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littlelesbinonny · 8 months

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The Devil's Den

Chapter 23: In Which Fates Begin to Spin Pt. 2

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

The deep tunnels were some of the first underground passages built by the vampires in this part of the United States. They had been in use since the early 1600's but were pretty much abandoned by the late 1800's when the new passageways were finished.

These were narrow, poorly lit (if at all), and had piss poor flooring compared to the new tunnels that were used today. They smelled. They were dingy. And Alcina was remembering all too well how much she disliked these bloody passages.

While she was grateful she had never had them sealed off, she figured it was entirely possible at some point in the future they could have cave-ins.

After the eighth or ninth cobweb she ran face first into, Alcina stopped and spat.

"Fuck me," she growled, "did Donna pack a goddamn bloody torch by chance?"

Mateo fumbled with his bag while Karl repositioned his hat with a huff.

"She did," he replied, lighting the top with his lighter.

"Ya know if you wore that big ol' hat of yours you wear to council you could clear the whole tunnel for us," Karl remarked as he leaned against the musty wall.

Generously ignoring his remark, Alcina grabbed for it smugly letting the light illuminate her unamused façade.

The flame washed the dark dank walls with it's brilliant orange.

"Bless her and her mind," she segued, "I'll happily burn down the rest of these tunnels once we're through, but in the meantime I'd like less unforeseen spiderwebs caked on my face."

Karl snorted and began to open his mouth.

"Don't. Even. Start. Heisenberg," she snarled before he took his breath.

"Got it," he replied throwing his arms up with his tart smile.

The trek seemed to take much longer than it did, but when they reached their destination the sun was indeed beginning to peak.

The mouth of this tunnel in Bridgeport lead directly into an old abandoned warehouse the lycans had fortified as a stronghold back when the wars between clans were still raging.

It was completely boarded up now to accommodate their vampire allies, so being there in the daylight was no threat to them at all. There were several sleeping quarters, a kitchen, a small medical facility, a blood wine reserve in storage containers, and a weapons locker on the second floor. Otherwise it was quite large and spacious and very wide open.

It was still a little too grungy for Alcina's liking, but she'd let it slide.

Gerard, Mateo, and Karl began laying down their bags on the nearest table off the entryway. Alcina's senses were on high alert but felt nothing of importance anywhere near.

With a soft breath she lay her bag with the rest and began pulling out its contents.

"Well, as much as I hate to leave you night dwellers, I best be gettin' on my way to see if I can find Mitch and the rest of my men."

Alcina regarded Karl with a swift nod, "I know you don't like comms, but are you sure you won't take one?"

"I don't like shit in my ears. Gimme one of those hand held ones..."

Gerard handed it off to Karl who snatched it and threw it in his pocket.

"The distance on those is much smaller, so if you're - "

"Out of range I can't get in touch, yeah yeah, I know. Technology is wonderful and full of bullshit all at the same time."

Alcina smirked, "we will patiently await your return."

"As if you had any other choice," he winked, tipped his hat, and dashed off.

She still didn't like this. Any of it.

Heisenberg was self sufficient just like she was, but without really knowing what they were up against, or how many, this was not pleasant going into blind. Blake hadn't been much help with the plethora of information; he was drowsy and weak from the attack, and according to his story he barely got a glimpse of the assailants as it was.

And Mitch. She was worried about Mitch.

Another warrior who was well worth his weight in gold on the battlefield and yet there was radio silence on his end. She was dreading the news, and even more so having none at all.

And you. She was missing you.

Fuck. Get it together.

Alcina ruffled her hair and turned to her guards.

"Lucky for us there's only 3 entrances to this godforsaken place. We'll each take post within safe distance of one. Mateo, please radio Donna and let her know we've arrived."

Mateo and Gerard nodded and headed in different directions, Alcina taking her time finding hers.

Once at her post; pistol on her hip, knives strapped to her thighs, and an outright spiteful attitude, Alcina perched on the beat-up kitchen counter not too far from the bolted door.

This place felt dead and vacant of any energy at all and she was at least able to sigh some relief at that. And while she had plenty of silence and time to think, she occupied the space in her mind with you. A slight smile took her deep red lips as she wondered what you were up to. Waking and readying for work, already there maybe? Perhaps you were thinking of her as she was you?

Alcina took a sharp breath and tapped her nails on her arms.

6 hours and 42 minutes had passed and not one word from Karl.

No movement of any sort had been heard outside.

It was too quiet and she was growing restless.

Instead of calling for Mateo, Alcina left her post and went to find him to request the radio earpiece.

"No word from anyone?" she asked politely as he handed it over.

"No, my Lady; nothing but silence since I spoke with Donna when we arrived."

"And no signs of life over on this end?"

He shook his head and she nodded in acceptance, "I suppose silence is better than chaos."

Alcina began placing the piece in her ear, nodded to Mateo and headed back to her post.

"Donna?" she spoke, holding her finger to the talk button.

Silence.

"Donna - I hate to wake you, but I'm bored out of my wits."

Silence.

She huffed and slowed her steps the closer she got to her spot.

"You know, you're lucky I like you at all otherwise I'd never answer this call," Donna's voice finally sounded on the other end.

Alcina chuckled quietly. She sounded tired.

"Oh please. You really expect me to believe you've been asleep?"

"Of course not, but that still doesn't disregard the fact I'm quite tired. I feel like you; I can't count how many glasses of blood wine I've had to keep my nerves at bay."

"Well if it makes you feel any better I'm holed up in a dusty, grimy, tinny, iron-rusted smelling warehouse with no comfortable chairs. And I forgot my cigarettes."

Donna's gasp was quite audible, "Oh dear, what ever will we do?"

They shared a laugh but it turned quiet fast.

"Did the girls find you?" she asked even more hushed than before.

"They did. I have them doing the bare minimum; ears and senses alert, but not going any farther from home than necessary. If something arises they know what to do. Your daughters are smart. I have nothing but faith in them."

Alcina smiled at that.

"As do I. But it doesn't lessen the fear of them meeting trouble they can't disarm."

"Any progress there?"

"None. Heisenberg left the moment we arrived and we've neither seen nor heard anything since. It's quiet here. Nearly too quiet, and I don't know if my apprehension is merely nerves or something to be seriously considered."

While Alcina always appeared a glorious marble pillar; unmovable by even the strongest of Earths' forces - she was a highly intuitive, calculative, questioning and wise individual. Her gut feelings had never steered her wrong and her ability to visualize and anticipate all matters were a steadfast quality. Donna knew her friend was sensing exactly what she was needing to.

"I think your hunches deserve their debate time. Keep listening."

The pause gave Alcina a moment to chew through Donna's words. There was more happening inside of her these days which didn't help the cloudiness already engulfing her.

"Well... I suppose I'm just -"

An eruption of bangs and hollers came echoing through the warehouse and Alcina jumped from her perch.

"Stay close to the line - somethings happening!" she urged as she tore the piece from her ear, stuffing it in her sleeve pocket and dashing through the halls towards the noise.

As she rounded another corner and found herself in the main corridor, Karl, with a slumped and mangled looking Mitch and three other lycans, were stumbling through the door Gerard had been guarding.

"Here! Get him to the medical bay!" Karl growled as the vampires came to their aid.

Mitch was bloodied, bruised, cut up, and grunting as they moved him off. The others seemed just fine and quickly followed.

"Why didn't you radio for assistance?!" Alcina hissed as she fell in behind the line.

Karl barked; "Woman! Does it looks like I had an extra hand to do that?! It took me forever to find their fucking camp, then it took me forever to get everyone where I wanted them, get a plan in order, AND get him back here as quickly as possible!"

She let this slide and roll off since he was clearly upset and enraged. There was so much more to this story and she was impatiently waiting to ask.

Everyone began the bustle in the medical quarters to get Mitch taken care of. Gerard and Raul, one of the lycans, began tending to the gashes and slashes all over him. Alcina rushed for the healing elixirs in the med cabinet and brought back two of the most potent.

"Here," she said to Raul, handing him the viles, "he's not going to like these but it's the best we've ever engineered for your kind."

Alcina stepped back and allowed the fuss to ensue. Karl was pacing and rubbing his stubbly face and rugged beard off in the corner.

She approached him carefully.

"You're not gunna fuckin' like it," he mumbled under his breath, sensing her closeness.

While you weren't completely bummed out, you were still pretty sad and down at the fact you were going to be missing your vampire something terrible by the time this was all through. It hadn't even been a whole 24 hours since she'd been gone but you were feeling it.

You hummed a little at how pathetic it felt. But then again, you weren't going to scoff at it either.

You loved Alcina.

Deeply.

What of it?

Another deep sigh tumbled out of your lungs as you tossed your gaze out the window of your office.

You were bored.

Again.

It was only 11 o'clock and you were ready to go home and find some other way to distract yourself.

The day had started out with a decent patch of fog sitting on the city. You kind of enjoyed it from time to time but it only fueled the knocking melancholy. Luckily you'd found an old portable cassette player way in the back of your closet that you hadn't seen since you were 13, and to your utter surprise it still worked. So yeah, you swiped the tapes of your lover's sweet voice and took them to work with you. Granted, today had been a bit of a shit show and you hadn't had a chance to actually listen yet, but now was as good a time as any.

You plugged your earbuds into the port, slipped them in your ears and hit play.

Ah. Yes.

There was that stunning voice coming to soothe and lull you into a peace and calm you were hungrily seeking.

Two songs later you had blissfully ignored your email, phone, and office messenger.

Oops. Oh well.

Without another care in the world you excused yourself from your desk and went outside to the courtyard where there was a quaint little spot with grass, a couple trees, some flower beds, and 4 benches to sit on. You chose the patchy green and yellow grass.

Before long the clouds that had painted most of the sky were being bled apart by the stroke of the sun, and the heat and warmth felt even better with the music wafting through your brain.

You wished Alcina was still mortal so you and she could enjoy the summer sun together. Walk the paths of Central Park, nap in the grass, smell the flowers and watch the sun trek across the sky like a wandering traveler.

You sighed.

As a particularly lovely song came to an end (one which you really needed to ask Alcina what it was since it was in French) your palms began to itch a little. As the odd sensation took over your concentration, you peered down after lifting a hand and noticed the grass, which you were pretty sure was yellow before, was a brilliant bright green. The blades were springing back up to life from being pressed down by your weight and you blinked a couple a times.

Weird.

Just another occurrence to add to the list, you thought.

After you had spent your half hour lunch outside basking in the sun, you finally took the buds from your ears and rose. The sky seemed bluer and brighter and you felt a hundred times better. With a new smile on your face you meandered inside without any rush at all.

What you didn't notice was that the grass, which was indeed yellow and shriveling from lack of attention, was now brimming and spreading with the same bright green you had seen before.

And above, in the trees, were the 6 crows that had followed you from home.

"The group of eight I had? Dead. All dead, except Mitch and Blake. The group of twenty I sent? Eighteen are left. Eighteen. None of these fuckin' guys can tell me what the fuck attacked them. NONE of them can tell me where they went! These fucking rogue vampires, if that's what they fuckin' are, are more like mutant goddamn blood-sucking roadrunners from a cartoon! Explain to me how three, maybe more, of these bastards can swoop in, kill my lycans, and not leave a MOTHER FUCKING TRACE!"

Karl's rage was understandable.

And warranted.

Alcina sipped on a glass of blood-wine as she listened to him vent.

He was right; she didn't fuckin' like it.

"I've got them stationed like a fucking tank this time. If those fucks hit again, they won't stand a chance. And if we do get ass-fucked again... then I don't know what else to do."

"If they do strike again tonight, we'll be there for reinforcement - I'll be there for reinforcement. I'm as eager as you to snare one of these cretins and get to the bottom of what is happening," she eyed him intently as she prepared her next sentence, "as much as I detest what I'm about to tell you next, I'm afraid with the casualties that have been sustained I have no choice but to alert Mother Miranda."

"Oh fuck that bitch! What the hell you gotta tell her for?!"

"I'm afraid Alcina is right, Karl," Donna replied from the radio in the middle of the table, "this has gotten too far to not involve her, and it is her territory this is happening in."

Alcina huffed.

"If the chain of command were different, believe me, I'd never involve her in anything if at all possible. But there have now been deaths on your side; this makes the situation nose dive from speculation to a direct hit into acts of war. She has to be alerted. Until we know for sure what is happening, all of us need to be on high alert."

With a growl reflecting her own feelings on the matter he slumped in the chair adjacent to hers at the table in the kitchen.

"How many decades of peace, and now this?" he grumbled.

"Whatever the case, we can win again but we can't win alone."

Alcina looked at the clock as she finished her glass. It was almost night fall.

Mitch was under sedation in the next room with the lycans watching over his condition while the vampires were still on internal patrol.

Eying him once more Alcina stood from the table, "let's get ready. I want to be out that door the minute the light dies out. Donna, wait on alerting Mother Miranda for now... I'd like a little more information to report if at all possible."

"Understood. Be careful out there."

The journey to the lycan camp was tiresome and she now understood Karl's plight to find it. The maze of tattered, mangled trees and bushes to where they had relocated was so off the beaten path even she was completely disoriented by the time they arrived. They had to backtrack several miles nearly to the Saugatuck Reservoir to the North East of where the warehouse was and it was a task getting there by foot, through the city, and then the countryside.

They were welcomed with guns to the face as they made their way in. Karl was quick to disrupt the tension and escorted the group within the camp.

Alcina was impressed by the stakeout. Karl had indeed set them up to a decently impenetrable fortress of feral, pissed off lycans.

The somberness of the night set in harder as they passed by their deceased brothers and sisters. They had gathered them all under a tent and were prepping them to be sent back to their homes.

War was ugly. No matter who was fighting it.

Needless death.

Flashbacks to the many battles she had fought in came flooding through her thoughts. She had always been one of the lucky ones. She got to live and fight another day while many countless others of her kind were slain. While vampires mourned differently than humans, the pain was felt just as deeply, the scars ran just as thick. The physical wounds may not have carried on through the years but the torment of bloodshed stained hearts and minds forever.

Alcina felt for their loved ones.

They reached the base tent and entered. Everyone was locked and loaded to the teeth. The general of this group, Sylvia, greeted them with a much more pleasant demeanor than Alcina was expecting.

"Lady Dimitrescu, a pleasure to meet you," she stated with a slight bow.

"Thank you General, I wish only the circumstances could be drastically different," she replied with a gracious nod of her own.

"Fucked up times call for fucked up measures I guess - do we have a plan of action? My men are gnashing for revenge, we're ready to move."

The smaller, but very built, composed, and fiery commander seemed to be staring the vampire Matriarch down. In a humble, expectant kind of way.

Alcina liked her already.

"Hold your horses, Syl, we're all in the same boat here and we're doing all we can to keep the water out," Karl interjected.

"No, she's right," Alcina defended gently, "we need a plan. As complicated and difficult as it is to make one currently, we need something."

"Well fuck, I'm all ears," he shrugged.

Before another breath could be taken by anyone, Sylvia was already speaking again.

"Excellent. One of my scouts thinks he may have found an entrance to an underground cave system up along the reservoir that these fucking ghosts might be coming from. I told him to stay back and not investigate until you arrived."

"Show me," Alcina stated blankly without a second thought.

10 lycans, Alcina, Karl, Sylvia, Gerard and Mateo stalked their way through the woods. The air was eerily still as the group came upon what definitely appeared to be the beginning of a cave into the ground in the middle of this tangled forest. The decently sized black hole in the earth was surrounded by boulders and rock that seemed to be less than natural for its whereabouts, like a gigantic mole had sprung its way up from the depths.

No one spoke as they stood shrouded there several hundred feet away in the denser part of the woods.

The moon was low in the sky and there was barely a breeze breathing through the leaves. Everyone had their guns aimed at the mouth, silencers gleaming in the low light of the moons rays as Alcina let her eyes and senses come to life.

Nothing.

There was nothing she could detect anywhere.

And yet... yes, there was.

Her gliding silent steps took her slowly from the group as she slinked her way through the brush and into the minimal clearing near the jagged boulders of the cave.

Karl's first instinct was to reach for her and stop her, but she was too quick and he didn't want to stir the night anymore than need be.

Sylvia, taking cue, quietly motioned for her men to spread out around the area to offer surrounding and protection.

The tall intimidating sight of her in the darkness, golden glow in her eyes, and fierce expression on her face made even the lycans feel the need to shudder off her radiating prowess.

They all stationed and waited.

And nothing.

Nothing at all.

And then the sound of a sharp hiss far from her left hooked her attention right before a blur slammed into her, throwing her unprepared into the rough rocks of the cave mouth.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #fic #wlw #donna beneviento #karl heisenberg

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not-a-big-slay · 2 years

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Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary: betrayal leaves some wounds behind, but even more questions when you can’t figured out from whom it really came from.

warnings: ehh none

A/N: hello beautiful people! another 2 weeks, another chapter. this one is shorter than the previous one, but it's not really short (well, about 1600 words, more or less). ik Y/N's past is a bit confusing now, but i promise that it will make more sense as the story goes further. just be patient :) you can also find the story on my wattpad where i even created a bookcover so check that out fs (my wattpad here). hope you'll enjoy it! :)

part: 7/?

previous part: part 6

next part: part 8

masterlist

taglist (if you wanna be tagged in future chapters say so in the comms) :

@chickencouncilrep

"Listen to me.."

She talked slow and moved forward like it as well, like he was some endangered animal she didn't want to scare. He wanted nothing more than to listen, but she no longer deserved it. "Get out of here before I dismember you." he said and walked back behind his desk, as if it was the farthest place away from her. He couldn't bare another moment in her presence. The girl didn't seem to listen and continued in convincing him, moving closer with every word. Kaz thought about calling bouncers to throw her out, but the Club was probably busy and he didn't want to arouse suspicion among people. He will have to deal with this devil alone. "Please, just hear me out.". That was what made him bring his legs to life and made his way to the door. If she won't leave, he sure as hell will.

Kaz walked through the door and began moving towards the main area in the Slat. As his worst fears predicted, she followed him,being his shadow of every step. "I have no desire in hearing your excuses." he spoke, not once looking back at her. He heard her irritated groan when he saw the stairs, eager to step on them. "You're fucking unbelieveable. I have to speak to someone with a brain...Where's Jordie?" she whispered the words, but he wished she would have actually care if he could hear them. He froze once again because of her. Well, this is getting annoying.

Kaz felt her eyes on him, trying to understand his sudden stop. She understood, he knew she did, but she still had to pour more salt into this old wound. "Tell me, Kaz..." she was no longer begging him to listen, but rather begged for an answer. The concern in her voice made him almost believe Jordie meant something to her, like every feeling she had for them wasn't as fake as Rollins' charade. Waters rose as he thought about his brother ruffling her hair everytime they visited and his smirk when Kaz talked of the girl. He scoffed and began his journey down the stairs, the liar following. They made their way down, the silence thrown away by the girl's constant questions and talking. If Kaz had one godgiven wish that could be used only once in his life to grant his deepest desire, he would kill her with it.

"...What happened!" she demanded, clearly annoyed with his ignorance. His anger finally took a hold of him, after fighting it for long, and he snapped at her: "You would've known if you were there! You would know everything if all you did wasn't pretend. You act as if you actually cared about us, as if we meant something to you, but that's a lie, another play. Tell me, does it feel good to betray someone, to destroy their happiness and mind, to rip their heart out? Do you enjoy doing it so much, that you came back to take away what's left? To take away the bits holding me back from becoming a monster? Do you wish to kill me once again?". The girl took a step back, looking in his eyes.

"Because there's no need, you've done it succesfully the first time, Saskia."

Kaz heard her gasp. Her gaze interested in the floor, she stood there, silent. He spilled his heart out, his emotions out in the open for the girl to read, but for the first time, he didn't care. She deserved to be hurt, to know her true self in Kaz's point of view. She was nothing but a beautiful deception in his past. He looked at her wrist. They were bare. "I'll never take it off". He could laugh. Another lie, another dagger in his heart. Sometimes, it was hard to keep count.

When she raised her eyes to his again, they weren't sad, but full of anger and coldness. His eyebrows moved closer to each other as slight confusion visited him. She shook her head as she said: "That's not my name. My name is Y/N and you would've known that if you'd listen.". Kaz didn't move an inch when she walked past him, only realizing she left by the sound of the door. He sighed in relieve, ignoring the other emotion that wanted to chase after her. He looked around, making sure no one was present and locked his feeling in a familiar cell, changing the locks to more durable ones.

The name burnt itself into his thoughts, always there. He knew that it won't dissapear anytime soon and forcing it will only make it worse, so once in his room, he said it quietly to the dark accompanying him and then repeated it in his mind until he fell asleep.

Y/N

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

As much as she tried to stay in the shadows, Y/N still bumped into a lot of people on her way to her hideout. It was an abandoned building on the outskirts of the Barrel. It used to belong to one slaver that bought her, but his wife ended up poisoning him and gave her back to Deln. She remembered their deal when she passed the channel. He gave her 10 days at most to complete the job. She was more than sure she could complete it in 2, but now, a rest didn't sound bad. She could lay off for 4 days and still have 3 days to complete her job and getting her freedom.

While her eyes saw her temporary home, her mind saw Kaz's angry eyes and her ears heard his hurtful words. You would've known if you were there. She was there, but he wasn't. She listened to him, she laughed with him, she remembered everything he revealed about himself. She warned him about Rollins, but he was the one that never listened, never cared, he forgot everything about her. Though she lied about her name, she never lied about her interests, she never lied abot her emotions and feelings, what she felt to Kaz and what they meant to her, she never faked a smile or her love.

