see them shaking in fear.

“EVERYONE ON THE GROUND NOW!” He shouted, aiming his machine gun high.

“Don’t you fucking touch that button. I know what it fucking does.” Parker barks at the person behind the token counter. “Open the vault.” Parker said, pointing the gun at him.

“Why should I?” remarked the worker.

“Cause I fucking said so and I’m threatening your life,” Parker explained

“Enough of this shit!” He screamed, firing a few rounds close to the worker but not hitting him.

“You don’t have to do this. You could walk out of here, all of you. And we could go on with our lives. No need for money or the cops.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen. I’ll ask nicely, please open the vault,” Parker mocked. “Boss said “start killing hostages in 10 minutes.” One of the other men whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Did you fucking hear that? We’re gonna fucking kill you if you don’t cooperate. So I suggest you open… the fucking… vault.”

“Sir, we can’t.”

“See this gun. LOOK AT IT! It has the power to put a bullet through your skull. Open the fucking vault. I won’t ask a fifth time.”

“That’s it. Now, type in the code.” Parker directed towards them.

The vault door creaked open, revealing trappings of pure wealth. Money stacked on tables, almost reaching the ceiling. And gold bars, glistened as the light reflected off of them.

“Now was that so fucking hard. Take all of it. Everything, even the gold.” Parker said, directly towards his men.

“Thank you, you’ve served you purpose,” Parker said to the worker, shooting him dead not even 3 seconds later. The screams of the other hostages echoed through the vacated room.

“Now to everyone here, there’s already one dead. I don’t mind making it more,” Parker barked.

“What’s your name?” Parker asked the nice looking girl kneeling on the ground.

“It’s not nice to not answer when someone asks you question, especially someone with a 9 caliber MP5K in your face. I ask again. What’s your name?” Parker spoke.

“Jane,” she whispered, shaking with fear.

“Well Jane, I want to thank you for your cooperation. You are in charge of talking to the cops, ok? And let your boss know, that Wilson is always watching,” Parker said, as he turned to leave.

“I will but you won’t get as far as you hoped,” Jane asserted, trying not to irritate Parker.

“And why’s that?”

“I know you. I remember you. You’d come in here with your dad.”

“You don’t know fucking shit!” Parker screamed.

“I know your name and that puts me at a high position of power,” Jane expressed, growing less afraid by the second. Realizing he is just some scared boy. Maybe not afraid of his own shadow but broken down by the fear of the world.

“I’m the one pressing fucking gun to your head. I HAVE ALL THE POWER!” Parker vociferated loud enough to shake the chandelier hanging above.

“You wish. Men like you always wish.”

“Seems like you’re doing some wishing yourself sweetheart. Wishing to be escorted out of here in a body bag. Now shut your fucking trap.”

“Hey. Let’s go. Leave her.” One of the Wilson’s men said, pulling Parker towards the exit.

“He still loves you and he’ll forgive you for this,” Jane shouted as Parker left.

Refusing to turn back, he had taken enough lives from this ill attempt at revenge. Parker didn’t know who he was fighting against anymore. Who was the hero and who was the villain?

All the wrongdoings as vast as the sea. All his attempts to make someone pay were misconstrued. Who actually deserved it?

The words of the woman replayed in Parker’s head. She was like a broken record, forcing him to listen to a truth he hoped to forget. How could Tom forgive him? Parker knew what he done was unforgivable. It was a mistake, all of it.

Parker marched into Wilson’s office and said, “Ever since I started working for you, my family has been in danger. I thought my dad was the reason for my girlfriends death, but I was wrong. I guess I’ll never know. Here Wilson, my gun. I quit.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I own you. I could end you, boy. Just like I almost did your parents,” Wilson barked.

“What?” Parker questioned, a look of confusion are on his face.

“Oh, please. You really think it was just a malfunction,” Wilson scoffed.

“What are you talking about?” Parker asked.

“Their helicopter. Pretty brilliant work, if I do say so myself,” Wilson gloated.

“They almost died.”

“Yeah and so? Your dad is my enemy. That is the whole reason you came to me in the first place.”

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt them,” Parker screamed. “Promises are meant to be broken. They don’t call me the Merchant of Death for nothing.”

Wilson was ready for the fight and been the one pulling the strings the entire time. Tom warranted no quarrel. Never being the instigator in a fight with Wilson.

They had been divided for years to come, focusing on their separate mobs. Only acknowledging each other if they accidentally crossed paths. There was Wilson’s mob, then a few others scattered round London such as Graham’s which was almost non-existent and Shaw’s which was mostly the drug scene. But Wilson was Tom’s biggest competitor. Being a part of then game for years before didn’t matter, Tom eclipsed Wilson just like the sun does the moon.

Or the moon to the sun, that was exactly Wilson’s play from the start. Taking out the pillars of Tom’s life. First a reason to have his son turn on him, the death of a loved one. Next, removing you from Tom’s grasp. Eventually a play had to be made on Rosie. Leaving Tom utterly alone.

Only thoughts that would cross his mind be suicidal ones, having lost everything he ever cared about. It was a long play, one Wilson vowed to see through. Wilson saw all his work as justice and merciful. Almost biblical, they way everything was playing out.

“It was you. All along. The fucking puppet master,” Parker mumbled under his breath.

“If you are talking about your little girlfriend, that was strictly business, nothing personal. But yes, I have been the one behind the scenes driving your father mad. Remember the note?” Wilson exclaimed.

“She didn’t deserve to die,” Parker shouted.

“What? Are you really upset? That was ages ago. Plus, I had to get you on my side somehow,” Wilson teased.

“Wait, you knew I’d come here?”

“Parker, how stupid are you? When will you grow up and learn this rivalry is just the beginning of a war. What side are you going to be on? You have a choice. I’ve warmed to you and I want you on my side as I take your daddy down.”

“That’s your first fucking mistake don’t have any weaknesses,” Parker admitted, taking a lesson from Tom. He drew is gun, point blank at Wilson.

“Parker, what are you doing? Put the gun down,” Wilson pleaded for his life.

“No, you made me into a cold blooded killer. Not my dad. I quit.”

BANG

After a loud thud sounded, the room was silent. Only a faint smell of smoke from the gun was there as Parker fled as quickly as possible.

Parker made his way home that night a changed man. All his kills in the pass were strictly business. Never driven by emotion but this one was personal.

It wasn’t a job or a hit. He was no longer a contract killer. Killing for the sake of money or an obligation. He was cold blooded killer.

In some twisted way, Parker enjoyed Wilson and his company. Looking up to him. He was then one who saved him from the horrible life he thought he was leaving behind. The one full of deceit and betrayal. The one with Tom, you and Rosie.

The one that led him to be next leader of the Holland mob. The one that resulted in the death of his beloved girlfriend. The one that had almost taken you and Tom away from him. The one that almost took his life. The one that forced him to kill for sport.

But no, he was wrong Parker brought that on himself. Parker’s naivety was his greatest enemy. He was just a child not too long ago. Once afraid of his own shadow, then afraid of failing at life and school, especially the SATs. Now, he was an adult burdened by problems a 16 year old should ever face. He could sit there and blame Tom, but it would do him no good when all he had to do was look in the mirror.

Parker was his own worst enemy. Searching for justice, when none could be found in a world wear mobsters roamed. Causing shootouts, robbing banks, and killing innocent people. People deserved to be avenged and Parker sure as hell wasn’t doing anything to aide.

Parker drove home, took four showers and threw his clothes away. Anything to wash off this abhorrent day. The next morning, Parker went on like nothing had changed. As if he didn’t shoot his boss and Tom’s rival in cold blood. As if didn’t only see himself as a cold blooded killer. Everything that he is and everything he owns soiled with the scent of murder.

He played it as though it was any other morning. Eating his pancakes and bacon before starting the day. Telling you about his plans for the day. Trying to keep his cool. The lovely morning breakfast conversation was interrupted once Tom’s phone rang.

RING, RING, RING

“Haz, why are you calling me? I’m having breakfast with my family,” Tom asked, annoyed his precious breakfast was interrupted. “Charlie is here, you need to get here. I have to tell you something,” Haz informed Tom. “Ok, I’m on my way,” Tom said, brushing off the request. Why would the

company’s electrical engineer for aeronautical transportation be there?

“Love, I’m so sorry but I’m needed at the warehouse. Thank you for this wonderful breakfast, wish I could enjoy it. Bye, kids. Have a good day at school,” Tom said, making his way out the door. Bidding you all goodbye.

“Haz, what’s was so urgent that I couldn’t finish my breakfast.” Tom barked, annoyed he was pulled away from you and the kids even on a Saturday.

“We were robbed last night. The casino.” Haz explained, his head hanging low.

“How the fuck? Did they catch them?” Tom seethed with anger.

“No, we do have eye witnesses though.”

“How much is missing?”

“About 11 million dollars, from cash to gold bars.” Haz said, waiting for Tom to explode.

“FUCK. We need to make them pay. I’m done playing fucking games.” Tom shouted, calming himself down for his meeting with Charlie.

“Now, you said Charlie was here, right?”

“Yeah, in your office.”

“Charlie? What are you doing here?” Tom asked, a little annoyed he was taken away from his morning with his family.

“Tom, I ran my report and did diagnostics tests and it’s not good,” Charlie started.

“What the fuck does that mean, Charlie?” Tom yelled.

“I think the helicopter was sabotaged.”

“What? You mean is that someone tried to take out my wife and I while we were on a helicopter,” Tom repeated, making all the connections necessary .

“Yes, it wasn’t just a normal malfunction. Did they ever find the pilot?” Charlie asked.

“No… Jesus fucking christ, if it’s true then…Fuck, I’m sorry I have to go,” Tom yelled, running out to the car.

“Jared, home now.”

“Mr. Holland is everything alright?” Jared asked, concerned by Tom’s frantic manner.

“No. I just found out the helicopter was sabotaged. I think someone might being trying to take out Y/N and I.”

“Come on baby, pick up,” Tom whispered, frantically dialing your number over and over.

“Y/N answer the god damm phone!” Tom shouted, when heard the same voice message over and over again, “Hi, this Y/N Holland please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“God fucking dammit. Fuck, voicemail. Jared do you know where my wife is?” Tom yelled, afraid what your silence meant.

“Last I heard she was at the store getting groceries,” Jared explained.

“Fuck, I have here location on my phone. Change course,” Tom barked, praying you were okay. With the information he just learned he didn’t want to leave you alone, not even for a second.

“Y/N! You’re okay.” Tom said, inhaling a breath of relief. You were coming out of the store pushing a cart of groceries.

“Tom! Of course, I’m okay. What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I’ll explain later. Get Parker and Rosie we need to go home now.”

“They’re already home. Henry’s there also. You’re scaring me.” You said, Tom never acts like this.

Being a part of a mob there is a constant fear of someone behind you. All throughout Tom’s life he only had to worry about himself until he met you.

Tom’s worst fear is him being the reason you no longer walk the earth. The last week he had glimpse of life without you and didn’t care for it one bit. You weren’t a weakness but at the same time, you were. For anyone with a dangerous job there’s always a target on your back.

“Come on, love. In the car,” Tom motioned towards the car.

“Tommy, my car is here. I’ll meet you there,” you said, kissing his cheek goodbye.

“Ok just be careful please.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, Jared. Home now plea—“ Tom directed but was cut off by a loud BOOM.

“Jared, what the fuck was that?” Tom asked.

“Sir, it was Mrs. Holland’s car.”

“Y/N! Y/N?” Tom jumped out of the car. Nothing else mattered in that moment, only finding you.

Time stood still as thick black smoke bled through the air. Coating everything in its path with a faint ash. Screams echoed from the bystanders as the car went up in flames.

“Tom, I’m okay. It wasn’t mine.” You exasperated, coughing from the smoke. It wasn’t your car but it was close in proximity.

“Thank god. I can’t keep almost losing you,” Tom whispered, kissing you hairline.

“I’m here now.” The second you were in his arms you knew you were safe.

“Yes you are. It sure does look hell a lot like yours, though. Come on, I’m taking you home,” Tom said, wrapping his right arm around your shoulder.

Pulling up to the manor, everything looked different. There were more guards posted at every corner with heavier weaponry. Tom had the gate barricaded with another car in case some where to ram into the gate.

“Jesus, what took you so long?” Haz said

“They tried to bomb Y/N’s car. Thankfully the dumb fucks who planted it, picked the wrong car.”

“Tom you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I will. Family meeting in the living room. Now.”

“Some of us have some secrets to share. I want to know everything that happened here while your mother and I were in Paris. Someone start talking,” Tom said, pacing in front of Parker and Rosie sitting on the couch.

Rosie and Parker were both hiding something. Rosie’s however was a rather monumental milestone. Rosie reminisced of her wonderful night with Henry while you and Tom were away. She loved Henry so much and was overjoyed to share that experience with him.

Rosie had told Henry at the wedding that she was ready to take that next step with him. Seeing you and Tom re-commit yourselves to one another affirmed that for Rosie. That she loved him more than anything.

“I’m sorry, dad. You don’t have to worry, we were safe,” Rosie blurted out.

“What?” Tom barked growing more anger by the second.

“Henry and I used a condom,” Rosie responded.

“Rosie?” You questioned, knowing what she was talking about.

“WHAT?” Tom screamed.

“That’s not what you were hinting at?” Rosie stammered.

“No, this is about Parker,” Tom reckoned.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Where the fuck is he?” Tom yelled, bolting out of the living room. Looking for the boy who had stolen Rosie’s innocence. You and Rosie soon followed hoping Tom wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Dad!”

“Tom!”

“Henry, you bastard! You fucked my daughter!” Tom shouted charging at Henry.

“Oh shit,” Henry muttered, he knew Tom could kill him in an instant.

“You went in my daughter! What’s stopping me from killing you right now.” Tom asked with gritted teeth, hoping this dumbass wouldn’t answer.

“Tom, put him down,” you said, as Tom was gripping his collar and dangling him in the air.

“Daaaadddd.”

“Tom, please,” you pleaded as Tom held a gun square to Henry’s head.

“The safety is on, I was never gonna shoot him. Just make him shit his pants a little. From now on, you two can’t be here alone. And if you are in your room the door needs to stay open,” Tom said, pointing fingers at Rosie and Henry.

“I believe we have more important business to get to. Now come on,” you said, pulling Tom away.

“Y/N, you know I was never going to actually hurt the boy right?”

“Yes, Tommy. Now please resume the family meeting.”

“Parker. Do you have something to tell us?” Tom asked, knowing his son will lie.

“I’ve been sneaking out at night and I’m sorry,” Parker started, you could hear the disappointment behind his voice.

“Why? I know it’s not because of a girl. I want to know everything,” Tom explained, fucking tired of all the lies.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Parker began by explaining how he felt by the loss of Charlotte and how he turned to Wilson. In Parker’s mind he was doing the right thing. Serving justice to those who wronged others. But in reality he was the one committing the wrongdoings.

Parker came clean that he was the one killing all of Tom’s men and that he killed Jazz. That he went Wilson before coming to Tom. Becoming Wilson’s secret hitman was never supposed to go this far. He only intended for it to be a big fuck you to Tom. Not destroy his livelihood and his family in the process.

Including all the details of Wilson’s secret agenda of taking you and Tom out. But Parker left out the fact that Wilson was no longer a threat. Having taken care of him the day before.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never been this naive and stupid. I’m the one you’ve been searching for. I’m the rat,” Parker exclaimed. “Dad, say something,” he pleaded.

“Get out,” Tom said with an unchanging expression.

“What?”

“I said get the fuck out!”

“Tom,” you tried to reason.

“You are no longer my son. Betraying me, betraying your family. Get out.” Tom screamed.

A/n: I’m sorry. I like the content in this chapter but not the writing.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @dummiesshort @adriannauni @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #mob tom #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom holland x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

68 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

#marinette joins the kent family #jon kent and marinette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #daminette #if you squint #pre daminette #Marinette Kent

815 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Unpredictable

Category: Drama

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Envy

Hey, everyone! I’m happy to finally present the piece I wrote for the @devilsplaygroundzine, which centers on Envy!

The flickering orange tongues of the crackling fire several yards away reflected in Envy’s eyes as he crouched in the dirty, dank alleyway. It was one of the many neglected nooks and crannies that abounded the Ishvalan slum encroaching upon the outer rim of Central City. It truly was a miserable place, Envy decided quite early on in strolling around; nothing but ramshackle hovels and ash-choked firepits and rank outhouses.

It was also the perfect domicile to have himself a bit of fun. Lounging around in those stinking sewers torturing the chimeras had grown quite dull. Thus, there Envy was, hunching down in the darkness opposite a small hovel watching as the Ishvalan refugees obliviously went about their business. It was a family, parents with a daughter who could be no older than five. They kneeled beside the fire, above which several sticks of freshly-caught trout were just nearly roasted; their hands pressed together while their heads bent in prayer. Envy sneered at the notion. So stubbornly, they clung to their God, which had allowed them to be massacred like sheep among wolves. I suppose they have to believe in something, lest they fall into despair.

That’s what Envy found so infuriating about humans, their unyielding tenacity and nauseating bonds. It’d be so much easier if they just wallowed in self-pity and defeat. The Homunculi pitted them against one another, and then suddenly, they’re preaching forgiveness and empathy. Envy’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as the image of a certain blond-haired, golden-eyed, loud-mouthed twerp who so embodied those ideals materialized in the gloom. Go away, FullMetal brat, he growled silently and waved a hand to banish the phantasm. It dissolved into dust, joining the thin coating on everything in the miserable slum.

Forgiveness and empathy could only last so long, however, until indomitable rage consumed them. Sneering roguishly, Envy crawled on all fours towards the humble little family, while his body morphed into the likeness of an Amestrian soldier. I’ll destroy it, he swore. I’ll destroy the hope and togetherness you covet so much!

“Good evening.” Envy froze mid-step when the Ishvalan man suddenly addressed him. It wasn’t right. Why was the monk not cowering in fear? The Ishvalan’s hands calmly rested upon his lap, and his white eyebrows curved slightly from the welcoming smile adorning his face. Still half-cloaked in shadow, Envy’s false blue eyes were wider than the full moon shining above. The mother had not even moved to protect her child. She ignored Envy and poked at the embers to send the dying fire gushing up once more. The flames licked greedily at the underbellies of the fish, charring the flesh. One, two, three… four, he counted blankly, though he knew not why. It wasn’t right, not at all. Where was the fear? The hate? The despair?

Why the hell were they smiling so contentedly, dammit?

“You must be tired from your patrol,” the man continued. Envy’s wits trickled back through the dam that had blocked the river of his mind. Patrol, yes. He was wearing the skin of an Amestrian soldier. It would make sense that he was patrolling the slum. Envy’s gold eyebrows quirked when the monk gestured to one of the cooking trout. “Please, we have one to spare. Help yourself.”

Envy was utterly flabbergasted. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Ishvalans should hate Amestrians, especially the soldiers that mercilessly murdered their people by the thousands. Envy remembered it so well, corralling them to mow them down with machine guns, driving bayonets into long-dead bodies, children and mothers and even hardy men wailing in terror. This man should be slamming him up against the dirty brick wall, driving a fist into his jaw while the mother screamed and held her crying child. Yet, he was… inviting Envy to eat with them? He didn’t understand it, none of it.

Especially the fact that he wanted to agree.

Envy regarded the man suspiciously. Perhaps it was a trap. Yes, that’s what it could be; lure him in a false sense of security so his fellows could strike at Envy from behind. What a fun alternative. They could stick his back with so many daggers that he looked like a blood-soaked porcupine; it didn’t matter. Envy wouldn’t die. He found himself grinning at the bloody slaughter that would follow. Sure, old man, he cooed in his demented mind. I’ll play your game.

Envy smoothed the creases of the fake uniform before strolling over to the fire. The little girl’s red eyes bored into him as he knelt before the flames. Envy plucked the charred trout from the sand and scrutinized it. The scent of smoke and salt and even a few seasonings wafted up his nose, and despite himself, his mouth watered. One would think with their status, the Homunculi would eat well, but only Pride and Wrath had that honor. The rest of them had to go scrounging around like common urchins. Envy felt a little silly for salivating so excessively over some smoked trout, but his growling stomach soon overrode any prideful inhibitions.

“Thanks, old man,” he grunted before tearing his teeth into the succulent flesh. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when the flavor exploded over his tongue. A hell of a lot better than the plain slop he stole on the daily around Central. Within seconds he was ravenously shredding into the fish. He paused, juice and bits of scale and meat dripping from his chin, as the Ishvalan laughed heartily.

“I knew you had to be hungry. A soldier’s duty is a demanding one.”

“Oh yeah?” Envy asked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead. He wasn’t quite sure where the monk was guiding the conversation. His ears pricked, listening for the sound of shuffling in the surrounding darkness, but he could not discern the presence of a potential surprise attack. The man’s kind face revealed no hostile intent. Envy finished off the fish and tossed the white bones into the fire, then began picking his teeth with the skewer. “Old man, I don’t get it.”

“Get what, young man?”

“Don’t you hate Amestrians?” A confused look passed over his face. For the first time, the woman stiffened and reached over to grasp her daughter’s hand. Envy watched, internally squirming with glee, as the man’s brown face sagged into sadness. Yes. Get sad. Then hate me. Then try to kill me, you foolish, predictable little human.

“No,” he contradicted, and Envy’s mouth fell agape. “I do not hate Amestrians.” Envy thought that surely, he must be lying, but it was hard to believe that when the older adult flashed him a soft, genuine smile. He did not care to elaborate, either; he just took his fish from the fire and calmly consumed it. Envy stared down into the orange flames. He had seen so many of them in his lifetime, gigantic white-hot flames that destroyed everything in their path - homes, crops, people - indiscriminately. Envy’s eye twitched as he struggled to comprehend the human monk.

I don’t understand. How can humans just so easily extend their hands and say, “it’s all right?”