When Rollins got what he wanted, a freedom wasn't what Y/N and her mother got. They were took back to Deln, back to the dirty,cold warehouse with nowhere to sleep. Y/N hated everything about their job for Rollins, but the bed, the warmth and the food could hardly be disliked. She screamed, kicked and punched when she realized where is she being taken again. Rollins' people only grabbed her tighter and dragged her back to her nightmares. After she was thrown on the ground before Deln, she never saw her mother again. Y/N was not easy to tame and she never gave up on any tiny chance to see her. The question on her mind kept her going, she needed to know the truth: Her mother looked sad when Rollins broke his word and dissapeared, but it wasn't the same sadness Y/N had, it wasn't the realization their freedom was postponed. It was the sadness she had when she realized Kaz wouldn't visit her anymore, when she realized what she did to him. It was a heartbreak. Y/N's mom was possibly in love with Pekka Rollins and Y/N hated every sign that would made this thought into a fact.

She closed the door behind her and slid to the floor. Her knees pressed on the chest and held her while she silently cried. She killed Kaz and Jordie, there was no doubt in that and she couldn't fix it. Kaz hated being in the same space as her and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't do anything but suffer. Her right hand squeezed her left wrist, trying to find a smooth string for comfort, but when it failed to do so, panic formed around her sadness. Y/N quickly looked at her hands, only confirming her panic's reason. She lost it. Her promise she gave to the boy broke in a second and with that, a piece of her heart died.

She should've stayed in the mansion.

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Pekka sat silently in his office, only hearing muffled voices in the hallway. When he returned here he found nothing out of ordinary, until he saw it. A black cloth string that was very familiar to him, seated on his table. Under different circumstances he would pay no attention to it, but the string had tied ends, looking more like a bracelet. And he knew who wore a piece of fabric as a bracelet.

"What is this?" he asked the girl, walking past him, pointing at her wrist. Y/N turned around to face him and let her confused eyes follow the trace of his gaze. She brought her hand up and said: "This?". Pekka nodded, awaiting the answer. The boys left a while ago, happy that they will have big money soon. Rollins snatched the hope out of another victims and these would be the last.

"Oh, it's a gift I got.." she said, playing with the bracelet. She was a cute kid, he almost felt bad about dissapearing without a trace and breaking his word, but the smell of money warmed him and his lies. "From that boy?" he stated and she nodded, walking away. She made the boy fell in love, thereby selling their act further. Pekka was proud of her. He watched for a second before gently grabbing her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Y/N turned around and he knelt down to her height. He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a smile: "You'll grow up to be something amazing with these skills, Y/N. People will be scared of ya one day. I'm sure of that.". The girl only stared at him and then gave him a smile, or rather lips pressed into a thin line, but he accepted it. He got up and let the girl go. After all, this is the last time they will ever see him.

He couldn't find himself to do anything than sitting in a chair and intesively stare at it. He heard about their escape to Novyi Zem, he wanted to be informed about them in case they woud like to take revenge. He never believed that girl, he knew she hated him. Now, he had to congratulate himself. Pekka didn't know why is she back, but had the feeling he played a main role in her reasons. He finally moved and took the bracelet in his hand, running his fingertips up and down, feeling the smooth material. She was here and, judging by the state of the office being the same as he left it, she wasn't here to rob him.

He smiled as he shoved the string into his breast pocket.

Maybe it's time for a family reunion.

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ladyvillainous · 2 years

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Steve Rogers – Modern Woman

AU fic where all the avengers live and work together including a rehabilited Bucky Barnes and my character Mel.

Description

Steve can’t help but be drawn to Mel but she’s a thoroughly modern woman of the age complete with tattoo’s wild hair and piercings but what would she want with an old school gentleman like himself

Warnings

Mostly just funny and fluffy with NSFW Smut towards the end

This is out of character even for my version of Steve but I liked the idea so I just rolled with it, don’t take it too seriously.

Word Count: 4978

“Wow! Your hair looks amazing Mel” Wanda enthused, walking around her in a circle to view it from all angles.

“Thanks Wanda, you don’t think it’s too bright?” Mel asked, self-consciously smoothing her hand over her Bubble gum Pink hair.

“Well you could go brighter, but they can probably already see you from space, so where’s the need” Tony Smirked, his eyes not leaving the screen of his phone, propped up against the jug of orange juice on the breakfast table.

Natasha smacked him upside the head as she left the table to fetch more coffee “Ouch” he muttered cringing away from the former assassin, gaze still trained on his phone.

She smirked down at him as he flinched “Baby”

Turning her attention back to Mel she ducked left and right, viewing her new haircut and colour from all angles “I like it, especially the shaved bit on the side, very edgy”

Bucky walked into the kitchen making a beeline for the coffee machine as usual, only pulling up short when he caught sight of the ladies clustered around it “Woah Mel that’s… er… different”

Mel laughed, rolling her eyes as he walked towards her “Yeah because normally I’m so conservative”

Bucky threw his metal arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his muscular chest, grinning from ear to ear “Can’t wait to see Steve’s reaction”

Natasha laughed “Poor Stevie, even a lip piercing is too much for him let alone…” she looked at Mel sideways “Well…” she gestured to Mel shrugging.

Mel laughed, Steve struggled to hide his horror whenever she arrived back at the tower fresh from the tattoo parlour. Her largest tattoo being a full Avengers themed sleeve on her left arm. She had that done years before she interviewed for Tony as the team techy, he’d just laughed when he saw it and hired her on the spot, so it had come in handy.

Working with the Avengers was a dream come true, she spent most days working with Tony and Bruce in the labs coming up with new gadgets to keep the team safe. More importantly, she kept them under control ensuring they didn’t attempt to build anymore superbots. Vision had turned out great in the end but Ultron went badly wrong. It had taken a long time for the team to truly feel comfortable with Bruce and Tony being back in a lab together.

Very occasionally Mel would be required for surveillance missions, usually where high levels of tech were involved, but they were minor league dangerous. Mel liked to joke that she was like the teams conscience, the little voice in their ears. Natasha on the other hand referred to her as the devil on her shoulder, as she was prone to making sarcastic comments over the comms. Which on more than one occasion had reduced Sam or Bucky to fits of giggles nearly blowing their covers.

Steve had chewed her out several times for it but she could tell he really wanted to laugh, his beautiful mouth twitching up at the sides as he shouted. She loved to watch him talk, didn’t matter what he was saying it was an excuse to watch the way his mouth moved, as she imagined him putting that mouth to better use.

At least twice Bucky had caught her staring at him during briefings, having to kick her under the table to snap her out of her stupor. It was painfully obvious to everyone she had a massive crush on the Captain. To hide it would be a near impossible task, so instead she played on it, flirting with and teasing Steve until he blushed beet red was a daily challenge for her.

Mel knew nothing was ever going to happen there, Steve didn’t think of her that way. She was way to “Modern a Dame” as he’d called her once. Whereas he was an old school gentleman, something that she found a major turn on unfortunately.

“Oh god! You didn’t get a lip piercing this time did you?..” Steve started, overhearing their conversation as he entered the kitchen. Catching sight of them grouped by the counter he came to a complete dead stop, eyes wide staring at Mel.

Bucky smirked at his best friend, releasing Mel to move to the table for breakfast.

Mel winked at Natasha, before turning to fully face the super soldier, she’d been looking forward to teasing him all morning.

“So big boy, what do you think?” Mel smiled provocatively, tipping the Captain a wink.

Steve stood rooted to the spot, mouth gaping, the only giveaway he’d even heard her was the pink tint spreading along his cheekbones.

Mel slinked towards the frozen super soldier, swaying her hips slowly, noting the way his gaze dropped fractionally as she sauntered closer. Throwing a glance over her shoulder she grinned at the sight of her best friends, shaking silently, desperately trying and failing to keep a straight face.

She turned her full attention back to the Captain, like a predator stalking its prey, doing a little twirl for him fluffing up her long, soft pink hair “So? What do you think?”

Steve gulped as she gazed seductively up at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Looks… Looks lovely Mel” he stammered, completely red in the face. He quickly side stepped the tech, moving to join Bucky at the table.

Looking round Mel caught Tony staring at her, finally looking up from his phone an amused look playing across his face as he tried not to laugh “You shouldn’t wind the old man up you’ll give him a heart attack one day”

Mel shrugged “One day, he might surprise us all and give as good as he gets” grinning to the room at large she skipping gleefully from the room “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the lab” she called over her shoulder.

Tony turned back to look at Steve fixing him with an infuriatingly superior look “Cap are you ever going to do anything about the raging boner you have for that woman?”

The reaction around the table at his words was immediate. Sam and Bucky looked at each other then back to Steve bursting out laughing at his shocked expression. Wanda and Natasha leaned on the kitchen counter watching the super soldier curiously, while Bruce gaped at the billionaire shocked at how baldly he’d put it.

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair “I’m not her type Tony, you know that”

“That’s an excuse and you know it Cap” Tony declared getting to his feet, crossing the room to drop his plate and cup in the dishwasher.

“How do you know what her type is anyway Steve?” Natasha enquired, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Well come on, she’s… she’s so modern and I’m so… so… old fashioned” Steve cried, throwing his hands up in the air.

“That’s just appearance Steve, deep down every woman wants a bit of good old fashioned loving” Wanda smirked.

Steve looked up at the women leaning on the counter, suddenly very aware they knew Mel better than anyone on the team.

“Are you guessing or do you know that for a fact in this case?” He asked carefully.

Natasha snorted “We know Steve, Jesus you’re so oblivious, Mel is held over heels for you everyone knows it, now would you please do something about it” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

“Seriously?” he asked incredulous.

Bucky’s hand landed heavily on his friends shoulder “Seriously punk, we can all see the way you look at each other”

Steve looked to Sam for confirmation, who nodded “Seriously!”

He looked to the table for a moment thinking hard, then back to Natasha and Wanda “Ok so if I’m gonna do this I’ll need your help”

Wanda whooped punching her fist in the air as Natasha grinned deviously at the super solider “Bring it on Stevie”

***

“You want to do what?” Wanda shrieked between her fingers, her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror

Natasha leaned back against the door to Steve’s room regarding the soldier with interest.

“You know she likes you just the way, you are you don’t need to go to all this trouble...” she queried an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Steve grinned “Maybe it’s time to prove that I can give as good as I get”

Wanda squeaked, dropping her hands from her face finally “Well that will do it alright… but it’s awful extreme”

Running a hand through his blonde hair, ruffling it up in that sexy way that made all the girls swoon, not that he noticed, Steve sighed.

“Sometimes you have to go to extremes for love”

The two women exchanged raised eyebrows before bursting into hysterics.

“Dramatic much” Natasha smirked from the doorway.

Wanda laughed “Well I still think you’re crazy… but I’ll grab my purse, we have some shopping to do”

Wanda and Natasha left Steve’s room “See you downstairs in 5” still chuckling to themselves.

3 hours later they were back in Steve’s room his purchases spread across the bed.

Wanda, who was now finally on board once the shopping began, was gleefully bouncing around looking at their purchases and trying to decide where to begin.

“Bathroom now” Natasha ordered crooking her finger at the super solider indicating he should follow. Steve’s last thought before they got to work was “What had he gotten himself into!”

Mel wandered into the kitchen, following the gorgeous smell wafting down the hall that had enticed her, Bruce and even Tony to leave the lab.

“Oh my god! Wanda’s cooking” Mel squealed excitedly, Wanda’s cooking was second to none.

Wanda looked up from the pot smiling “It’s almost done, why don’t you set the table”

Bruce and Mel grabbed handfuls of cutlery and plates, while Tony sorted the drinks out. One by one the rest of the team appeared at the doorway having allowed the smell of Wanda’s cooking to distract them from whatever task they’d been doing at the time.

Bucky and Sam had clearly been in the gym as they arrived dressed in their sweats with wet hair, Vision drifted though the wall from the library right behind Bruce making him scream and drop a plate. They all laughed at him teasing him about turning green which just earned them a death glare from the scientist.

Mel busied herself helping Wanda dish up, handing out the plates of food to those already sat at the table. Completely preoccupied with trying not to drop 3 plates at once, she didn’t witness the new arrivals enter the kitchen behind her.

Tony who was already tucking into his food not waiting for anyone as usual froze, eyes wide his fork suspended halfway between his open mouth and the plate.

Bucky abruptly began to choke on the glass of water he was drinking, eyes watering trying to prevent it from rushing out his nose. Sam absentmindedly pounded him on the back, not one for missing an opportunity to hit the super soldier, while shooting amused glances to the doorway. Bruce like Mel had his back to the door, they looked up at the sounds of Bucky choking then at each other confused. Bruce swivelled to look over his shoulder, following Tony’s shocked gaze “What did you do?” he breathed horrified.

Mel turned to see Natasha in the doorway grinning widely at her and then turned her gaze to the man next to her, her uncomprehending eyes not recognising him for a second “Steve?” she gasped her mouth falling open in shock.

She barely recognised him and not in a good way. Gone was his beautiful blonde hair replaced with a bright vivid red, styled slightly spikey, pulled down and swept across his forehead. Admittedly she liked the style but the colour did nothing for him.

Eyes sliding down over his grinning face she realised he was uncharacteristically dressed all in black and much more casually that she was used to. His hoodie was emblazoned with the Avengers logo and his baggy combat trousers were slung low on his hips, a metal chain hanging between his back pocket and belt. As she stared, he pushed his right sleeve up his arm, a collective gasp of horror rippled around the room as he revealed a full tribal tattoo sleeve.

Mel squeaked appalled hiding her face in her hands not wanting to see, but then immediately parting her fingers to peak through unable to look away, what had he done to his beautiful body.

“Well…” began Sam “Well Steve, I never thought anyone would be able to top Mel’s flamingo pink hair, but here I am proved wrong”

“What on earth were you thinking?” Tony demanded torn between the desire to snap a picture or slap some sense into the man.

“Mel said she wanted to see me give as good as a got one day, so here I am giving it everything I got” Steve responded waving his tattooed arm towards Mel.

Mesmerised Mel watched his arm wave through the air before she registered his words “Oh no! Don’t you blame this on me, I wanted you to fight back a little as in tease me not… not… well this” She cried gesturing to all of him.

“I think he looks sexy like this don’t you agree Wanda?” Natasha called across to the witch who quickly ducked behind the counter on the pretence of having dropped something to hide her laughing face.

“Absolutely” she called from the floor.

Mel glared at the red head “You helped him do this, didn’t you? Jesus Nat, why didn’t you talk him out of it?”

“I don’t understand Doll, don’t you like my new look?” Steve affected a hurt look but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a smile.

“No, I…” Mel started, realisation hitting her like a tonne of bricks “You’re winding me up aren’t you?”

Steve, Wanda and Natasha burst into hysterics “You should see your faces right now! Natasha gasped, through the tears running down her face.

The entire table huffed out a deep breath, collectively releasing the breath they hadn’t realised they were holding.

“I dunno, I kinda like it” smirked Bucky “You’ve finally joined this century Stevie”

Mel spun to shout at the super soldier “He should be dressing like a grown up not like some gothic emo teenager!”

Bruce looked at Mel thoughtfully “It’s not all that different to how you dress Mel” he said quietly.

Mel snapped her gaze down to the man next to her “You what? I don’t… I mean… oh god you’re right” She stared down at her own all black outfit, thoughtfully touching her pink hair.

“Wanda” Mel shouted suddenly making everyone jump “Tomorrow we’re going shopping, Nat I’ll need you too”

“Yay more shopping” Wanda clapped her hands together gleefully.

“Finally!” Natasha breathed out triumphantly, a smirk plastered across her face.

Turning back to Steve Mel marched across the room into she was right in front of him “Right Mr you’re coming with me, I refuse to look at you like this for a second longer, we’ve got to sort this”

Steve laughed staring down at her “But what about dinner?”

“Shoulda thought about that before pulling this little stunt” she grimaced at his red hair again.

Rushing out the door, she grabbed him by the sleeve of his hoodie, dragging him with her

“Save us some food would ya” he shouted to Wanda as he was unceremoniously hauled from the room.

“Where are we going Doll?” Steve asked chuckling as she shoved him into the Elevator and hit the button for Steve’s floor with her fist.

“Your room, to get all of… well that off you” Mel shook her head “For the love of god tell me that none of it’s permanent”

Steve Chuckled “The hair dye is wash in wash out, though Nat has warned me my hair may be a little orange for a while, the tattoo… Well look…”

Mel looked down to the arm he was holding out, with his other hand he reached up under the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled the fake tattoo sleeve down, over his wrist revealing his unblemished and perfect skin.

She sighed in relief as it came off “Oh thank goodness”

“What’s the matter Doll? Didn’t you think it suited me?”

Mel rolled her eyes “Don’t get me wrong Steve, seeing you with a tattoo was actually kinda hot but I wouldn’t have wanted you to mark your gorgeous body permanently to prove a point” she threw at him before thinking it through belatedly and realising what she’d said.

Silence followed her admission the tension in the room suddenly skyrocketing “Gorgeous huh?” Steve asked softly, raising a hand to Mel’s chin and lifting, forcing her chocolate brown eyes up to his sky blue’s.

Seeking to diffuse the sudden tension Mel laughed nervously, shrugging she stepped backwards to the elevator wall “Oh come on Steve you know you are”

He continued to stare down at her thoughtfully, a slight smile on his lips, leaning over towards the panel of buttons he brought his palm down square on the emergency stop button causing the elevator to slam to a sudden stop.

Mel squeaked in surprise, flattening herself back against the wall as Steve bore down on her, placing a hand on the wall either side of her shoulders.

Once the lift had shuddered to a complete stop, Steve wrapped his arms around her, gathering her close, he swooped down to capture her lips with his own.

Tangled a hair into her hair, he kissed her with a passion that Mel didn’t know he possessed. Raising her own hands, she fisted them into his hoodie pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as she opened her mouth allowing him to slide his tongue into her mouth to tangle with her own. Mel groaned as his other hand found its way to her backside, gripping her tight and pulling her flush against him, pushing a muscular thigh between hers, pinning her to the wall.

“Captain Rogers you have activated the emergency stop on the elevator do you require assistance?” FRIDAY called into the elevator.

Pulling back Steve shouted at the ceiling “No thanks FRIDAY, we’re fine” Mel grinned at him, pulling him back down to her, she tangled her hand in his vivid hair, crashing her lips back on his.

“Err Cap?” The sound of Tony’s voice filled the small space “You know there are cameras in there right?”

“Best turn them off then Tony, otherwise you’re going to get quite the show” Mel called out, tearing her lips from Steve’s momentarily, Steve grinned impishly in response to her words.

“Oh no, get out at the next floor or I will come up there and make you” Tony shouted as the elevator started moving again.

Mel sighed mumbling under her breath “Party pooper”

Steve placed a kiss on the tip of her nose and released her, stepping back till he reached the other side of the confined space, his arousal evident even through his baggy trousers.

The door pinged and slid open “Well we really should get that stuff out of your hair and you out of those clothes anyway” Mel said as they left the elevator.

“I rather thought we’d started on the latter already” Steve said laughing as he followed her down the hall.

Stopping outside his door Mel looked at him thoughtfully “Was that the point of all this?” Pulling on the chain on his trousers.

“Well yes and no” Steve confirmed unlocking his room and ushering her inside.

“No, the point wasn’t to make you want to rip my clothes off exactly… but it was supposed to… I dunno make you see me like the type of guy you would usually go for”

“You’re an idiot” Mel huffed heading for the bathroom briefly pausing at the confused look on his face.

“What makes you think I like guys dressed like this? When have you ever seen me with one? When have you ever seen me with a guy for that matter? For all you knew I was a lesbian”

“Nat never gave me any indication that I was the wrong gender” he chuckled.

Mel laughed “Oh Nat said did she, using my friends against me I see… how did that work out for you?”

Steve shrugged “You’re here aren’t you… though I confess it didn’t go as I’d expected”

Mel walked back over to him, hands settling on his hips just under the hem on his hoodie “Know why?”

Steve inhaled sharply as he felt her hands drift higher, edging under his clothes, fingertips gently skimming over his sides “No please do enlighten me”

“It’s because I don’t have a type” she said sliding her hands higher, bringing his hoodie with her hands, forcing it up over his head and flinging it into a corner.

Bringing her hands back to Steve’s chest she began to trace lazy circles on his bare skin “Well actually that’s not strictly true, I do have a type but it’s very specific”

Steve brought his hand up to cup her cheek using his other hands to gently lift her chin, so she was looking into his eyes “What is it?”

Mel smiled “You” she stated simply.

A lazy grin spread across the super soldier's face at her words, stooping to kiss her once more he was brought up short when she ducked out of his hold and stepped into his bathroom.

Straightening up the smile sliding from his face to be replaced with a confused frown, he watched Mel spin in the doorway to face him. With an exaggerated and flirtatious wink she crossed her arms in front of her, gripped the hem of her black T-shirt and pulled it over her head, depositing it on the floor next to her and placed her hands on her hips in challenge.

Steve inhaled sharply taking in the sheer Navy lace bralet that had been hidden under her plain clothes. Stepping towards her he reached out and pulled her to him, one large hand placed on her lower back the other resting on the smooth skin over the ribcage.