Envy turned his head at the distant sound of screams and wails, rapidly growing closer. The end of the street was glowing auburn, just like the fire casting light upon his pale face. Little golden lights began to bob amongst the gloom, their ovoid forms growing with each passing second. From the darkness came frightened Ishvalans, tripping over their sandaled feet in a terrified effort to escape what was approaching. One of them, a twenty-something, stumbled and landed in the dirt on his belly behind Envy. The Homunculus stared disinterestedly at his hyperventilating form, while the monk scurried to his side. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Amestrians!” the boy gasped. Envy’s mouth twitched into a sneer, which he hid in his palm. “An entire mob stormed across the river to the west with torches and weapons,” he sobbed and covered his head when a building a few houses down exploded. Scorching wood and glass bits rained down upon them. A few of the sharp objects sliced into Envy’s skin; the Ishvalans were too busy panicking to notice the small red lightning that skittered over his healing flesh.

“They must be angry about the fishing party earlier today,” the mother whimpered and hugged her daughter into her bosom. The little girl’s red irises swam in a sea of white. Envy stared thoughtfully at the skewer, then flipped it in his hand to brandish the pointy end. The monk had just finished bustling the man to his feet when he turned to Envy, who was languidly rising.

“You must leave. A single soldier cannot quell this hateful mob alone.”

“And what? You think a pacifying monk can?” Envy leered. The man winced; Envy had hit the nail of his intentions on the head. The next building erupted into flames, sending the shriek of hot wind and agonized screams into the air. Envy could leave, if he wanted to, and watch the slum burn from the tops of Central Command. He stared thoughtfully at the pointed wooden stick in his hand.

I don’t understand it, he thought once more with a small sigh. I really don’t, these humans and their kindness. However, he grinned seditiously, and his skin began to morph, the visage of the Amestrian soldier falling away to reveal his skinny and long-haired self. I understand the Amestrian’s hate perfectly fine. The family was finally cowering in the entrance of their little hut, which was no more than some cloth draped over some stacked boxes.

“Mister,” the little girl squeaked. She jumped when he turned his eyes on her. “What are you?”

“Oh, me?” he grinned and dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “I’m a monster.”

“What are you going to do?” the monk asked him with narrowed eyes. Envy shrugged and began strolling off toward the fiery carnage. The Ishavalans were attempting to throw pails of water onto the burning houses. Within seconds the angry mob of Amestrians cornered them and began beating them with sticks and fists. Envy sneered. So unpredictable yet so predictable. What a dichotomous breed. “What are you going to do?” the man yelled after him insistently, and Envy tossed a bored look over his shoulder.

“Me? Well, I’m going to do what monsters do best.”

It didn’t take long. Humans were just frail sacks of blood and meat. Still, a casual bloodbath was preferable to an actual challenge in this case. Constantly regenerating was exhausting and annoying. The Homunculus came strolling back to the little hovel, where the family still huddled inside shaking. His body still sparked to heal the bloody knife wounds he had incurred. Envy stopped in front of the shack and dropped the skewer in front of them. It was now dyed red and dripping with blood, just like his body. Their equally red eyes beheld it with a mixture of awe and horror.

“Thanks for the fish, old man,” Envy smirked and turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

Envy’s eyebrow raised as he looked over his shoulder. The little girl stumbled out, ignoring her parents hissing at her to get back into the tent. Envy’s eyebrow climbed higher when she offered him a little white weed flower. Her hands trembled as she crushed the green stem in her small fist. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Heh,” Envy grinned and took the flower from her. “Don’t thank me, squirt. I was just having some fun.” With that, he whirled on his heel and melted back into the darkness. Eventually, the slum fell behind him, replaced with dark woods. As Envy strolled along the path, he gazed thoughtfully down at the little flower, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Humans, he frowned and tucked the flower behind his ear. So unpredictable… I hate them for that.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#envy #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

11 notes · View notes

sitcomified · 3 years ago

Text

we can’t make any promises now, can we, babe?

summary: impromptu peraltiago wedding one-shot set in the b99 season three finale word count: 5.4k rating: general

read below or on AO3

A buzz of chatter spills across the bar. Jake, Amy, and Charles are reunited at last, sharing stories the past few weeks over cheap drinks on a sticky wooden countertop. Amy finally tells Jake she loves him so much and he reciprocates without second thought. Charles offers a knowing glance to Amy, but Jake’s phone buzzes before he can follow up.

“Ooh, I'm gonna get this.” Jake excuses himself from the conversation and answers the call from an unknown number on his phone.

“Jake Peralta? This is Jimmy Figgis.” He feels like his throat has been shoved down his stomach. Cases were never truly solved, and usually the perps harbored resentment, but he had never been singled out like this, on his personal phone number. His first instinct is to try to locate Figgis, but even if he wanted to track the call he couldn’t. The voice on the other end has been altered by a robotic filter, and the background noise is indiscernible.

He hesitates for a moment before responding, “oh, uh, hey, dog.”

“You and Ray Holt took down my operation. Now I'm gonna kill you both.” Jake squints across the room in search of anyone remotely suspicious. Unfortunately, he could read too much into anyone when given the chance. He doesn’t recognize the new bartender, and he’s been less chatty than the others. There’s a lady squeezing her purse against her chest as she looks in his direction. His anxieties boil over in his throat as he tries to stammer out a response, but Figgis ends the conversation before he has time to interject: “later, dog.”

Jake’s hand is still shaking as he lowers his phone. His eyes dart around the room. “Uh, Captain Holt?”

“Peralta,” Holt says from across the bar, approaching the counter after politely excusing himself from an odious conversation with Hitchcock and Scully. His arrival catches the attention of Amy and Charles, who drop their conversation about where to find the best sundaes.

Jake scans the room once more before speaking in a low voice. “I just got a call. From Figgis. He knows that you and I busted his operation and he’s coming for us.” He sighs and his shoulders fall down with defeat. Amy instinctively reaches for Jake’s hand.

“Oh dear,” Holt replies. Even his ever-emotionless expression is disturbed by the news, with raised eyebrows and a slight frown. “Well that is certainly unfortunate.”

“What does this mean?” Amy asks, her voice trembling. Jake squeezes her hand, in a futile attempt to calm the storm of worst-case scenarios she’s piecing together.

“We’re screwed,” Charles says, “don’t worry Jake, I’ll make sure to tell your story.”

“We are not ‘screwed’,” Holt replies, “however, we should discuss proper procedure in a more private place.” He gestures to the couple making out at the table to their left. The group nods in agreement. “Go ahead to the precinct, I will meet you there.” He exits the conversation just as swiftly as he arrived, sparing no second in rallying his—albeit somewhat tipsy—squad.

The walk to the precinct is uncharacteristically somber. Charles doesn’t even comment on the fact that Jake draped his jacket on Amy’s shoulders the second they left the bar. The omnipresent breeze of arguments between neighbors, loud music, and traffic goes still and the only noises they can hear are their own footsteps, and the occasional sigh.

The precinct is at least familiar, but laced with uncertainty as night shift officers occupy the bullpen. The trio make their way to the empty briefing room, which is fortunately unlocked. Amy takes a seat in the back, and Jake hops on the table next to her. Charles heads for the bathroom to face the consequences of the “Authentic Asian-Mexican Fusion” cocktail he tried earlier.

“It’ll be okay,” Amy says, gently stroking Jake’s palm. His blank gaze is fixed at the wall in front of him for minutes that seem like hours, and he still hasn’t said a word. Usually when he was worried, she couldn’t get him to shut up. Seeing him silenced sent an eerie chill across her. “At least for now, Figgis and his guys are way too smart to infiltrate an active precinct.”

He finally replies, “So you want me to live the rest of my life here?” He lets out a meek chuckle. “I think that would be worse than getting shot.”

“Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d see you every day, you already eat most of your meals out of a vending machine, and the bathrooms are nicer than your apartment.” Amy jokes.

“Hey, one day that will be our apartment, watch your mouth.” He cracks a smile. For just a moment he allows himself to forget about the immediate danger surrounding him and indulges in the idea of a daily life with Amy. They would order takeout and sit on the couch watching an action movie, and she would be curled up with her embroidery and he could smell her eucalyptus shampoo. Or maybe he'd learn to cook, and she'd put on another nature documentary, and he'd get to listen to her laugh at the stupid voices he did for the animals. He runs his fingers absentmindedly through her ponytail. That’s a life he would buy a million mattresses and toss his grey towel thousands of times over for.

His fantasy is, however tragically, cut short by the Captain’s arrival. “Peralta, a word, in my office please.” Jake nods and follows him through the bullpen, without even bothering to greet any of the officers. It's as if he was watching himself enter the room, rather than actually experiencing it.

“Take a seat,” Holt gestures to the chair across from where Jake was standing awkwardly across the desk, and he hadn’t thought about sitting down. To be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that he had a body. “I have contacted the U.S. Marshall’s office to make arrangements to send the two of us into Witness Protection. I know that this comes as a disappointment, but I believe that this level of security is necessary to avoid the threat.”

The news hits Jake like a punch to the gut. It’s a new type of dread, one that’s crushing him in instead of pulling him apart. He had worked on high stakes cases before, but this was a new level of imminent danger. He’d always been able to talk his way out of any threat; the squad was always there to help him. Even without them, he could fend for himself. Hell, he survived six months undercover in the frickin mob. Jake clenches his fingers against the captain’s desk. “Captain, with all due respect, is that really necessary–”

“–I understand your hesitancy, but it is absolutely critical that we take the utmost caution, but this is non-negotiable. Our Marshall will be here in two hours. Sergeant Jeffords is on his way to brief the squad on necessary protocols right now.”

“How long will we need to stay in WITSEC for?” Jake tried to reason with himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. It could be a couple weeks, a month tops. It would hurt like hell, but it’s nothing he couldn’t handle. If it was somewhere cool, then he could also get a killer story out of it.

“Indefinitely,” Holt responds, as if it was obvious and insignificant as the color of the sky. His answer severs the last thread holding Jake’s sanity together. He bangs his fists on the table.

“What the hell? You just assumed I would be okay with all this?” he shouts, “I can handle myself. I don't need to be babysat. I've been a detective for ten years!”

“Precisely, that's why I assumed you would react like an adult, and not like a petulant child.” Holt retorts. His dismissive delivery only fuels Jake’s anger.

“What did you expect me to do? I just got to see Amy for the first time in weeks and now my life is at risk because of some stupid case?” He pauses for a moment, recalling the ridiculous conversation from the briefing room moments ago. “Let me stay here, I’ll take down Figgis. I’ll even live in the precinct.”

Holt manages to convey a magnificent lack of amusement. “I don’t have time to deal with your immaturity right now. There are several arrangements I need to attend to, for your safety, If I may add.”

Jake’s heart is still pounding as he storms out of the captain's office. A pair of officers look up at him with concern before returning to their paperwork. He walks directly to the evidence lock up. As much as he wanted to squeeze out every last moment he could with Amy, he couldn't risk ruining it with some impulsive hot-headed remark.

He paces around the room before eventually landing on a box to rifle through. If he couldn’t address his feelings, he could certainly distract himself from them. It’s an old case—from before Holt became Captain. From what he could remember, the perp was busted for poisoning victims she catfished, and stealing their identities. When he opens the box, a puff of dust fills the air, hitting him with the heavy reality of just how much time had passed. He occupies himself by sifting through the contents of the box: the bracelet she used to store arsenic, the harddrives containing compromised information, and the perfectly crafted report that Amy had spent their whole lunch break editing. He really didn’t know how lucky he was then. He spent every day with the most wonderful woman alive and wasted it by teasing her.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps. He would recognize Amy’s awkward clunking in her “going-out heels” anywhere. Even if he was deep undercover all the way across the country. “I knew I’d find you in here,” she greets him, standing in the door frame with a bunched up tissue in hand.

“It’s like you’re a detective or something,” Jake says. He aims for the light flirtatious tone that the two have grown so accustomed to, but it comes out too aggressive for either of their comfort.

Amy hesitates before clearing her throat and approaching him. She closes the lid and returns the box of evidence to the shelf, and reaches an arm across his back. She notices Jake’s widening eyes, slowing heart rate, and just as he opens his lips she accepts his implicit apology. “This is stressful, I understand.” She pauses and Jake can hear the soft popping of her lips; she's choosing her words very carefully. “I was thinking. Figgis will take a while to track down. I can’t let you go alone for that long.”

Immediately Jake tenses back up. He felt that they were in an awkward stage relationship wise, even before Amy went undercover. He worried she thought that he was moving too fast too soon. That he wasn’t serious or responsible enough. He can’t stop himself from vocalizing his anxieties. “Ames, are you breaking up with me?”

Luckily for him, Amy looks equally horrified at the idea. “No, the opposite, actually—” she takes a deep breath, as Jake violently racks his mind for what that could possibly mean,“—I think we should get married. I know this is all really soon and we haven’t hit all the relationship milestones, but WITSEC only allows contact with immediate family, and after what we just went through I can’t imagine—”

He interrupts without a second thought. “—Duh-doy, of course I’ll marry you.”

Although the proposal was a mere technicality, excitement washes over the room. Amy launches herself at Jake with wide-open arms. He squeezes her tightly and lifts her up. Figgis was still on the loose and his life was still in jeopardy, but it all seemed insignificant when he knew Amy would be by his side. He slowly lowers her down onto a pile of boxes. With their faces pulled back from each other, Jake can actually see Amy’s brilliant smile. He almost feels guilty for dampening it. “Uh, the Captain said the Marshall would be here in two hours, and everything’s closed.”

Her eyes are illuminated by that specific laser-focused excitement that was reserved for completing a crossword puzzle, or, choosing a new notebook, or, someone concerningly, receiving praise from her captain. “Leave that to me,” she says.

Jake can barely muster a response as Amy races to her desk. “You’re my dream girl.”

“I know,” she replies from across the precinct, no doubt doing one of her lovable dork dances from behind the door. The officers must assume that they’re somehow crazier than they already do, but Jake doesn’t care. Amy’s voice is still echoing in his ears when he returns to the captain’s office. His senses return to him, and he’s even grateful for the precinct’s faint smell of metal and burnt-coffee.

Holt seems to have calmed down from earlier, or at the very least, he’s so immersed he can’t be bothered to deal with Jake’s crap right now. He has a pile of binders on his desk and his reading glasses are on the verge of sliding off the tip of his nose. Seeing Holt in serious action almost makes Jake feel guilty for acting out earlier.

He enters the room awkwardly, and Holt looks up from a particularly thick file and clears his throat. “Detective, I noticed you and Santiago were conversing. I trust that you have sufficiently addressed any emotional concerns this process might have, given the romantic nature of your relationship. I understand that the prolonged separation can be quite challenging to navigate. Kevin and I recently had quite an emotional conversation ourselves.”

“Hello Kevin, it is I, your husband Raymond Holt.”

“May I inquire about the occasion? This is a rather unusual time to call.”

“I agree it is quite unorthodox, but this news is urgent. I just completed a very dangerous case and my life is in danger. I am headed into a Witness Protection program indefinitely.”

“I understand. I am quite disappointed by this news.”

“As am I.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jake replies. In any other circumstance he would declare his eternal love for Amy from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge, making sure that the whole city could hear. But, although he would never admit it, he cares just as much about the Captain’s approval as she does. Whenever he imagined proposing to Amy, years down the line, he knew it would be elaborate and tasteful (to the extent he was capable of it) and when both of them were ready. He knew that’s what Amy deserved, and Holt knew it too.

“Pardon?” Holt takes his eyes off the monitor and folds his arms, and Jake feels as if he’s being interrogated. Through the glass, he watches Amy at her desk frantically typing and scribbling down notes.

He purses his lips in anticipation. He doesn’t have time to do a bit or give a fake story to dull the big news like usual, and that makes the ripping off of the bandaid even more painful. “It is possible that Amy and I maybe just decided to get married before the Marshall gets here.”

Holt opens his mouth with a slight indication of confusion, before swallowing a gulp of air. “I see…and you’re sure that you will be able to file the requisite paperwork in time?” An entirely unremarkable—and characteristic—reaction to the situation. No hints of judgement or celebration, just an acknowledgement of simple facts. Jake supposes that he filed any emotional response away to be processed at a later point.

“Don’t worry sir, we have a plan,” Jake assures his still-skeptical Captain. “Well, Amy has a plan,” he clarifies, and Holt indicates marginal relief.

Holt sighs, “I know I am not one to talk you out of your schemes—”

“—It’s not a scheme, it's a plan, and it’s a great one. Amy and I are going to go to whatever craphole state the Marshalls send us to, solve the case in no time and then make out 24/7,” Jake says with a new rush of adrenaline.

“As I was saying, you seem to be quite confident,” Holt continues, “which is why I’m not going to attempt to negotiate with you. You are excellent detectives and you clearly care a lot about each other. Congratulations to you both.” He gestures to Amy, who has her face nearly pressed to the glass behind the shades, as she tries to listen to their conversation. “Santiago, you may enter.”

Amy almost trips on her way into the office, and Jake greets her with a hug, “Did you hear that? The Captain approves!”

Her face floods pink, undermining her already futile efforts to maintain composure. “Thank you sir, it means a lot.”

“Of course. It’s highly enjoyable to see a couple as compatible as yourselves.” Jake has to bite his tongue to avoid mocking his word choice. “Now, given that time is of the utmost essence, I urge you two to go home and gather personal documents. I’ve already spoken to the night shift’s Sergeant, and he has agreed to lend officers to escort each of you.”

“We need to get all the marriage paperwork sorted out, I can just stay here,” Jake adds, turning to his girlfriend, “Amy, all my important stuff is under my beanbag chair.”

“That's why it's so lumpy!”

“I’m sure Detective Boyle would be more than happy to help out with your nuptials,” Holt replies, pushing aside his disgust with his Detective’s living situation. “Here is a list of things that the Marshall will need,” he hands over two slim printouts from one of the many binders on his desk. “You are dismissed.”

“Thanks,” Jake says, flipping through the sheets. He would be so screwed trying to find this all in his apartment.

“See you on the other side, babe,” Amy whispers as she leaves the office.

“See you on the other side,” Jake says, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs.

///////

One hour later.

Amy returns to the precinct with a sleek folder containing every document the Marshall requested. While gathering her necessities, she changed into her old graduation dress. It’s knee length with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, not nearly formal enough for the wedding she had several binders dedicated to, but for all she cared she would marry Jake in sweatpants and grandma glasses.

Her jaw drops as she enters the break room. As it turns out, Charles wasn’t the only one in the squad ecstatic about a Peralta-Santiago wedding, even if it was just a formality. As soon as the rest of the squad found out, they volunteered to help in any way possible. Rosa took her motorcycle to the City Clerk’s office where she obtained a Marriage Certificate and License, though she wouldn’t disclose how she got into the locked rooms. Terry convinced his neighbor who worked in the State Court to begrudgingly sign a letter authorizing the marriage in under 24 hours (“Theirs is a love story for the ages, for the ages Margo!”) Hitchcock and Scully even rearranged the furniture to form a sort of mock-chapel although it didn’t help that Scully was asleep on one of the couches in the back.

Charles himself went full-Boyle. The room is decorated with a beautiful miss-match of flowers from the 24/7 bodega down the street, and soft classical music was playing over the precinct’s sound system. It’s enough to make the holding cell containing a single perp with thirteen charges of public urination seem miles away. “Amy!” he turns around when he sees her, letting the banner of post-it's he’s hanging drop to the floor.

“Charles, this is incredible!” Amy exclaims.

“Thank you, it's not the wedding I dreamed about for you two,—that one has far more exotic birds involved, both for eating and for pleasure,—but I figured it was my job to step up as Jake’s de facto best man,” he says, pulling her into a hug. “If you hurt him I swear to god I will make you suffer for the rest of your life,” he whispers into her ear.

Amy pulls back hesitantly, “yeah, of course I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jake.” She laughs, but no one joins.

“Seriously, we mean it,” Rosa adds, her tone somewhat undercut by the bouquet of roses she’s tying together.

“Everybody, leave Santiago alone, she’s not going to do anything,” Terry says, but his authority is undermined by the mouthful of tape from hanging up decorations.

At that moment Jake walks in, “Leave Santiago Alone, She’s Not Going To Do Anything: title of Amy’s sex tape.” He’s changed into a white button up shirt under his leather jacket and dark jeans. His red tie and scuffed sneakers match the flower petals around them. Charles must’ve coordinated this, Amy thinks. He looks so handsome that she forgives the insult. Besides, they both knew he wasn’t speaking from experience.

“Dude, you’re literally getting married,” Rosa says, as Jake rolls his eyes. He saunters over to Amy and gives her a quick kiss. She takes his arm around her, and they walk to the back of the room for a semblance of privacy, taking a seat on the couch opposite Scully.

“Hello future wife,” Jake greets Amy.

“Hi future Mr. Santiago,” she responds, with a slightly smug smile.

“Wait, what are we going to do about last names? Should we hyphenate?” Jake asks, frazzled. He’s still processing everything that’s happened that day.

“We can work all that out later, but it would make paperwork a nightmare,” Amy says, as she tucks a tiny curl behind his ear. It immediately bounces back. Jake smiles at her. Of course she could still be thinking about paperwork at a time like this.

“I know it’s cliche, but I really do feel like the luckiest man on Earth,” he says.

“Well you are being targeted by one of the countries largest crime families, so I guess it evens out.” Jake looks away in response, and Amy bites her lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up, I just thought with everything—”

“—No, it’s fine,” Jake says, and he quickly pulls back his frown. At some point over the past evening (early morning, really) Jake had allowed himself to believe that this marriage was forever. That it was the next step in the infinite journey they would share or whatever. His stomach churned at the nagging idea that this was just a loophole for Amy to work a case with him.

“Babe, is everything alright?” She turns to face him, and he realizes the uncharacteristic length of his silence.

“After all this is over—if it’s all over—are we going to stay married?” he asks, not quite able to make eye contact.

“Is that what you want?” Amy counters.

“Maybe,” Jake responds. He definitely knows what he wants, but he tiptoes around putting Amy in a precarious position. The last thing he wants is for her to feel compelled to stay married to a guy she’s only been dating for a year. Instead, he returns the question, “is that what you want?”