"I don't remember you showing me this tattoo before" Steve murmured his mouth curved into a smirk as his gaze fell to the picture of his shield peeking out from underneath the Navy lace, adorning the tender skin above her left breast.

A slow smile spread across Mel's face "Maybe I was hoping you'd find it someday"

Steve chuckled "I'm wondering what else you haven't shown me now"

Stepping back out of his arms once more Mel grinned impishly at him "Oh baby you haven't seen anything yet"

Hooking her fingers into the waistband of her skirt she pushed the garment over her hips towards the floor straightening up as the material hit the floor.

Steve surveyed the goddess in front of him, taking in the Captain America themed lacy French knickers she wore with only a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

"I didn't know they made Captain America underwear" was his response along with a disbelieving smile.

Mel shrugged "They don't" turning she reached into the shower to switch on the water leaving it to warm up "I had these made special, just for you"

"Lucky you were wearing them today then" Steve responded.

Mel nodded "Definitely my lucky day"

Reaching for his belt buckle she undid the clasp and pushed the baggy pants from his hips with a look of disgust "Never let me catch you wearing these again"

Chuckled Steve shook his head "No Mam"

"Now did you want me to help get that dye out of your hair or can you manage by yourself" Mel asked with a lilt to her voice, as she pulled one bra strap down her arm, pausing to wait for his reaction.

Eyes wide as he realised she intended to join him in the shower, Steve felt his mouth go dry "I definitely need help"

Mel dropped her gaze the evident bulge in his tight black boxers "So I see" she murmured provocatively.

Stepping back into his embrace she placed her palm to front of his boxers, squeezing him gently through the material "And what will you give me in return?" she whispered eyes boring into his.

Steve groaned at the touch of her hand, hauling her into his arms and crashing his lips to hers.

Invading her mouth with his tongue, he marvelled at the sweet taste of her, hands roaming her soft skin, pressing her ever tighter against him.

Mel responded in kind, running her hands over his muscles, cupping his face and sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Flipping open the clasp holding her bralet closed Steve pulled back briefly to allow her to remove it. Gripping her pert backside, he lifted her onto the sink the shower now forgotten, slipping between her parted thighs to drop his mouth to the exposed flesh. Mel arched into his touch her fingers clutching at his shoulders as he engulfed her nipple, fingers expertly pinching at the other.

Mewling in pleasure she hooked her legs over his hips pulling him closer to grind her overheated core against his arousal. Steve could feel how damp she was through 2 layers of material, the knowledge drove him wild.

"Careful Doll or I might just have to take you right here, right now" he hissed against her flesh.

Mel chuckled grinding against him once more with a low moan "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep Captain"

Peering up at her Steve considered briefly if she was seriously challenging him or joking. Grinning at his confusion Mel raised an eyebrow "I thought you were giving as good as you got today?"

Grinning in response Steve stepped back from her, pulled her from her perch atop the sink and spun her, trapping her between the sink and his muscular body. Eyes boring into hers through the mirror he placed a gentle kiss to her shoulder hands trailing down her sides, leaving fire in their wake "You may regret saying that Doll"

Mel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, noting how his cock twitched against her ass with the movement "Make me" She defied with a smirk.

Hooking his thumbs into her panties Steve pulled them down her long legs, allowing her to kick them away as he dealt with his boxers the last remaining barrier between them.

Using his foot he pushed her legs further apart and backwards causing her to automatically bend over the sink, eyes wide and wild at the thought of what was about to happen.

"Don't keep me waiting Captain" she hissed out in anticipation and desperation, she'd waited for this so long.

Cock in hand Steve stroked her folds with his tip groaning loudly on finding her wet and ready for him "Hold on then Doll"

Guiding himself into her entrance he slid into her fully, both crying out in exaggerated sexual agony at the feeling.

Mel arched her back revelling in the feeling of being filled by him, it almost being enough to push her over the edge before they'd even started. Holding himself steady Steve attempted to gather his wits, but one look at the wild, wanton expression on Mel's face reflected in the mirror and he fell apart.

Pulling himself from her body he pushed himself back inside forcefully, extracting a long feral moan from somewhere deep inside Mel.

Spurred on by the noises she was making and the way she was looking at him in the mirror Steve buried himself in her over and over, harder and faster with every thrust. Surprised not only that Mel wanted it that way, but that she was encouraging him to use her so completely, actively basking in the bruising brutal pace he was inflicting on her body.

Mel could feel her body building to fever pitch quicker than she wanted, but the sexual tension had been ready to snap for some time, neither of them was going to be able to hang on much longer.

"Right there baby, that's it harder" she cooed, as he found just the right spot that made her toes curl.

Gritting his teeth Steve slammed into her so hard they both heard the sink crunch in protest, but niether could even contemplate stopping at this point.

With 3 more ferocious thrusts Mel came apart at the seams, screaming out her release her walls spasming around his cock so hard it trigged his own orgasm. Hips stuttering, fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise Steve emptied himself into her, shouting out her name in pure ecstasy.

Mel sagged boneless over the sink, her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the mirror, breath fogging the surface as she panted, attempting to normalise her breathing.

Possessed of super soldier stamina Steve recovered quicker, pulling himself from her exhausted body she whimpered quietly at the loss her legs wobbling and threatening to give.

Reaching first into the long abandoned shower to turn off the now cold water Steve returned to scoop her up into his arms bridal style. Carrying her back to his bedroom and laying her carefully on his bed, sliding in next to her to pull her back into his arms unable to keep himself from touching her.

With a sigh Mel drapped her arm over his chest, snuggling into shoulder as his arm snaked around her back.

"Well" she huffed out finally with a tired chuckle "I'm not entirely sure you're that much of an old-fashioned gentleman after all"

Steve grinned down at her upturned smiling face "I think I could get used to being a bit more modern"

#captain america #captain america smut #captain america fan fiction #captain america imagine #captain america fluff #stever rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #marvel #steve rogers fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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preemshots · 3 years

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johnny + the nomads lore

alright, i know this is a screenshots blog but i'm going to go ahead and start dropping some juicy lore tidbits as i dig them up. part of what i'm doing outside of just photo diarying is shard hunting, and BOY is there a lot the game likes to hide in those little shards for idiots like me who like to read so we can write unnecessarily accurate fanfiction!

full disclosure, i know jack shit about the TTRPG/cyberpunk 2020 rulebook except what i read in the wikis.

so here’s my lore roundup so far of everything i know about johnny joining the nomads

we know johnny likes to narrate v’s quest objectives. here’s the first mention where he says it himself:

during the voodoo boys quest "transmission" there's a shard in the maglev tunnels beside the ice bath, presumably from brigitte's research into johnny in the first place:

okay, so the timeline is this: johnny joins the nomads after trying and failing to rescue alt. johnny hides out in the badlands for some years. then he and rogue come back to night city and nuke arasaka tower help alt escape the arasaka subnet by uploading liberator to their network once and for all.

this ultimately makes sense. in alt’s flashback, we meet santiago, who is a nomad/connected to nomads, joins rogue and johnny when they're trying to get alt back, and eventually becomes the leader of the aldecaldos.

part of santiago’s TTRPG lore is that he, johnny, and rogue have to lay low in the badlands with nomads after they storm arasaka headquarters (i am aware the game takes many liberties with the original lore so who knows the full accuracy of anything from the original rulebooks)

ENDING spoilers: in the rogue+johnny storming AHQ ending, it's revealed that rogue has a son while they're prepping for the job. if you eavesdrop on her calling him while you're at the afterlife, you hear her tell her son to (paraphrasing here) "pull over and look at the stars", which immediately made my brain go to: nomad, badlands, santiago = dad? maybe. (santiago also canonically has a son according to the TTRPG lore)

this immediately reminded me of another interesting shard that i believe you can find in multiple locations around night city: “"what REALLY happened in arasaka tower?“

i love this dang shard. at first i thought it was just a cute conspiracy with some juicy gossip (and i love how 99% of the shards that mention johnny in this game are reminding us that he's not a real rebel, he's a poser) but it brings some interesting shit together

one: it tells us where johnny got his hands on the nukes! he and the nomads jumped a militech convoy and jacked some bombs!

which is never directly explained, even as saburo arasaka is interrogating him shortly before using soulkiller. very nice of johnny to protect his homies like that.

...or maybe he didn’t. saburo emphasizes that the dead don’t lie like the living do, and we don’t know what exactly arasaka did to johnny’s construct in mikoshi.

it also explains why the obvious media narrative is that militech nuked arasaka, a nice neat political bow to the end of the fourth corpo wars, which is an entire section of the TTRPG lore that makes my eyes cross when i read it.

it also makes the star/nomads ending extremely interesting, because i originally believed it was the ending where V’s journey deviates the most from rewalking johnny’s path... which also has weird implications if the johnny’s nomad era is being kept from v.

(this also leads into my belief that the star ending/the devil ending are narratively two sides of the same coin, but that’s a WHOLE ANOTHER POST for another day.)

TWO, just straight up the fact that they turned the raid where they actually obtained the nukes into an action flick BD that pretty much ANYONE could watch. who the hell was doing that??

well, who else other than the guy who johnny (optionally) punched the shit out of for filming alt's death: thompson, media guy, and according to rogue, “bad luck”. because you know, recording your crimes is straight up evidence that can be used against you.

during the alt flashback we meet thompson, and just after that in cyberspace before meeting alt, johnny tells v that he has no idea what happened to him and that they never worked together again.

oh, johnny, you lying bastard man

this is blatantly untrue, and if V even had two braincells and better memory than a goldfish they'd know this--in the first flashback sequence where johnny and rogue nuke arasaka tower, thompson is on the comms as they ride the AV towards AHQ, questioning their plans and use of violence.

which leaves me with some questions, like where the fuck is thompson, why does johnny keep lying about this, why doesn't johnny say almost anything about how you interact with the aldecaldo clan nonstop throughout the game when he himself may have been a member of the family for some time?? is he continuing to protect the nomad clan that saved his ass? we know that a lot of his flashbacks are unreliable at best, that johnny changes shit up as desired when presenting V with his memories.

in 2077, you can also find that there’s a remake of “badlands raid” in the shard “new release braindances” that is pretty much everywhere. that shard doesn’t add much, but does mention something along the lines of “many people don’t know the ending of the original” which probably means johnny punched thompson out for filming again, or something.

my running theories: rogue ditched santiago and the aldecaldos with johnny and thompson to nuke arasaka tower, and when johnny died she was stuck looking for (heavily implied by johnny here:) corpo sellout ways to survive.

adam smasher obviously has something to do with this since johnny/rogue's vendetta against the guy isn't entirely clear beyond the smokescreen of "he killed johnny and he sucks". i have done 0 research into this though i'm tired of typing okay

i obviously cannot be certain i have found everything related to this in the game as i’m not even done with this playthrough where i’m trying to pay attention, but i hope this is fun for someone else to dig into.

enjoy, fellow silverhand freaks

EDIT: additional findings

ALRIGHT I HAVE DONE MORE DIGGING AND I AM BACK WITH MORE NOMAD/JOHNNY FINDINGS. these ones are kind of a bummer but VERY interesting.

there’s a shard called “excerpts from a history of the nomads by bb pires” that goes into detail about how nomads came to be

there’s an interesting quote in it: It's hard to imagine a group less inclined to wandering than farmers, but in fact they were the ones who sparked the age of nomads. Natural catastrophes, crops ravaged by bioplagues, armed conflicts and martial law allowing corporations to speculate and privatize land - all this forced them into a life on the road.

when you ask johnny why he wants to take down arasaka, he begins by referencing this himself!!

it’s a little awkward to imagine a nomad V doesn’t also know what he’s referencing, but hey, V is the fool because we are as players and that’s only one life path... so sure.

johnny also has unique dialogue during this scene about a nomad origin V, telling them that he’s been trying to understand how V thinks, and came to the conclusion that “their family was a crutch” and essentially made them stupid because they always had a safety net (lmao johnny calling v privileged basically)

BUT this also may reference why johnny would find it confusing as hell that V doesn’t immediately share the views he does when nomads, in terms of values, seem to be more aligned with johnny than V is. but once again V is the fool for a reason and this is all my own speculation so YOU KNOW.

MORE IMPORTANTLY, at the end of chippin’ in, when you ask johnny what he meant by letting down his friends... santiago is named directly

i thought this was interesting since the only glimpse of their relationship that we get is seeing johnny meeting santiago via the alt flashback for the first time.

so now it’s obvious that while johnny and rogue were with the nomads their friendship developed, and johnny went on to disappoint santiago in some way by being his normal dickhead self

but HOW? how did he disappoint santiago? is santiago even still alive?? did smasher kill santiago and is this why rogue mentions during chippin’ in that she wants smasher to “settle a score” moreso than avenge johnny??

the only additional hints i have are from this shard, which you can find at the aldecaldos camp: “nomads at ground zero”

i’m just gonna transcribe here and bold for emphasis:

It was no secret that Night Corp offered generous pay and, in some cases, free cyberware and biomonitor upgrades to anyone willing to help clean up the crater of radioactive rubble at AHQ ground zero. Some firsthand accounts recall the incessant ticking of Geiger counters, like the loud buzz of cicadas in summer. In retrospect, we can only guess how many "crater cleaners" lost their lives to radiation sickness shortly thereafter. Both the city government and Night Corp have claimed casualties were kept to a minimum, while providing no official statistics to substantiate the claim. That being said, they have never been under pressure to release such figures. After all, most rescue, engineering, and rubble cleanup teams were not local Night Citizens, but nomads. Surprised you didn't know? Don't be. It is a fact many history courses tend to overlook. The city employed hundreds of nomad mercenaries, primarily from clans in Aldecaldo nation. These nomads were hungry for gainful work and the city needed experts who were not only experienced but brave enough to knowingly put their lives on the line - all so Arasaka could one day erect another tower in its place. But history is not without its sense of irony. These nomads, who so deliberately live outside our so-called "system," came to its very rescue. Not for the first time. And not for the last.

a main theme we find in this game is the idea that the system of corps and exploitation cannot be stopped by grandiose rebellious gestures--no amount of samurai songs, assassinating mayors, or even planting nukes in towers will change things. yet johnny, his friends and mercs at atlantis in the 2020s, including rogue, chose to rebel any way they could, thinking it better than not. johnny criticizes her lack of rebellious spirit CONSTANTLY in 2077.

but ultimately, johnny, trapped in mikoshi, didn’t get to see the outcome of what detonating the AHQ nukes did to night city’s fragile ecosystem. rogue, however, did--and likely watched their former allies, the aldecaldos, be forced to take dangerous work at AHQ’s ground zero (from lack of other opportunities as detailed in this shard), then die from radiation sickness throughout the following decades, all as a result of what she and johnny did to try and fight the system. and she also watched all the former mercenaries of atlantis be hunted down by arasaka.

so rogue sees firsthand what the cost of rebellion is and johnny doesn’t. and nomads, considered the most free of any of the factions we encounter in the game, are the cost.

#lore post #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk lore

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aster-aspera · 3 years

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Forget-me-nots

CW: major character death, character with little regard for their own life, mentions of injury, explosions, minor original characters

Relationship: romantic DLAMP

Song is Elsa's song by The Amazing Devil. I highly recommend you go listen to it, not only because it's an amazing song but also because it plays a big part in this chapter.

Masterpost for the rest of my superhero AU (this chapter isn’t part of the main story)

Patton felt his chest squeeze tight when the message came in.

“Suspected bomb in the university, time to ignition unknown.” Aisha’s voice reported.

“Who’s closest?” Virgil asked.

“Pathos, but he’ll need assistance, the unseen have blocked all the ways out and there’s loads of civilians trapped there.” He heard the tapping of keys and assumed Aisha was coming up with a battle plan.

“Okay, Prince, Storm, you guys head over there, engage the unseen. Deceit and Vortex, you head over once you’re done and help get the civilians out. Pat, I need you to get into the uni and disable the bomb.”

Patton swallowed nervously. “Me? Wouldn’t Logos be better?”

“Ideally, yes. But he’s engaged at the other end of the city, the unseen are literally everywhere.” Aisha groaned in frustration.

Patton felt like echoing that groan. He really wasn’t qualified for this, he wasn’t very good at technology, that was Logan and Aisha’s area and he didn’t have the nerves of steel required to calmly defuse a bomb. He was really just the sniper of the group. He hoped he wouldn’t mess up this job too badly.

I can hear the cannons calling

As though across a dream

He stared at university, where members of the unseen were walking around, herding students into the central building.

“What is their plan?” He asked aloud, mostly just to get the question off his chest. With the unseen, it was almost always impossible to know what their plan was, sometimes it wasn’t even clear after the fact.

“I have no clue.” Aisha confirmed his musings.

“Okay, there’s a sky light you can use to get in undetected. I think the bomb is in the library, so you’ll have to get there without being discovered.”

Patton looked at the map Aisha had sent him. The skylight was two floors above the library.

“Is there no way directly into the library?”

“There’s three doors, one of which is unguarded and accessible through the only other unguarded point, the sky light.” Aisha explained impatiently “So, no. There’s no other way in.”

“Alright, I was just asking.” Patton tried to defuse. He wasn’t hurt by Aisha snapping at him. The situation over the whole city was tense, with the unseen somehow managing to hold three different areas at once. The whole team had been working non stop to take back control of the city, and everyone was tired.

And I can smell the smoke of hell

In every stitch and seam

He hesitated a moment.

“Pathos?” Aisha prompted.

“Yeah, sorry, just nervous about the bomb thing.”

“Hey, don’t worry about that, I’ll be here to guide you.”

Patton felt a bit foolish being comforted by a teen who was about ten years younger than him. He shouldn’t be placing that burden on her, he was the experienced one, he was the mentor, he shouldn’t be relying on her for comfort. Regardless, he felt steadied by the knowledge Aisha would tell him what to do and quietly headed in.

And like flowers, the bodies tumble

Around this muddied lot

He stared in horror at the device in front of him. He had seen and defused bombs before, but this didn’t even look remotely close to anything he was used to.

“Um, A?” He asked, sending a scan to her.

“Oh, wow.” She gasped “Okay, well uhm… That’s not ideal.”

“Not ideal? I think this is a little more than just not ideal.”

“Yeah, hold on, I’m working on it.”

“What do I do? We need to get the civilians out.”

“Prince and Storm are nearby, they’ll start evacuating, I need you to stay here and be my hands.”

“Okay.”

He heard Aisha frantically tapping at the keyboard and occasionally she would ask him to send pictures or scans of a specific area.

“Sure you can’t find a countdown anywhere?” She asked for the fifth time.

“No.” Patton sighed.

The lack of a countdown was unnerving him. While a clock slowly ticking towards your doom wasn’t exactly reassuring, it was better than sitting next to an explosive with no idea when it could go off.

Noise echoed from somewhere on the campus: gunshots and screaming.

“A? What’s going on?” He asked, shooting upright.

“We’re here.” Roman’s voice declared triumphantly, then cut off with a yell.

“Prince, you alright there, kiddo?” Patton asked, vaguely worried.

“He’s fine, just needs to pay attention more.” Virgil sighed.

“Pat, look at that red wire for me please.” Aisha cut in.

“Will you be okay?” Virgil asked.

No, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m nervous, I’m really not qualified for this Patton thought. But he just brushed Virgil off, they’d been doing this for years, he could handle this. He had to handle this, the others were counting on him.

I cannot hear them scream

‘Forget me not.’

What felt like hours later, but in reality was probably closer to half an hour, they still hadn’t gotten it. Aisha was groaning in frustration and cursing her wheelchair.

“If I could be there in person, I would have solved it already.” She griped.

Patton tried not to flinch at the reminder of his uselessness, she probably wished it was Logan in this room, not him.

Janus and Kiara had arrived by now and the evacuation was in full swing. The fighting had stopped abruptly a few minutes ago, when all members of the unseen had mysteriously fled. That really wasn’t helping Patton’s confidence.

Your voice it carries over

The hubbub and the hum

“Are you guys getting anywhere?” Janus asked.

“No, I can’t figure it out, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Aisha answered.

“Well, you better hurry, the evacuation isn’t going as smoothly as we would like, it might take a while longer.”

“You guys be careful, be ready to get out of there if we can’t disable it.” Patton said.

“We’ll be safe, love, but what about you?” Janus asked.

Patton ignored that question, clicking his comms off and focusing on the bomb again. There were too many civilians still in the building, he couldn’t leave till he knew the bomb wasn’t a danger anymore or everyone was a safe distance away.

And it paints the sky and circles high

Like the beating of a drum

“Pat, you might have to consider leaving. We have no idea when it can go off and we might not figure it out in time.” Aisha said.

“There’s still too many people here, we have to keep trying.”

He wasn’t leaving yet, he had to help these people. If he stopped now, how many lives would that cost? It was his job as a hero to save them, even if it cost him his life. It wasn’t like he mattered that much anyways. He had no special skills, the team wouldn’t even have to find a replacement.

“Pat, please, it’s been almost an hour. It isn’t safe anymore, you have to come out.” Virgil pleaded.

Patton stubbornly ignored their comments, snapping at Aisha to stop worrying and stay focused. They were nearly there, they had to be.

You will scream ‘I won’t forget you’

But I’ll cover my cold ears

“Patton, how many times have I told you it’s okay to put yourself first. You’re not going to save anyone by letting yourself get blown up. Please just listen to us and get out of there.” Janus pleaded.

Patton groaned in frustration. “This wouldn’t have happened if it was anyone else. I just can’t figure it out, I’m useless.”

“Nonsense.” Logan snapped, presumably following the conversation from where he was making his way over to them. “From the description A gave, I doubt even I would have been able to figure it out. It’s not your fault.” He finished gently.

Patton got up, feeling miserable and useless. How many people was he leaving here to die? But they were right, he wasn’t doing anyone any good staying here.

“I’m coming out.” He announced.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought you did that years ago.” Roman joked. “I mean, you are dating four guys.”

Patton chuckled, then whirled around in horror as the bomb started beeping behind him.

“Aisha?” He asked, panicked.

“Shit! Run!” She yelled and in that moment, Patton knew he was done for.

“I love you guys.” He breathed and could hear various yells in the earpiece before the world exploded in fire and pain.

It cannot be a lie

If no-one hears.

Patton watched miserably as Roman gently cut away Logan’s sleeve. Janus sat perched on the counter, watching them intently. Logan followed Roman’s movements, his eyes blurry with pain. Patton felt his chest squeeze when Logan bit back a groan at Roman jostling his arm.

“Sorry.” He muttered “Painkillers haven’t kicked in yet?”

Logan just shook his head.

Patton curled his fingers around the chair in guilt. It was his fault. He should have paid attention, should have been faster.

A roar from the entrance snapped him out of his thoughts. Virgil kicked the bike stand down and strode over to them, his hair mussed from the helmet.

“What happened?” He asked, focused and direct as always.

“Acid, Logan got burns all over his arm.” Janus explained.

“It was my fault, I should have paid attention, I should have stopped it.” Patton said miserably, then curled in on himself when all eyes turned to him. Now he was just being whiny. They all knew it was his fault, pointing it out like that just sounded self pitying.

Of course, Janus immediately started to refute it. They always made an effort to make him feel better, it was sweet. He just wished he was worthy of their praise.

“Patton, you know it’s not your fault, right?” He started gently.

Logan hissed suddenly.

“Can you watch out with that?” He snapped at Roman.

“Well, sorry I’m trying to save your arm, microsoft nerd. I can also just leave it like that!”

Janus sighed as Roman waved him over to help. Patton breathed a sigh of relief at that topic of conversation being over. Only Virgil hadn’t let it go yet.

He sat down on the armrest of Patton’s chair.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He brushed off.

Cos although you say good day to me

I know I don’t belong

Virgil clearly didn’t believe him and took his hand. “It’s not your fault, Pat. We can’t always see everything coming.”

“Right, because if it had been you or Janus then you definitely wouldn’t have seen such an obvious trap coming.” Patton laughed bitterly.

“There’s no guarantee we would have. Even we fuck up occasionally.”

“Language.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“And we have years more training, it's not fair to put yourself down like that.”

Right, because even after years of being a hero, they were still making excuses for him. He still wasn’t good enough, fast enough, smart enough. Everyone in the team had their specialty, Virgil was their best fighter, Logan was smart, Roman was their medical expert and Janus was their former crime boss. They were all good at something, and where did that leave him?

He could shoot, yeah. But who needed that when Virgil could just kick all their asses by hand, when Janus and Logan could set up elaborate schemes that didn’t even require any kicking of ass to get the criminals in jail?

And although you hold my hand and say

‘I love you’, you are wrong.

Patton was on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He should go downstairs, join the others. He could hear their chatter all the way up in the bedroom.

The mood had lifted a bit after Roman had declared the burns on Logan’s arm weren’t that serious and they were having their customary ‘someone got hurt comfort dinner’.

Patton didn’t really feel motivated to join.

Because love does not exist here

In this garden there’s no feeling

The door opened and Logan popped his head around the corner.

“Oh, hey Lo.” Patton tried cheerfully, but it came out sounding a bit shaky.

Logan smiled gently. “May I come in?”

“Course, it’s your bedroom too.”

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Patton felt like sighing at those familiar words. He’d heard them so many times tonight and the nights before that. Always that concern for him, their weakest member. Even though he didn’t really deserve it, even though most of the time it was his fault.

And you say the words so often

That I barely know the meaning

“I’m fine.” He groaned “Why do you guys keep asking?”

“Because we’re worried about you.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s hurt.”

“Roman said I would be fine, the physical wounds will heal. I’m just worried about the mental ones.”

“What? Mental wounds, I’m fine Logan. It really isn’t that serious.” Patton laughed.

“It’s not the first time you’ve blamed yourself without any cause for it. I just want to make sure you’re aware it wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m aware.” Patton said. Did he really believe himself though? It always felt like empty reassurances when they told him he wasn’t at fault.

He wanted to believe his lovers wouldn’t lie to him, but they were all just so kind. They wouldn’t want him to feel guilty, even if that meant they had to lie. He wondered why they still let him come along. He just got in the way.

And when all the flowers are rotten

And all the cannons shot

“Will you come downstairs and join us?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, give me a minute, I’m coming.”

I’ll scream, but you won’t hear

‘Forget me not’

In the end, ten people still died. Figures, even in death Patton had failed. Even then he hadn’t been able to save them. Maybe it was better, at least now, he wouldn’t be able to mess things up anymore.

His family didn’t take it well, of course they didn’t. They always cared too much, even about him.

And in years to come you’ll wander

To the place up on our hill

He wished he could hold them, just one last time. Tell them ‘it’s alright, don’t mourn, you’ll be alright’.

He watched as the Rewind team, the teens they mentored, fought with more vigour than ever before. They took the job of the grieving heroes, of him, and carried them out with a sense of honour. He felt proud, looking at them. They were so much more than he had ever been, they would lead this city towards a better future.

Aisha visited his grave, drove her car all the way up country and rolled her wheelchair along the muddy path to the spot they had buried him. It was near his family home, where his mothers could visit frequently, where he was surrounded by the familiar forests.

She cried for a while, apologized, said she should have figured it out faster. He wished he could tell her it wasn’t her fault. She had tried so hard, she was just a child, she couldn’t always save everyone.

And then you’ll cry to our painted sky

‘I loved her then, I love her still’.

The others visited too, Logan quiet, reserved, emotionless. Patton ached for him. He had lost so much in his life. It wasn’t fair that Patton had taken this away from him too.

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies ,

Roman, his tears and anger burning as hot as his love once had. He still went out to the streets, despite Janus’s urging not to. His anger needed a way out. Patton was scared for him. He would let his rage burn him up over this grief.

And roses where I rot

And Janus, sweet, caring Janus. He kept the family together, somehow. Bottled his grief up somewhere deep and drew his lovers into his arms. He only dropped the mask at Patton’s grave, surrounded only by the evergreens and spring meadows. Let the grief consume him for just a moment, cried till the pain that had curled itself up in his bones drowned him in her violent throes. And then he got up, gathered himself and walked back to the car. Now that Patton wasn’t there anymore, someone had to keep the team alive. Patton was grateful to him.

Of all the flowers you picked,

Virgil came last, after months of the others coming and going. He barely glanced at the grave. Just sat down a few meters away and stared out at the trees.

“Why did you do that?” He asked the empty air, his voice filled with tears.

“Why did you leave us like that? It’s not fair. We were supposed to grow old together, get married.” His voice picked up in speed and volume, his breaths coming quicker.

“You said you were fine! You told me it was alright to place myself first, place our family first. Why couldn’t you do that? Why couldn’t you listen to your own damn advice and think of us for once?”

‘I wanted to, god, I wanted to’ Patton wanted to tell him. He wished he had left the building sooner, wished his death hadn’t been so meaningless. He saw the pain he put his family through. Maybe he didn’t fully see his own worth, but he saw how much he meant to them. He wished he hadn’t taken so much from them.

I knew you would forget

Forget-me-nots.

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ruinicrte · 5 years

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Redoing vicers tag drop????????

#✏️ dash comm. | remember. once it’s been said that it can’t be unspoken. so let the next words you say be ones that won’t leave you broken.#✏️ about | this was the only thing we had. use your face. the one without the mask. my hopes and dreams got lost here #✏️ ic | look at what I've done; I had your back again. so I spit you out like you sold me out. I can't believe I defend you again and again.#✏️ devil v. | running through the storm I've got people to warn. I can feel the pressure coming on. It's like a hurricane pumping through me #✏️ human v. | remember me as I go down in history. so don’t stand in my way. if I have to then I’ll take it all..#✏️ aes. | I lose myself in your lies. abuse myself in my mind. I'd hurt myself just to bring you down #✏️ musings | I’m taking back what is mine. you can try shut the door but you know I’ll just tear down the walls.#✏️ Justim | only if you look me in the eyes you can take it. I'm soft but sharp. your heart. you wont make it. so I'll call for you...#✏️ self | look at what you've done; betrayed our youth again. I'm feeling numb from your greed.

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scumbag-the-hedgehog · 5 months

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Hi, I'm Missile (26 y/o and EST based). I use any/all pronouns, so go wild! You can find all the relevant tags on this post for your navigational purposes. Looking forward to roleplaying with you!

#{SCOURGE; IC}「Scourge Sez」#{FIONA; IC}「Foxy Lady」#{FINITEVUS; IC}「Made In Heaven」#{OOC}「Mun Sez」#{ASK ANSWERED}「We’re Conducting Business Here」#{ANONYMOUS}「Gray Scrubs」#{MEMES}「Do You Like Violence?」#{PROMPTS}「Unwelcome Guests」#{DASH COMM}「Watching Angels Cry」#{SELF COMM}「Devil On Your Back」#{DASH GAMES}「Sunshine In A Bag」#{VISAGE}「Bow Down To The King」#{MUSINGS}「All It Takes Is One Bad Day」#{AESTHETICS}「Get My Act In Order」#{HEADCANONS}「How I Got These Scars」#{CRACK}「Pure Unadulterated Badass」#{PROMO}「Road Goes Both Ways」#{SAVED}「As Long As It’s About Me」

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shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

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Playing the Game {Devil May Cry} x {Among Us}

AN: So, I’ve been playing a lot of Among Us in my down time. My old coworkers from Uniqlo (haven’t worked with them for around a year and a half now, love them to bits though) have been inviting me to play full games. And because everyone else seems to really love the Among Us content on Tumblr now, I figured, why not? It’s easy enough to write something for it.

So, anyways, this is actually a one-shot instead of a headcanon. And there are technically no pairings. Reader was written Gender Neutral as well.

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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

27th September - 04:58pm - Devil May Cry

It’s a miracle that everyone happened to be in the same place at the same time when Patty barged into Devil May Cry with a cart full of laptops. Dante had gone to hide as soon as his Patty senses tingled, practically pulling off an acrobatic feat just to get to the second floor in time. Curious as to what the young lady wanted, you put your book down and stood to help the blonde mortal with her burden.

“It’s good to see you, Patty. Dante’s currently expelling his stomach lining in the bathroom.” From behind you, both Vergil and Nero snorted at your comment while V quirked a brow at your antics. “Were you looking for him?”

“Yeah! I found a new game we call all play!” Patty lifted a small laptop, presenting it to you. “We can all play it if we have enough players… but um… I can wait until Dante’s out of the bathroom. Is he okay?”

Taking the laptop, you waved nonchalantly with a grin. “Oh, he’ll be fine. It was just a week old pizza. He’ll be down once he’s done! Until then, take a seat at his desk!” You take your seat between Vergil and V on one of the couches, opening up the laptop to glance blankly at the only desktop icon on the screen, then at the bar at the bottom showing that was connected to the internet already. “Is the game called ‘Among Us’?”

Patty nods with a hum, opening her own personal laptop up. “It’s an online multiplayer game. You play as a space crew, walking around the map completing tasks in the form of mini games. All crew members have to complete their tasks to win the game.”

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Nero scoffed, peering over your shoulder at the computer screen when you opened up the game. Kyrie and Nico also joined him in taking a peek.

“Yeah! Each game has anywhere from one to three imposters.” Patty informed, nodding her head as she explained, beyond ecstatic that you were seemingly interested in playing. “The imposters look like crew members, but their job is to sabotage or kill the crew, preventing the crew members from winning. Imposters have a little menu that they can use to turn off lights, or shut doors. They also have an advantage of being able to enter vents to escape an area. Imposters win when they’ve cut down crew member number enough. To weed out the Imposters, crew members can report any bodies they find or press the emergency button on the map once per player to have a meeting. From there, players can present evidence of a player being innocent or guilty of being an Imposter, and the crew can vote whoever they think is ‘Sus’ or suspicious off the ship.”

“So it’s a game of skillful assassination and deceit.” Vergil summarized, now slightly interested in participating.

“Perhaps a bit of patience and being able to read others.” V interjected, closing his book to shoot a judgmental expression at Vergil… one that the elder Sparda twin gladly returned with a haughty smirk. It’s nice to know that even if V was once a part of Vergil, they still feel disdain towards one another.

Patty thinks for a moment, her blue eyes observing your group by the couch for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess it is! Gotta be careful though, because Imposters can self report their kill… but they also have a kill countdown… but even if a crew mate is killed, they can still roam the map completing their tasks as ghosts. Obviously though, if you die, you can’t tip off who the Imposter is to people who are alive. Once Dante’s back, we’ll have a few practice rounds before doing an official round.”

“Count us in.” All heads in the downstairs area turned as Dante descended the stairs, Lady and Trish behind him. “Bunch of hunters like us? It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Official Round Start

When the first official game started, you were all seated in various locations of Devil May Cry’s first floor, laptops in your laps and noise cancelling headphones on. The front door was locked, sign flipped to read ‘CLOSED’ so that nobody interrupted the series of unfortunate events unfolding within the shop.

There were ten players in total: You (Purple), Dante (Red), Vergil (Blue), Nero (White), Kyrie (Cyan), Nico (Green), V (Black), Trish (Yellow), Lady (Orange), and Patty (Pink).

When the countdown finished, and your screen went black, you schooled your face until it was carefully blank. Well, well… this will be fun. You decide when the screen informs you that you and Kyrie are the Imposters. Discreetly, you and Kyrie glance up to look around the room before winking at one another and directing your eyes back down to the computer screen.

The map that Patty had chosen was the Skeld with two short tasks, two normal tasks, and one long task.

Starting off in the Cafeteria, you moved down to Admin, following as Vergil, Dante, and Nico went to do their tasks in the room while you sat at wires, watching until one of them moved. Walking out just as the task bar went up, you headed down and right until you were in Shields.

You watched as Nico and V passed you before moving up towards Weapons, where you saw Trish downloading files. Quickly, you walked behind her and clicked the Kill button before venting, popping up in Navigation just as Kyrie knocked out the lights.

Deciding to take the risk, you went into the other vent in Navigation and popped out at Shields again, moving out of that hallway to Storage, pretending to empty out the trash just as Vergil passed you by with Dante at his tail, making deliberate and erratic movements. Just as you are about to Sabotage Comms, a meeting is called, and you notice that V was killed along with Trish. Shrugging, you take off your headphones with everyone else.

“VERGIL’S SUS!” Dante pointed at Vergil with a grin.

You could practically see Vergil’s last thread of patience snap, “If anyone’s suspicious, it was you!”

“Kyrie and I found V’s body in the Cafeteria right after the lights were fixed.” Nero announced, interrupting his father and uncle to look at V, who just sighed heavily and took out a book, refusing to make any facial expressions to help the Crew… and ignoring the superior stare that Vergil aimed at him. Well, this is going to get tiring really quick, isn’t it. You deadpan at their interactions, hoping that they would just warm up to one another already.

“Well, I can account for Lady, Dante, and Y/N.” Vergil sighed, lips thinning in displeasure that they were two down already. “Lady was already fixing lights, and Y/N was coming from the east side to do the garbage… Dante has been following me the entire game.”

“Did anyone happen to see where Trish’s body was? Or where she headed off to from the start?” You asked.

“Trish headed to MedBay while Kyrie and I went to the Engine and Reactor.” Nero piped up, “I didn’t see her for the rest of the round.”

“Okay…” Lady mumbled before her heterochromatic eyes landed on Patty, who jolted from the older woman’s intense stare. “Patty, where were you?”

Patty paused to think, “When the alarm was sounded, I was with Nico in Security.”

“Can confirm!” Nico nodded with a ‘humph.’

“But before that, I went to Weapons to shoot asteroids, looped back into Cafeteria to go down to Storage to do a task there. I was just behind Y/N as they headed off to the right side… and then I went left into the Lower Engine before meeting up with Nico.” Patty concluded.

“Are we going to vote this round?” Vergil wondered, eyes fixed upon the timer countdown. “Or should we skip?”

“Hold on, Vergil.” Lady raised a hand before continuing to stare down Patty. “So you were the last one in the Cafeteria?”

“Um… that I know of?” Patty raised a brow, “But that was like at the beginning of the round.”

“So, you could have killed V at the very beginning.” Lady’s eyes narrowed, “That’s a bit suspicious.”

“So… voting out Patty?” Nico asked, seemingly convinced. “We could wait, but…”

“I voted already.” Lady chimed.

“Done.” Vergil confirmed.

“Well, if we’re sure…” Nero shrugged.

“Wait! That’s jumping wayyyy too into conclusions!” Patty protested. “There were a lot of people near the Cafeteria. They could have done it during the black out.”

“Nah, a lot of us were accounted for.” Dante clicked his tongue before turning to look at Patty. “Sorry, Patty.”

You and Kyrie had already voted. The only one who didn’t vote for Patty had been Nico.

Patty screamed in frustration before falling silent, “You all suck!”

Patty has been ejected.

“Nico, why didn’t you vote?” Nero questioned his mechanic, “You’re the one who asked to vote Patty out.”

“Sus-pi-cious~~~” Lady sang quickly before you all put your headphones back on.

The next round, you watched as Vergil, Dante, and Lady headed off to the right side before dancing back and forth in front of Nico and Kyrie, asking them wordlessly to follow you to the MedBay. When Kyrie followed me, Nero followed after her.

Once all four of you were in the MedBay, you pretended to complete a task while Nico got a med-scan. Almost all at once, you Sabotaged the MedBay doors as well as O2 within a few seconds before you and Kyrie got a double kill, getting Nico and Nero both at once. Both of you took the vent into Security before killing the Lights, walking down together to Electrical, where you turned the lights back on. Just as you were about to exit the room with Kyrie, you two encounter Dante, Vergil, and Lady.

Noticing that the cooldown had ended for the Kill button, you clicked on it, watching as your character stabbed Vergil’s in the back with a knife. It seemed that Kyrie had the same idea, as Dante was dead once the animation was over.

The screen went black and you and Kyrie cheered, throwing ‘air-fives’ at each other from across the room.

Everyone took their headphones off, shocked as their eyes trained upon you and Kyrie.

“What… the hell.” Nico muttered.

“I TOLD YOU GUYS IT WASN’T ME!” Patty screamed at everyone in the room, slumping in her seat and pouting.

“That was scarily efficient.” Dante groaned, staring at you and Kyrie with a new light.

Nero groaned and buried his face in his hands, “I knew there was something odd going on when we lost one another by the upper engine when the lights went out.”

“Hehe.” Kyrie laughed sheepishly, patting Nero on the shoulder. “Oops?”

“Y/N! I trusted you!” Nico wailed, looking as if cartoon tears would be streaming down her face if possible.

Raising a single hand up, you grinned and made the sign for ‘Victory.’ “I guess you guys just can’t underestimate us, then!”

“Another round.” Vergil demanded, glaring at you with a challenge in his eyes. “If I’m Imposter, you won’t be able to escape me. And if you’re the Imposter… then you won’t get the drop on me twice.”

You all grinned, and clicked on the ‘play again’ button. “Challenge accepted.”

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

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

From the ground up.

The road to recovery is a bumpy one, but Tim’s (reluctantly) ready for the drive. He just hopes they won’t crash and burn.

-.-.-

Tim recovers after an injury. Mending his bonds with the bats its a plus.

Or, Tim can’t exactly run away from a conversation, and they all take advantage of it.

( @animemangasoul asked for Tim actually needing his crutches. Of course my dumb ass brain needed to take that idea and make a whole, emotional thing of it. Threw in some family bonding cause why not.

Babe I did my best, and if it’s bad I’m blaming exams and life stress of me being unable to properly deliver what you hoped for)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a stupid decision. Self sacrificing, reckless, idiotic. He doesn’t know Bruce’s disappointed eyes, Dick’s worried ones or Damian’s disdainful sneer to know it.

Still, it had been his choice, and he’s going to stand by it. Even if it means having Steph pose as Red Robin for some time. Even if he has to deal with M’gann’s guilty looks at failing to convince him to change places, to allow her to get shot while he took the criminal out, instead of what they actually did. Even if it means getting annoyed, nearly hysterical texts from basically everyone he knows, condemning him for his stupidity.

The only ones he had explained himself to were Tam -who honestly deserves it after all the shit he was going to put her through, dealing with her recent trauma (courtesy of assassins) and the press going haywire at Tim’s broken engagement and then almost fatal injury-, Steph (who was going to be changing between Batgirl and Red Robin for some time to keep the whole charade up and Vale off their track) and M’gann herself, who had needed some serious explanation before she conceded to Tim getting shot in front of her for appearances sake.

The rest of the world? They could rot in curiosity, for all he cared. Bruce had probably extrapolated enough from his succinct explanation about Vicky to understand the whole plan. Dick was probably dying to know, but with their relationship strained as it was wouldn't dare to ask. Damian… who know how the devil’s mind works. Alfred was already used to the Bat’s collective shit, and would probably just sigh and make chicken soup for him.