She pauses for a second to think. “I want a proper wedding. With my family and everything—I think my mom would kill me if I didn’t. But I want to marry you. Preferably not in a police precinct though,” she adds. Now it’s her turn to avoid his gaze.

“I want that too,” Jake smiles in agreement, “Although a precinct wedding doesn’t seem that bad. Terry’s kids could be our flower girls.”

“That would be adorable,” Amy says.

“Do you think Sarge could bring them in now?”

“Jake, it’s the middle of the night on a school night,” Amy reminds him. Stupid reality always getting in the way of his great ideas.

“Right,” he pauses, and then lets out a laugh. “I love you, Ames.”

“I love you too, Jake,” she says, with her head on his shoulder. He wishes that they could stay like that forever, but time (or, to be more precise, his captain’s anal scheduling practices) were not on their side.

Amy explains all the different forms they have to sign and Jake watches her carefully scan each line and write her name in font-like handwriting. She feels Jake’s leg shake underneath the table and lays her warm hand against his knee to calm him down. He picks up a pen from the floor and adds his name next to hers. He takes a moment to appreciate the smooth black ink from her favorite fountain pen next to his skipped blue-rollerball scrawl.

“Alright, we’re married,” Jake announces, going in for a high five. Amy looks at him with disbelief, and Charles takes the opportunity to cut in and slaps his palm. The rest of the squad joins them around the table, except Hitchcock has fallen asleep on Scully’s lap.

“I can’t believe it,” Rosa shakes her head, “someone actually agreed to spend the rest of their life with Jake.”

“Hey,” Jake protests, “that’s my wife.” He looks up at Amy with his adoring heart eyes and she feels a flutter in her chest. It was the first time she was referred to like that, and he didn’t even use the Borat voice like she expected.

“Whatever. I’m happy for you dorks,” Rosa says and she’s just drunk enough not to hide her smile. “This is unacceptable,” Charles interrupts, “I mean all this work, all this build up—years of watching your heightening sexual tension—just to sign a few papers? At least give us the vows.” He gestures around at the decorations to emphasize the point.

Jake is about to butt in about how it’s not for him, and if they were able to they would celebrate more, until Terry adds on. “I agree with Charles! Terry loves love.”

“Eh, seems like a good way to kill twenty minutes, babe, you in?” Jake turns towards Amy.

“Why not?” she says.

“Yes!” Charles exclaims, “I can officiate, I’ve had my speech written for years. How familiar are you with the different types of tentacles?” Amy and Jake exchange horrified glances, and Jake gets ready to talk his friend down. “I’m just kidding, about the tentacles,” he clarifies, although Amy isn’t entirely convinced.

“Am I going to be able to stop you?” Jake asks.

Charles is already running to his computer when he replies, “Not in a million years!” Terry soon follows him outside, inviting every officer to come watch the ceremony. Rosa tries to wake up Hitchcock and Scully with a gentle nudge before eventually slapping them awake.

In the meantime, Jake and Amy stay at the table. They’re both exhausted from the events of the day, and Amy tries to stifle a yawn as Jake asks her nonsensical questions about life in WITSEC. “What do you want your undercover name to be? I’m thinking Larry Sherbert.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “I’m not taking the last name Sherbert.”

He smiles, “that’s right, because I took yours, Rainbow.”

“You want my name to be Rainbow Sherbert?” she responds incredulously.

“Yep, you had hippie parents,” he explains. She’s about to tell him to knock it off, when Captain Holt enters the room. Amy instinctively straightens her posture and smooths out the front of her dress.

Holt lays the bottle of champagne he’s holding on the table, “This is from my miniature fridge. I was saving it as a mentor-to-mentee gift for when Santiago passed the Sergeant's exam, but this occasion seems equally appropriate.”

“Thank you sir. This is too kind,” Amy says, in the most formal voice she can muster.

“Of course,” Holt says, “It is a customary gift between workplace associates such as ourselves.” Jake shifts his puzzled gaze between his wife and his Captain. He loved them both, but couldn’t for the life of him decipher their relationship.

Terry and Charles return and a few officers trickle into the chairs in the back. Holt takes a seat in the front row, next to Rosa, and Amy and Jake join Charles in the makeshift archway between the vending machines.

“This is the happiest day of my life,” Charles whispers, putting his arms around Jake and Amy.

“Because you found out you were adopting a child, right?” Jake checks.

Charles blushes, “yep, totally that. I’m going to be such a responsible dad.” He rifles through his papers one last time, “Ok I’m ready whenever you are.”

Amy glances expectantly at Jake who gives her two sharp thumbs up. “I think we’re good!”“Alright let’s get this party started!” Charles announces. His volume catches the attention of the crowd, and the chatter dies down. “We are gathered here to celebrate the union of the two most magnificent people I know: Jake Peralta and Amy Santiago. Many of you have had the privilege of watching Jake and Amy’s relationship blossom from the overly competitive co-workers who drove us crazy with their constant bickering, to the glorious sight it is today.” He continues his speech, skipping over entire pages that have been crossed out, containing metaphors everyone is undoubtedly thankful not to hear. “To Jake and Amy, partners in crime solving, and now also, partners in life!”

The room applauds, and Jake takes the time to dab at the tears he was holding back during the speech. “We come now to the words you’ve all been waiting for. Before you declare your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today. Jacob Zachary Peralta, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Amy Maria Santiago in marriage?”

Jake and Amy share a mischievous glance, realizing he never told Charles his actual middle name. He’s about to bring that up, along with the fact that none of the day’s events were remotely close to his intentions, but he gets the sense that Amy wouldn’t be happy if he derailed the ceremony. Instead, he smooths out his tie and confidently says, “I do.”

“And Amy Maria Santiago, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Jacob Zachary Peralta in marriage,” Charles continues, oblivious to their antics.

“I do,” Amy smiles.

“Please face each other and hold hands,” Charles says, pulling two silver bands out of his pocket. Amy looks at Jake with confusion and he mouths the words beanbag chair. Charles instructs the two to repeat after him as they place the rings on each other’s fingers. The whole ceremony starts to blur in Amy’s mind as she realizes Jake already had this ring that somehow slid perfectly on her finger.

“And now, by the power invested in me by the state of New York, it is my honor to declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Charles declares, tossing his papers on the ground for dramatic effect. Jake reaches his arm around Amy’s back in an attempt to dip her as some grand romantic gesture. She fumbles a little and ends up standing up and pulling her head up to his until their lips meet in a warm, invigorating kiss. Both of them chuckle as they pull apart. A few of the officers take that as a cue to return to the bullpen.

“It’s my grandma’s—the dead one’s,” Jake explains, pointing to Amy’s ring, “—and that’s like the one Peralta marriage that wasn’t a total failure so I thought it would bring good luck or something. Plus, you know the crushing debt.”

“It’s perfect,” Amy says, examining the carefully carved diamonds.

Captain Holt rises from his seat and reaches for the bottle of champagne, announcing a toast. As he starts to open the bottle, the cork goes flying across the room, shattering the vending machine glass. Hitchcock and Scully race towards the rubble to steal some free snacks. It’s at that moment that the Marshall, who unbeknownst to the squad had been waiting outside the Captain's office, decides to examine the break room and investigate the noise.

There’s a moment of silence, interrupted only by the fizzing of the overflowing champagne. Amy feels her stomach churning as if she’s somehow in trouble. Holt is at a complete loss for words. At last, it’s Charles who speaks up, hesitantly saying “Mazel Tov?”

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #jamy #jamy fic #brooklyn nine nine fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #b99 one shot #my fic

5 notes · View notes

whump-tr0pes · 5 years ago

Text

Honor Bound 2 - 35

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: mention of repressed memory, slight gaslighting?, threatening behavior, mention of death

Vera closed the car door, slightly dazed. It took her a moment to realize Tori was staring at her. “What?”

“How’d it go?” Tori said, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. She reached out and squeezed Vera’s hand.

“Um…” Vera licked her lips. “That boy’s real fucked up.”

“Hm.” Tori regarded Vera carefully. “What does that mean?”

“I mean…” Vera threw a glance back at Edrissa, already in the back seat. She was leaning forward, holding onto Vera’s every word. “I mean… He’s terrified of me. Like, terrified. Like, nightmares about me every night terrified. And… his parents really fucked him up. I mean… they… I don’t mean his dad made him a sadist, but… he definitely made sure Gavin felt like he had no other choice. I um… hit on something with him, I think. I told him I understood becoming something bad for Joseph Stormbeck. And he, um… ran to his room. He’s sobbing in there right now.”

“Gavin’s a bad person,” Edrissa whispered from the back seat. She wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed. “He, um, he hurt you.” She looked at Tori. “And you.”

“I know he did,” Tori said softly, her hand going to brush her neck. The bruises were gone now.

“Pain makes you do bad things,” Vera whispered, her gaze far away. There was something there. Something swimming beneath the surface. Forms moving in the dark. A whip. A gun. Blood. Death.

“Babe?” Tori squeezed Vera’s hand. “Are you here?”

“I’m here,” Vera mumbled. Every time she reached for the shadows in her mind they skittered away, pushed back by the light of her focus. “I’m just… trying to remember something.”

“Okay.” Tori’s hand stayed in hers.

“Sorry. Um.” Vera shook herself. “I shouldn’t force it. I know that. We can go. If it comes, it comes.”

“Okay.” Tori pulled her hand back and started the car.

The drive was quiet. The ranch house the team was staying in was far on the outskirts of the town, and that was good. It gave them time to rest. Recuperate.

It gave them space from the people who wanted Gavin dead.

The houses became closer together, the yards smaller, as they entered Crayton proper. Business. Shops. Restaurants. Things that seemed so foreign now. Things Vera never thought she would see again.

Tori pulled up to the town hall and parked. Vera stared out the window, unaware that they had stopped until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped.

“Sorry, babe,” Tori mumbled, and pulled her hand back.

“No no. I’m good. Sorry. It’s just…” Vera shook her head. “There’s something coming up. I’m not sure what. It’s kinda big.”

“We can go back if you need,” Tori said. “We can come another day. It’s okay.”

“No.” Vera reached over and took Tori’s hand. “I want to get out. It gets claustrophobic in that house. And I don’t want to be here on a week day. I don’t want to see that Daniel asshole.”

A look of irritation crossed Tori’s face. “Yeah. If we never see him again, that would be fine.” They all got out of the car.

As they walked up to the front door of the hall, Edrissa drifted to Vera’s side. Vera smiled, her lips curving up only slightly, hoping Edrissa wouldn’t notice. Vera took Tori’s hand as they climbed the steps and walked inside.

The hall was cool inside, quiet. Their steps echoed through the atrium, going up three floors. Vera wasn’t sure what a small town north of the syndicates needed with such a large town hall, but she didn’t really care. She knew where Tori was headed.

Tori walked slightly ahead of Vera and Edrissa, her shoulders tensing with excitement. It made Vera smile to see Tori so happy about new arrivals. Every one, a life saved. Every one, a life preserved. Once the team went south to fight the syndicates again, Tori would be helping people full time again. She’d run a safehouse out of the house the team was staying in now. She would help people heal, recover, before they were sent out to their permanent homes. Vera’s heart swelled with pride.

She pushed down the feeling of sadness that swelled in her, too. Over the past few weeks, Vera had grown comfortable. She loved seeing Tori every day. Loved having her in her arms at night. In her bed, even though she couldn’t bring herself to have sex just yet. Soon she would be back on the road, only seeing Tori during downtime between missions. She missed Tori. She was starting to wonder if maybe staying north wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Tori guided them to the room where the records of the new arrivals were kept. She went straight to the ledger on the small table near the door, the record of every person who passed through Crayton on their way to the places beyond it. Tori turned the page back, her finger brushing over the nine names of the family, placed just a few weeks ago. Vera looked over her shoulder as she browsed. There were only seventeen names on the list after theirs.

“It’s been a slow season.”

The three of them jumped. Edrissa skittered behind Vera, peeking around her as Daniel, his majesty, royal motherfucker himself, stood in the doorway. Vera’s lip curled. He reminds me of Joseph. That’s why I hate him so much.

Tori had a hand pressed to her chest. “Jesus Christ. Scared us.”

“I’m sorry. I should have announced myself sooner.” Daniel smirked, his cold blue eyes moving over the three of them. “People who’ve been victims of the syndicates are often jumpy. I should have remembered you’re affected too, even though you’ve got one as a pet now.”

Vera’s hand itched towards her hip, where her gun would be if she was wearing her holster. “Say pet again,” she said quietly.

Daniel finally took a step back, raising his hands. “Alright. That was in bad taste. I apologize.” He gestured to the ledger. “You checking on new arrivals?”

“I wanted to know how often you get them,” Tori said quietly. “Once I’ve got the safehouse up and running I’ll—”

“That’s right. You were planning on running a safehouse.” Daniel smiled. “We should discuss that before you make any plans.”

Vera glanced at Tori as her eyes narrowed. “Why?” Tori asked, sounding uneasy.

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “The presence of your… guest… complicates your intentions of running a safehouse. Once the rest of you move on, where does he go? Do you intend to send him further north? I expect that will bring a whole new realm of challenges you have not begun to face here.”

Vera was painfully aware that Daniel still stood in the doorway. She was stepping forward before she’d realized she moved. “Speak like a fucking adult, Daniel, and stop trying to be so damned political. What challenges? Is that a threat? What should we expect further north?”

Daniel leveled a smile at her that made her skin crawl. “Very well. I’ll speak like a fucking adult.” He tipped his head towards the door. “Here, our people are used to a constant flow of strangers that may or may not do them harm. Our job is to weed out the threats from the refugees. And believe me, we get our fair share of threats. Your Stormbeck is not the first syndicate agent we’ve had come through here.”

“He’s not an agent, he—”

“But once you go further north, people are much less… understanding. They are used to their safety up there. They are used to not having to think too hard about the syndicates that keep my people up at night. So if you try to take your boy north…” Daniel shrugged. “I think you’ll find more hostility and less willingness to listen.”

Vera’s hands curled into fists. “Right, like your willingness to listen when we first arrived?”

“Vera…” Tori put a steadying hand on her arm.

“Your boy is alive, isn’t he?” Daniel said softly.

“No thanks to you,” Vera snarled. “We’re the ones that had to stop your fucking mob.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “You show… an astonishing level of protectiveness towards him, considering your past.”

Vera’s throat worked as she swallowed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Daniel licked his lips. “Vera… why did you kill Joseph Stormbeck?”

Vera’s heart froze in her chest. Her face hardened into a look of abject loathing. She smiled when Daniel took the slightest step back. “So that’s what this is about.”

“Daniel, back off,” Tori snapped.

“No, it’s okay,” Vera said coldly, shrugged off Tori’s hand. “You think Joseph fucking Stormbeck fucked me up so much that I still belong to him in my mind. You think I want Gavin to own me now.”

Daniel’s eyes widened a fraction. He pressed his lips together, pitching his voice low. “No, I—”

“You think this whole fucking thing is just about me being fucked up.”

Daniel’s eyes moved over Vera’s face slowly. Finally, he said, “I hope you can understand my confusion.”

“Oh, I do,” Vera seethed. He’s not Joseph. “I understand. In your head, once someone is broken, they’re broken. That’s it. No fixing it. It’s why you think I’m defending Gavin. It’s why you refuse to believe he’s changed.”

“I told you that you were free to go once I saw that he’d changed,” Daniel said, the first hint of irritation coming through.

“But not without threatening to torture us to death if we were wrong,” Vera growled, taking another step forward.

“What would you do if it was you, Vera?” Daniel snapped. There was something about his tone that cut right to her soul, made something in her quail and shrink back. Rage boiled in her blood, filling her back up. Making her strong again. “I have an entire town to worry about. What would you do for your family?”

“I think we’re done here.” Vera moved to push past Daniel. He stepped smoothly in front of her and blocked their exit. Vera’s hand went to her hip again. She felt an icy stab of dread in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to have this conversation with you like this,” Daniel said gently, rounding out the sharp edges of his voice. “But I saw you all come in and I wanted to see where you stood. I think I have a good idea of it now.”

“And what is that?” Vera snarled, unconsciously pushing Tori and Edrissa behind her. “Where exactly do you think we stand?”

Daniel wet his lips. “I think it would be unwise for you and your family to bring Gavin Stormbeck further north.”

“We can’t exactly send him home,” Vera said, willing herself to be calm. “They’d kill him, and not before making him tell them about everything he’s seen.”

“You really think they’d kill their own?” Daniel cocked an eyebrow.

“You don’t know the family like I do,” Vera said softly. “Yeah, I fucking do think that. We’ve been watching him for the past few weeks. His parents were monsters. What, you thought he just woke up one day and decided torturing people was for him? They… they fucked him up. We’re working to fix him.”

“If you can’t send him north, and you can’t send him south, there is a solution that I would suggest. I could even offer my own services to get it done, if you find the job distasteful.” Daniel shrugged.

Vera’s lip curled. “You said he’d be safe here as long as he stayed with us.”

“I did.” Daniel nodded. “I did say that.” He met Vera’s eyes. “So you’d better keep him with you, wouldn’t you say?”

“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Tori said, stepping out from behind Vera. “We’ve got him going absolutely stir crazy in that house. We’re doing everything we’re supposed to. So what the fuck is this the point of this exercise, other than to piss us off?”

Daniel raised his hands. “It’s my job to stay updated on what goes on in my town,” he said, with good humor. “Your guest poses quite the threat to me and my people. I won’t apologize for continuing to ensure he is being properly handled.”

“You could apologize for being a grade-A prick,” Vera snapped, and pushed past him out of the room.

She didn’t look back until they were out of the building and halfway to the car. Edrissa was practically jogging to keep up with her on her short legs.

“What the fuck was that,” Vera snarled. “What the fuck. Why the fuck would he—”

“That went beyond the safety of his people,” Tori said fiercely. “What a piece of shit.”

“Shouldn’t we be careful of him?” Edrissa said softly, her voice shaking. “He’s, um, in charge and…”

“Fuck him and his fucking power,” Vera said darkly, and stopped short when she saw the look on Edrissa’s face. “Hey, I’m… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said it like that to you. I’m sorry.”

Edrissa’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re planning on going south anyway,” she whispered. “But if he says I can’t stay?” She shivered. “I can’t go south. I can’t. Not with this.” She pulled her left sleeve up, revealing the now-healed scar where she had been branded over her old tattoo. “If you, um, make him so mad that he says we can’t stay—”

Vera knelt in front of Edrissa and took her shoulders between her hands. “Hey. No. We are not going to let him do that to you. If he says you can’t stay, we’ll just send you further north. We’ll find a place for you.”

“We won’t let you be taken again, Edrissa,” Tori said, pushing Edrissa’s hair back from her face. “No matter what, we will keep you safe.”

“But you’re, um…” Edrissa cringed forward. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

“Please,” Vera said softly. “Please tell us. We’re not going to hurt you for saying it. We aren’t going to leave you.” She ducked and met Edrissa’s eyes. “Okay? Please tell us.”

Edrissa’s gaze flicked between Vera and Tori and she bit her lip. “Um…” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “You are, um…” She took a step back. “You’re prioritizing Gavin. He could get us all killed and you’re… you’re doing it for, um. For Gavin.”

Vera opened her mouth, and closed it again, just as quickly. Tori took in a quick breath.

“I’m sorry,” Edrissa whimpered. “I’m sorry, you’ve been, um, good to me,” she whispered. “You’ve been, um, nice…”

“Edrissa,” Vera said quietly. Edrissa stopped talking. “You are our family now, too. Even after we send you north, you’re our family. Gavin is…” Vera swallowed hard. “Gavin is with us, but he’s syndicate. He hurt all of us. So if it comes down to it…” She stood, taking a step back so she wouldn’t tower over Edrissa. “If it comes down to it, you are our priority. If he poses a threat, he will be eliminated. Not you. Okay?”

“B-but you don’t think he poses a threat.” Edrissa’s voice was weak.

Vera blew out a slow breath. “No. I don’t,” she said finally. “I think he could… I think he could be one of us some day, too.” Vera shot a glance at Tori. Her lips were trembling. “Babe? I’m sorry, was that… did I…?”

“No,” Tori said softly. “I’m, um, scared of him. And I don’t think that will ever go away. But watching him, knowing how scared he is of you, seeing how he… he feels… guilt, and pain, and… and he regrets it, I truly believe he does…” Tori shuddered, and Vera wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know what he’s done. Believe me, I fucking know. But… he’s different. Truly different. And I want to believe he could be… good.”

Edrissa sobbed quietly. Tori and Vera both turned to look at her. “But you… you’ll make sure he…?”

“Believe me,” Vera said, a wry smile pulling at her mouth. “If he steps a toe out of line, he’s got a long, long list of people who will kill him instantly.”

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

#honor bound 2 #whump #emotional whump #repressed memory #HMS ToriVera #Tori and Vera: Edrissa's moms #Daniel Schiester is an asshole #PTSD tw #death mention tw #my oc: Vera #up next: a crying bitchboy

52 notes · View notes

onewfantaesy · 5 years ago

Note

Hi... could you please tell me where can I order my own angsty baby superhero? I think I need one...😂 And is it possible to have an episode where the league have some kind of training camp or summer camp for younger superheroes/sidekicks while the older ones having meeting with world leaders or some kind of conference. Taemin are sent to the one with the younger bunch and he think that he will get teased by the teenage superheroes. Or something in that tune. Thank you always for all the AUs.

“I’M NOT GOING!”

“It’s only for two weeks.”

“I’M NOT GOING!”

“We already signed you up,” Jinki tells him, still somehow very calm despite the fact that Taemin looks like he’s going to explode, little bursts of lightning crackling at the tips of his fingers. “It will be fun!”

“No it won’t because everyone is mean and all the sidekicks are dumb and what if people see and then Red Cyclone is the only adult at some stupid little sidekick summer camp and it’s not fair and I wanna go with you and it’s not fair!”

“Sweetheart,” Luna laughs a bit, gently guiding him to sit on the couch with her, “you don’t have to be Red Cyclone at the camp. You don’t have to to do any of the superhero training stuff - because you’re already a superhero. You can just go and have fun.”

“Why can’t I go with the rest of the league?” Taemin whines, aggressively cuddling into her side. “I wanna stay with you. And it’s gonna be my birthday!”

“You’ll be home before your birthday, and we’ll have a big party for you to celebrate turning eleven,” Jinki tells him.

“I wanna stay with you,” Taemin repeats, his voice soft but still with a whiny tinge to it.

“You’re so sweet,” Luna coos, hugging him tight. “But you have to go.”

“But I’m the only one without powers,” Taemin cries. “Cyclone has powers, Taemin’s just normal.”

“Arrow’s niece is going to be there,” Jinki tells him. “She’s your age, and she doesn’t have any powers, either.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Taemin huffs and sighs and continues whining for days, but he does end up going to summer camp.

“You’ll be in this cabin,” one of the older sidekicks who’s in charge says. “There’s only one other ten year old signed up, so you’re both in this cabin. She also has no powers, so I’ll be your group leader and we can do some different activities from the others.”

He knows his new group leader’s name is Kai, but he cannot for the life of him remember what his sidekick name is or whose sidekick he is. It’s going to drive Taemin mad for the next two weeks. Maybe he’ll get his roommate to ask for him.

“I do have powers, ya know,” Taemin says back in a snotty voice.

“Yes, but I was told you didn’t want to turn into Red Cyclone during this camp thing, so we’ll work on normal self defense, some offense, and archery, since that’s what your roommate specializes in. We can also do some normal camp stuff. Arts and crafts and kayaking and all that crap.”

“Wow,” Taemin says. “Sounds super duper exciting.”

“Just don’t be a dick and we won’t have any problems,” Kai tells him, making a face at him.

Taemin huffs when Kai leaves, goes and claims the bed on the right side of the cabin, and flops on top of the bed while holding his Jinx doll. This camp thing is gonna suck and he can’t wait for it to be over. Plus, he’s still offended that the League is going on some big peace-keeping trip across the globe and he got left with the sidekicks. It sucks. Everything sucks.

“Hi,” a soft voice says as the cabin door opens. “I’m Naeun. Are you my cabin buddy?”

Taemin looks up to see the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his whole entire life smiling at him and dragging a giant duffel bag behind her.

“Yes!” Taemin says, jumping up to help her with her bags. “I can help you! I’m Taemin!”

She giggles at him and has the cutest smile and a giant bow and arrow are strapped to her back.

Maybe there’s just one thing about this camp that won’t suck.

The first week goes smoothly. They spend their time sparring, hiking, and fighting off pre-programmed droids with the moves that Kai teaches them. He even takes them kayaking on the lake, and he’s probably the best sidekick Taemin has ever met. He must not spend much time at Mount Justice with all the other loser sidekicks.

“I’m not so much a sidekick anymore,” Kai tells him when Taemin questions him on it. “We’re more like partners. I told him I was too old to be a sidekick anymore.”

“How old are you?”

“You have a lot of questions,” Kai laughs. “I’m 20.”

“Wow,” Taemin whistles. “You’re old.”

“Thank you,” Kai laughs, shoving him. “Now let’s get back to archery. Naeun, can you help him hold the arrow properly, please?”

“Pull it back like this,” she tells him, holding onto his hand.

Taemin’s entire face turns red when she stands so close to him. He can hear Kai snickering behind his hand. Taemin wants to send the arrow straight into his kneecap.

Many evenings find Taemin and Naeun playing around their cabin while Kai supervises and makes sure they don’t sprain an ankle or kill each other. It mostly involves playing tag or coming up with elaborate pranks to pull against Kai. It usually involves pouring lake water over his head. They’re both pretty sure Kai knows every time it’s going to happen, but he lets it happen to humor them. Taemin’s almost forgotten that the other sidekicks even exist.

Until Kai announces that the first Saturday, they’re going to compete with the others to take down a practice droid.

“It’s just for fun,” he tells them that morning. “To practice the moves I’ve been teaching you.”

“But they’ll use their powers,” Taemin complains. “And they’re older. It’s not fair.”

“You can turn into Red Cyclone if you want,” Kai tells him. “No one will stop you. It’s just for fun, guys, I promise.”

“Oh look, it’s little orphan Annie,” one of the meaner sidekicks laughs when Taemin, Naeun, and Kai walk over to the arena that was set up.

Taemin immediately sticks his tongue out, makes a face, and flips him off with both hands. Kai has to physically pick him up and drag him away.

“Please don’t make those kinds of gestures,” Kai says.

“They started it!”

“And I’ll deal with them later,” Kai promises. “But please don’t flip anyone off, it’s rude.”

“Their existences are rude.”

“Please stop.”

The fact that Kai remains so calm helps calm Taemin down, and he ends up just discussing with Taemin and Naeun what their strategy should be to defeat the droid.

“Watch them,” he whispers as the first group battles the droid. “Look at everything they’re doing wrong. Their stances are terrible. They rely on their powers way too much. Don’t make those same mistakes.”

When the first group gets horribly beaten by the droid, Taemin gasps.

“I have an idea,” he whispers to both of them, and he pulls them close to tell them his plan. Kai approves after tweaking a few of the other moves Taemin had suggested, and Naeun is bouncing in anticipation as the other groups go before them.

Taemin ends up turning into Red Cyclone halfway through their fight to distract the droid. Naeun makes several critical hits with her arrows, and then they get the droid to corner Taemin on the ground.

All the sidekicks are laughing, saying that Taemin can’t even beat it as a full grown hero, but that just makes Taemin smirk even more.

“Shazam!”

A magic lightning bolt goes straight through the droid to hit Taemin and turn him back to normal, and he rolls out from under the droid as it collapses on the floor.

Taemin and Naeun cheer the entire time, high-five each other, and just in general act excited since they’re the only group who managed to beat the droid. Kai is even cheering loudly for them, and it’s just fun. Taemin is having a good time.

“THAT’S CHEATING!” one of the sidekicks screams. “YOU’RE SUCH A LITTLE CHEAT!”

Taemin and Naeun immediately stop, and they’re both so confused as they turn to the group of angry teenage sidekicks.

“How did we cheat?” Taemin asks.

“YOU CAN’T JUST TURN INTO RED CYCLONE AND BACK IN A REAL FIGHT!” they shout. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

“Well I just did,” Taemin snaps back.

“I’m the one who said he could do that,” Kai says, trying to diffuse the situation. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

That doesn’t help any. It turns into a mob of teenage sidekicks screaming at Taemin about how he’s a cheater, which turns into them mocking him for being a foster kid again, which turns into them saying, “THE ONLY REASON JINX AND NIGHTINGALE TOOK YOU IN IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE POWERS! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE NOT WITH THE LEAGUE RIGHT NOW?”

And it makes Taemin freeze. Those thoughts are always in the back of his mind, that Jinki and Luna only took him in because they found out he was Red Cyclone and they wanted to keep tabs on him.

Even though it’s just a small group of sidekick yelling all these things at him, it feels like everyone at the camp is thinking the same thing. The camp leaders are trying to get everyone under control, but Taemin is so overwhelmed and upset that he turns back into Red Cyclone and flies back to the cabin.

He only takes his backpack with a couple changes of clothes stuffed inside, and flies away. He leaves his Jinx doll on the bed, still tucked against the pillow.

Taemin goes straight to his lair. It’s the only place no one else can access. He wants to be entirely and completely alone.

“You’re unhappy.”

Except he forgets the wizard can just pop in whenever he wants. It’s so rude.

“No shit, asswipe,” Taemin snaps. “You ruined my life!”

“I made you my champion.”

“And you ruined my life!” Taemin cries. “I don’t want to be a superhero!”

“You are not a superhero,” the wizard tells him, his voice very firm. “You are a champion of good. You protect people who cannot protect themselves. You help keep the balance between good and evil.”

Taemin turns back into himself, and he just cries. He crumbles onto the stone floor, hugs his backpack to his chest, and cries. He misses his Jinx doll, but he doesn’t want it anymore.

“You are pure of heart,” the wizard tells him for what feels like the millionth time. “This is why I chose you. But I think it’s time I teach you more magic.”

Taemin wipes at his eyes and looks at where the wizard is kneeling beside him.

“What kinda magic?”

“Every kind of magic.”

The wizard spends the next four days teaching Taemin about magic. He learns simple spells quickly, mastering them in just hours. Things like summoning fire and lifting objects.

Other spells are not so simple. Like teleportation. And a trick that the wizard knew to keep surveillance on certain people.

He showed an example of it with Jinki and Luna. They’re frantic, having left the conference early to search for Taemin.

He sees Luna holding the Jinx doll and crying on the bed while Jinki stays out late at night searching the city.

“They’re looking for you,” the wizard tells him. “They’ve been looking for you nonstop. You’ve been missing for almost a week.”

“They don’t really miss me,” Taemin lies to himself. “They only adopted me because they didn’t like that I was running around as Red Cyclone.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“Then why does everyone think it?”

“Because they’re jealous,” the wizard suggests. “Because they are intimidated by you. Because they want you to question yourself.”

Taemin is quiet for a long time. He watches as Luna cries and hugs the Jinx doll, as Jinki shouts to other superheroes about how unfair it is that the police won’t search for Taemin because, “This is what he does, they said! He’s a ten year old boy, I don’t care how many times he’s run away before, he’s missing! He needs to be safe and at home!”

Other heroes are out looking for Taemin. Many of them left the conference early. Many came to help as soon as the conference ended.

The sidekicks who heckled him were punished. Again. Taemin isn’t sure it will really do anything, but apparently his running away is a big deal.

“I’m afraid to go back,” Taemin admits.

“Why?”

“They’re gonna be mad at me.”

“I think they’ll be overjoyed if you go back,” the wizard tells him. “They miss you a great deal.”

It takes about an entire day, but the wizard convinces Taemin to go home.

He goes back in the middle of the night. Jinki is still out looking for him. Most of the house is dark, but the back door is left unlocked.

“Mom?” Taemin whispers, tip-toeing up the stairs.

He finds her sleeping on his bed, still holding onto his Jinx doll. Taemin kicks off his shoes and gets in the bed next to her, taking his Jinx doll to hold to his chest. He really missed it.

Luna wakes up an hour later to find Taemin completely knocked out next to her, and she just starts crying and fixing his hair and hugging him. It wakes him up, and he whines a little bit, but he doesn’t fight her off when she holds him tight to her chest and whispers how much she missed him.

She calls Jinki right away, and he’s back home within ten minutes to hug Taemin and tell him how much they missed him.

“What were you thinking?” Jinki asks, holding Taemin so close. “We’ve been worried sick.”

Taemin doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t really know what he was thinking. He was upset and scared and wanted to go somewhere he could be by himself.

“Are you okay?” Jinki asks softly. “Are you hurt?”

Taemin only shakes his head and holds on tighter. He doesn’t want to talk.

“Did anything bad happen while you were gone?” Jinki asks.

Taemin shakes his head again.

“Okay,” Jinki says softly. “We can talk more tomorrow. Let’s go to sleep now, alright?”

Taemin falls asleep between Jinki and Luna that night. He really did miss them a lot.

#taemin #onew #shinee #shazam au

12 notes · View notes

flying-elliska · 5 years ago

Text

I finally finished Call Down the Hawk ! Here’s my first reaction (very spoilery!!!!)

- On the whole I loved it. Loved most of the new characters, the themes, the more grown up vibe and the expanding worldbuilding. Is very clearly a set up, opening novel so a bit frustrating in the pacing but nothing major, just a lot more questions than answers. I just felt like it was still the start of the novel, rising tension and then boom ! the end. Had the same feeling with the Raven Boys tbh. But mostly I didn’t want it to end so soon.

- this book is so sad ? but sad in a nuanced, gotta cope with it, adult sort of way. Like TRC was about a cool adventure quest, of course there were threats but it was full of magic and friendship and the thrill of becoming yourself and wanting *something more.*This is about stopping the end of the world and people having no good options and I can’t think of one main character in this book that isn’t like...subtly devastating. But it’s sad in a way that centers the agency of the protagonists and how much they care and how hard they’re trying, so it doesn’t feel fatalistic or gloomy. It’s just *arrrrrgh my heart*. They’re all trying so hard to cope but if they don’t find a better way to cope with their problems soon it’s going to kill them. Lol the young adult mood nowadays or what.

- Ronan broke my heart, really. I loved that on one hand there are clear signs that he’s grown so much - he is able to show tenderness, to be open about his sexuality, he’s taken control of his dreaming to a point where he’s capable to help Hennessy - but at the same time he’s clearly depressed and he doesn’t know his place in the world and feels like everyone is moving on without him. Because the implications of his powers make it impossible for him to live a ‘normal’ life. Surviving your teenage years and self-acceptance is only the beginning ; then you have to deal with a world that isn’t made for you. He needs to find his people. This is just so, so relatable for a neuroatypical twenty-something...feels like a punch in the face. I am sooooo happy he found Hennessy and I can’t wait to see where their relationship goes. Worried about Bryde and how easily he could manipulate Ronan, though. Also, I am interested in the new sun symbolism attached to him - the kid permanently dressed in black with his ‘night horrors’ previously - now he’s making little lights/little suns everywhere in the guise of fireflies or floating flowers or little lights ; he has sundogs and a sun blade. Obviously there could be a link to the fire that is slated to destroy the world (and Kavinsky’s fire dragon !!!!) but it can also very much go in the direction of ‘stepping into the light’ and full life giving potential and sun-drenched tomatoes and happiness. MAN his arc in this trilogy is going to rock so hard i just cannot wait.

- I just love Hennessy and her girls so, so much. The idea of living with clones of yourself is so fascinating to me...the fact that Hennessy struggles with the similarities with her mother, the artist who killed herself, and how caring for the girls seems to be a substitute for caring for herself, which she can’t manage. That scene in the bathroom...heartbreaking. Like can you imagine not being able to sleep for longer than 20 min ? That’s torture. Nod her relationship with Jordan, so complex. This idea of ‘my parallel universe self can live a better life than me if I keep all the self-hate’ ; of dreaming a better version of yourself. They care for each other so much but there is so much resentment being trapped in that state of being too. I wonder why Hennessy dreamed copies instead of something else : out of a need to be less alone with her plight ? To find others like her ? Or is it a darker ‘take her not me’ way to hide ? The fact that she gets a moon sword in the end (the moon being a reflection of the sun duh) makes this symbolism all the more present. Maybe she had this struggle of feeling like a copy of her mother, beautiful and wild and doomed and codependent on the man she loved. I can’t wait to see where this goes. I was just heartbroken that most of the girls had to die. Plus some bi rep yayyyyy (and more characters that are not white dudes ftw). It’s interesting that the Lace picked her specifically to torment ; I can’t help but feel it’s tied to that unsteady sense of self. Anyway, I really hope Hennessy gets to a place of love and self knowledge and self care and being surrounded by people who love her. I feel like her POV really underlines how tiring it can be to doubt yourself so constantly.

- Declan Lynch ! Wow, I just love love love a POV switch that shows unsuspected depths about a previously disliked character. His arc is really *eldest sibling plight* taken to the extreme. Being boring for survival because you can’t afford to be a problem. Yup, extremely relatable too. It’s very refreshing because a lot of the MC of TRC have this ‘edgy cool we don’t like rules vibes’ which can come over as very immature (i meah duh they’re teens) and Declan had to grow up too fast and his sticking to the rules and trying to impose structure on Ronan’s life and completely draining his own life of any sense of joy or individuality, feels half like a survival technique half trauma response stemming from the terror of being given responsibilities at way too young an age and coping with the chaotic environment he grew up in and the constant threat of discovery. It’s like, textbook ‘child parentalization’ and it really sucks and Niall Lynch is an incredible asshole. And Ronan is pretty much stuck in father worship mode and turning all his anger towards Declan. The growth there...is going to be super therapeutic. And I love his thing with Jordan. Survival makes it impossible for them to be their true selves but they find something true together ? Aww. I can’t wait for them to be together at the Barns, which is really Romance Central in this universe. (I foresee angst too but ehhhh). And more art flirting and museum dates.

- I also love how dream beings are getting more autonomy in this book. I think Declan distancing himself from Jordan in the end is this old complex about being non-magical and therefore inferior, but also because he doesn’t consider dreams to be real people capable of consent or interiority. I found the idea of Aurora Lynch always extraordinarily fucked up and in this book we learn it’s even worse - that she was basically a copy of Declan’s real mom ? Imagine growing up with that...no wonder he hates Niall. Though the idea of Mor O Corra doing the same thing is really intriguing, makes you wonder what the fuck happened there (was it a mutual decision ? was it a revenge thing ? Man their whole family is just so messed up lmao. But I just love the idea of Boudicca and the magical lady mob though.) And Matthew learning he is a dream and starting to deviating from his ‘happy but kind of dumb’ behavior in the previous books. He’s always been this previsible creature but now he isn’t and I feel like a big difference between him and Jordan was this knowledge. She has this knowledge of what she is and she immediately has more sense of self and agency and I feel that that’s a key theme of the book - knowledge, self knowledge. It’s basically what the ‘Call Down the Hawk’ title links to - Bryde talking about the man who turned into a falcon and then a hawk and learning so much about the world ; calling down the hawk would mean the man coming down and sharing this knowledge ; for Ronan it’s as well meeting and helping Hennessy ; so it’s about knowing your own nature through meeting people who are like you, as well. I love !!!!!

- Adam ! Not enough Adam in this book. I spent the book missing him, but that makes sense, because that’s the mindset Ronan is in. He represents what Ronan can’t have, and the Longing tm just permeates the whole book. Everytime he appears he’s just the epitome of cool, whether as dark academia vibes Harvard Student with his queer clique the Crying Club or Hot Motorcycle Boyfriend. He knows exactly what Ronan needs - understands his distrust when Ronan wonders if this is the Real Adam, tells him ‘go slow’ instead of just don’t, wants to take a look at Bryde to check the dude out, drives eight fucking hours on a motorcycle he can’t even drive properly to spend three hours with Ronan...he’s just like a dreamboat in this one lmao and after all the shit he went through in TRC...Therapeutic. But he is also increasingly distant and it’s so painful in a delicious way - the longing between characters who are already together but who are being kept apart by life is one of my fave angst tropes ever. Ronan wants to grow old with him and has romantic horny farmer dreams about him and the whole ‘tamquam alter idem’ thing...Boi i die that shit is just so...Romance tm. And I love how true to them it is, they’re achingly tender and yet there is still that strong chaotic shithead vibe between the two of them. Honestly the fight with the murder crabs was fucked up but made me laugh so much too. But then Ronan not being able to stay ? HEARTBREAKING. Ronan having Adam under ‘MANAGEMENT’ in his phone...really fucking funny but also feels like Ronan puts a sense of stability and direction in Adam and now that Adam is so distant...he feels extra vulnerable so he compensates with jokes. Ouch. Anyway I really want more about Adam and the Crying Club. Adam’s mix of cold, calculating pragmatism and compassion and understanding ? I love him so much, damn. I hope he’s a POV character in next book. I can see Ronan disappearing with Bryde and Adam looking for him, tbh. He’s too important to Ronan to stay on the periphery forever I hope.

- the Carmen Farooq-Lane chapters were my least favorite, especially when she’s with Parsifal - it felt kind of repetitive. I feel like Maggie’s villain chapters are often sort of a weak point - the bad guys tend to be either ‘Vague Ominous Cosmic Horror Entity that wants to Destroy Everything’ (also often a terrifying reflection of mental health issues/existential terror) or ‘Evil Prep’ lmao, and I had the same feeling w the Whelk or Greenmantle chapters in TRC. That said, I feel like Farooq-Lane has potential. Her persistent self delusion about how she’s the good guy is fascinating. Her ‘evil sibling, obvious trauma hidden by politeness and cleanliness, probably is going to have a redemption arc’ thing feels very Gray Man. Her punching Ramsay moment was very ‘hell yeah’ and tbh I already ship her with Liliana - who feels a bit underdrawn at the moment too, but interesting potential. The Moderators, still, feel a bit too ‘generic lawful evil agency’ yet, but the concept is interesting. I really really love Bryde as an idea though. His speeches to Ronan are fascinating ; from one aspect they really illustrate a fascinating concept of the Earth coming back to real magic but from another, he sounds like a cult leader. Selling this idea to vulnerable people that their difference makes them special - and well Ronan and Hennessy definitely are, but does that make them better than other people ? Seen as how Ronan reacts to Declan, it feels like he would be vulnerable to that idea. Hennessy not so much ; I can see her accept Bryde’s help out of pure necessity maybe, but not be swayed by his lies. I really feel like they’re going to need each other.

- So much cool worldbuilding...The Fairy Market concept is amazing (but also scary as shit right...like they’re selling people ? Probably dreams but that is still fucked up as hell ? Then again we’ve seen dreams die in pretty casual circumstances so the question is very much ‘so...what is personhood here?’). The idea of Visionaries is absolutely horrifying. Some people saying Adam could become one ? My god I’m not sure if I could stand those levels of angst. His ‘seeing the future of the world instead of people’ thing though...feels very compatible. Or at least like Adam could contrebalance the Visionaries’s visions somehow at the very least. Anyway, this is going to hurt. But it’s cool to have more answers ; the ending of TRC left a lot unexplained in my mind about the Lynch fam or why all those people wanted the Greywaren so bad etc. So this is very satisfying.

- So Miss Maggie really went wanting to be normal at the expense of your true self is no way to live and also if you don’t create what you need to, you're going to die ? haha thanks for the callout i feel attacked. But honestly her saying that this was about the necessity and price of creation man I am soooo interested in where this is going to go next. All in all a stellar book, 10/10 would read again to overanalyze (yeah more than this even), most frustrating thing is waiting for the next one

#call down the hawk #cdth #cdth spoilers #maggie stiefvater #pynch

10 notes · View notes

vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Forty-One:

The One Where Violet, Klaus, & Sunny Are Entirely Out of Luck

The evening ride in a stolen beat down fire truck was not a pleasant one for Sunny Baudelaire and her two older siblings, Klaus Baudelaire and Violet Snicket. As Sunny continued to drive and the two elder siblings fell into a miserable silence, all three children were contemplating what to do next.