What he wasn’t cool about was being forced to have his recovery period in the Manor. He had a perfectly funcional place for himself, thank you very much, and could wobble around in his crutches from bedroom to kitchen to his small, personal cave, no problem. But Bruce had been unmoving in his decision, going as far to physically carry Tim in his arms, like a toddler, from the hospital steps to the car. It had been humiliating, but he couldn't exactly wiggle free in front of all the reporters, could he? How to explain a nerve strike to his dad, and his own ability to withstand the pain of falling back to his feet?

(Because he totally could stand the pain. He had done it in the dessert with a ruptured spleen, he could deal with a slightly damaged spine)

He was going to have his revenge though. As soon as he was able to move freely without clenching his teeth from the pain.

He’s being deposited on the bed, when he notices Damian lingering around the door. He was looking at Bruce, a little unsure, more than a bit of envy at the care which his father bestowed on Tim. Before, those jealous eyes would have made him weary of an attack. Now, with Bruce and Dick having forced a promise of civility from the kid, he was still on guard but not ready to flee at any given second. Perpetually tensing would only dampen his recovery, after all.

It was still something to think of. The lack of fire in his eyes. He… looked like a kid. Not as much a demon as he had been when Tim went away.

Well. Only time would tell if he had truly changed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bruce had ordered bed rest. No work, detective or CEO. Nothing more straining (for the mind or body) than watching a movie. Eating and sleeping were his only allowed activities. Even reading was to be moderated, because Tim was known to lose himself in any topic that caught his fancy and forget everything else.

Tim had listened to his reasoning, nodding along and adding his own helpful insight, smiling when his head was patted in response to his obedience. Waved cheerfully as Bruce left, made smalltalk with Dick when he visited hi room before heading out for patrol (theirs was a talk that he wasn’t really looking forward but knew he wouldn't be escaping for long), thanked Alfred for the food and ate half of it under his watchful eye. Even took the medicine with just mild complains.

The perfect picture of innocence and submission. Right until the butler went to the Cave to man the comms.

Then all bets were off.

Moving his bed out of the way to get the laptop hidden below the loose tile under it was impossible in his current condition, but thankfully he had been able to talk Bruce into letting him keep his phone, and his briefcase wasn’t too far to not be able to make the walk without crutches (painful as it was).

Before an hour had passed, he had the wall by his bed covered with post it notes, connected by red sting and pins here and there. A pretty evidence board, even with the lacking resources. Perrrfect for a little Tim-Time, a small bit of detective work.

Bruce would certainly bitch about him moving around so much, taping pieces of information or moving the string around, but, well. What Bruce didn’t knew…

-I thought Father ordered bed rest.

The voice, completely unexpected (he had either been in too deep thought, or the brat was getting better at stealth), made him jump so high and sudden he almost pulled his stitches. The medication, fading with each hour, had weaned enough he felt every bit of tissue, still torn from the shot, straining under the move.

It resulted in the longest, filthiest string of curses his sharp mind could come up with, partnered with gasps and a lot of hair pulling in a instinctual attempt to redirect the pain from his torso to somewhere less dire.

-No one taught you to knock and not to startle convalescent people, brat? -he spats between clenched teeth, squinting through barely-opened eyes to glare at him- And why aren’t you patrolling?

The kid was on pijamas. Tim can’t remember the last time he saw him unarmed. Though he probably still had at least a dagger on himself that he couldn't see.

Bruce and Dick’s promise echoed in his mind, but just in case, he let one of his arms go around his middle, acting as if trying to soothe his hurt (okay, maybe it wasn’t all an act) while he palmed the three Red Robin pallets he had secured between his bandages earlier.

Damian scoffed and approached him, careful to keep a healthy distance but enough so he could properly appreciate Tim’s wall.

-Apparently, Father knows better than to trust you to behave, and he came up with a schedule to keep an eye on you. For what reason, it escapes me. Your death could only serve as a stress relief for everyone, specially if it was caused by your own stupidity. And you didn’t answer my question.

A large part of him wanted to tell him to fuck off. An even larger reminded him he was barely armed, heavily incapacitated, and that Damian had actually answered him first, so, technically, it was fair to do the same.

He sighs and leans back into the pillows, shoulder on the wall crumpling the photo of his number three suspect.

-Whatever. Bruce clearly bought when I said I’d act the part, otherwise he would have cleaned my room of anything useful. You’re probably here because paranoia is too deeply ingrained in the man, or he thinks you could use a rest too. Or both.

Probably both, Tim thinks. He’s ready for Damian’s sneer and a declaration that he ‘didn’t need a rest’, most likely paired with an insult.

Instead, Damian surprises him by tilting his head and looking at him with something akin to curiosity.

-You lied to Father? And he… believed you?

Feeling his petty bitch inside stirring, he smirked- What, like it’s hard?

It actually was, it required a hell of a mental preparation and careful planning. But once you learned how to pull it off and took care to polish it, it was a often used weapon.

Damian wouldn't let any positive emotion towards Tim willingly show on his face, so the amaze was most likely honest. It was… a little humbling, truth be told.

-Tell you what -he decides, pulling his best negotiator voice, to cut the kid some slack-, you keep this little naughtiness -a nod towards the wall- between us and help me hide all proof before B comes back, and I give you some pointers in how to lie to Batman.

Damian seems truly torn. On one hand, Tim can guess, it's the mission his father entrusted him, and his deeply ingrained disdain to anything Tim proposed. On the other, the temptation of such a useful tactic, and the fact that he didn’t really care for Tim’s wellbeing enough to stop him from doing his thing.

-What are you working on?- he asked, likely gaining time while he mulled his options.

-Cold cases -a shrug-. It’s just a pastime of mine. I dig into Bruce’s old files, search for anything he couldn't solve, and work on it until I do. It’s really good for self esteem, and it helps a lot of people who never got closure for whatever it happened to them.

-Father will know you disobeyed if you solve it.

-I’ll wait until he gives me permission for some light work, and then dump all my worked out cases on him at the same time.

There’s something akin to wonder fighting to make itself known above Damian’s facade of indifference.

-Can you actually solve something Father himself couldn't?

-Done it before, will do it again. What will it be, Damian? Cause if you decide to snitch on me after all, then kindly leave me to this until then. I’m about to crack this, and if its going to be the last one I’m able to work on, I’d hate to leave it halfway.

A few seconds go by, before Damian takes the last step and carefully perches at the end of the bed, eyes solely on the wall.

-I’d prefer to aid in solving this. If it’s true this is something not even the Batman could do… it’d be highly rewarding to work on it. You can teach me the arts of lying another day.

Shocked it actually worked, Tim did his best to swiftly recover. Not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, he kept his doubts in check to dwell on them later and went back to his wall.

Having Damian around was surprisingly useful. He could just lay there, in his pillows, and direct the brat through moving the string and adding post it notes here and there, until the whole thing mapped out in front of them, the answer staring at them as clear as the quickly approaching day.

Satisfaction strong enough to smile despite the ever growing pain in his side, he gave into the urge to give a small pat to Damian’s shoulder before telling him to help take it all down, least Bruce came from patrol and found them on the act. High on the success and more than a little stunned about it, the younger vigilante actually complied, even going as far as to put all their mess back in Tim’s briefcase and bringing him a glass of water to wash down his meds with.

When Batman came to check on his middle son after patro, Nightwing on his shadow, they were regaled with the shocking, unbelievable sight of Damian sleeping, sitting on the ground with the back of his head resting on Tim’s bed, while the bedridden boy himself snored, a hand on top of the smaller kid’s head.

The picture Dick took of them was gonna be his most treasured possession forever.

-.-.-.-.-

-And this will make me a better detective? -questioned Damian, frown scrunching his nose in a way that Tim couldn't help but think of as adorable. Or as adorable as it could be, in a hell spawn. Fuck, Dick was rubbing off on him.

-It helped me -he shrugs, eyes on his own screen as he makes the proper adjustments-. Long live the queen is a good place to start. You need to consider both the character’s mood when selecting the week’s classes, and the goal you aspire towards. All the while dodging assassinations attempts, commoners uprisings or noble plots depending on the choices you make, and… other stuff. And ruling a country. And getting engaged. It’s a lot of juggling, keeping in mind which skills you need for which event, and it forces you to consider how the character is doing emotionally, something you could seriously use to learn. Want me to give you a run through?

-No need -he scoffed, clicking in the start game option, dubiously reading the introduction-. It seems easy enough.

Tim just smiled, eerie, from his place behind him.

Damian was sitting in the floor by his bed, back resting against it. The position, if slightly uncomfortable (Drake wasn’t an enemy any longer, if Grayson was to be believed, and after the other night’s joint work he agreed to help train Damian in mind schemes, but he wasn’t a complete ally either… and having such a grey person with such a clear shot at his neck made the assassin in him nervous), was the best way for Drake to watch his progress in this… game, while keeping his wound unbothered. It also kept Damian from ‘sneaking a peek’ at his own screen and ‘cheating at the game’, as he had said. Not that he planned on it, but-- well, all resources, no matter how dirty, were still fair game in the arts of war, as far as he was concerned.

Not that Damian needed the help. This was a silly game. He would probably beat this first try, high score even. Really, the main screen image had a teenager dressed in a frilly, pink, magical girl outfit. How hard could this be?

---

-My cousin just got bitten by a snake. Will she die?

-Wouldn’t you like to know, demon child. You’ll figure it out later in the game. Just keep going.

---

-Why do I keep failing this skill-checks? What am I missing? Is it even relevant? I just passed one that was completely useless about world history, but somehow missed the one that would have helped me keep this stupid girl from getting betrothed.

-If it was relevant, you’ll know it when, not if, when it kills you.

-...I should save my game here.

-With these shitty skills you’ve built? Sure, if you want to, but at this point you’ll die no matter what.

---

-Is this woman trustworthy? Our father said it was her fault mother died, but she said…

-Hmm. I’m not giving you spoilers. Tell me when you figure it out, one way or the other.

-Well, at least we have our aunt, uncle and cousins. Surely they are on our side, as our family.

-...

-Drake, why are you laughing?

-...

-Stop it! You are not scaring me!

---

-Look, I said I was not going to help you… but you can’t keep pissing everyone off, baby bat. You’ll never survive until coronation if you do.

-Those people deserved to get executed.

-...some of them, maybe, but you failed a lot of skill checks there, so you don’t have all the facts. Also, if you are gonna fuck with people, at least choose if you are doing it with nobles or peasants. Both of them is taking it a bit too far.

-I am the Queen. Neither would dare oppose me. I will have their heads if they do!

-..okay then. Let the record say I tried.

---

-Is this birthday party important?

-Uhm… Kinda. Your friend just turned of age, which means she gets to inherit control of her lands. There’s also a whole new route if you do go to the party, if you have the necessary abilities for it.

Tim saw the back of Damian’s head bob as he nodded. He gave it a few minutes. Then-

-YOU DIDN’T TELL ME I WOULD DIE ON MY WAY THERE!

-I did say you needed specific skills. Both for the party itself, and to get there.

He was ready for the unholy sound that escaped from Damian’s mouth, finger quickly taping at his phone to record it. That treasure was going to be his new ringtone. It would help with the pain, too. Happiness therapy or something like that, to distract the mind from the hurt.

---

-Hey, Dami? I’m gonna go get ready for patrol. Are you com/?

-NO -he snapped, neck almost breaking from how quickly he raised his head to look at Dick at the door. Eyes red from staring at the screen for so long, hair a mess after messing it up in incalculable desperation- I’m about to win! This time, my strategy won’t fail!

Tim, game already finished and now watching a movie (at least until Bruce and Dick left and he could go back to coding a new security system that even Babs wouldn't be able to crack) tilted his head, examining his brother’s open game. Week 30, no medicine knowledge, no intrigue, little to no dog training, no composure and not enough divination...yeah, Damian was gonna die again. It was the first time he had lived long enough to reach the tournament, and subsequently, the poisoned chocolates.

Should he tell Damian? On one hand, the frustration, clear in his face, would tear him apart after yet another failure. But… this was the most fun he had in a long time, and the longest they had gone without either insulting the other.

-Okay then -mumbled Dick under his breath, smartly retreating out of the room.

Tim waited a few beats- Let me know if you need help.

-Leave me alone Drake! As if I’d lower myself to such tricks! The victory won’t be truly mine unless I win by my own merits!

Still at the door, feeling both a little ignored and elated at his brothers getting along so nicely, Dick decided to slowly exit the place, least Damian truly snapped and threw a dagger or something at his head.

---

The downside of the pain meds was how drowsy they made him. He didn’t know quite what to do with himself, now that the bags under his eyes were so close to disappearing. He had come so used to them… maybe he’d need to start investing in eyeliner and fake them.

Blinking himself awake, he moved a bit to look at the clock on his bedside table and immediately flinched. He kept forgetting the wound, and then moved and was painfully reminded.

A hand appeared out of nowhere, holding a familiar pill. He took it without prompting, accepting then the glass of water.

-Don’t think too much of this, Drake. I’m merely assisting Pennyworth. Since I’m already here working on my progress, I offered to make sure you don’t forgo your medicine. Again.

The disdainful voice, probably masking the smallest shadow of care, had come familiar enough in the last couple of days that he knew even without opening his eyes who it was. The question of what the hell was he still doing here, after spending the entire day at Tim’s side, remained.

-Damian? Are you still playing?

The kid seemed uncomfortable.

-The idiotic Queen wouldn't stop dying. It’s against my every principle to give up before achieving my goal, so I had to stay here until I passed this… training of yours.

Tim had to bit his check to keep from smiling. Damian was kinda decent at it, but the boy who lied to Batman wasn’t so easily fooled by a half assed attempt. The brat had actually stayed so he could make sure Tim didn’t forget his pain meds and woke the whole manor up with his groans later.

-Well, as your teacher for this particular test, I’m telling you to call it a day. Go to sleep and come back tomorrow with fresh mind and eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rehab… sucked. There was no way around it. Sure, he could go the nice, easy way, give himself enough time to heal before starting on the recovery path. But vigilantes didn’t have the luxury of nice, and he needed to be functional again asap. Steph was running herself ragged, working on keeping Tim’s identity on the streets alive and her own territory safe, and there was a limit on how much Tam could take over in WE before collapsing.

Bruce hadn’t been happy about his decision of starting physical therapy while his stitches were still there, but when was he, ever? And the doctors had said he could do it as long as he was careful about it, now that the swelling in his back had disappeared, so he couldn't use them as counterpoints. There was also the nice plus of being emancipated, which made his medical decisions his own, and not even Bruce could just breeze by and ignore them.

Sweet, sweet independence.

Too bad he forgot a tiny detail: how fucking painful it was.

He could move around now, using the crutches, and he had a series of exercises his doc gave him to help regain movement, which he followed like religious doctrine. Two reps before lunch, one before bed. Okay, the physical therapist had said only do one per day, but he couldn't take into account Tim’s vigilante resistance and strength, so he felt safe in his small expansion of the activities.

That was, until the sharp pain on his side made him lose balance during his last rep and trip over his crutches.

A strong arm around his upper chest stopped his fall to the ground, and took the air off his lungs. It didn’t touch his wound, though, which… nice.

-If you're falling jus’ from walking, maybe you're not as ‘recovered’ as I heard.

-Ja...son -he coughs, hand (with the crutch secured to him by nice straps, courtesy of WE’s medical division) raising up to hold Jason’s arm for support. The other man shifted, coming closer, shouldering his weight without a word, his other hand going around his waist, under the wound, to help him along- This… but a scratch.

-Quoting “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” at me won’t keep you out of trouble, little shit. C’mon, I’ll take you back to your room. Which way?

Pointing him in the right direction, Tim took advantage of their closeness to examine the other man.

They weren’t on ‘kill on sight’ terms any longer, but Tim wouldn’t exactly call the man when in a pinch. What was he even doing here? He was fairly sure he and Brucer were still at that ‘mindless anger/deeply rooted guilt’ stage of their relationship, and his book club meetings with Alfred were wednesday afternoons, not friday evenings…

-Stop thinking so much, you’ll strain som’ing.

-I’m not Dick -he fires back almost in instinct, earning a deep chuckle in turn. He shifts a little, looking for a position where his trembling arms wouldn't make the crutches shake quiet so much. If Jason saw his struggle, he respected him enough to say shit about it.

-Speaking of, how’s it going with him?

-I have no idea what you’re talking about. We are fine.

-Yeah, right. And he’s sitting out of helping you with rehab because he suddenly lost one of his hundred hearts and it’s just your luck it was the one he had for you?

-Fuck… -a misstep, and his arms automatically shift to compensate, keeping him standing but paying it in pain when the movement tugs at his side. Jason tightens his grip, an unvoiced promise to keep it from happening again- you.

-Really threatening, with all the gasping and whining.

-Shut up. Why would we be at odds?

There’s a minute of silence as one of Jason’s hands leave him long enough to open the door to his bedroom.

-I’m jus’ saying -he shrugs as he helps Tim inside and towards his bed-, I know a discarded Robin when I see one.

He’s not sure if the pained sound comes from the jostling as he’s carefully lowered into his pillows, or the strike to his most exposed nerve.

-It was… a tough situation. Dick didn’t have much choice. I -it hurts to say- I get it.

It had also been right, by Damian. Tim can see it, in the remarkably diminished killer intent he could feel from the kid, and his actual willingness at keeping Tim company and even helping him around when needed.

Even if it was the worst for him, at least one of the two fucked up kids under Dick’s watch had benefited from it. It was… it was good enough. It had to be. Tim was fine, after all.

Jason looks at him for a moment, waiting until the pain yields a bit and he can breath again. Then, taking a seat by his feet, he lets his eyes stray to the photographs mounted on the walls, avoiding Tim’s scrutinizing gaze.

-Even if it makes logical sense, it still hurts. I know how it is.

There’s… not really something he can counter. He moves a bit to find position easier on his side, hiding the nervous twitch with the action.

-I never blamed you for it -he feels compelled to add. Jason winces, as if struck. He’s still not looking at him.

-And the brat’ll probably be the same with you, someday. Means shit now, but… small comforts.

-I guess so… I mean, we’re kinda getting along, now that he can’t try to kill me since I’m convalescente and I’m bored enough to contribute to his training.

Jason seems pained again. Tim is annoyed by how confusing this entire situation is.

-Y’er a good predecessor. He’ll/

-What is this all about? -he cuts, unable to stop himself. This attempt at deep conversation is well and good, but it’s coming out of nowhere and Tim never pictured Jason as one to go around randomly offering wisdom- Why are you here, and with me of all people?

There was a shadow of something passing through his face, before it transformed into the physical intonation of the ‘Fair enough’ feeling.

-I heard what happened from blondie while she was takin’ care of soom goons on y’er part of town. And… well, I have some experience on getting back on your feet after a bad injury, just in the wake of loosing Robin. Figured you’d be over doing it and getting yourself hurt worse.

It… was a fair assessment of what he was doing, actually. And if there was anyone he could speak about this… it’d be Jason.

-There’s so much I have to do -he sighs, sagging into his bed, relaxing for the first time when in a room with his childhood idol-, and Steph can’t keep running all my cases for me. I keep solving them, but I need groundwork done and she has already so much on her plate by patrolling my side of town, I just… I can’t let people die because I couldn't spy on an arms deal and tore it apart before the guns made their way to the streets.

Jason looked at him again, his emotions in check, and he seemed to think about it for a minute, before humming.

-What about this? You take it slow and easy with the physical therapy, and I help with that stuff. My territory is somewhat in order, or as much as you can have it in this hellhole of a city, so I have plenty of free time, and… I could use the atonement. After, you know, trying to kill you so many times.

It…was unexpected. Jason, helping him? In exchange of Tim’s wellbeing? It seemed absurd beyond belief, but there was no mistaking the earnestness on his face.

And, well, fuck it. Tim was somehow on speaking terms with one of his formers almost-assassins, what was one more?

...it would also be so worth it, once Dick knew. Tim could already picture his jealousy, seeing the two brothers he was at odds or uncomfortable with, speaking at each other and working together.

And having Jason at his side would keep Bruce from checking on him so often. Two birds, one crowbar.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

This was shaping up to be the strangest week of his life. Had he entered the twilight zone?

He had gotten kinda used to Damian popping into his room before patrol, or during the nights B forced him to stay at home. He’d work Damian through one of the easiest cold cases, or aid him in his never ending game of Long Live the Queen (he was getting really close to a happy ending, though). In exchange, the kid would keep his work a secret, and help him move around if the pain was too strong, or if he wanted a glass of water and didn’t feel like getting his crutches out for the small trip to the bathroom.

Also, it was somewhat normal to have Jason swing by (morning or mid afternoon, while the vigilantes of the manor slept off their patrol), some case files in hand, informing him about a new development in whatever Tim had asked him to research. Alfred, highly approving of their newfound camaraderie, would insist Jason stayed for tea, and the three of them would dwell into a very satisfying bitch fest, with Bruce as their source material.

What he wasn’t ready for, was having both of them around at the same time.

-Drake, you need to stop lazing around and do your exercises! Father and the doctors said…!

-Chill out, Demon, he did ‘em already. Shouldn't be doin more reps than the doc said, y’know?

Acting like his nurses.

-And how do I know you’re not lying to me, Todd? Hurting Timothy could only benefit you!

-...In literally which way? He’s the ONE brother I like! And like you are any better, Mr slashed zip line.

-Who told you about/? No matter. That was before we became allies. You, on the other hand!

Had he stumbled into a different universe? It wouldn't be the first time. Just in case, he sent Bart, his time/multiverse travel expert, a quick text.

-Hey guys, what’s all this noise abou/ Damian! Drop the knife!

Oh yeah. Just what Tim needed; the awkwardness that seemed to appear whenever he and Dick were in a room together. Maybe it was time to book it back to his room.

-Grayson! Give it back, I need to/!

-Disembowel Jay? I don’t think so.

-Fuck off Dickiebird, I don’t need your protection.

Decision made, Tim slowly moved his crutches, walking backwards without taking his eyes from the three vigilantes. If he was really, really quiet...

-I know, just/ Wait. Is that a gun?

-Well, it’s not like I’m happy to see yar ugly face.

-Excuse you?!... Here, Dami. You can have it back.

-FUCK!

-DIE!

-TIM!

The last scream came from Dick, who looked in his direction just in time to catch the moment Tim’s crutch slipped in the carpet. As it was, he was the only one who could react fast enough to prevent a painful, possibly very bad for his injury fall.

It also meant Tim was being cradled like a baby. Which- no.

The other two fell silent for long minute, while their minds caught up to Tim’s almost accident. Then, apparently seeing him safe in Dick’s arms, they turned to fight again. Apparently, blaming the other for Tim’s misfortune. Which… okay maybe he’d been distracted watching them go at it when he tripped, but still!

-I’ll just… take him upstairs -informed them Dick, though it sounded almost like a question. Probably wondering their ability to keep the discussion verbal.

Used to the nagging, both of them raised their hands, showing them empty (which, truly, meant little in the face of two of the most weapon-inclined people he knew), without pausing their rapidly escalating exchange.

Halfway up the stairs, he stopped wallowing in self pity about his still recovering body to remember that, for the first time in a helluva long time, he’d be alone with Dick. Which translated in Talk Time. Fuck.

By the time they reached his door, he had ready no less than six deflections and twenty conversation topics which avoided mention of all their baggage and could potentially satisfy Dick’s need for socializing with a brother.

-Wipe that look off your face, Baby Bird. You won’t be orchestrating this chat -the older hero informed him, casually as one can be, kicking the door closed behind him and softly lowering Tim on his bed. He was having serious Deja Vu’s from his first encounter with Jason-. We are going to sit in your room. We are going to hear each other out. I’m going to apologize for hurting you and give you insight on the why I acted the way I did. You’ll decide whether or not you’re ready for forgiving me. We’ll bond. Maybe cry. There’ll definetly be hugs involved -that shouldn’t sound like a threat, why did it sound like a threat, Tim felt threatened-, that’s non negotiable, don’t even try to put the ‘tender wounds’ card on me ‘cause I won’t buy it. And…

Dick’s stern voice wavered, arms still around Tim shoulders even when it was clear he didn’t need his support to sit in the bed.

-And we’ll be brothers again.

The tiny, broken sound mid-sentence was what got Tim.

Hand a little shaky, scared for his own heart but unwilling to let the older boy (his hero and family for so long) keep hurting, he touched Dick’s cheek and smiled. Tentatively, because they were on unstable ground here, but hopeful, because god did he miss his brother.

-We never stopped being that, idiot.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was after dinner, when Bruce approached him in silence. Tim had been making his slow but steady way to the den, where Dick had roped them all into watching a movie together. He could hear the sounds of Jason and Damian roughosing (okay, Jason was; the brat probably believed the whole affair to be a fight to the death for honor or something like that) and Dick’s chirpy voice as he ranted about The Greatest Showman from the hall.

Bruce had been making the trip by his side, hand hovering close to Tim’s elbow, in case the crutches failed him or he tripped. Tim wanted to tell him it wouldn't happen, but… he’d missed his dad’s attention a little too much to complain about independency now.

-How’s the recovery going, son?

He stopped in the door leading to where his brothers waited, turning to face Bruce with an arched eyebrow.

-You know that better than me, Mr I’ve broken every bone in my body at some point. Also I’m dead sure you hacked my medical files and know every little detail my physical therapist wrote by heart. You can probably recite them to me verbatim.

-I didn’t mean the physical recovery. The shot in your side is not the only wound you’re carrying right now

Silence, the only noise coming from inside the room and Tim’s heavy breathing. Unable to refrain himself, he risks a glance at the tangle of limbs rolling around in the carpet (Dick’s tactic to stop the fight was to hug them into submission) and lets the tentative, frail smile tug at his lips.

-Honestly, B… That one is healing nicely. There’ll be scars but… That’ proof of what we overcame. Right?

Bruce’s smile looked kinda uncomfortable in that stony face of his, but warm all the same. His hand left Tim’s arm to tussle his hair a bit, careful to not unbalance him.

-When did you became the wisest of my children?

A crash came from inside the room, startling them both.

-TODD YOU…!

-DAMIAN NO! JASON PUT DOWN THE CHAIR! DON’T MAKE ME CALL ALFRED!

-C’ME AT ME, MIDGET!

-ALFIEEEE!!!

-Bruce…

-Yes?

-I’m the only wise child you have.

#My writing #tim drake #red robin #Batfamily Fanfic #batfamily #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #recovery #tw: injury #family bonding #gift to babe

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watchtheworldargue · 4 years

Photo

egg magazine, april 1990. interview with Michael Hutchence

transcription below :)

Michael Hutchence on Lower Broadway

By Hal Rubenstein \ Photography by Steven Meisel

Globe-hopping is hell on a wardrobe and hard on the feet. Sometimes you have to get out of the limo to spend your money.

Michael Hutchence rarely comes to New York without luggage monogrammed INXS or Max Q, so one would think that on a visit without portfolio, the last thing he'd want to do is add on more baggage. But given a free day, a book of tickets, and our offer to go anywhere to do anything, Hutchence got into the limo with an agenda we could hardly call a new sensation. What kept us from sulking was that he hadn't left the devil outside.

Michael: You think we can load this car up with Yamamoto, Comme des Garcons, and Armani by 6?

Hal: Driver, step on it. Down to Grand and make a left.

[The car turns onto Union Square West.]

Isn't there a club on the corner here?

The Underground.

That's the one that keeps surviving regardless of how many people get shot there. How many are they up to?

No one's quite sure.

Where are we now? I don't recognise this.

This strip of lower Broadway didn't exist last time you were here. Now it's like a mall-less town's Main Street.

And Tower Records is City Hall. Not bad. It's wild to see this much activity because people around the world now talk about New York in terms of decay, how New York is such a rude place, and we keep telling them, No, New Yorkers are quite friendly, we like it there. New Yorkers are just very honest. They don't have time to bullshit. I like New York because people are linked to each other. L.A. Is fun, but segregated. Here there is a metro, and a different philosophy of getting around so there's rich upon poor upon rich. The only thing I don't remember is how many homeless are asleep on Park Avenue and everywhere else. Or is it my imagination?

No, it's real. How come you choose to live in Hong Kong instead of Australia?

For about three years, I thought it didn't matter where I lived. But I kept passing through it again. I grew up there, from when I was four until twelve. My dad still lives there. It has great energy, like New York. And it's ten hours closer to the world than Australia is. If you travel a lot, it adds up.

[We enter the Yohji Yamamoto store.]

So austere. Do they go wild if you hand back anything wrinkled? Those clothes over there are good acid-house colors. Has acid house caught on here?

Not like in England.

That's 'cause New York has bad radio. Are these dogs always here? They must sleep in the shoes. Ooh, look at these here. Not very me, but very Star Trek. $500 for a T-shirt. I see. I'll buy six. No, twelve. Now, here is something very stagy. Ultraflouncy. I like that, but the general consensus might kill my career.

Is what you wear onstage the same as you wear off?

I sort of smush them all together. My favorite piece of clothing is a leather jacket I had made for me that says “Hutch” in chain mail on the back.

Did Michael Schmidt make it for you?

Yeah – how'd you know? He's great. He sort of looks like a beautiful snake. He loves all the Hollywood stuff, but he's so sincere when he talks about it. Almost makes me like it. Is there somewhere funkier we can go, like Yankel's House of Pile? I saw that on the way down.

If you want old clothes, we should go to Cheap Jack's.

[We head back up to Broadway and 13th Street. Several young ladies on the corner stare at Hutchence as he enters Cheap Jack's.]

Do you enjoy recognition?

Depends on where I am.

Like when you're out on your own. Shopping, for instance.

Shopping, yeah, 'cause I get discounts. And there is a definite bonus to recognition when I'm onstage.

It makes the night go faster. But I'm not an institution yet. Sometimes I think about how hard it must be for someone like Bob Hope to go for a stroll. I don't really get hassled. I can stand in the middle of a street in London, or even New York, and usually nothing happens. I don't think I have that distinctive of a face. I got recognized in Tangier once, going by in a taxi, very fast … from a distance … in a fog … during monsoon season. Just kidding. It's odd how once you are conscious of being watched, you stop being so self-conscious because you realize there's nothing you can do about it. Of course, nobody in Hong Kong gives a shit who I am.

Aren't people there freaking about the city's eventual realignment with China?

Thousands are leaving a year, but they're the ones who can afford to leave, to give Australia half a million to let them in, though a lot more are going to Vancouver or New Zealand instead because they've heard, and it's fairly true, about Australia's racism.

It's actually more like unconscious racism. There's a naivete to it that you might call charming if it wasn't so sick. See, most foreigners don't realize – because we refuse to believe it ourselves – that Australia is southern Asia. Australia is linked to England in everyone's minds.

Yet most Australians don't have the faintest idea why the Japanese tried to invade us during the Second World War, and can't understand why they might not have wanted any foreigners on the biggest island in the Asian paradise. If we had lost, my home would be covered in rice paddies by now. Australia would have been Japan's Great Plains, their grain barrel.

I've never met one Australian who knows that. We have it so easy in Australia. It's very easy to live there. Tougher than it was before, but that's because five years ago it was ridiculous. I used to live in a three-story, five-bedroom house. It cost me $20 a week.

Did you make that much playing music?

Nah, but so what, we were all on the dole. Everyone went on it. That's one of the reasons you have so many bands in Australia. It's cheap to live and collect, so all the bands go on it. You wouldn't even have to go pick up your employment check; they'd mail it to you or transfer it to your account. Ready cash. I guess because there is such an anti-authoritarian vibe in Australia that people are quite happy to accept government checks. “Aw, screw 'em” - that's the attitude. Lots of people accept four and five checks or even have jobs. It's very lax. That's why we're stuck with the tall-poppy syndrome.

Translation?

Don't be successful, don't rise above your mates, or you'll get chopped. It's weird. It's the don't-leave-the-pub way of life. I think people in America are generally happy for someone's good fortune; they know how to let themselves go. In Australia, they go, “Good, mate,” and don't ask a single question. There are no celebrations for a job well done. I'm still shocked at how Americans cheer you on when they like you. I know you don't fancy it anymore, but I like phrases like “dress for success.”

And that's why you're shopping here?

I love hideous ties. Girls love 'em. Dunno why. Its like red socks. Are the playing Richard Hell? I haven't heard this song in 20 years. God, you must hear better music in clothing stores than you do anywhere else in New York. All these baseball jackets are so cheap. You know what they pay for these in Australia? I should buy the whole lot, take them back. I'd never have to tour again. I could get 150 to 200 bucks just for the ratty ones. I think this is the first clothing store I've been in that wasn't playing videos.

Are videos big in Australia?

We've actually been involved in music video a whole lot longer than in America. Because we are so far away, the only way we've had to understand all this music flying around the world is through video. Since the '50s, even when it was only 10 minutes a week, Aussie tv has been showing music videos.

And we don't censor the way you guys do. The “Way of the World” single is a very serious song, but MTV is quite shy of the video, you should note – I say this diplomatically. They censor here for all the wrong reasons. Like it's okay to stare at Cher's crotch for four minutes, but it's hard to say something truthful about the state of the world.

Could it be because with a group that's become as wildly successful as INXS has, it's inevitable that favorable reaction always turns?

I don't think INXS has reached that point yet. Give us four more years. We've only recently become hip in England. At the beginning, they hated our guts.

Why?

'Cause we are Australians writing pop music, why else? They don't make much in England, apart from nice jumpers and Jaguars, and one of the few things they can claim some turf on is pop music. So, they're not happy when someone else does it. It's a standard trait of island people; they're very territorial.

But you guys are island people too.

Yeah, but we got a bigger island. Now, if we can just get rid of some competition from the expatriate colonies.

Isn't it enough already with this rivalry between Australia and England? L.A. And New York have settled their feud.

England still treats Australia like we're descendants of convicts. Well, I guess we are, aren't we? We're trying to get rid of them, but unfortunately, they're coming back with money and buying up half the country. Don't you resent the Japanese buying Rockefeller Center?

I resent the Rockefellers more.

[Having tried on everything and bought nothing, Hutchence decides against old clothes. We head down to If boutique.]

Armand Basi. Nice stuff. That Claude Montana is fabulous, but God, this stuff is expensive. We don't know anyone here for a discount, do we? My father used to design clothes for a shop in Hong Kong called Dynasty. Glitzy evening wear for too much money. One year, when we did our first tour, we bough ta lot of Sprouse, real colorful stuff, and we spent a fortune, especially when you consider it's disposable fashion. All it had to do was last a month. All the buttons fell off, it shrunk, seams opened up. We would have been more upset, but it made us homesick for the mother country. Disposable fashion is very English. The nice thing about it when it comes from there, however, is that even though the stuff falls apart, it's cheap.

Ah, I like this. Very sexy, very smart. Basi, right? I found the best underwear. I think it's called Nikos. Someone gave it to me last night. Well, that's a plug. No names, please. These pants might go with the Basi shirt. [Like Navy pants, they have over a dozen buttons instead of a fly.] Not good clubwear. Certainly not quick enough to please me.

Your choice of underwear would have to be very discreet.

And always clean. Maybe these pants come with a catheter. Should I ask the shopgirl? [He raises his arm to call her and, wincing, puts it down.]

Just realized a colostomy bag wouldn't hurt?

No. I think I have a cracked rib, from too much fun the other night at Inflation, this super club in Melbourne. Melbourne has some of the best clubs in the world. Great people. Amazing clubs. Sydney has nothing. Boring as hell. Nice place if you're a surfer. Really pretty, like L.A. But very corrupt, Sydney. Everyone is always paying everyone off. That's why you can't afford to do a club there. It's like, in order to get a club license, all the other nightclub owners have to agree to your having a license. And four people control the voting on that. Melbourne now has a club called Razor that is so exciting. It used to an automobile club, especially popular during the '50s, where people used to talk about their cars, you know, with photos of Mini-Minors making hairpin turns around corners. Like a racing club, I guess, except for slower cars. Razor gets the best people.

[He picks up a pair of huge, get-lost-in-the-rain-forest-and-survive black shoes and delights.]

Many people have shoe fetishes. I guess it's around the world actually, not just with Imelda. I think people are probably just jealous of her because they secretly wanted so many pair. But these are big, like size big. Are Americans getting larger feet, or do they just want more room? I always notice shoes when I'm here.

There's almost like a $100 tax on shoes in Australia. Like a pair that will cost you $50 here will cost you almost $200 in Australia. A pair of Levi's cost $100. I never buy furniture in Australia, either, and I have an obsession with furniture the way Americans love shoes. It's a shame I don't have an obsession with homes, too, since I have no place to put all the furniture. I have it stored all over the world.

Let me get the Basi shirt, and then I want to buy records. I would get them later, but I just remembered I have a friend coming in tonight for only one night. He and his father are trying to get down to Nicaragua. They're helping Ortega keep the Contras back. Good luck. What's so weird about their going is that these guys are publishing magnates in England. Entrepreneurs. They should be serious Thatcherites, but they just hate Thatcher. Real lefties.

If everyone is so vocal of their dislike of her, how come she's so strong?

The British love her because they love to be miserable; they love to complain. Thatcher's become irrepressible. She's finally showing signs of faltering, except she's winning by default, because no one wants to put Kinnock in, either. It's like your Dan Quayle. What an alternative.

Are Australians political?

It's compulsory to vote, if you want to call that political. Frankly, nobody particularly gives a fuck. That doesn't mean Australians are not aware people. I think they know more about what's going on in the rest of the world than the average American, but that's because they have to compensate for being in the middle of nowhere. They're more concerned about international politics, about the environment. Every time the Americans come into Sydney harbor with their nuclear ships and submarines, there's always 5,000 people telling them to fuck off.

But the hell with domestic politics?

Do you know anything about our system? It's built on a bickering sort of war. The front page is always about politicos throwing shit at each other, spending more time insulting each other than governing.

Mind you, they are really very good at it. It's a fine Australian tradition of political insult. Listening to parliament is hilarious - “Shut up, you bastard!” - and that's our prime minister, Bob Hawke. He's in the Guinness Book of World Records for having drunk a yard of beer in record time. He is actually a brilliant leader, a Rhodes scholar at Oxford, and he has done a bloody good job, considering the apathy he's up against. What he should be real pleased about its restoring pride in being Australian, particularly after all that nonsense when the governor general dismissed Prime Minister Whitlam in 1975.

How was that possible without the consent of the Australian parliament?

We're still a colony. I think a lot of us were cynical after that. They felt like puppets. Probably had something to do with the CIA. The good old CIA. I'm in their files, I found out. That they should waste their time on me. I'm listed as subversive, for my lyrics to “Guns in the Sky” and because I once threw condoms out to the audience in Northern Australia.

How is that subversive?

The more north you get in Australia, the more it is like the South in America. The man who ran Queensland, one of the biggest states in Australia, was this guy, Joh Peterson, who was in power for over 20 years. Peterson was this sort of South African leftover who arrived in Australia, and he made things illegal, like sex education, abortion, condoms to minors – you couldn't have the vending machines in clubs. [You can now.] Well, I slandered him, and so I got taken to court, where he was thrown out of office from the corruption uncovered during the proceedings.

Did that make you a hero down there?

Say what, mate? This is Australia, remember. Our heroes are bushrangers, outlaws, and sporting stars. If you're an athlete, you can get away with anything.

[Hutchence purchases the Basi shirts, and then we head to Tower Records at the corner. A street person approaches us.]

is this the official mugging committee?

Street person: “Ooh, ooh, here they come in their limo, straight from Saks Fifth Avenue. Board of directors, how you doing, moneys, you big-time decision makers. Uh-oh, who's you? You must be a rock man. Stand aside for the rock man.”

They always pick on me.

“I want to give you something, man. Some humility. But there's only enough for one.”

I don't care for some, but humility is something we can spread around.

“Hey man, this is for seriously. You will love this humility. No side effects, no speed. Say yes, and I can be back in an hour.”

[We go through the revolving door and right to the rock section; within three minutes, Max Q is playing on the system.]

That's good, somebody knows it's out.

[Hutchence buys albums by Ciccone Youth, Camper Van Beethoven, Soul II Soul, Grace Jones, Shakespear's Sister, Jesus and Mary Chain, and Suicidal Tendencies. As he is paying for them, he spots a postcard stand that features a picture of him.]

Holy shit. When did they take this thing? What a bizarre likeness. I hardly know this guy. This is not an approved photo. [He gets the attention of a young lady behind the counter.] Excuse me, please, this is not an approved photo. It's a pirate. Do you know where you get these from?

Salesgirl: “No idea.”

Can you find out?

“Why, do you want to buy a lot of them?”

See, I told you no one recognizes me.

[We walk outside and the street person comes up to him again.]

Street person: “I know who you are.”

Who am I?

“You are someone who's gonna give me a lot of money.”

How much you want?

“Just give me one of those bills, thank you. Now I'm officially your biggest fan. Just tell me what you want to buy.”

I must be dressed for success.

#inxs #michael hutchence #egg magazine #salesgirl's answers are perfect lol why would she know that hutch #maybe these pants come with a catheter #what kinda pants......#long post #tagging that in case read more doesn't work on mobile idk #collection

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talonoa · 3 years

Text

Talonoa Thursday, Pre-battle

“Commander Dal’shula.” The Sin’dorei Argent immediately straightened and saluted.

Talon returned the salute, offering a rare, warm smile towards the younger man; one he had trained himself what felt like a lifetime ago. “At ease, Lieutenant Nor’thus. It’s been years, you can just call me Talon now.”

The Lieutenant eyed Talon over, looking both concerned and curious at the same time but didn’t voice his obvious thoughts. Talonoa knew he looked much different now than he did when he was a part of the Argent Crusade. Back then he had a strong connection to the Light. But now? Things had vastly changed in his life.

After the loss of his family, he had lost his faith in the Light and it left him. Then after making a deal with quite possibly the literal devil, Talon had become something else, someone else. Someone much more powerful than he ever used to be. The pros were stacking: He no longer had the need to eat, drink, or even sleep. Then there was his most recent discovery; the undead completely ignored his presence, as if he were one of their own. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t going to complain. The cons would come eventually.

There was no time to catch up, the influx of infected had sparked the return of the Argents and some of the general military troops to defend the city. “We know you’ve been doing great work at the rear gate with your crew, but you know better than any of us that it’s been getting worse and worse. We need you outside the gates with us to hold off the attacks while the barricades are fortified.”

“We’ll be there.” Talon had faith in this group after they managed to hold off the attack at the Crossroads. Thankfully there were no frostwyrms here yet, but these zombies had no sense of self-preservation and would swarm en masse.

“Thank you, Comman-, Tal-, Commander Dal’shula.” The young Lieutenant settled on this way of addressing him, it felt too weird to to call him anything else. Salutes were given once more, and the two parted ways.