As Sunny continued to drive as the sun set on her brother’s thirteenth birthday. She kept her gaze ahead of her, focusing on the road. Fighting away newly developed demons that haunt her. She wanted desperately to share secrets that she had learned. Secrets that her siblings could not find in the torn pages of the Quagmire triplets’ notebooks. Secrets that Olaf and Esme plagued upon her alone. A bowl of sugar? Darts laced with venom. Bitter, dark secrets about the Snicket family and the Baudelaire family. At her ripe age, Sunny was only a mere toddler so much of the dark information that she was told did not make much sense to her even when the villains tried to dumb it down for her. These secrets would have haunted her far worse had she been her siblings’ age. Which was one reason why she didn’t want to tell her siblings the information that she could understand all at once? She was afraid of hurting them the way she was. Because even though, she didn’t understand everything, Sunny was smarter than the average toddler, she did understand some things. Like that Count Olaf happily and proudly murdered two of Violet’s family members in his sick pursuit for revenge because their parents played a deadly game of darts. That Violet’s father had murdered at Klaus’ age. And most importantly, she understood what Olaf had done to her brother back when the two siblings lived with him. Sunny was currently fighting the urge to look towards her brother and apologize. In a way, Sunny felt as though she was to blame. She didn’t have a real rhyme or reason to blame herself because she knew that Olaf was a sick, sadistic being. But she felt guilty and remorseful nonetheless. And then another part of her wanted to turn to Violet and apologize for the grief that she had subsequently caused her. If it weren’t for Sunny and Klaus being unable to handle Olaf on their own, not only did her father drag himself into their mess but he died because of their mess. And now, Olaf wasn’t only going after Violet, he had just murdered her uncle, a man who had temporarily saved her and the Quagmires, and then pinned the murder on Violet and their brother. Again, Sunny was slightly aware that these tragic events were not her fault but the fault of a psychotic, homicidal lunatic. So Sunny drove and drove in complete silence, afraid that if she opens her mouth, she’ll never close it and she’ll spill too much.

Klaus leaned against the passenger seat window. His arms folded across his chest, his eyes were red from crying. He already missed Duncan and Isadora Quagmire like crazy. He continued to glance towards the sky trying to keep track of where Hector’s self-sustaining hot air mobile home in hopes of being able to reunite with the two triplets. He knew it was insane but what did he have left to lose? He was riding shotgun in a stolen fire truck that was being driven by his toddler-aged sister because the three siblings were forced to evade their arch enemy, an angry mob, and now the authorities. He had nothing but the items in his pockets which mainly comprised of torn notes, photographs, and a spyglass, the clothes on his back, and his two sisters. He glanced over silently at his sisters. Violet sat between him and Sunny, with her face in her hands, grasping her locket. While Sunny was so focused on driving that the toddler didn’t even notice that he was staring for quite some time. He sighed as he thought about how his life had been so simple so many months ago. Last year on his birthday, all he had to cry about was that his parents had failed to make appetizing bread pudding. He scoffed at how spoiled he was merely a year ago. So much can happen in less than a year. He thought to himself. He looked once more towards his sisters, first looking at Sunny. When Klaus and Sunny’s misfortune began, Sunny was still in her infancy. She was so tiny and helpless that Klaus had to carry her everywhere. Now as he looked at Sunny, he could see that she has in fact grown up. She could walk and she was talking better than he had ever imagined. She could also drive a fire truck, apparently. Yeah, she was still tiny for her age and she was vastly younger than him and Violet, but he could see what she meant when she called herself ‘self-sufficient’. He knew he couldn’t continue to baby her and that soon she will not need him. Speaking of not needing him, he glanced back over to Violet, who still cried softly in her hands trying her best not to disturb Klaus or Sunny. Even though, he had seen Violet at some of her low points, as in when she had that hallucination at the burned remains of his and Sunny’s childhood home and when Olaf had admitted to her a dark secret that made her lose her cool in front of a crowd that already suspected them of murder. He could see that Violet was still far tougher than he ever could be. She was resilient, she was stubborn. She also walked around as if she had barely any fears at all. Klaus couldn’t help but feel bad for getting her involved in his and Sunny’s mess, her life had been so much better, happier, and safer when she wasn’t aware of their existence. Here, she sat, silently crying in the middle of a stolen fire truck. Klaus sighed and rubbed his face. He took his gaze away from his two sisters and back to the sky, placing his fingers on his lips where Duncan Quagmire had kissed him and wondered when he would get to see the Quagmires again.

Violet Snicket started the long ride checking behind the siblings every five or so minutes to make sure that the authorities and Count Olaf weren’t behind them. She couldn’t believe that her life had turned for the worst this quick. She could remember not too long ago she was spying on her father who happened to be on the run for a crime that Violet was no longer sure if he committed or not. Now, she was on the run for a crime she didn’t commit and it just felt like a sick feeling of deja vu had plagued her. She knew some tricks about living on the run. She learned them from her father since he had been on the run for her entire life. She knew a few basic rules: Never use your real name. Never get close to anyone. Never get comfortable, always be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. She could hear her father telling her when she was six and had asked him why they moved a lot and why she wasn’t allowed to have friends. She glanced over her shoulders again making sure the siblings weren’t being followed, she sighed as she could hear her father telling her other lessons. Keep your keepsakes on your person if you can. If you can’t, make it fit into your backpack. Never, ever forget your backpack. Her father told her when he finally allowed her to carry hers. When Violet was younger, closer to Sunny’s age, he always carried both backpacks because he had managed to get his daughter an adult-sized purple backpack that way they can have a fair amount of things. When Violet had turned eight, she noticed her father having trouble lugging both backpacks around and she asked him if she could carry her own to give him a break even if it was only for a few minutes. He obliged and although she was short for her age, Violet carried the adult-sized backpack for much longer than her father had expected before kindly asking him to carry it once more for her. She frowned when she remembered that Olaf had taken her backpack, the very backpack that her father had given her and had raised her to use for survival. It was gone. Part of her hoped that Olaf had kept it so maybe she’d be able to steal it back one day. She didn’t have many doubts about whether or not he’d keep it, seeing that he had liked one of her inventions that she had within the backpack. She shuddered slightly and turned to see if they were being followed but taking a good, hard look towards her brother as she did. She frowned. She didn’t fully understand what Olaf had done to her brother and she really wanted to know. She had her guesses and seeing Violet’s track record with plausible theories of heinous acts that Olaf has committed against her family, she had a reason to believe that she was correct. But she didn’t want to push him into telling her or make him uncomfortable. She knew that he would tell her when he was good and ready and she knew that when he did, it would signify that he completely trusts her in her role as his elder sister. She snuck a glance towards Sunny and shuddered. She stared at Sunny’s torn clothing and matted hair. She was so thankful to have the toddler back in her ‘custody’, seeing as Violet was the eldest so she was now a substitute guardian for her siblings. But she couldn't help but be haunted by a similar question she had about Klaus which is: What did Olaf do to you? Violet shuddered harder when her mind went to a dark place. She knew that Olaf was a sick and twisted man, with ill intentions for herself and Isadora Quagmire but Violet didn’t know how low Olaf was as a human being as she stared at Sunny, she pondered. She doubted that he was that sick, not that she thought he had any sense of decency because Violet Snicket thought the exact opposite. But she doubted it because she hoped that there weren’t people that sick in this world. But again, she wasn’t sure. And they are correct when they say that curiosity kills the cat because as Violet continued to sneak glances at the toddler, she was trying to figure out how she could ask Sunny. Sunny was a toddler so these questions were no doubt complex for her and even at the age of fourteen, they were complex to Violet, too. Never had she imagined she would ever be in the position where she had to ask a person under the age of three whether or not something explicit had happened to them. But she knew that if she ignored it entirely and just hoped that her suspicions were correct and nothing like that had happened...she would never forgive herself for not investigating hard enough if she turned out to be wrong. She sighed and grabbed her locket. She didn’t open it, she just held it in the palm of her hands. She didn’t have to open her locket, she could see the two pictures that were within it, in her mind. The one of her mother staring back at her smiling as she held a newborn Violet. She knew that she didn’t make any promise to her mother personally but she did make a promise to Klaus and Sunny and to her dead mother and father that she would keep them safe as she looked from Klaus to Sunny she felt as though she was failing all of them. Sunny was kidnapped the moment Violet was dragged into this insanity and Klaus, he had been brutally hurt before she was ever involved and yet, she still blamed herself for all of it. She didn’t know why, but she felt ashamed to open her locket. Maybe it was her own insecurities that have always been in the back of her mind or maybe it was the new insecurities that had been brought to her by Esme Squalor’s vicious words. ‘Your mother’s unwanted mistake,’ Esme had called her when Klaus had yelled at her to leave his sister alone. Unwanted mistake. She heard over and over again. Was it true? Was Esme right? She began to cry and quickly shoved her face into her hands hoping to drown out the noise that followed. Had Beatrice given me to my father because she didn’t want me? She asked herself as she opened her fingers slightly to glance at her siblings. Klaus was only around a year and a half younger than her. When she does the math, her heart sinks. It didn’t take long for her to replace me. Then she looked over at Sunny, who again, was vastly younger than Klaus as if Klaus was enough for Beatrice until finally, she had decided to have another. It took her eleven years to want another after Klaus...but only a year and a half to want another after me? She began to cry harder, tears rolling from her eyes onto her locket making the locket colder to the touch. Would this still be how everything went? Did she want another so fast after me because she lost me...or because she gave me away? It was a question that she asked herself a lot, it was one of the reasons why Violet put her siblings before her. Violet was aware that her life meant something but there was this nagging part inside her head that told her that her siblings mean more since their mother kept them. Other reasons for her selflessness was that her father had instilled that Snickets take care of their own. To Violet, it seemed like Snickets die trying to prove this to be true. Her father. Her uncle. And if it had to come to it, she would too. It just seemed like the logical thing to do. She was currently angry with herself that she couldn’t convince Olaf to take her and let the other four go and that she was unable to make Klaus and Sunny leave without her. She was happy that she was able to save Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, although she deeply missed them and vowed once the siblings get rid of Olaf, she will do everything in her power to find them and bring them back into their lives. As Violet sat between her siblings, she contemplated how she was going to go about her new life on the lam. Being on the lam was a disheartening thing and can be an uncomfortable way to live, especially in the beginning when you are still finding your pace. This was something Violet had already known living with her father who had once described the feeling of being on the run like being squeezed into a tight, dark box tossed at high speed from a moving vehicle and abandoned on a dusty patch of road, tormented by doubt and unsure of where you are going. At the time that he had said this to a ten-year-old Violet, she had thought he was overreacting and exaggerating the way he always did because he liked to spew out big words for fun. But Violet wished that she could tell him that he was right, that was exactly what being on the run felt like. She was tormented by doubt and other dark thoughts and unsure of where she and her siblings should go next.

As she glanced up from her locket to the sky, she nudged Klaus gently. “Sleep,” she told him. She could tell her brother was fighting his heavy eyelids.

“Huh? No, I’m...I’m fine,” he yawned. “We need to stay awake to…” he yawned again.

“I’ll watch for Olaf and the authorities,” Violet reassured him. “I’ll wake you up when it’s my turn to sleep,”

“What...what about Sunny?” He yawned pointing at the toddler, whose head was swaying.

“Brooklyn,” Sunny replied which was her way of saying. “No sleep until we get there,”

“I’ll drive,” Violet suggested as she smiled understanding her sister’s reference.

Sunny looked towards Violet, glaring. “Kit?” Sunny replied. “I don’t know...you look like someone who drives like an unhinged psychopath,”

Klaus tiredly translated for Violet, who rolled her eyes. “If a toddler can do it, I can do it,” Violet told Sunny.

“Hook,” she replied triumphantly, which meant, “highly doubt you could sword fight someone with your teeth...but fine. Have at it.”

Sunny quickly stopped the fire truck, crawling over her sister’s lap as Violet moved the boots that Sunny had fashioned to help her reach the pedals. Sunny cuddled up against their brother and Violet laid the fire fighter’s jackets over them for warmth. She continued the drive through the night as her siblings slept as peacefully as they could. Both siblings trembled and whispered in their sleep so Violet spent a lot of her time singing songs as sweetly as she could hoping to help them find some peace. She continued to drive down the bare road, swerving more than Sunny had but somehow still keeping on the road. Violet was happy that there was only one road in the hinterlands since she and her siblings did not possess a map and she didn’t want to get totally lost. She glanced in the rearview mirror making sure that Olaf wasn’t following them. What would she do if they were? She asked herself. She sighed as she glanced once more at her sleeping siblings. She knew exactly what she would do. Surrender herself for their safety or die trying to fight off Olaf and his goons. Violet was left alone with her thoughts for a couple of hours as she drove the three further into the hinterlands and closer to civilization. Once the morning sun had appeared on the horizon, Violet frowned when she noticed that the fire truck was slowing down. She looked at the gas gauge miserably seeing that the truck was passed empty. As the truck began to come to a complete halt. “ Goddammit!” she yelled. Violet slammed her fists on the steering wheel angrily causing her brother to jump up from his slumber in shock.

“I was not asleep!” he yelled as he shot up causing Sunny to fall off the seat. Both younger orphans’ hearts were beating rapidly as they glanced around at their surroundings confused. Klaus looked down at an annoyed Sunny, who glared softly towards him. “Sorry, Sunny,” he said as he helped her back onto the seat. Both younger orphans glanced over at Violet, who sighed.

“Come on,” she said getting out of the fire truck.

“Where are you going?” Klaus asked worriedly.

“We have to find someplace to get gas,” Violet explained as she walked over to her siblings’ door and opened it for them. “Klaus, grab that gas can,” Violet said pointing to one red gas can.

“Walk?” Sunny asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Violet answered. “If you get tired, I’ll carry you.”

Sunny merely nodded and led the way down the lone road in the Hinterlands. Violet still worriedly looking behind them every two minutes now in fear that without their fire truck, Olaf would surely be able to catch up to them. She glanced around to see that the Hinterlands were desolate, meaning that there was nowhere for the three siblings to hide if Olaf did show up.

Now before I continue, I must tell you that you should stop reading this tale altogether. Because if you think the worst thing to happen to the three children in the Hinterlands is that their fire truck runs out of gas leaving them stranded in the midst of a desolate place while being pursued by a homicidal creeper than you definitely should not continue this story. Because this desolate place is very unlikely to bring their troubles to an end. But your troubles could be over this instant if you are sensible enough to halt this dire story. I beg of you, look away from this sorry tale now. There is no earthly reason why you should read even one more word about the misfortune, treachery, and woe that are in store for you should run into the street and throw yourself under the wheels of a bus. I, on the other hand, must continue this tragic tale that is only about to get vastly more dire and disturbing because it is my mission to find Violet Snicket and her two younger half-siblings. So please, consider yourself lucky because you have a chance to look away. And to clarify, this is your last chance.

After an undetermined amount of walking, the three children stopped. It was early in the morning, and the children were thirsty, hungry, lost, and exhausted which are good reasons to stop their long walk but the three siblings were also frightened, desperate, and not far from people who wanted to hurt them, which are three good reasons to continue. The siblings had abandoned the idea of conversation, saving every last bit of their energy to continue their journey to get gas.

Right now, the siblings were standing outside a convenience store.

“Last Chance General Store.” Klaus read aloud. “That’s an ominous name,” he pointed out.

“It probably means it’s the only building around for miles,” Violet explained.

“I guess a last chance is better than no chance,” Klaus admits with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Violet said as the three siblings separated but only barely. Violet walked over to the gas pumps and frowned noticing a sign on both of them. “Out of gas?” she read aloud.

Klaus walked over to a payphone and grabbed it, placing it to his ear. When he couldn’t hear the dial tone, he realized that the sign that was posted above the payphone was correct. “Out of order,” he whined slamming the phone back down on the receiver.

Sunny walked over to the front of the store, where a slot machine sat with a sign. “No luck,” she said pointing to the sign that read ‘Out of luck’.

All three siblings sighed as Violet threw down the gas can angrily. All three siblings glanced at the only building they had seen for miles. The outside of the store was covered with faded posters advertising what was sold. The children could see that fresh limes, plastic knives, canned meat, white envelopes, mango-flavored candy, red wine, leather wallets, fashion magazines, goldfish bowls, sleeping bags, roasted figs, cardboard boxes, controversial vitamins, and many other things were available inside the store. Nowhere on the building, however, was there a poster advertising help, which is really what the three siblings needed.

Violet and Klaus nervously glanced down at the newspaper rack in the front of the store. Seeing their names and pictures in a special edition copy. Klaus grabbed the newspaper angrily curious to see what Mrs. Poe had written about him and his sister in this newest copy of her newspaper.

“‘ Murderous Orphans At Large!’” He read aloud to his sisters in a whisper hoping no one inside the store could hear him. “‘Authorities are trying to capture Veronica Snicket and Klyde Baudelaire, two orphans wanted for the murder of notorious villain, Count Olaf. Official sources who worked on the case also say that they have also kidnapped Susan Baudelaire. If you see these two murderous orphans or their newest victim please contact authorities.’” He read aloud. Violet sighed worriedly as Klaus slammed his fist against the newspaper holder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled.

“Shhh,” Sunny pleaded glancing inside the store.

“Why does she get his name correct this time?” he asked ripping up the newspaper in pure anger as he threw the pieces in the air. “Every other time, it was Count ‘Omar’ but now when she’s falsely reporting that he’s dead, she gets his name right?”

“Klaus,” Violet said reaching her hand out to grab her brother’s shoulder.

“Oh, and now apparently we kidnapped Sunny. Sorry, I mean ‘Susan’,” he says angrily.

“I bet Detective Dumbass was the ‘official source working on the case’,” Violet pointed out.

“Great. People are going to capture us, throw us in jail for a murder we didn’t commit and who knows what’ll happen to Sunny,” Klaus cried.

“He probably did that so at least he’d be able to use Sunny to get your guys’ inheritance,” Violet explained.

“Why is this never easy?” Klaus hissed. “Why does he get to make the rules of this sick game and why is it never easy? ”

Sunny looked to her brother trying her best to make him laugh. “Slay?” she asked him, which was her way of saying, “So when did y’all kill Olaf? And why didn’t you wait for me?”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Not the best time for jokes, Sunny,”

“Redrum,” she replied, which meant, “honestly, you’re right. No time for jokes. Time to murder this sick bastard.”

“No, you’re not going near him,” Klaus told her.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Can you guys stop?” she asked looking inside the store nervously.

“Should we go inside?” Klaus asked.

“If anyone read the paper, they’ll know that you and I are on the lam,” Violet explained. “But if we keep wandering, we’ll die of thirst and/or exposure.”

“And/or count Olaf,” Klaus added.

Violet sighed as she glanced down at Sunny. “Okay, what we’ll do is go inside, I can wash Sunny up, while you grab us some food and Sunny a new change of clothes.”

“We haven’t any money,” Klaus pointed out.

Violet pulled out her father’s wallet. “I am so glad I decided to hold on to this,” she said smiling.

“Look, the store has a telegram inside,” Klaus said pointing to a poster.

“Okay, good. You can send a telegram to someone you can think of who would help us,” Violet said.

With that, she grabbed ahold of Sunny’s hand and the three siblings took one last look behind them to make sure that their enemy hadn’t caught up to them. Violet and Klaus grabbed onto the handles of the store’s doors and walked inside as the bell above their heads chimed.

“Is that you, Lou?” called out a voice. The children could not see who it belonged to though, since the inside of the Last Chance General Store was as crowded as its outside, with every inch nearly crammed full of things for sale. The children were surprised there was enough room to make actual aisles. “Are you delivering the paper?”

“No,” Violet replied.

“I’ll be right with you. I’m stacking day-old pastries.”

“We were hoping to send a telegram,” Klaus asked as the children walked to the front register of the establishment.

“A telegram?” he asked jumping up to face the children from behind the front register. “What are three skinny, filthy children doing around here so early? Where are your parents? Do you know how dangerous it is around here? I’ve heard that this morning’s paper has a story about two murderers who have kidnapped a young baby.”

“Newspaper stories aren’t always accurate,” Klaus replied nervously.

“Nonsense,” the shopkeeper said. “ The Daily Punctilio wouldn’t print things that weren’t true. If the newspaper says somebody is a murderous kidnapper than that’s the end of that. Now, you say you wanted to send a telegram?”

“Yes,” Violet said. “We have money to pay and everything,”

“Very well,” The shopkeeper said and smiled at them. “You see those porcelain kittens there,” he said pointing to an aisle. “It’s not that aisle. You’ll turn right at the brooms, left at the fishing poles.”

“And the restroom?” Violet asked nervously.

“It’ll be near the men’s clothing section,” the shopkeeper answered pointing in a different direction than the telegram device. He took a hard long look at the three kids causing Violet to look away nervously. Sunny to bit her lip and Klaus to shake slightly. “You look familiar,” he said to the children. “Have I seen you kids before?” he asked.

Violet scrambled for something to say in response to this. Her father always had answers ready, it was probably why he was such a good liar. “W-we-we’re child actors,” Klaus answered after noticing that Violet wasn’t coming up with a response. Violet and Sunny looked at Klaus. As the shopkeeper continues to stare at them suspiciously.

“No, that’s not it.” the man answered. “Eh, oh well. It’ll come to me,”

With that Violet picked up Sunny and carried her through the aisles. Klaus following closely behind his sisters, glancing back to make sure the shopkeeper wasn’t following them. “That shopkeeper recognized us,” he told Violet worriedly. “We need to hurry,” he cries.

Violet looked to Klaus. “Do you know how to send a telegraph?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good. While you do that I’m going to take Sunny to the bathroom and get her cleaned up,” she explained.

“We’re splitting up,”

“We’ll meet back at the bathroom,”

“I don’t like this,”

“Just us,” Sunny agreed not liking the idea of separating from her siblings.

“We’ll be fine,” Violet told them as she walked away from Klaus headed towards the bathroom.