Talon rushed back towards their camp, speaking hastily into his comm, “Stellan, get everyone ready, we’re going to aid in holding the rear gates.”

Dicenne Thursday, Start of battle

Already in full gear and stationed near the rear gates, Dicenne was about an hour into his rotation when the orders came through. He clicked his earpiece, “Copy that, I’ll help clear a path.” The infected had been trickling through for days now, but with the help of the Argents and the military, they could finally block them off for good and hopefully allow the crew some much needed rest.

Not many realized that Dicenne had spent a large chunk of his life serving in the military, and had even become an officer early in his career. He was well on his way to becoming a General, as was his goal at the time. However, life could change at the drop of a copper. The day his wife and son died, everything else in his world was turned upside down and he ended up parting ways with the military. Now, needless to say, anytime there was a threat to his loved ones, he felt the urge to help.

Much like his father, he didn’t possess any sort of magic. At least not in the way most thought of when the term ‘magic’ was mentioned. A lot of the time his power and endurance was chalked up to his size and his ridiculous work-out regime, but it was much more than that. An innate trait from the Amberlight side of the family, whether it was magical in nature or something else, Dicenne was gifted with incredible strength, nearly endless stamina, and inexplicably tough skin while in the midst of battle. These attributes served him well in the military, and landed him on the front lines of most battles. The tattoos didn’t come until after his time in the military, and they weren’t just for looks; they amplified those inherent traits.

In other words, he had become something of an unstoppable force. Give him a shield and a sword, and get out of his way.

The zombies clearly did not get that memo. The large Sin’dorei stabbed his sword through the eye socket of one infected while his shield made contact with two more, sending them flying towards the canyon wall and smashing into it with a sickening crunch. He advanced without stopping, practically steamrolling his way through the remaining infected until he stepped outside the arch of the rear gate. Sharing a quick glance with those close by, he couldn’t hide the growing smirk. He was definitely in his element.

Xylaes Thursday, Post-battle

The moment the blockade was in place and the ‘all clear’ was given, Xylaes sank down to his knees and dropped his blades to the ground. It was amazing how the exhaustion overwhelmed the moment the battle ended. His arms and legs felt like jelly and the bruises were beginning to make their appearance known.

Then there was a matter of the zombie bite on his left bicep. Fio wasn’t accustomed to this sort of battle; where you had to be constantly aware of what was going on around you in every direction. It could be disorienting, especially when having to deal with multiple threats at once. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the ghoul grab her and in a flash he put himself between her and gnashing teeth. He wasn’t trying to get bit, the ripping of flesh by mostly blunt teeth was not a pleasant feeling. Better him than her.

Given the magical properties of the infection, he had theorized that should he get bit, he wouldn’t turn. Having complete immunity to magic had its upsides, hopefully this would be one of those. After hurrying Fio to safety, he gave Stellan a private message before returning to the field of battle. If he showed signs of starting to turn, he wanted the older man to shoot him in the head before he could harm anyone else. As close as the two were, he knew Stellan would do it in a heartbeat. He was one of the best sharpshooters Xylaes knew; the shot would be clean and efficient. Thankfully, that didn’t need to happen.

He looked at the soaked bandage covering his bicep, by this point blood was dripping down his arm and into his gauntlet. That would probably need stitches. He was afraid to remove the rest of his armor, it had been a brutal and physical fight and he knew all the bruising was going to make one hell of a color palette all over his body. Not to mention the blisters on his hands, he could already tell those were going to be awful. No simple fixes now, magical healing would do absolutely nothing. He would have to rely on natural methods, potions, and salves; which thankfully they had plenty of.

He made his way to the top of the tower to join the rest of the bone-weary crew and eventually allowed his wounds to be tended to while eagerly helping himself to some much needed whiskey.

“Glad I didn’t have to shoot you in the head, Qin’oril.” Stellan shot his friend a knowing smirk.

“Not out of the woods just yet, better keep that gun handy.” Xylaes returned the expression, even tossing in a wink.

So they may have been a bit dark for some, but as Stellan said, ‘After being in the military for so long, you develop a morbid sense of humor to cope.’ When you come face to face with your own mortality as many times as Xylaes had, you learn to make a joke of it. It would catch up, eventually.

For now, the crew could rest. It was a small victory, but one worth celebrating.

@inistellan @fio-renze

#story #merc crew #my writing #talonoa #dicenne #xylaes

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Devil’s Backbone - Chapter 21

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, dubcon in earlier chapters)

Chapter Warnings: Violence, death, blood, self-dehumanization

Word Count: 2.4k

AO3

Bucky dragged himself out of the flaming wreckage that used to be the Quinjet he’d been piloting. Black smoke trailed from the ignited engines, obscuring his vision and making his lungs twinge with agitation.

For once, he wished he had that smothering muzzle HYDRA had forced him to wear.

As soon as his boots hit the Helicarrier runway, Insight crewmembers began to fire on him. Word must have spread he was no longer on their side. Bucky ducked back behind the smoldering Quinjet and pulled the grenade launcher from his back.

He slipped out from behind cover and fired, causing the huddled agents to disappear in a shockwave of force. It was all too easy to slip back into the other part of him. The one that killed and maimed and destroyed, all for the mission.

The mission might have changed. His tactics had not.

The airstrip was cleared of enemies before he had even emptied his clip. The smell of blood and gunpowder should have turned his stomach with disgust. The screams of the dying should have horrified him. He knew these were the normal responses, but he felt nothing, his mind singularly focused on his goal.

The weapon that HYDRA had created was still close to the surface, and he would use it to his advantage.

“Alpha lock,” Rogers said over the comm channel. Wilson had already taken care of the Bravo lock. Bucky had blown a hole into the side of the bridge dome to give him access right after he had shot down the Quinjet chasing the flyer.

Bucky had felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction from being able to help his new comrades, especially when Wilson had yelled, “Thanks, man! You’re all right.” High praise considering the last time they’d met, Bucky had ripped the steering column out of his car and Wilson had dive-bombed him with a boot across the head.

Bucky knew he was far from redemption, but he was grateful he had the opportunity to undo some of the damage he had wrought. The last targeting module was up to him, and the sooner he set it in place, the sooner the Helicarriers could be destroyed. Only then would Williams would be safe; Bucky had no doubt she would be on Project Insight’s assassination list, or soon would be if HYDRA decided she wasn’t worth the effort to recapture.

“Charlie carrier is the last one left,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say in his earpiece. “Six minutes.”

“I’m onboard,” Bucky informed the woman, assuming she was an ally of Rogers’. “The Quinjet was destroyed, so I’ll need a new exit strategy.”

Bucky ducked back out of a doorway as bullets rang off the metal next to his head. He pulled a grenade from the back of his belt and tossed it inside. The resounded explosion silenced the gunfire.

He kept moving.

“I’m heading to the control hub now. But HYDRA figured out what we’re doing and they’re going to do everything they can to protect the carriers.”

“We’ll come to you!” Rogers yelled, sounding as if he was in the middle of a fight himself. Bucky didn’t think he would make it in time, but that didn’t worry him. He would have the targeting module inserted within six minutes. That’s what mattered, not Bucky’s extraction plan.

“I’m gonna need some help!”

Williams’ voice in his ear, frayed and on the edge of panic, broke his steady stride. His singular focused slip and he came to a standstill, torn between two directives.

The mission or his S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“On my way!” Samuel Wilson yelled in return. “I got you!”

Bucky released a held breath. Gunfire erupted. He blinked, too slow to step aside, and several rounds hit him in the torso.

Grunting, Bucky pulled up his carbine and shot the STRIKE member in the neck. Before he hit the ground Bucky shot another in the chest, and then another in the head. He cleared out the entire front entryway before stopping to assess the damage, leaning against the wall and lifting up the edge of his vest.

The tac suit had deflected the small caliber ammunition, but he could feel tacky blood under the vest from where the bullet impacts had ripped open his old gunshot wounds. Even now, he could see it start to seep out from under the thick fiber. She was going to be pissed at him.

A small smile curled on his lips. His agent had different shades of anger for different circumstances, and there was one in particular that made him feel, well… something. It was the one where she wore the mask of stern annoyance to hide her concern. He had first seen it in the prison yard when she had been trying to protect him. To save him. It had pulled at a thread within him, unraveling a tight coil around his mind. His thoughts had come easier after that.

She had done that for him, and now he was stuck on the carrier, unable to protect her. Bucky listened at the banter exchanged between his agent and Wilson. It came easily, friendly almost, and his throat felt oddly tight. He had a strange feeling, like he was looking in from the outside at something he could never have himself.

Bucky forced himself to focus and brought his mind back to the present. He held his hand to his side and pressed down, hoping to stop the bleeding before it leaked down his pants again. The last thing he needed was to slip in a pool of his own blood at a crucial moment.

“Bucky, where are you?” Rogers, again.

He pushed off from the wall and grunted at the pain that flared throughout his left side. He had to keep moving.

“I’m almost… to the bridge.” Bucky winced as he reached over his shoulder and pulled the machine pistol from the harness on his back. He discarded the rifle, nearly out of ammo. “Ran into some more resistance.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. “Is it your injuries? I told you it was too soon.”

He pressed his lips together. She was too observant for her own good.

“Goddamnit, Bucky.”

He opened his mouth to respond but kept silent, wincing as he felt the surgical glue on his leg wound break apart. Warm blood trickled down his outer thigh, doing exactly what he had feared would happen.

“They’re fine,” he said with a tightening jaw. He didn’t enjoy lying to her, though he did like the way she was concerned over him. He was stronger, faster, and could take a lot of damage that could easily kill her, and yet she was constantly trying to put herself between him and the threats, as if she was invincible and he was the breakable one.

He didn’t know what the feeling was, but it made his chest warm and his stomach tingle strangely. It was also distracting, and he made an effort to ignore the responses of his body. Distractions led to failure, he knew that.

“Almost there,” he announced. The bridge was straight ahead and he had a clear shot.

“Wait,” Rogers protested, “I can catch up to you. We can do it together.”

“Not enough time.” He didn’t see a point in denying it. Why were they so concerned with meeting him at the last target? Did they think he couldn’t do it on his own? No, more likely, they didn’t think he could really be trusted with such an important mission. He couldn’t blame them, not after everything he’d done.

“Hey, man,” Wilson responded in a low tone. “No need for any of that. We can all get out of this alive.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His status at the end of the mission was irrelevant as long as he completed the objective. He walked forward into the glass dome.

On the catwalk his boots caused the metal to creak and jolt to announce his presence. Three STRIKE members were waiting behind the control console, but he was ready for them. As they fired on him, he brought up his metal arm and deflected the bullets, sending them ricocheting across the room.

Bucky didn’t fire on them—he couldn’t without risking damage to the control hub. So he stalked forward at a rapid pace, keeping up his arm as a shield.

They had nowhere to go, trapped in the center of the glass dome, and once he rounded the corner he fired on them. Point blank range. He kicked aside the first body and pistol-whipped the second soldier. He grabbed him with his metal arm and spun him around, holding him as a living shield when the third soldier fired. The bullets impacted his teammate’s body, and Bucky threw him forward, hard enough to force them both off the platform.

Bucky peered down, saw the third man broken but still moving, lying against the glass dome as blood pooled around him.

He pointed the pistol downward and fired two shots. The man stopped moving.

“The mission is what matters,” Bucky replied in a flat tone. He felt unusually cold.

“Damnit, Buck, just wait!” Rogers shouted. “I’m not going to lose you again!”

“I have to make this right.”

He would. Bucky owed it to her. He knew he should have been doing it for the people he hurt and the lives he took, but he couldn’t feel them yet. There was no impact from the things he was beginning to remember having done under orders. Maybe that would change, but for now, all he wanted to do was protect her. Act like the person she thought he was.

The war hero in the pamphlet.

Bucky turned toward the center console.

“One minute,” announced the woman, Agent Hill, over his comm. He had to do it now.

Bucky pressed the button to lower the chip carousel. He pulled and tossed the old one and reached into the padded pouch on his belt.

Two shots rang out at the same instance he felt brutal impacts slam into his back. High caliber ammunition. They had gone through this time.

His hands dropped to his sides and he pulled out the dual pistols, spinning around and slamming his back into the console as he fired. The STRIKE soldier in front fell sideways off the railing, his heavy rifle going with him. The crewmembers behind him were exposed, barely a threat even as they raised their pistols towards him. The Insight pilots weren’t well-trained or disciplined like STRIKE—they had crowded onto the catwalk in a line, setting them up to be taken down with the ease of a carnival game. He cleared out all five of them before they could fire another shot.

Once the last of the enemy had fallen, Bucky’s footing slipped and he sagged to the ground. He reached back to the pouch, his breaths harsh and uneven. The pain was enormous and difficult to compartmentalize. He knew that was a bad sign.

Bucky wasn’t getting out of here, but he would complete the mission.

“Thirty seconds!” Hill shouted.

He dragged himself up the console, struggling to breathe through the throbbing agony of his back. Bucky caught the edge with his right hand but his fingers lost their grip on the edge, slippery with his own blood. He snarled and replaced his right hand with his left, hooking the metal fingers in. He pulled himself up, the servos in his arm whirring at the strain of lifting his dead weight.

Bucky reached into the pouch. Grabbed the chip in his blood-slicked fingers. Raised it. And inserted it into place.

“Charlie… lock,” he gasped. Bucky stumbled as his legs lost strength and he sunk back down onto the metal platform.

“Okay, get out of there,” Hill instructed him. Even over the comm he could hear how tense she was. It must have been close.

“Fire,” Bucky said. Each drawn breath was shallow, the back of his head against the cool metal soothing through the heat along his spine.

“But you’re not clear—“

“Do it now.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. He knew she would do what had to be done. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were capable, more so than he ever could have anticipated. Fortunately, HYDRA had underestimated them as well, and it would ultimately lead to their downfall.

“Agent… Williams.” He spoke her name with a slight quiver. He wanted to say… something. He wasn’t sure what. He just needed to hear her voice while there was still time.

The voice that finally responded wasn’t hers. It was Hill’s.

“She turned off her earpiece.”

Fear roiled through his gut like a wave.

“Rumlow.” He paused to gasp for air, gritting out the words. “One of you must get to her. She cannot fall into HYDRA hands again! Please!”

Wilson cursed loudly. “I shouldn’t have let her go alone. Shit, shit! Okay. I’m flying around the building now, but I don’t see her yet.”

Bucky closed his eyes, forcing down the lump in his throat. If Rumlow got to her… The bastard must have known what the Director had planned for Williams. Bucky felt a tide of fear followed by revulsion and disgust. The things HYDRA had planned for her, for both of them—

He opened his eyes as he heard heavy footsteps jogging onto the catwalk. He looked up and blinked several times, disbelieving. Steve Rogers stood across from him, his blue eyes wide as he took in Bucky’s position on the floor.

“Buck,” Rogers said in a soft, almost inaudible whisper. Bucky heard it, even over the sound of the engines and machinery, and it filled him with an emotion he couldn’t identify. He had heard the term bittersweet somewhere. It felt how that would taste. Sadness and joy.

Rogers gave a frantic shout of “Buck, hold on!” and bolted towards him, grabbing onto the railing to leap over the bodies piled on the walkway.

He got halfway across the catwalk when the carrier gave a hard shudder as Bucky heard the impact of long-range cannons. The walkway shifted and violently broke in half.

Rogers grabbed on to the railing as his feet went out from under him, but Bucky didn’t have a chance. He scrambled for purchase, his titanium fingers digging grooves into the metal flooring, but the platform tipped downward and he slid toward acrid smoke and raging fire.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #reader fanfiction #steve rogers #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier fanficton #marvel fanfiction #devil's backbone #my writing #my fanfiction #captain america the winter soldier #project insight #hydra #strike team

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Makes Me Wonder (Biadore)- Ortega

a/n: hey hey! happy holidays. i thought i’d write a lil somethin to get me back into the swing of writing since i’ve had a couple months off. it’s an idea i’ve had running around my head for a good good while, at least a year, and now it’s finally down so pls let me know what you think! this is set within the Just the Game We’re In universe but can absolutely be read standalone. title from the song of the same name by Ella Mai which really sums up what this fic is all about (issa vibe). is it too early for a new years’ eve fic? have it anyway, ya filthy animals xo

summary: Adore is a civil service comms girl in a government department who’s meant to be out with her friends. Bianca is the director of communications for the entire country’s government about twenty ranks above her who has no plans for the night other than getting the Prime Minister out of trouble. Tonight, they’re two women sharing a bottle of prosecco in an office high above the city on the last night of the year.

***

It’s eleven at night, and the glass frontage of the offices makes all the darkness flood in. Too high for the reach of the streetlamps, Bianca can see the tiny twinkly lights of the city below in the distance. From the position of the building most of London’s landmarks are hidden from view: the Eye, St Paul’s Cathedral, she knows that the Houses of Parliament are on the other side of the building, not that she’d want to see them. Bianca doesn’t mind. She became disillusioned with London in 2008, when she was presented with her third Prime Minister that didn’t have a clue what he was doing and it slowly dawned on her that maybe all you needed to get ahead in politics was a dick and a Ted Baker suit. Or to be a dick in a Ted Baker suit.

And now here she is running after yet another enormous man-child, pre-emptively doing a mop-up job that she knows she will be tasked with when government returns in the New Year. She knows that a supposedly off-the-record journalist ambushed him at a New Years’ Eve party about an hour ago, asked him something about immigration figures that if he didn’t know sober he’d know even less after six sherries, so Bianca knows that all the papers will be primed to really go in on that subject next time they have a chance. She needs a file, she knows exactly the one- a huge blue lever arch with all the figures needed to sound like the government expert on immigration. It would’ve helped if the actual government expert on immigration was in the country, but the Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (or DoSac, as those in Westminster called it) Sharon Needles is still in Spain with her family and her wife, coincidentally the second government expert on immigration by proxy. Bianca shakes her head derisively as she makes her way to the lightswitch. What the hell is Sharon thinking, swanning off on holiday at a time like this? Alaska’s no better, she knows there’s going to be an election in Scotland in six months’ time and whether they give a shit or not they still have to make the party seem likeable down in London and that’s her job as an MP. Bianca had heard it all from Sharon, “it’s Christmas for Christ’s sake Bianca, I’m not asking for a week in Amsterdam during a reshuffle”, and she likes the fucking woman so she’d let her, but one of her parting comments still stings, “I don’t think you got enough cuddles as a child”. Bianca had wanted to snap at her that her childhood had been fine, it was her adulthood she needed to worry about. She brings her thumb up to her palm and touches the bottom of the fourth finger on her left hand self-consciously. It’s been…God, twelve years now. There can’t still be a dent. Perhaps Bianca is imagining it.

Bianca imagines a lot of things.

Blinking as if to hit refresh on her mind, she flicks the lightswitch and is surprised when she hears a thud and an “owch” come from underneath one of the desks in the department. Narrowing her eyes, she casts a glance over the huge room. There are Willam and Courtney’s desks, both with photos of them at Sharon and Alaska’s wedding on each. Blair’s is chaotically tidy, piles and piles of documents that Bianca knows all have their place. Violet’s and Jinkx’s, both neat and orderly, and then Bianca’s gaze sweeps quickly over Trixie and Katya’s desks to come to rest on a huge pair of hazel eyes blinking at her with wide-eyed surprise. Bianca is disarmed, only able to blink back at her in a way she hopes is intimidating and not intimidated.

“Bianca!” Adore gasps, sounding shocked as she rises from behind her desk. This reveals a black sparkly lace and velvet dress with beads and sequins threaded all over it, so much so that it looks as if Adore is dressed in the night sky. Bianca elects not to speak, scared in case she tries and nothing comes out. She maintains her stare instead. Adore’s red lips, set in an O of surprise, start to move. “Fuck, I’m sorry…I was out in my heels and never had flats with me and I knew I had my work boots under my desk so I just got an uber here and the place was still open and, uh…yeah. Sorry for saying fuck.”

Bianca cracks a small smile as Adore scrunches her straight dark hair in her hands at the scalp, an embarrassed smile on her own face which turns into an awkward bite of her lip. She’s beautiful. Bianca’s always thought so, in the same way she can admire a bouquet of flowers or a sunset or a member of the opposition getting absolutely annihilated in a debate. Adore is beautiful, and that’s just a fact. Nothing more. It doesn’t need to be anything more than that.

Bianca sometimes wonders, though.

“Uh, how come you’re here? Busiest woman in Westminster, you don’t have, like…some sort of New Years’ Eve party with the Prime Minister and all the cabinet and…stuff?” Adore concludes sheepishly, scuffing her foot across the floor in a way Bianca wishes she didn’t find so charming. For her part, Bianca narrows her eyes.

“For your information, I’m trying to find a file,” she rolls her eyes, walking past the comms girl and trying not to inhale too much of the perfume she’s wearing that smells all too much of candyfloss and jellybeans. It shouldn’t smell as nice as it does.

“Government secrets. You’re gonna kill someone,” Adore nodded, following Bianca over to the filing cabinet, crossing her arms and resting them on the top.