Klaus sighed as he got to work with the telegraph. Even though the telegraph machine was an arrangement of dials, wire, and strange metal implements which is something more so in Violet’s field of work. Klaus had read a few books on telegraph machines and he was competent enough to know how to send a telegram. As he grabbed the headphones attached to the machine so he can keep track of whether or not his message was going through, he pondered who he should send it, too. The only people to come to mind were Jacquelyn and Larry, who he hoped was still alive and had not fallen victim to Olaf’s homicidal tendencies. He knew if any two adults could be willing to help him and his sisters it would be them. So as he addressed the telegram to Mulctuary Money Management. He grabbed the two metal strips to tap out his message in morse code. He began to speak out loud as he tapped out his message in code. “To Jacquelyn Scieszka at Mulctuary Money Management. From: Klaus Baudelaire. My sisters and I are very grateful for you and Larry attempting to help us back in the village. STOP. But we are truly in need of assistance as soon as possible. STOP. We are in the middle of the Hinterlands, alone, lost, and scared. STOP. We managed to save the Quagmires and have Sunny back. STOP. But we need further help clearing our names and escaping from Count Olaf and Esme Squalor once and for all. STOP. We are desperate for your assistance. STOP. Please reply at once. STOP. My sisters and I are in grave danger. STOP.” he dictated. He took off the headphones and turned away from the machine. He frowned looking towards the ground. “We are in grave danger,” he reminded himself as he headed for the bathroom.

_______________________________________________

Meanwhile, Violet carried Sunny towards the bathroom. With Sunny only barely protesting.

“Klaus?” Sunny cried.

“He’ll be fine,” Violet assured her for the fifth time but Sunny wasn’t having it. Violet glanced down at Sunny. “Hey, tell you what. How about you and I quickly browse around and get you a new outfit. I bet you don’t want to keep wearing that horrendous school uniform anymore.”

Sunny nodded her head in agreement. Violet and Sunny rushed through the women’s section to the little girls’ section. Sunny immediately eyed a cute little dress that had three star-shaped buttons. The top was blue, but the skirt end of the dress was yellow, pink, and a darker shade of blue than the top. Violet picked it up off the rack, not caring about the price and grabbed a small pair of shoes and underwear, and white stockings for her sister and headed straight for the bathroom.

Violet quickly got to work on using the bathroom hand soap as shampoo for her little sister’s hair. Sunny looked miserably up at her sister as Violet cleaned her in the bathroom sink of a convenient store. As she sat in the lukewarm water glancing up at Violet, she could remember the times when she was a little bit younger than she is now when her mother would give her baths in the Baudelaire mansion’s kitchen sink. Sunny was never one for baths but Sunny had always preferred her mother to be the one bathing her. Maybe it was because of Sunny’s distrust in water and how she never felt safe in a body of water. Her love and trust in her mother were greater than that distrust and she somehow felt safer when her mother bathed her. But as she looked up towards Violet, who was quick and gentle. She smiled and couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and safety when she was around her big sister. She didn’t understand how Violet had been separated from her and Klaus but she never wanted that to happen again. She hadn’t spent as much time with Violet as Klaus had since she was kidnapped by Olaf but Sunny already knew that she would kill for Violet as Violet would for her.

Once Violet had finished bathing Sunny as best as she could, given the circumstances, she helped her sister put on her new outfit, the entire time trying to find the most appropriate way to ask the question that won’t escape her mind. But every time she had opened her mouth thinking she had finally found the arrangement of words that could convey this heavy-loaded, complex question to her toddler sister. She stops and wonders if she could say it in an even better way. So as she helped Sunny button up the front of her dress, she had failed in finding the best way to bring up this topic to Sunny. She sighed as she stood up reaching for the door.

“Vi?” Sunny called out for her nervously.

Violet’s heart sank in her chest as she stopped reaching for the door. “Yeah, Sunny?”

“Can we talk?” the toddler asked.

“Absolutely,” Violet said feigning a smile as she knelt to Sunny’s level.

“It’s about what Olaf did?” she said meekly as Violet’s heart shattered once more.

_______________________________________________________

Klaus waited patiently near the telegraph machine. He knew it was crazy to expect a reply back so quickly but Larry and Jacquelyn did arrive on a motorcycle and if they drove all night like the three orphans had but in the opposite direction, they must have made it back to the city by now. But he didn’t waste his precious time, he walked around a few of the displays that were around the telegraph machine. Grabbing snacks for the three siblings to further their journey. He jumped when he heard the bell chime.

“Lou, is that you?” the shopkeeper called out as Klaus felt his heart starting to beat rapidly. “Oh sorry. I’ll be right with you.”

Klaus gulped worried that whoever just came in already read that The Daily Punctilio. He ducked behind the few aisles making sure he wasn’t seen. He glanced towards the direction he watched his sisters go. He walked casually as he dared not turn around.

______________________________________________________

“What did Olaf do to you?” Violet asked worriedly placing her hand on her younger sister’s shoulder.

Sunny looked up at her confused. “What?” the toddler asked. “No, not me. Klaus.”

Violet gasped. “You know what happened to Klaus?”

Sunny nodded, shuddering. “He bragged,”

“Of course, he did,” Violet said rolling her eyes. Violet offered her youngest sibling a smile, but Sunny merely frowned.

“It’s very bad,” Sunny explained cringing.

“I can only imagine,” Violet muttered. She knew she couldn’t invade Klaus’ privacy and ask Sunny to tell her what Olaf had told her. So she avoided actually responding to her sister.

“Should I tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That I know,” Sunny said. “Or wait till he tells me?”

Violet opened her mouth to answer her sister after a brief period of contemplation. But was interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door which caused her to jump and grab Sunny quickly holding Sunny to her chest tightly as she screamed.

“Violet?” a familiar voice called into the bathroom.

Violet released her sister with a sigh of relief. Rolling her eyes she turned her head towards the door. “Shh. Don’t use my real name.”

“Why? the paper got our names wrong?” Klaus whispered back.

“I don’t care. Olaf could make sure Mrs. Poe publishes our actual names and then what? We need to pick fake names and stick to them.” she whispered back.

“Fine. You make a good point. I’ll be Nick,” Klaus replied.

“Soli,” Sunny whispered. “Short for Solitude.”

“What kind of name is that?” Klaus asked.

“What kinda name is Klaus?” Sunny countered.

“Savage toddler,” Violet commented laughing. “I’ll be Lilac.”

“Purple,” Sunny critiqued.

“So? It’s still nothing close to Violet,”

“Are you guys done?” Klaus whispered. “Someone entered the shop and I’m afraid they may have read the paper.”

“We’re almost done,” Violet called back. “Grab a change of clothes for you and me,”

“What? I don’t know what kind of clothes you prefer,” Klaus complained.

“Anything. Just nothing pink.” Violet said. “I’m not very fond of the color.”

“Valid,” Sunny agreed.

“Just...hurry. Please,” he whispered back.

“Got you, bro.”

Klaus walked towards the men’s section that wasn’t very far from the bathroom door. He didn’t know why but he just wanted to get the fuck out of the store. He walked around glancing at discounted t-shirts and hats. A hat could help him hide his face from passersby and even Olaf if he were to catch up with the siblings. He thought as he grabbed a dark green one. Green wasn’t necessarily his favorite color but it was Duncan’s. And this shade of green reminded him of Duncan so he liked it. He placed that hat on his head adjusting the backstrap so it would be easier to move lower to cover more of his face.

“Oh darling, green is not your color,” a sinister voice from behind him snarled mockingly. Klaus tensed as he immediately recognized that voice. He drops the green shirt he was looking at as he slowly turns around to see Esme Squalor in the store only a few feet from him. She was leaning against a display of umbrellas which caused him to start shaking. Esme smiles at him when she follows his gaze to the display. “Oh, darling. I’m not like Olaf. I’d never hurt you like that.” she hissed taking a haunting step closer to the young boy. Esme looked around the adjacent aisles looking for signs of either Violet or Sunny. She couldn’t see either. She smiled as she looked to Klaus. “Tell you what if you come with me quietly, I’ll convince Olaf to forget all about the girls,” she whispered. “What do you say?”

Klaus, finally getting over his paralysis began to slowly back himself into a wall. He looked this way and that, looking for a way to escape. But he knew that if Esme was here, no doubt the rest of the troupe and Olaf were here, too. He didn’t know what to do. “ Mister! ” Klaus cried desperately . “I need help!”

Esme sighs angrily. “ Wrong answer.” she hissed as she darts for Klaus. Klaus takes a quick glance towards the bathroom praying that Violet and Sunny stay there a while longer where he can lure Esme away from them. He decides to run down a few aisles containing things like nylon rope, floor wax, soup bowls, window curtains, wooden rocking horses, top hats, fiber-optic cable, lipstick, dried apricots, magnifying glasses, slender paintbrushes. In a desperate attempt to stay away from the villainess. Esme darted this way and that trying her hardest to grab onto the boy but to not raise suspicion from the shopkeeper.

______________________________________________________

Violet looked back to her sister, waiting a few seconds to know that Klaus was away from the door. “Maybe wait to let him tell you or if it comes up naturally in conversation,” Violet explained to Sunny. “Maybe wait till he blurts it out so he can pretend that he got to tell you and not Olaf.”

Sunny merely nodded.

Violet took a deep breath. “Sunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Olaf…” she began, biting her lip afraid that she wasn’t going about this correctly. It would be far easier to ask Sunny had she been closer to Violet’s age.

“Did Olaf what?” Sunny asked confused as to why Violet was unable to finish her question.

“Did he...you know…” Violet hinted at but Sunny merely looked at her confused. “You know how he…” she paused. She shook her head, muttering something to herself. “Did he hurt you?”

“Obvi,” Sunny replied slightly confused, which meant, “Obviously he hurt me. He’s Olaf.”

Violet sighed. With how fast Sunny answered that and with little to no hesitation Violet knew that she didn’t understand Violet’s vague question. She sighed. “We should probably get going,” Violet said as she lifted Sunny in her arms. She pushed the bathroom door open slowly glancing around for her brother. Where was he? She asked. “Soli what was his new name?” she asked her toddler in a whisper.

“Nick,” Sunny whispered back as she turned to look behind her sister, looking desperately for her brother. “Nick!” she called out.

“Nick!” Violet cried desperately. As she turned slightly towards the left. Sunny screamed in her ear immediately as Violet turned towards where her sister was staring. Violet gasped and stepped back a bit as she saw Olaf smirking at her from the other side of the aisle. “No!” Violet cried holding Sunny tighter. Sunny was holding on to Violet as tight as she could refusing to look at Olaf. She was wailing as loud as she could.

“Oh, come on, sweetie. Surrender to me and I will go easy on the baby,” Olaf mused, stepping closer to Violet and Sunny.

“ Never! ” Violet cried.

“Fine,” Olaf said taking another step closer to the two orphaned sisters. Sunny squealed loudly. “I guess I’m going to have to skin the other two brats alive.” he shrugged his shoulders before darting towards the two girls. Causing Violet to shriek. Her adrenaline was rushing through her veins before she decided to run from the man, she maneuvered Sunny to her hip and she turned towards where Olaf was running and raised her leg as high as she could effectively drop kicking Olaf in the face causing him to grab his face groaning in pain.

“ I’m going to make you pay for that! ” Olaf hissed as Violet ran down several aisles carrying a wailing Sunny.

“What’s going on?” the shopkeeper asked.

Esme glared at Klaus while Olaf glared towards Violet and Sunny. “We need help!” Klaus cried desperately dodging Esme who just missed his shirt collar as he ran away from her.

Before the shop keeper could respond, the children heard the front door of the store open with a familiar chime. The three siblings prayed that it wasn’t Olaf’s troupe because then they would be terribly outnumbered. Klaus ducked behind a display of men’s jeans as he had managed to backtrack to where his sisters had been. He gazed at the open bathroom door in fear. But how could that be? Esme was chasing me? She wouldn’t have been able to...oh fuck. He thought as he glanced around to see Olaf only four aisles from him. He hugged his knees tightly and held his breath, even going as far as to placing his hand over his own mouth and nose to muffle any noise he could be making. Klaus hoped that Olaf had seen Violet and Sunny. He couldn’t let Olaf get his sisters. Olaf had heinous plans for Violet and Sunny was traumatized enough by her recent time in Olaf’s captivity. Violet, on the other hand, had dropped to the floor. Still holding sunny close to her refusing to let go of her toddler sister. She glanced this way and that looking for Klaus’ shoes. Surely she would have heard if Olaf had captured him. Violet and Sunny crouched down behind a display of pillows as the two sisters desperately searched the store for their brother.

“Hiya, Lou!” the shopkeeper said causing all three siblings’ hearts to drop further into their chests.

“Milt! Put down those scones and look at the headline,” Lou directed, showing Milt the latest copy of The Daily Punctilio. The children could hear the shopkeeper gasp as he read the headline allowed. “Murderous Orphans At Large”.

Sunny gave a little whimper of fear while Violet sighed in defeat. Klaus scoffed lowly, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Murderers? Oh, dear.” Klaus heard Count Olaf say. He couldn’t tell if Olaf was getting closer or farther from him but he dared not look.

“I know those kids,” Milt whispered to Lou.

“They’re in my store right now. And they have that little baby they’ve kidnapped.”

“What do they look like?” Lou asked stupendously.

Milt pointed down at the newspaper. “They look like two innocent kids, but they’re really vicious murderous kidnappers.”

Milt and Lou began to disperse from the register in hopes of finding what they believed to be two murderous kidnappers and their kidnap victim. Violet held on to Sunny tightly as Sunny cried as softly as she could in Violet’s shoulder.

Olaf bumped in the other two men. Causing the three men to jump in shock. “You scared us, mister.” Lou cried.

“Thank you,” Olaf said happily as he walked towards another aisle.

“Excuse us. We’re trying to catch some murderer kids,” Milt explained as he headed towards a different aisle than Olaf. Violet looked towards Sunny, glancing around to see that any path around them was clear of Olaf, the shopkeeper, and the newspaper delivery man. “We can crawl that way,” Violet dictated pointing towards a back door exit.

“Brother,” Sunny whispered.

Violet began to crawl ushering for Sunny to follow her. The two sisters began to crawl as quickly and quietly as they could through the racks of clothing before making a right turn. Violet bumped into a pair of red leather boots. She gulped as she slowly looked up to see who she had already guessed to be wearing these specific boots. Esme Squalor smiled down at the two orphaned sisters giving them a small, vicious wave of her hand.

“If it isn’t the other two,” Esme hissed.

Violet jumped to her feet quickly, scooping up Sunny in the process and running past several aisles before ducking behind construction paper and canned peas. “Klaus,” Sunny whined looking around desperately for their brother.

“We’ll find him,” Violet promised.

Klaus lowered himself to the ground and crawled as quietly as he could making sure to not crawl passed an aisle that was in open view of Olaf. He sighed in relief when he saw the villain’s back turned to face him. Klaus wiped the sweat off his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief until he noticed the objects directly in front of Olaf. Olaf was standing right in front of a display of several mirrors which were all pointed at different angles. A few of them were pointed in an angle that made Klaus Baudelaire gulp in worry. As Klaus gazed up the display of mirrors, he could see Olaf’s expression within the top mirror. He was smirking and looking directly at Klaus. The moment he and Klaus made eye contact, he swiftly turned around and ran towards the young boy. Klaus shuffled to his feet desperately but he tripped on a map that had been left on the floor. “No!” he cried as he fell stomach first landing on the wooden floor of the store. He groaned as he caught his face in his arms. Olaf grabbed Klaus by the ankles.

“One down,” Olaf hissed as Klaus struggled to break free from the mans’ grasp.

“Let...me...go…” Klaus cried. He kicked furiously trying to get the man to let go of him.

Esme walked up laughing. “Oh, good. Darling. You caught the best one,” Esme commented.

“No, I caught the easiest one.” Olaf corrected. “Now go find the other two,” he ordered her. Esme scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t have to,” Esme explains as Olaf tried to force Klaus to stand up. Klaus struggled in the man’s grip. But he didn’t call out for his sisters.

“What do you mean?”

“Watch,” Esme said as Lou and Milt began to approach. Almost immediately, Esme burst into fake tears. “My daughter?” she cried turning her head giving herself a few seconds before her tears started to flow. “ Have you seen my daughter?!” she wailed. “ This murderer and his ugly little accomplish kidnapped our daughter!” Esme cried as Klaus glared at her.

“Sunny isn’t your fucking…” Klaus tried to argue before Olaf slapped his hand over Klaus’ mouth.

“Please,” Olaf cried, following Esme’s lead. “Have you seen our infant daughter? Or his accomplice?”

“Yes, actually. They’re also in this store,” Milt explained.

“I say we call the authorities and continue searching for them,” Lou suggested. Both adults immediately fooled by Esme and Olaf’s bullshit. “We’ll be right back,”

Klaus continued to struggle in Olaf’s grasp as Esme continued to walk around. Olaf gripped Klaus’ face. “Call out for your little protector,” he demanded.

“No,” Klaus spat defiantly.

“I’d cooperate if I were you,” Olaf hissed. “I can always hurt one of them instead,”

“You can’t hurt them if you don’t have them,” Klaus pointed out.

Olaf sighed angrily. “We will find them eventually,” he hissed to Klaus. “Oh, Violet. Come out. come out wherever you are,”

Violet shuddered as she listened to Olaf’s voice. Sunny began to shake in her arms. He turned down an aisle with safety pins and candy canes, dragging along Klaus with him. Klaus looked around frantically hoping that Esme and Olaf don’t find Violet or Sunny.

Milt and Lou returned from calling the police. “The police are closing in. You might as well surrender, Veronica,” they called out. “We have your accomplice.”

Violet and Sunny’s eyes widen as Sunny screeches. “No!”

“There you are!” Esme screeched as she ran towards the two girls but Violet ducked behind an aisle of sports balls.

“Wherever you are, murderer. You’d better give up!”

“We’re not murderers!” Violet cried in frustration. “We’re the victims!”

She balanced Sunny on her knee as she grabbed a soccer ball from the shelf. She glanced up slightly to see Olaf several aisles down dragging around a struggling Klaus.

“Of course, you are a murderer!” the shop keeper answered. “It says so in the newspaper!”

“Plus,” Esme called out triumphantly in her sneering tone. “If you are not a murderous kidnapper then why are you hiding and running?”

Violet started to answer but Sunny covered her mouth before she says anything more. “Detect,” Sunny explained to Violet. “They’ll be able to locate us by our voices. Just let them talk and maybe we can escape.” Violet nodded her head.

Violet glared towards Olaf attentively allowing for the adults around to continue talking. When she could clearly see that Olaf had separated himself from the other adults who were trying to catch Violet and Sunny. Violet threw the soccer ball as hard as she could at the man’s head. Thankfully for Klaus, she had her mother and father’s sportiness and hit Olaf’s face with precision and accuracy causing him to release their brother. “You little bitch!” Olaf yelled as the soccer ball ricocheted off his face and hit Esme in the back of the head.

“Hell yeah, two for one!” violet cheered as she watched Esme glance in every direction wondering where in the world that ball had come from to hit her. Klaus darted quickly towards the direction where the soccer ball had come from. The children embraced each other briefly as Violet led her siblings down a couple of aisles until they were hiding behind an aisle with bedroom slippers. She saw a small glimpse of the exit and silently pointed the way to her siblings just as Olaf and Esme appeared in front of them in the same aisle just many rows back. The three siblings shrieked in terror as the villains moved closer to them.

“This ends now, Snicket,” Olaf hissed as Violet held Sunny close and grabbed Klaus’ hand and began to run through the store towards the exit. Violet led her siblings through a walkway that had several long ropes of beads hanging from the ceiling. The three siblings ran through the beads with ease. Violet turning slightly to push Sunny in Klaus’ arms as she allowed Klaus to run ahead of her. Klaus passed his older sister with ease but still gripped her hand with his free on to indicate to her that they weren’t leaving her behind. Violet grabbed a large jar of marbles off the shelf they were passing and with a devilish smirk to her two younger siblings, Violet opened the jar quickly, haphazardly pouring the contents of the jar to the floor as Klaus and Sunny opened the exit of the store. Violet threw the glass jar with all her might, hoping that if Esme and Olaf fell on her marble trap that they’d get stabbed with the glass shards. The three siblings heard a loud shattering sound as the jar made contact with the wooden ground. The next sound they heard as they exited the Last Chance General Store was Olaf hitting the ground with a loud thud! and inhuman growl and Esme shrieking in shock as she, too, hit the ground with a loud thud! .

If the orphans’ hearts weren’t beating rapidly in their chests they would’ve laughed at the pain the two villains had received from Violet merely spilling the marbles everywhere. They quickly ran alongside the building, all three glanced behind them to see if their abusers were following. Violet and Klaus breathed heavily, both looking at one another as they turned the corner and huddled closely together trying to catch their breath. The children took a deep breath and a good look around. The sun was rising, revealing the flat and desolate landscape the children had driven and walked across all night. In a few hours, the entire countryside would be covered in sunlight and the land was so flat that the children would be seen from far, far away. They couldn’t hide forever, and as Violet, Klaus, and sunny huddled together in terrifying silence about their close encounter in the Last Chance General Store. The three orphans could tell that their situation was much more dire than they had ever imagined. Sunny glanced around and poked her siblings in the shoulder. Both older siblings glanced in the direction that Sunny was pointing. “Troupe,” Sunny whispered as Violet and Klaus ducked down.

“What do we do?” Violet asked nervously.

“We have to get out of here, now,” Klaus replied worriedly.

“Scooby-Doo,” Sunny said pointing in the direction of the rising sun. Parked a ways from the store was a square, blue van with the letters VFD painted on its side.

Violet followed her sister’s direction and looked at the van with mixed feelings. “Klaus, look,” she said after a minute.

“But we don't know what that VFD stands for,” he argued.

“Well we can’t go back in there and we surely can’t stay out here in the open,” Violet argued. “What choice do we have?”

Klaus looked at the van and then at his sisters and then back to Count Olaf’s car. Anyone was better than Olaf. “but what if they’ve read the paper?”

Sunny shrugged her shoulders as she led her siblings sneakily towards the van. Before they could even knock on the van’s door. A friendly-looking man with a guitar in his lap and a short and groomed beard on his face opened up the doors smiling at the three children.

“Volunteers?” the kind ginger asked.

Violet scoffed in annoyance as Klaus smiled towards the man. Sunny took one glance towards the store and could see the silhouette of Olaf exiting the store quickly. She looked to the man with the guitar and hurriedly nodded her head. “Yes,” she chimed in.

The man smiled at them. “Well hop on in,” he held out his hand for Violet to take as he helped her aboard the crowded van. “Move over a bit, brothers and sisters. For our new brother and sisters might want to sit next to each other.” Klaus looked at the man confused as he handed Violet Sunny and hopped into the van himself. The ginger-haired man closed the door behind the young boy. Klaus took a seat beside his older sister as the two siblings held Sunny on both their laps.

Violet glanced out the window as the van started pulling away. She caught a glimpse of an irritated Esme and Olaf walking out of the store. She ducked her head down hoping that she wasn’t seen by either villain.

“Are you two okay?” the shopkeeper asked the two villains.

“Just peachy,” Esme snarled as she tried to fix her hair. She glared at Olaf. “How could you let them get away?”

“They blindsided us both with beads and marbles!” Olaf snarled as he glared at the blue van that was departing.

“Where’d they go?” Lou asked curiously looking around for the three kids.

“There’s only one place that road leads to,” Olaf explained. “Heimlich Hospital.”

Esme’s face shot up with pure happiness. “That’s where my damn sugar bowl is! The librarian told me so.”

“Of course it is.,” he said annoyed.

“Those brats are obviously after my sugar bowl, too. They’re just like their fucking mother. I’ll destroy those brats if they touch my fucking sugar bowl.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Olaf explained. “We can grab them and your sugar bowl in one fell swoop.”

“How boss,” the bald man asked. “You’re on the lam,”

“On the contrary,” Olaf said smirking showing his henchpeople the headline to The Daily Punctilio. “I’m dead.”

“And Violet and Klaus are wanted for your murder and the kidnapping of Sunny,” Esme chimed in clapping her hands.

“Yes, thanks to those idiots at The Daily Punctilio, I am a free man!” Olaf cheered as he sat in the driver’s seat.

“I thought we were officially dating?” Esme asked glaring at Olaf.

“Yeah, I don’t really like labels,” Olaf said. “Now let’s follow that van.”

1 note · View note

wei-suibian · 5 years ago

Text

TCGF+SV AU

Or basically, an Au i’m never going to actually write, but post snipets off because it’s fun. I’ve seen lots of BingQiu adopting little WWX, and i raise you, XL adopting little LBH. This Au works within the assumption that all MXTX novels hapen in the same universe, but different continents. Also, this first part doesn’t tell you much, next one to follow shortly, be ware of knives.

Part 2: HERE

1- Luo BingHe's suffering

Luo BingHe was an orphan raised by a washerwoman. He was an orphan, abandoned by the Luo river, left to be carried by the currents and meet the fate the heavens had planned for him. His adoptive mother- His mother, was a sweet and caring woman, who had not even enough to feed herself and worked to the bone everyday, but even so took him in and cherished him as her own flesh and blood.

He was raised poor, but loved.

As soon as he was old enough to understand the world, his mind was filled with the tought that he wished he could do more for her, make it so their lives wouldn't be so harsh. He owed it to her. She would bring back from the house she served in all the leftover food, given to her when she begged enough. They would give her the oldest and most worn out books and permitted her to take them home if she worked twice as hard the next few days.

She would grovel and kneel, asking for the scraps of cloth the young masters no longer used, saying she needed to make some robes for winter or she would freeze to death. The household master only agreed to stop hearing her babbling, always making sure he got something in return, of course. Everytime his mother came back with bruises on her wrists and a pale face, Luo BingHe wanted nothing more than to disappear, so she wouldn't have to suffer like this.

All the scraps of food were for him. The books, she gave to him so he learnt to read and write, hoping he could be better than her, who never had the chance to stop being illiterate. The scraps of cloth were woven into simple winter robes that he wore so as to not freeze to death, his mother's touch in every stitch and flower embroidered on his sleeves.

Everything she did, she did for him. And he yearned for the day when he would stop being a burden. That was why, when he was five, he ran to the streets and began doing anything he could to bring back whatever he could get his hands on; food, clothes, wood to fix their ceiling, anything was fine. He didn't care if he had to beg, or cry, or steal.

He was willing to do anything to help the only family he ever had.

More often than not, stores would let him take the nearly spoiled ingredients or the scraps that were about to be tossed out, and he learnt that his skills in cooking were good. Luo BingHe taught himself to write, read, and perfected his kitchen techniques over the course of a year, his books a great help.

Although he usually didn't have many ingredients, his talent was obvious. His dishes always tasted delicious, and his mother always smiled and praised him when she ate his food. It made him extremely happy. Happy enough that he didn't notice the signs that something was wrong until it was too late.

One day everything was fine, and then it wasn't.

His mother died, utterly exhausted, alone in their home when he went to beg to the household master for a bowl of congee, worried for his mother's thin body. He hadn't been able to gather any food lately, people storing even the smallest of scraps for winter, so his only choice was to cry and beg at his mother's employer for some food, even just a little.

He was denied. And when he returned home, the cold, lifeless body of his mother was what greeted him. He stood still for what seemed like hours, and then cried for so long he didn't know if it was days, or weeks. When he was clear-headed enough to steady himself, he found out his mother had left him a small letter and a jade pendant.

The letter said to sell the pendant to buy food and survive, to look for a job and do whatever he needed to do to keep on living. She told him she loved him, that he was her son, and she was really proud of him. Luo BingHe knew that this letter wasn't written by her, she'd probably paid someone to write it in her stead. And that only meant she knew she was going to die soon, and she'd said nothing.

The feeling in his gut couldn't be explained in words. It was stronger than guilt. It hurt.

He ignored his mother's wishes and tried to sell the pendant to arrange a funeral for her. The store owner just threw him out, called him a swindler, sneered at his face, and told him to get lost. Luo BingHe returned home like a drifting spirit, empty and soulless.

'I cannot even give my mother a worthy funeral.' He lamented and wept, kowtowing by her bed in repentance. In the end, he had to take her out himself, and bury her under the tree in the small backyard, with only a wooden scrap with her written name to mark the place where she would forever rest. It took him all evening to do it, and, by the time he was done, it was already night, the cold biting at his skin, the stench of his own vomit making him want to gag once more.

After that, life was harsher than even before. He was left alone, too young to properly take care of himself in any way that was useful. He was only six and a half, no one would hire him, and with time, people were less and less willing to give him food as winter came full-force, and the other street rats had their eyes on him, hateful stares in the direction of the one stealing their meals.

Still, he would try everyday, then return to his run-down house, nearly frozen by the low temperature, hungry and cold and wondering if he would survive to see spring. His hut had leaks, and the rain got in, making everything moldy and humid as he slept on the floor, unable to bring himself to lay on the bed that was his mother's last resting place.

There was always a draft when the wind blew, and the chill seemed to have gotten under his skin and into his bones. He couldn't find warmth no matter how much he tried, he was weak and powerless and tired. He thought things couldn't get worse. And then a flood came and his only home was swept away by the current, leaving him on the streets and with nothing but the clothes on his body and the jade pendant his mother gave him.

Things only got worse from there on out.

The orphaned kids on the streets were ruthless, they hit him and slandered him, kicked and punched and wounded him in every way possible, be it physical or mental. He was beaten black and blue, chased from alleys and corners, unable to rest and growing more and more weary by the day. He didn't know how he did it, but he managed to live for a year, doing things he'd never thought of doing, whatever dignity he had left trampled under his own foot as he tried to fulfil his mother's last wish: survive.

He'd managed to avoid those street rats well enough, being smarter than them and finding hiding places they could only dream off. He'd barely seen them once a week or so, moving from one end of the city to another, never staying in the same spot. After so long, he thought he'd grown numb, that nothing could hurt anymore.

And then they spoke ill of his mother, and he snapped.

Something inside him broke, like a dam, and a current swept by his body and veins, making him burn and thrum with energy, his forehead feeling like the sun was scorching his skin, but the sky was cloudy. The kids started screaming that he was a demon, that he had red eyes, and the adults came instantly running- Not out of fear for the kids that had no one to care for them, but for the possibility of someone dangerous nearby.

They brandished knives and sickles, sticks and stones, and approached him as they shouted and yelled that he was a monster, their eyes filled with hate and disgust. Luo BingHe didn't know what was going on, he turned his head and saw a mark shining bright red like blood being reflected on a piece of glass, felt the wisps of dark energy swirl around his body and felt his breath leave him.

The villagers were eager to kill him, shouting 'monster', 'demon', 'abomination'. They surrounded him as he screamed, his body littered with cuts and stabs that would begin to heal as soon as they were inflicted, only prompting the villagers to cut him more, hit him more, stab deeper, harder, not letting him time to breathe.

He cried and begged, pleaded for mercy, but no one listened to him.

It hurt. It hurt so much. He just wanted it to stop.stop.stop.STOP.

Something burst, lashing out and breaking both his body and the earth under his back. The sky lit up with flames, people screamed and shouted and ran, and Luo BingHe's vision filled with red, then black. By his side, a dark swirl gurgled and dripped, like ink slowly tainting the floor, coating it in a syrupy liquid that sizzled as it made contact. Nothing could be seen inside this space, and no sound seemed to come from it. It was just pitch black nothingness, like an abyss.

Curses came anew, the people were regaining their wits and approaching him again, ignoring the rift that floated right besides his body. Maybe they can't see it? Was what he thought. But he had no time to ponder over this. The villagers, now fueled by anger and fear, ran at him with the intention to run him through.

On one side, he had a hateful mob ready to torture and kill him. On the other, a mysterious and ominous portal that could lead to instant death. Presented with a slow and painful death filled with endless suffering and the possibility of immediate relief, Luo BingHe chose instant death, and immediately leap through the rift, disappearing without a trace.

The shadows swallowed him whole, and he blacked out.

He thought he would die, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a place he didn't recognize, rain hitting his face, laying on an empty alley littered with countless cloth and scraps, proof that other beggars lived there. The roofs were different from what he was accustomed to, the windows bigger and rounder, and when he staggered to a main street, he found out the faces that passed by were unknown to him, new.

He was in a city he didn't recognize, but that was a good thing. He covered his forehead with his messy hair, tried to cover his wounds with his tattered robes as he felt how they slowly healed, and plopped down on the corner of an alley, waiting for his body to stop hurting so he could go and beg for food.

His body never did stop hurting, and he rarely slept. Everytime someone tried to be gentle with him, he brushed them away and ran, hoarding his food and water and trying his best to keep himself alive, trusting no one. That alley became his home for the foreseeable future, a place to return to in which he stayed for a long six months.

One would say he adapted very fast, but after all, homeless was homeless. The streets were the streets. The city didn't matter. It was the same eveywhere.

Nothing changed.

Until it did.

#tian guan ci fu #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #scum villain #svsss #scum villain's self-saving system #au #fanfiction #snippets #crossover #xie lian #luo binghe #it doesn't seem like it #but its LBH centric #not an actual fic #just parts of my idea for it #do with this what u will #天官赐福 #人渣反派自救系统

16 notes · View notes

tonystarktogo · 6 years ago

Note

pssst, mob boss tony (possibly with a heart of gold?) and his bodyguards bucky and loki. Loki, the sneaky guy, and some people know about him lying and infiltrating. so how can bucky trust him? Maybe some enemies to friends to lovers for all 3 of them? :D and tony admiring his knife wielding badass beauties :D

It’s not easy, working for Tony Stark.

Used to be, you could just walk up to the last Stark, asking for a job. Or drink yourself into a stupor over your mountain of problems and stupid life choices in the same bar as him. Or have a violent breakup in the same restaurant. Or get kicked out of your home while he’s walking down the street. Or accidentally save his life. Or get caught trying to pickpocket him.

Really, there were any number of untold ways in which you could end up working for Tony Stark. And because of his weakness, because of his rumoured soft heart and endless generosity, the other Families didn’t take the lone heir seriously.

Not until those children he’d taken in, those kids he’d given a home and a chance, had grown up into dangerous, capable, fanatically loyal adults. Not until it was too late.

Used to be, you could just walz into Tony Stark’s life with a sob story and teary eyes. Then Stane happened, the ragtag group Stark had collected over time closed ranks around him, and suddenly everything changed.

Nowadays, with Barnes in charge of Stark’s security – and, supposedly, his bed – and Romanoff and Barton taking care of the trash, no one who hasn’t been thoroughly vetted so much as gets into the same room as Stark. Never mind in his business.

(Rumours have it, Stark’s got people in the FBI and military, doing background checks for him. There’s even mention of a couple of cops now and then, Detective Rogers especially, who are known to look the other way on occasion.)

Where Barnes came from, no one is quite sure, though there are certainly enough theories to make up for the lack of facts. What everyone’s learnt real fast – even the Families, who really aren’t known for learning new tricks – is that Barnes knows what he’s doing.

And that he doesn’t take bribes.

That was one hell of a bloody lesson.

The point is: infiltrating Stark’s organisation has gone from doable, not that anyone would bother to holy fuck if you wanna kill me do it already in just a few short months.

Loki is therefore entirely unsurprised to learn that his next mission consists of exactly that. Having been born second, the spare, to a strong, healthy heir Loki has grown up knowing his station well.

It’s only his talent at infiltration and getting his hands on valuable information that has so far protected him. To his father’s credit, if anyone can manage it, it’s probably Loki. And if not, well. A suicide mission has always been Odin’s favourite way of getting rid off needless risks.

In all honesty, Loki is surprised it’s taken him this long. Surprised – and suspicious.

After all, there is no more or less reason to hold on to the spare than there was a few months ago, when Odin refused to let Loki take a job no one came back from.

Something has changed. Something Loki isn’t privy to. That, more than anything else his family has ever done – and it’s a long list, no doubt about that, saints have no place in their world – tips the balance.

Loki accepts the job.

It’s both, easier and harder than he’d expected. It’s easier because Stark likes him. It’s harder because Barnes definitely doesn’t.

These two facts may be related, though Loki isn’t entirely sure how. He’s good at reading people, but Barnes is a blank page when he wants to be – which is always when Loki is around – and Stark, despite his open nature, presents a riddle in his own right.

The first time a private audience with Stark is denied, Loki is unsurprised. The thirty-eight time, it’s starting to get annoying. By the time his request finally goes through, Loki has a new appreciation for the obsessive dedication Barnes shows his boss.

He’s also well-aware that there’s a sniper rifle pointed at him during the entire conversation. Not that he’s stupid enough to attempt an assassination, but considering he’s a traitor he can’t fault Barnes for his caution.

“Well, I’m flattered you went through all this trouble to get some alone time with me,” Stark says with a wink.

There’s an answering smirk on Loki’s lips because it’s almost too easy to flirt with the man, but he’s here for business and Loki has waited too long for an opportunity like this to get distracted by a pretty face now. No matter how nice the rest of the package has proven to be.

“I’ve got information on the Ten Rings’ stronghold that I believe you will be interested in,” Loki says because best ensure he doesn’t end up prematurely dead simply because Stark doesn’t know he needs him alive yet.

As expected, the name freezes the teasing smile on Stark’s lips – a necessary evil for the conversation to come.

“Furthermore, while your security is impressive I’m aware of four guards that have been encouraged to report your movements. I have reason to believe that with the weakening of the Ten Rings, HYDRA is preparing to take over.”

Stark is staring at him with cool, assessing eyes. “You’re very well informed, Lucas.”

Loki’s lips curl. “It’s Loki, actually. I’m Odin’s second-born son.”

That goes over about as well as Loki expected it would. But since he’s still alive by the end, he figures he can’t complain too much. Besides Barnes is supremely unhappy with Stark forbidding him to kill Loki, which improves his mood quite a bit.

Barnes still doesn’t like him, but after the first few weeks he stops questioning Loki’s information outright. (Though Loki is confident the man keeps checking, waiting for Loki to mess up. Barnes is terrifyingly patient when he wants to be.)

It saves their lives when one of Loki’s sources tries to double-cross him – an incident that has the added benefit of earning Barnes’ trust. If Loki had known all it would take was jumping in front of a bullet meant for Stark, he’d have… probably not done that. He’s still not sure what momentary insanity caused him to act so recklessly.

After that, Barnes reluctantly tolerates him. Stark keeps flirting the way he’s always done. Loki keeps feeding them helpful tidbits he hears here and there.

All three man are waiting for their enemies to make the next move.

“I’ve got one last question,” Stark announces eventually. “Why tell me?”

Loki narrows his eyes, unhappy but unsurprised.

“Someone in my family wants me out of the way, Stark. Since I’m the second-born, I can only imagine the plans they have for Thor. I may not care about my blood, but he’s my brother and whoever is moving against him will live to regret it – though not for long.”

Stark dips his head in acknowledgement and for the first time Loki sees a glimmer of respect in the man’s eyes.

“I see.”

Four weeks go by before rumours of Loki’s true identity first reach Barnes’ ears. His gaze flickers towards the corner in Stark’s office, where Loki sits, calmly sharpening his knives, while he reports the news.

Loki straightens. Where there are rumours, there is a source, and Loki has no plans to allow the trail to go cold.

Both, Barnes and Stark watch him with sharp eyes as he slowly rises – and Loki doesn’t think he’s imagining the interest he reads in them, but there will be a time to address such things later on. For now, he’s got a job to do.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me,” Loki purrs, making no effort to hide the bloodthirstiness in his smile. “The hunt is calling.”

The smiles he gets in response are as beautiful as his daggers and just as deadly.

Let’s end it here before this post gets completely out of control. Hope you like it!!

620 notes · View notes

sungchanlele · 6 years ago

Text

“The Rain”The importance of Rasmus Andersen.

Okay listen up, imma going to speak about this amazing and probably misunderstood character who I have learned to love very dearly: Rasmus Andersen.

Now, i don’t know if you (reader, yes, im speaking to you) have finished watching The Rain but I’m about to drop some big fucking spoilers try and show that Rasmus is a very important character who deserves respect and love, so be warned.

Now, I’ve seen either here or in Twitter some people talking shit about Rasmus, calling him a spoiled brat, childish prick, crybaby kid etc etc…in very few words: a completely annoying character. Well I disagree to that, so I’m about to drop in this mini rant and be warned: this is MY OPINION about this character and what I learned about him during the course of the series, so by the end of the day if this mini rant helped that’s great, and if people agrees with me that’s also amazing, so with all that being said let’s proceed shall we?

In the first episode of The Rain, we just get kind of introduced to these fantastic characters in a very stressed environment, why? Because the rain is coming, and it’s a very dangerous rain tbh, so the character of Simone and Rasmus are shown tense and scared. We get to meet Rasmus in the car, and is a kid, a 10-year-old kid, who basically, at his very young age, lived basically the eradication of humanity. 10 YEARS OLD and in the span of an episode: he experimented a kind of a apocalypse, a 2012 shit, his dad left them and to worse thing up here: he saw his own mom getting killed/infected by the rain with his 10 YEAR OLD eyes. By this rate, he has many reasons to be traumatized, but worse of all: By the end of the episode, we see Martin’s gang entering the bunker and Rasmus just got to see the grass and the sky for at least 5 seconds before being shoved back to the bunker, and he is again taken from freedom.

Now, by this point, everybody watching the series probably started to think about Rasmus as a childish baby because he says things like: “I want to get out NOW” and him reacting when Simone tries to comfort him saying “LEAVE ME ALONE” but its actually the other way around: how would you feel if you managed to get some freedom after being 6 years locked on a friking bunker with limited space and no sunlight and fresh air, and suddenly that freedom gets snatched again in less than 5 seconds by some fucking strangers with guns (BIG ASS GUNS) threatening to kill you, your sister and locking you up in a EVEN SMALLER PLACE (because lets be clear, the bunker may be big, but it can get small when you get used to the zone). So, it can be reasonable Rasmus’s anger, yes I agree that he could have controlled it, but lets be real here, everyone would be scared and even claustrophobic if you were in his place.

Moving on, allow me to leave one thing clear, of all the brilliant characters of this amazing series, there’s one that I feel fucking pissed with, and its Beatrice. (but ngl, she’s written brilliantly). And before you come here as a mob to murder me, let me explain myself why I don’t like her. At episode 1, I started to like her a lot, she helped Simone and Rasmus and stood by their side, and I appreciate her for that (but at this point I dunno if she did that just for convenience; because she liked Rasmus since the moment she laid eyes on him; she really supported Simone and her decisions; or she liked to contradict Martin’s orders) I kinda hoped it was the last 2, and I carried on watching the episode with that mentality, until I noticed the pairing that it came to be Rasmus and Beatrice. Now listen up, why I find this pairing odd? Because Rasmus in a 16 year old kid who spend 6 years locked in a bunker with no other human contact but Simone, and most of his life before the events of the rain he was constantly sick

so he spend many time also with his parents getting checked and being supervised, laying on the bed. What am I getting at? This kid is NEW to the business of love, not sibling love, like love COUPLE, and this woman, (because lets be fucking real Beatrice is older than Rasmus), comes in and starts seducing this kid. THIS KID, WHO STARED IN AWE WHEN HE SAW TREES. And not just that, Beatrice is a manipulative person who lied to Martin when he said that his parents were in the church or something, to not get separated of them

and then lied to Rasmus again with his parents being dead in the bed. (LIKE WTF WOMAN WHY U GOTTA LIE TO A KID?)

Now, I don’t know how to interpret Rasmus’s expression when he saw Beatrice and Martin having sex on episode 2, Lucas’s expression there is brilliantly masked in an amalgamation between shocked/curiousness, and that’s when he started to feel a spark of probably jealously.

And don’t get me wrong, is probably normal for teens to get attracted to adults, it happens, but for adults to respond… its weird, and even more weird in this case, giving Rasmus’s past years of the very few many human interaction he had during 6 years. Get my drift?

Okay, back to Rasmus, having reviewed the past traumatic experiences that he has seen and experienced in the first episode and after being outside, in the span of a very few days, Rasmus:

• Was stabbed and almost died of blood loss and that injury got really infected, so he was in pain.

• Almost got murdered by a crazy doctor by being injected the virus.

• Was probably almost murdered by the other doctor at the house of the old people in episode 5.

• ATE human meat, like WTF people.

• Had a drug addiction to morphine and it was getting bad…

• The person he loved (why Rasmus why) died, and is probably HIS fault.

And the worse of all: his father didn’t help him in the end, on the contrary: he was about to get killed by his own hand. And even if it was for humanity’s own good, this in not Infinity War bro, and that dad wanted to pull a Thanos up in this bitch, like NO dude. Rasmus didn’t deserved to get that gun pointed at him by his own dad. He deserved to get cured, which is the principal reason that his dad left them on episode 1, and I MEAN, the dad is a scientist, THAT’S HIS JOB! One would say that when you know that your own son has a dangerous virus, one would do everything in his power to get his kid cure, right? Not Rasmus’s dad, which is fucked up.

THE POINT HERE IS: of all that messed up shit that Rasmus experienced, the moment he lost Beatrice is when he reached breaking point. Although some people might say that Rasmus fell into that depressive point because of her, my thesis is also that all those traumatic experiences that Rasmus has gone through the series, and loosing many important people, Beatrice is the trigger that sunk him deep. Those emotions invaded his mind, clouded his reason, and not even Simone could bring him the solace he needed, and that’s saying much because Simone was usually the one calming him, offering reassurance and protection. But nothing mattered to him in that moment this focus was the loss of another person important to him and Patrick’s reaction didn’t helped at all, it worsened things up by leaving Rasmus literally alone, Simone showed him affection but she was more focused on getting him away from Beatrice’s corpse (which I don’t blame her at all, I would have done the same), while the others were too shocked like Martin to calm him.

But you know what made Rasmus’s character powerful? What scene that made people seems to misunderstand? The scene in which he injects himself the virus saying: “No more people should die because of me” in episode 7. It’s such a powerful scene that shows how Rasmus is not childish or annoying; it’s the contrary, he’s a boy who wants to protect the people he loves because he doesn’t want to loose anyone he cares for.

He has grown up in a very violent environment and he’s so fucking scared for the people he loves that he’s willing to die for them just to keep them alive. So the moment Simone tells him: “People are gone because you needed protection” he takes a decision, a dangerous decision; he injects himself the virus, sacrificing himself for the others sake.

What people are failing to see (by my perspective) is that Rasmus’s character evolved and changed in the course of days, and he is far from a crybaby or a childish person; he is a boy that is scared and reacts to his emotions, he is overpowered by them and he is a very intelligent person that acts instinctively, so the worse thing is that the minute his father said: “I’m not sure I can” (help him) and Simone backing away from him and Rasmus asking: “Am I contagious?” he comes to understand the dangerous person he has become and the high probability of being the reason of Beatrice’s death.

So what can I conclude from Rasmus’s character? What do I see in him? I see a boy who, had to experience traumatic events since he was 10, had to pass 6 years locked in a bunker not experiencing life like a normal teen, had a very complicated love experience with a person who is older than him, had an drug addiction to morphine, had to witness a person very dear to him (his OWN dad) point a gun at him ready to shoot him. I see a boy whose emotions are powerful because he has not known how life works, he’s scared, he just wanted to see the sky…and of course, he could have handled many situations with more calm, but as a teen who is now starting to live life after 6 years of lockdown, he doesn’t know how to react to some things. Rasmus deserves to be seen as a person who is traumatized, who deserves happiness and love thrown to him, to be protected and be saved from that virus.

#Rasmus #The rain #The rain netflix #Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen #rasmus andersen #alba august #my post

767 notes · View notes

have-theory-will-headcanon · 5 years ago

Text

“You Are Free” - The Kids of TDP

Warning: LONG POST AHEAD

I’ve seen some posts going around in the TDP fandom about how the children rulers of the human kingdoms, especially Aanya, are running their kingdom poorly, or will run their kingdom poorly in Ezran’s case. The biggest argument I’ve seen about this is addresses how Aanya handled Viren’s request to join him and the other rulers in combining her forces with his to fight the Xadians. Now, I get why her decision not to send soldiers into battle might strike a lot of people as a poor decision. Strategically speaking in a real war, it would be. But I think some people are forgetting that

A: TDP is primarily a kids’ show and that real war and the choices people would make during such times has no standing here, and

B: the point of the show is to illustrate to the primary audience (kids) how sometimes the right choice is not fighting, but listening, and understanding, because what you may have been taught about a place and its people may not be entirely true, or fair. (An especially important lesson for our youngsters given the current state of the world.)

We see during Viren’s proposal to the other kings and queens of the human kingdoms the backstory as to how Queen Sarai and Aanya’s parents, the Queens of Duren, gave their lives in order to ensure the survival of others. I’ve seen people going after Aanya’s decision to not fight as childish and selfish, but consider this: Yes, thousands of lives were saved by her parents crossing into Xadia and killing the Magma Titan. But how many thousands of lives would be lost if she sent soldiers to fight Xadians? Xadians who, probably, are just defending their territory? Let’s not forget that Xadians have a reason to defend the border and keep humans from crossing into their land. They’ve experienced the fear of realizing that all it takes is one dark mage to suck the life and magical force out of them, and that all they are to some humans is a power source. Imagine if the situation were reversed and you had Xadians trying to get across the border to steal the hearts and body parts of humans to perform spells? Wouldn’t you want to keep them out at all costs?

And I think that’s the point. Or at least one of the points of the show. There is a huge bias between Xadians and the human kingdoms. The human kingdoms, specifically the ones run by adults, portray residents of Xadia as monsters. Amaya even uses the word “monster” when referring to Rayla. Harrow is not completely without fault either in this aspect, given how readily he went along with Viren’s plan to cross the border into Xadia to seek the heart of the Magma Titan. Viren especially has instilled this belief into many people; his own children included. Xadians are bloodthirsty, heartless monsters, and are only good when used for dark magic. Neither side is innocent, not when it comes to the adults. Even Runaan, clearly an adult by Xadian standards, is shown as being limited by his prejudice and his conviction that there is no other way than the one he–as the experienced leader–has chosen. But the kids are a different story.

The children in TDP represent the dawn of a new era. An era where they have not yet been completely embittered towards Xadia. Aanya refuses to pursue war at the expense of yet more lives, because in spite of losing her parents to the Dragon King, she herself has not truly experienced any reason to loathe Xadians outright. Aanya is a child with the responsibilities of an adult, but she has the ability to see beyond what adults can or will.

Ezran and Callum have every reason to hate Xadians. Xadians essentially robbed the boys of their mother. In Ezran’s case this is especially hard because it happened before he ever really got to know her. Ezran also does everything to help the very creature that his people would insist on him believing is his greatest enemy, the son of the very being who killed his mother. But he protects Zym, encourages him, and helps him learn to fly. Ezran clearly sees the good in creatures that others instinctively recoil from (i.e. Claudia and the Banther incident) and does what he can to help and understand them.

Callum represents the truth that magic–Primal magic–CAN be done through hard work, understanding, and a willingness to be open minded to something you might not immediately understand. Claudia offers him the alternative of Dark Magic when he admits to wanting to be able to do it again, be he declines, stating that he wants to do “real” magic. Magic that doesn’t require the taking of a life, or inflicting harm on another living being in order to make it work. Let’s also not forget the words that Harrow says to Callum, both while he’s still alive, and in Callum’s fever dream:

“The great illusion of childhood is that adults have all the power and freedom, but the truth is the opposite, the child is freer than a king.”

“You are free. You are free from the past and the future.”

Harrow was limited by his own prejudice and his anger towards Xadia, both before and especially after his wife’s death. He made decisions that may not have been the best, but as he faces his imminent death it’s clear he’s starting to realize that, and wishes to do his best to ensure that his sons don’t follow his example and make the same mistakes.

The last instance I can think of for how children have a very different approach to Xadians and the entire human vs elf/dragon war, at least on the human side of things, is Ellis. Ellis is a child who, upon seeing Rayla and meeting Lujanne, smiles and offers help instead of instantly condemning them for being elves. Unlike the man with the Sunforge dagger Rayla briefly interacts with. The man clearly witnesses that Rayla has no intention of hurting him or stealing from him, but still gathers a mob to chase her and the boys out of town. Ellis, on the other hand, takes no time in accepting Rayla and Lujanne as friends. It’s clear that she has no issue with them. Why would she? Her only encounters with Xadians have been entirely positive ones.

Now to the Xadian side of things. At the moment, we only have two Xadian youngsters on the team, but I’d be surprised if it stays that way for very long.

Rayla shows that she is young enough to make mistakes but also willing to have the benefit of the doubt and be merciful and forgive. In the first few episodes, we see that’s not immediately the case, as she does her best to prove to Runaan–an adult she clearly loves and respects–that she can do what is expected of her as a Moonshadow assassin. She chases down Callum and Ezran, entirely intent on her mission, until she realizes that everything she thought to be true–everything that adults in Xadia had taught her to believe–was wrong. She doesn’t even hesitate to accept that things are different when sees the egg. Her only goal then is to get the egg safely to Xadia, because in the end that’s all that matters. It does take her a little while to open up to Ezran and Callum, but the important thing is that she does, and forms very clear attachments to both of them.

Then we have the Dragon Prince himself. Zym is a young dragon who has no reason to dislike humans because most of the humans he’s met have done their best to understand and help him. He is free from the bias of his people because he doesn’t even know who his people are yet. Even when he’s faced with humans who do wish to harm him (Claudia and Soren) we see that it doesn’t change his impression of Callum or Ezran. To him, there are good beings, and not so good beings. Human or Xadian makes no difference.

Now, stepping back from the kids, let’s take a look at one more adult who very clearly draws the line between good and bad, but not the way we might like.

From the word “go” Viren dismisses any and all children (even his own) as lesser. When Callum runs up to King Harrow right before the assassination attempt, Viren steps out of the room and tells him “You shouldn’t be here”, then proceeds to take his voice and call him an “impudent little mongrel”. When Viren is faced with Queen Aanya, he is clearly exasperated and asks several times when her escort will be joining them. When she gives her final answer to him at the end of his tale and plea, he rages “This is why we need an adult!” Before that, when he tells Soren he wishes for him to assassinate the Princes, he explains to Soren that Katolis cannot have a child king because he will make “weak decisions”. Viren continually tries throughout the series to express how children are the limited ones, but he is limited by his prejudice and self-importance as an adult.

And between the adults and the children, we have some interesting in-betweens. Prime example: Soren and Claudia. They’re older, but they’re not adults. They make poor decisions, but also redeem themselves with better decisions and trying to recognize their mistakes. They are the characters caught between whether to do the truly right thing, or whether to do what is expected and perceived as “the right thing” as nearly grown up individuals brought up on their fathers’ flawed teachings. I think Corvus could also technically fall into this category, given he originally went after Rayla on Amaya’s orders, but stopped when he realized he didn’t have quite the whole story.

But basically the point I’m trying to make is that this show is supposed to be about how kids can make a difference in a world where adults are so set in how things are or should be that they can’t or refuse to see how things could be. It’s about how children sometimes make better decisions because they’re not chained down by the responsibilities, or prejudices, of adults.

This will make for an interesting dynamic once Ezran takes the throne, because he is assuming an adult’s responsibility but still harbors the heart and mind of a child who sees nothing wrong with Xadia or its people–something Viren will probably use to his advantage, assuming he gets out of prison.

#The Dragon Prince #Headcanons #It's 2:30 AM and I should be in bed but nah...#I wrote this long ass thing instead.

6 notes · View notes

kushamisaru · 6 years ago

Note

all the class 1-a boys for the "send me a character and i’ll list" one ;B

I fear you are going to be very disappointed with this list since I don’t have super strong feelings on a lot of these boys but I will do my best! I’ll be going by seating chart order:

Aoyama:

favorite thing about them- Being an extra person myself, I appreciate a character who also very extra. I’ll admit I found him kind of annoying at first but on this second rewatch he’s grown on me.

least favorite thing about them- I don’t have anything I dislike about him. I guess I think he could have a better quirk?

favorite line- “You like him, don’t you?”

brOTP- Uh idk? Who does he really hang out with?

OTP- himself

nOTP- Any of the adults I guess? (this goes for all of these kids but I’m gonna say it here and only here)

random headcanon- He practices smooth heroic one liners and poses in the mirror. Sometimes he accidently activates his quirk too and temporarily blinds himself.

unpopular opinion- If people overall tend to like him, I guess my unpopular opinion would be that I didn’t originally?

song i associate with them- Diamonds by Rhianna (but only the chorus. It’s on repeat in his head all the time)

Iida

favorite thing about them- He’s got a good heart and he tries his best!

least favorite thing about them- Nothing now, but in the past he was quick to act based on his emotions :/ Glad he seems to have learned from that.

favorite line

brOTP- Him and his brother, him and Midoriya, him and Uraraka

OTP- Idk if it has a ship name (rarepair is hell) but IidaxMomo

nOTP- Iida and his brother, I guess?

random headcanon- Is the kid that complains that they’re totally gonna fail (insert test here) and passes with an A+ every. single. time.

unpopular opinion- Probably my otp for him. They just have a lot in common and I think they’d be cute together!

song i associate with them - The distance by Cake

Ojiro

favorite thing about them- He’s a very honourable guy, he works hard and doesn’t take what he thinks he doesn’t deserve. ALSO APPARENTLY HIS TAIL WAGS WHEN HE’S HAPPY OR EXCITED WHICH IS SUPER CUTE

least favorite thing about them- The fact that I had to look this character up to get a summary of his personality because I wouldn’t know shit about him besides his looks otherwise

favorite line- … I got nothing…

brOTP- just on looks and personality alone probably Rikido?

OTP- I mean, I’ve seen art of him and Toru that’s pretty cute but I feel like people started shipping them when she stripped in front of him or w/e and she was like “Don’t look at me!” which is :///// I just think their personalities would be interesting together, him being a humble guy and her wanting to stand in the spotlight

nOTP- I don’t know this character well enough to have an opinion on this.

random headcanon- see above

unpopular opinion- do people have strong opinions on this character? I would need to know what they think

song i associate with them - talespin theme song

Denki

favorite thing about them- The fact that he’s the best boy

least favorite thing about them- He can be kind of gross and he hangs out a lot with the worst boy :/ but at least he’s like. A normal teenage boy amount of gross instead of that being his only character trait.

favorite line- that noise he makes when he short circuts

brOTP- Anybody really.

OTP- Don’t have anyone I super hard ship him with? I guess him and Jirou is a little cute but I don’t really ship it.

nOTP- none

random headcanon- Pichu main

unpopular opinion- I have one but it’s about events the toonami crew hasn’t reached yet so I can’t discuss it

song i associate with them- Electric Boogie by Marcia Griffiths

Kirishima

favorite thing about them- He’s so friendly! He literally wants to make friends with everyone!

least favorite thing about them- I guess a fandom interpretation? I don’t dislike anything about him as a character

favorite line-

brOTP- Him and everyone in the class (This time reluctantly including M*neta because unfortunately Kirishima is just that magnetic)

OTP- Kiribaku, I suppose. I also think KiriMina is cute but that’s at least partially because those are my boyfriend and my favorite students respectively.

nOTP- none

random headcanon- Would probably be a skater kid if this was a 90′s cartoon

unpopular opinion- I feel like Kirishima is a lot more layered than your average fandom headcanon gives him credit for. Like yeah, my favorite thing about him is that he’s a sweetheart, but he’s not JUST a sweetheart. He’s a rough and tumble kind of guy. He’s insecure, but working on becoming more confident. He’s a stand up guy, but not totally above mischief. He’s just a really interesting character and oh my god is he becoming my new fave boy? What the fuck is happening?

song i associate with them- Gotta Fly Now (theme from Rocky)

Koji

favorite thing about them- A SWEETHEART! GENTLE GIANT!

least favorite thing about them- This is gonna sound so mean but… his face…

favorite line- I don’t remember the exact words but when he conquered his fear of the bugs to pass that exam… that was good.

brOTP- I guess Jirou?

OTP- None

nOTP- None

random headcanon- Dinosaurs are his favorite

unpopular opinion- What are the general opinions on this guy in the first place? Idk.

song i associate with them- You know that scene in Shrek where Fiona sings that duet with that bird and the bird explodes. That. Not the actual song, just that rendition of it, in that scene.

Sato

favorite thing about them- idk why but his quirk strikes me as funny

least favorite thing about them- not a fan of his costume. it’s not the worst costume though… I guess

favorite line- just him explaining his quirk

brOTP- nobody right now but I feel like if someone came along with an eating related quirk, or was just a big eater, they’d get along well

OTP- see above

nOTP- none

random headcanon- so canonically he’s a good baker, especially with deserts, but I bet he sucks at cooking.

unpopular opinion- don’t really have one

song i associate with them- cooking by the book (from lazytown)

Shoji

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them- TOL

least favorite thing about them- I’m not a fan of his whole design. It makes me… uncomfortable.

favorite line- not sure

brOTP- I guess just based on personality, Tokoyami? Not sure how much they interact though

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- would never lose his earpods but would also never own them

unpopular opinion- idk

song i associate with them- handyman by awolnation

Sero

favorite thing about them- If I’m being perfectly honest, the only reason I like this character as much as I do is because of a mob psycho crossover fic where he and Mob effectively replace M*neta (Mob literally by like taking his spot at UA, and Sero through their similarish quirks). Don’t know much about his canon character traits but if he’s anything like in that story he’s cool by me

least favorite thing about them- that he could replace the bad one mentioned above but does not.

favorite line- none

brOTP- none

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- will try to tape anything he can together and call it fixed.

unpopular opinion- I don’t know a lot about how this character is viewed so I couldn’t say

song i associate with them- Tape Song by The Kills

Tokoyami

favorite thing about them- he’s just REALLY funny like he tries to be dark and mysterious but he’s just… not. it’s great.

least favorite thing about them- not something I hate or even dislike so much as something I’m dying to know: what’s up with the head? apparently that’s not part of his quirk so??? what’s going on there???

favorite line- most things that come out of his mouth are gold

brOTP- Tsuyu

OTP- Also Tsuyu! I like them a lot as bffs and bf/gf!

nOTP- none that I can think of.

random headcanon- Meta Knight main

unpopular opinion- I don’t think I have one? I think most people like this character and agree with what I said so…

song i associate with them- Linkin Park’s entire discography.

Todoroki

favorite thing about them- I guess you could say he’s… a pretty cool guy ;^)

least favorite thing about them- HIS HERO NAME IS SO DUMB. SO DUMB. I GET MAD EVERYTIME I THINK ABOUT IT. WHY IS BAKUGOU’S DUMB NICKNAME FOR HIM SO MUCH BETTER. I’M MAD.

favorite line- Not a line, but I liked when he finally used his fire power, reclaiming it from his asshole dad.

brOTP- Him and Momo I guess. Also him and Midoriya.

OTP- If I MUST choose, I guess Tododeku.

nOTP- Notp sounds so harsh but honestly? I don’t ship him with anyone. so kind of sort of everyone applies.

random headcanon- I saw a comic someone made suggesting he likes to do goofy things when only one person is watching because no one will ever believe it happened. I like that.

unpopular opinion- I don’t really like either of Todoroki’s most popular ships. I have a hard time imagining a reason outside of school Momo and Todoroki would ever hang out, and even then I can’t see anything growing there beyond friendship. As for Midoriya and Todoroki… I can see why people ship it I guess, but as someone who came into the fandom knowing that was a fairly popular ship the moment that launched it didn’t even phase me, at least not in that way. It wasn’t until my second watching that I realized that was probably what started the ship and I feel like not a whooole lot has happened between them since? At least not to my knowledge. Todoroki, in my opinion, isn’t close enough to ANYONE yet for romance to be a viable option.

song i associate with them Hot n’ Cold by Katy Perry

Bakugou

favorite thing about them- when he gets bullied

least favorite thing about them- literally told someone to kill themselves

favorite line- DEKUUUU! DID YOU JUST BLINK YOUR EYELIDS?! YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!!

brOTP- I kind of like the concept of the Bakusquad.

OTP- KiriBaku (though I’m fine with Bakugou just being alone too)

nOTP- BkDk

random headcanon- Dark Pit Main

unpopular opinion- Bakugou is not the worst student and I don’t hate him.

song i associate with them- Boom by Black Eyed Peas

Midoriya

favorite thing about them- A sweet boy! Works his ass off all the time!

least favorite thing about them- His heart is in the right place, but he can be very reckless with his own safety.

favorite line- I’m the Deku that always does his best!

brOTP- Iida, Todoroki (ig)

OTP- IzuOcha!

nOTP- BkDk

random headcanon- Since you wanna be cute and shit this one is just for you: Someone once tricked Midoriya into thinking he ate a pot brownie and he cried for an hour (”What will mom think?! What will All Might think?!”)

unpopular opinion- I’ve seen some people say they don’t like Midoriya as a main character because like… his character is boring? Don’t agree with that. Not sure how popular that opinion is though.

song i associate with them- Zero to Hero from Hercules

Ugh… Mineta

favorite thing about them- Nothing.

least favorite thing about them- The fact that he’s still alive

favorite line- none

brOTP- none

OTP- none

nOTP- none

random headcanon- I try not think about Mineta more than absolutely necessary (meaning he’s either in front of me or being discussed) so none.

unpopular opinion- Mineta is infinitely to the infinite power times worse than Bakugou is and/or will ever be, and unlike Bakugou, does not deserve the character development he’s apparently getting. Since Horikoshi is too much of a perv and a coward to literally kill him, the next best thing would be to let him die metaphorically of irrelevance. But I know he won’t do that either.

song i associate with them- none

#skoodledoodledoo #WHEW! THAT TOOK FOREVER #Unfortunately I gave up on pics because that was causeing #too many problems #sorry for the wait!

3 notes · View notes