“You, if I’m lucky,” Bianca keeps up pretences and pretends that Adore is too young, too silly and idiotic to be worthy of her time. It’s a dance they’ve been doing since Adore started as an intern for Darienne Lake back in the day, back when the whole thing had some integrity and Bianca genuinely held more contempt for Adore than a smear of shit on her shoe and Adore presumably thought Bianca’s entire personality was modelled on Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. It’s more than that now though. Bianca knows it, Adore knows it. It’s been more than that for a while. Years, definitely. How many, Bianca doesn’t know. Certainly since Adore had been dating that journalist Laila McQueen who ended up breaking her heart and very nearly brought the department down with all the secrets Adore had inadvertently leaked to her. Since Adore had found love in a new relationship with a girl from the hospital coffee shop, when Adore had been telling the rest of the civil service girls about her and had stopped when she caught sight of Bianca walking in, her excited face faltering only a little. It’s definitely been since Bianca, exhausted and caught off guard by a stressful day that happened to fall on an all too painful date (Bianca touches her ring finger again) allowed her shoulders to slump and a tear to fall from her face in an empty room in the DoSac offices. Adore had entered the glass-fronted office, uttered Bianca’s name gently, crossed the room to face her. She’d wordlessly caught the tear with an impossibly gentle acrylic-nailed finger and it had disappeared from her face as if Adore was a magician. Then she’d left, returning with a cup of hot coffee and a touch of Bianca’s hand and vanishing from the empty office as if she’d never been there.

Bianca wonders if it would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been.

“What’s your plan for tonight, anyway? Westminster’s number one Amy Winehouse tribute act,” Bianca continues, frowning as the lever arch file isn’t in the place it should be. She slams shut one drawer and tries the next one down.

“Number one! Fuck, that’s high praise from you. I’m sure you said Courtney was, like, the number fifteen Kylie Minogue tribute,” Bianca hears the smile in Adore’s voice, internally yells at herself as loud as her mind will allow that this is not, not, not flirting.

“Only because I’m hoping you decide to really commit to the gig and overdose over the holidays and I won’t have to see you eating all the croissants meant for Sharon day after day next year,” Bianca raises her eyebrows at her. Completely nukes any hint of anything playful. But of course Adore bulldozes that idea immediately with a huge snort of laughter and a smile that exposes her beautiful teeth, impossibly white given all the smoking she does.

“Huh. So you do notice me,” she ponders, her voice small and tinged with a dangerous hint of curiosity.

“Hard not to with that hideous vocal fry. Helluhhhh, you’re through to Dosac commmmmms?” Bianca mocks, drawing her voice out and allowing herself a grin at the way Adore’s face lights up in a self-deprecating laugh. Bianca, for a moment, truly believes the whole room gets brighter.

“I’m out with the girls,” Adore explains on the tail end of a laugh, finally answering her question. “You’re not having much luck with that file.”

“Listen, Wednesday fucking Addams! Enough sass from you, alright? I can still sack you, holidays or no holidays,” Bianca snaps, not meaning a single word of it. She can practically hear the smug smile of disbelief on Adore’s face. She looks up and sure enough, there it is. “What the fuck’s that look for? You look like the cat that got the cream then ate the shit.”

Adore shrugs lightly. “I just don’t think you’d ever sack me, that’s all. You’re too nice.”

Bianca is knocked for six by the compliment. For a moment, forgets how to react. She straightens up and tries the shelves for the file. “You’ve seen me fire about ten people since you started working here, you’re clearly an idiot with a horrendous judge of character or you’ve got early-onset dementia.”

Adore laughs. “I think I’m both. Although you’re in the dementia pit with me, sister.”

“How fucking dare you, I’m forty two. I’m reporting you for ageism,” Bianca snarls at her, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. Adore shrugs, stretching out against the wall.

“All I’m saying is, I think you’re forgetting I’m one of the only people in the country who’s ever got a Bianca Del Rio apology.”

Bianca shakes her head, tries to ignore how good her name sounds in Adore’s mouth. She remembers that day, remembers it well- absolutely ripping through Adore because she made a mistake and watching her tear up, spending the day being eaten up with regret and then sheepishly going to say sorry at the end of it all, watching her bashful expression become mirrored on Adore’s face as the girl had told her not to worry about it and that these things happen. Bianca looks again at Adore, the playful and lighthearted expression on her face now one of trepidation. Bianca knows what she’s thinking, and she’s wondering if she’s taken the whole thing too far. So Bianca does the only thing she can do at this point in the conversation and turns danger to derision.

“How’s being out with the girls working out for you?”

Adore puffs out a load of air, twirls an end of her long hair around her finger. “Not too well because there’s an old woman with alzheimer’s that I have to look after who’s wandering around the office muttering obscenities at me and searching for a piece of very important government information.”

Adore notes Bianca’s unamused expression and hollers out a laugh, Bianca unable to hold hers in any longer either. Smiling, Adore continues. “At least, that’s what I’ll tell the girls when they ask me why I’m late.”

Bianca sighs, shakes her head in disbelief. “Adore, I’m not going to shout at you if you want to leave. You got what you came here for, so-”

“Oh, I mean, yeah, of course. But winding up my boss’ boss is just as fun, actually is more fun, than sitting in a crowded pub with my friends yelling in my ear because the twelve men out on their Christmas piss-up are singing Fairytale of New York loud enough that their lungs are gonna pop, so…” Adore trailed off, punctuating her sentence with a shrug. She pauses a second. “Hey, what does that file look like?”

“It’s lever arch…blue, really full, probably has bits of paper sticking out of it…Christ, this is the most boring conversation I’ve ever had,” Bianca rubs her face with her hands and forgets there’s makeup on it. Adore laughs, scans the room, then immediately marches over to Courtney’s desk, moves some paper aside and returns with exactly what Bianca had described. Bianca, for her part, is stunned.

“How in the hell did you-”

“Sometimes sitting doing fuck all all day has its uses. Court took the file to update online Census data before she went off for her holidays, tried to get ahead on her work for coming back. I remember ‘cuz she asked me for a cup of tea to get her through it,” Adore smiles, her brazen confidence hidden under a shy smile. Bianca takes it from her and thanks her, regret tingeing her voice as she realises this leaves neither of them with an excuse to be in each others’ company any more.

“You know,” Adore drops into conversation nonchalantly, just as Bianca is about to cut her losses and say goodbye. “If I leave now I probably won’t get an Uber in time for the countdown, and if I do the girls’ll have probably moved on, and, like, the city’s gonna be mobbed…and, uh, there’s a bottle of prosecco that Trixie won in the raffle that she put in the fridge and never took home. So, like, if you want, we could just, uh…have, like, a…”

Bianca tries so, so hard to ignore the way her heart is soaring like a helium balloon. “See in the New Year with a bottle of fizz and a better view of London than half the city’s going to get?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic. “Well, looks like I’ve not got much better to do.”

Bianca doesn’t miss the triumphant smile Adore shoots her way as she dashes off to the tiny office kitchen to grab the promised alcohol. Left to awkwardly shuffle her feet, Bianca decides to cross the office and open the door to the meeting room. The city lights immediately flood her vision as she perches gingerly on the desk in the middle of the room, foregoing the uncomfortable office chairs. As she sits and waits, her mind races in time with her heart. It’s not a big deal, stop reading too much into it. It’s a New Years’ Eve drink with a coworker, people do that all the time at this time of year. Except Bianca knows it’s different, because Adore is not her coworker. She’s her inferior in every way- wage, status, power, everything probably except kindness of heart and beauty. Don’t think about Adore’s beauty.

All of a sudden the office goes dark, as dark as it can with the bright lights and the big city underneath it, and Adore softly pads into the room a few seconds later with two mugs, a bottle, and an excitable grin on her face. “Okay, now it’s actually like we’re in a London Eye pod. Don’t you think?”

“I think the London Eye has proper champagne flutes,” Bianca quips witheringly, hoping it disguises the fact that her heart is beating nearly out of her chest because it’s dark, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and it’s magical, and for now they’re two women drinking prosecco together with no prior agenda or obstacles.

Adore holds out one mug to Bianca. It says “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my second morning coffee!” and for a moment Bianca wants to burst into hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She doesn’t. Instead she smiles slightly as Adore pours the fizz into the mug with all the skill of a toddler, watches as the bubbles climb up to the rim of the porcelain until Bianca has to jump in and inhale them away.

“Wish!” Adore beams excitedly, and Bianca, hunched over the mug, launches her a quizzical look. Adore is patient with her. “You caught the bubbles. Now you make a wish.”

Bianca briefly rolls her eyes, but obediently she squeezes her eyes shut. Wishes for something wildly illogical and fanciful because it wouldn’t be a wish if it wasn’t. Bianca can set goals and achieve them, she’s been doing it all her life. Wishing for something she could easily make come true on her own is a waste of a wish. When she opens her eyes she finds Adore grinning at her moronically.

“What did you wish for?”

Bianca sips a bit more of the bubbles, as if to strengthen the wish. “If I told you that it wouldn’t come true, would it? Is that not how wishes work? Or did they change the contract?”

Adore raises her eyebrows at the woman long-sufferingly, pouring enough prosecco into her own glass that the bubbles spill over and land on her sparkly dress, a splash more constellations added to the night sky. She sips at the popping and fizzing froth on the top of the mug, locks her eyes with Bianca. “I guess we’ll need to wait before we get an answer to that, won’t we?”

Bianca coughs, fixes her eyes on a particularly glittery set of buildings in the distance. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from them as she speaks again. “Where’s, uh. Are you not meant to be with your girlfriend tonight or something?”

“You’re pretty fuckin’ out of the loop. Me ‘n Aja’ve been done since before Christmas,” Adore replies, her voice light but her tone dead, and Bianca wants to leap from the building.

“Fuck, sorry. I never knew.”

She hears a snort from beside her. Adore’s looking at the table and smiling. “Shit. Now I got two sorrys from Bianca Del Rio, fuck knows what I’ll do with all of those. Open a shop?”

Bianca humours her and laughs back in lieu of making a silly quip, she’s loath to make things worse than she already has. Adore looks back out of the window and Bianca looks at her, the view better than anything behind that pane of glass.

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. Either of us,” Adore continues. The city lights are reflected in her eyes, dark and beautiful and capable of making Bianca say things she might regret. “Suddenly it got to two years and we both, like…died laughing at the thought of being ready to settle down any time soon. She’d kissed other girls. I’d slept with somebody else. Just to…fuck, I don’t know. Like, I wondered if I was actually in love, wondered what it was all meant to feel like. Wondered if I’d feel anything before, during, after.”

Bianca is taking this all in her stride despite the fact her mind is moving about the same rate as Adore’s lips and with each new revelation there is something new to get her head around. She somehow coughs up a question. “And did you?”

Adore laughs completely humourlessly. It doesn’t suit her. “Good question, girl. I’ll come back to you when I have an answer that makes any fuckin’ sense to you. Right now I don’t even have one that makes sense to me.”

Bianca crosses her legs and is deep in thought. She doesn’t know if she ever had Adore pinned as the type to cheat on a girlfriend, then immediately thinks she is silly to consider such an action as being attributed to a type of person. You can never really ever know a human, and with each new day someone can surprise you with the mundane or underwhelm with a revelation. Still, she reminds herself, she thought she’d known…

Never mind.

Point is, nothing shocks or fazes her any more. She considers herself an expert in human nature simply by following one simple rule; never assume.

“You probably think I’m an awful fuckin’ person now.”

Bianca turns and looks at Adore as if the eye contact will answer her question without having to say anything. This already doesn’t seem sufficient to either her or Adore, so Bianca follows it up anyway. “You honestly might as well do whatever the fuck you want in life, Adore. Half the world’s out there doing that already and not giving a single shit about the consequences.”

Adore narrows her eyes at her, quirks a smile that doesn’t quite meet her lips. “That’s a very…world weary answer.”

“I’m a very world weary woman,” Bianca sips her prosecco. It tastes absolutely fucking horrible out of a mug. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her, as Adore seems to shift closer to her until she is right bang next to her sitting on top of the table. There is no space between them- no hands, no cups, no air, and the sheer possibility and risk of it all makes Bianca shiver.

“I think you’re a very complex woman,” Adore murmurs delicately. Bianca doesn’t dare meet her eyes, instead electing to look down at where the hem of Adore’s dress meets her black tights with a small ladder. “I would kill to read some form of, like…autobiography.”

Bianca laughs, reaches out and starts fiddling with a small sequin on Adore’s dress in spite of herself. “It would be a very fucking short autobiography. I was born, I grew up, I got this job, I died. The end. Four pages at most. Five including a contents page.”

“There’s more to you than that.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bianca feels Adore tense up beside her, is frightened into dropping the hem of her dress and to stop picking at the stitching. She’s an idiot who went too far and got caught up in the night and has probably ruined the poor girl’s dress. Adore speaks. “People’ve told me that you used to wear a wedding ring, and now you don’t.”

Now it’s Bianca’s turn to tense up, and she does her best to give Adore a run for her money. Freezes in place so quick it puts her in mind of a childhood game of musical statues. Adore recoils quickly as if she’s been burned; Bianca is a sparkler she’s let linger in her hands for too long. It becomes a game of who will break the silence first. Adore wins. Or loses. Bianca supposes there are no winners in this conversation.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” she whispers, closes the gap again and touches her hand. She seems to have second thoughts and removes it again, and Bianca wants to curl her fingers around Adore’s and not let go. “Shit, fuck, this was so above my station…I’m so sorry, Bianca, honestly-”

Bianca can feel the woman getting stressed out next to her. She never thought she’d be referring to Adore as a woman, but there’s a first for everything. She looks grown up and confident and self-assured with her dark hair (she got rid of the blonde and Bianca thinks it suits her), her perfect red lipstick, her sophisticated dress. Except now she looks every inch the panicking intern Bianca first knew her as, and she decides to swallow her fears and take Adore’s hand, laces their fingers together like she wanted to earlier.

They’re holding hands. The director of communications for the government of the entire country is holding hands with a comms girl endless fucking pay grades below her, and there is so much wrong but yet so much that just seems correct. It’s two hands linked together. That’s all.

“Like I said,” Bianca smiles sadly at the carpet, deciding that particular story can wait until she’s six feet under. “Half the world’s doing whatever the fuck they want and not giving a shit about the consequences.”

Adore strokes her thumb at the knuckle and Bianca is lost for words, a rare occurrence in her life. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“Well. We’ve both put our foot in it now, so,” Bianca drops their hands, decides it’s probably a good place to end whatever the hell this is. She picks up her mug and tries to ignore the feeling that Adore looks disappointed at the lack of contact. “To being untactful shits incapable of emotional intelligence.”

Adore gives a small laugh, clinks her mug against Bianca’s own. There’s a moment of silence before she speaks.

“I’ve never told anyone about cheating on Aja. Apart from her, obviously.”

“Well now I have some serious dirt on you,” Bianca raises her eyebrows in an attempt to make light of the situation. She is rewarded by a laugh from Adore.

“I guess I did it because…well. There’s like…always been a third person in my relationships. No, fuck, that sounds weird and intense, but…ah, it’s hard to explain,” Adore hisses through her teeth, and Bianca is intrigued. The entire opening hangs heavy in the air, and Bianca doesn’t want to think about the possibilities it holds. She can feel her heart speed up, and she takes a too-big gulp of her prosecco and feels the bubbles shatter like ice down her gullet. Adore is looking at her, she knows, but Bianca holds her gaze on the city. “Do you ever, like, think about how there could be a right person, but the wrong place and wrong time? Wrong universe, even. Like they could be so gorgeous and funny and warm and you just know they’d be great to talk to if you ever got a proper chance, but you’ve never had the chance, and you know you won’t ever get the chance? So you just make peace with it, except, like, you’re never really at peace with it because with every new relationship you get into it’s just taunting you, the what if, the wondering?”

The air is spitting and crackling with electricity. Hot oil on a pan. Bianca shakes her head. “Adore, I haven’t been in a relationship for, literally, years.”

“But you still know the feeling though, don’t you?” Bianca is suddenly electrocuted, thousands of volts running through her as Adore takes her hand and gives Bianca no choice but to turn and face her, the city lights ripped from her eyes as Adore gazes into Bianca’s own, nothing to reflect in them, just black. Bianca’s heart goes from racing to flatlined. Adore doesn’t break eye contact. “Bianca…I know you know the feeling.”

And this is it. It’s out in the open, the tension between them that’s lingered for years like somebody’s taken a knife to a huge helium balloon. Bianca almost wants to laugh. There is no point protesting, or trying to tell Adore she’s got it all wrong. Adore is headstrong, has always been headstrong, and she knows, and she knows that Bianca knows. The situation is funny. They’re Christ knows how many feet up in the air, in the offices in the dead of night on New Year’s Eve. Bianca knows whatever happens this evening that the second she steps out of the building and into the freezing cold air, the magic will be gone. Because that’s what this is- magic. It could only be magic that Adore is making Bianca confront all of this before the entire slate gets wiped clean, the biggest cliche in the book.

“Fuck,” Bianca just laughs, the resigned exhalation of someone who has no energy left to deny it. “You’re literally…you’re just a kid-”

“I’m twenty fucking eight, Bianca,” Adore snaps, as if she’s had that excuse used against her for the entireity of her life and has had enough. Bianca is suitably admonished.

“Right. Sorry. Ignore me, I’m old. Which begs the question…” Bianca realises they haven’t stopped holding hands yet. “Adore….me? Really? Me? Why me?”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Adore shrugs. Her matter-of-fact-ness makes Bianca blush as if she’s back in high school. “And there’s, like…always been something about you that’s just drawn me to you. I don’t know. It’s like I said, I think we’d get on if we’d let ourselves get to know each other. I think we’re similar.”

Bianca paused before replying, taking a moment to just look into Adore’s eyes. She sighs heavily.

“There really is nothing about this that is any fucking fair at all.”

Adore laughs, neglecting to break eye contact. “How come?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way that we can pursue any of this. And it’s almost more cruel knowing we both want to,” Bianca snorts sardonically, refills her and Adore’s cups. Adore pouts. She’s showing her age.

“But we could if we wanted to. We could at least try,” she pleads, hope in her voice that makes Bianca want to wrap her up and take her home with her. Bianca laughs. Someone is going to have to be the voice of reason in this conversation.

“Adore, there’s a reason my marriage ended. There’s a reason I’ve not had a relationship for twelve years. There’s a reason I haven’t acted upon any of my feelings towards you,” she says, her voice coated in thick regret. She gives Adore’s hand a squeeze to soften the blow. “This job is my relationship. This job is my marriage. I barely have time for three meals a day- I don’t have time for three meals a day. I mean, fucking look at me. I’m at work on New Years’ Eve.”

“I’m at work on New Years’ Eve,” Adore gestures at herself, as if that simple fact is enough to convince her. Bianca laughs. She is the sweetest fucking person to ever exist, she fully believes that.

“There’s fourteen years separating us. I’m head of government communications, you’re a civil servant. That’s madness. We wouldn’t work.”

“No, probably not. It probably would just all end in tears. But at least we’d know. Which is, like, better than where we are just now, where we don’t know,” Adore shrugs, but the expression on her face lets Bianca know she thinks it’s a lost cause too. Bianca feels sad for her, feels sad for them both. She shuffles closer.

“Look. You know that I like you, and I know that you like me, and at least we don’t have to suspect it any more. We know. And it doesn’t matter that nothing’s going to happen, because…oh, fuck, what’s that saying? The possibility far outweighs the outcome, or some shit like that?”

Adore cracks up laughing. “That phrase doesn’t exist.”

“Yes it fucking- Christ, the point is that this night…” Bianca rubs her head in exhaustion. “…this night is like a microcosm of the universe. You were saying we’re in the wrong universe, well, just for tonight, this office is the right one. Just for now. A weird purgatory.”

Adore smiles, brushes a bit of hair out of her face. “So you’re, what. Confucius now, right?”

“Something like that.”

The chimes of Big Ben cut through the office and fireworks spring to life across the city below. Startled, both women spring away from each other. Bianca watches Adore check her phone. “Oh, shit.”

“We missed the countdown,” Bianca mutters sheepishly, suddenly ashamed of the whole conversation. Adore snorts.

“No, I just have, like, fifty voicemails from the girls,” she shrugs lightly, putting her phone face-down on the desk and facing Bianca once more. She holds out her mug and smiles gently. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers,” Bianca says quietly, like she doesn’t want the office to hear. She taps the porcelain against Adore’s mug. They are close, their knees touching, and Bianca flicks her gaze up from the mugs to Adore’s eyes.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, before setting her mug down, bringing one hand to rest on Adore’s waist and the other to gently tilt her chin up before closing the gap between them.

If talking to Adore on New Years’ Eve in a dark office with the city lights reflected in her eyes is magic, then kissing Adore is the best kind of witchcraft. It’s a hesitant kiss, the fault of both of them as neither of them really know what they’re doing or what they’ll do once it’s over, so they carry on. Adore has brought a hand up to rest at Bianca’s jaw, her thumb stroking her cheek gently, and Bianca never wants the sensation to stop. She wants to freeze the entire moment in time but she is aware she can’t do that, so focuses on committing it to memory; the way Adore tastes like sparkling prosecco, the scent of her perfume, the way they both seem to just fit together and the whole exciting unfamiliarity of it all.

Just when Bianca seems to be getting used to things she feels Adore tugging away, and she in turn doesn’t resist. She can’t help the disappointed slump of her shoulders as Adore is once again in front of her, bashfully smoothing down her dress. All at once Bianca is swept up in complete fantasy. Maybe she and Adore could work. There might be a way to make it all doable, even if she only gets to take Adore out to dinner once every couple of weeks, something like that. Adore makes the decision for her, putting her empty mug down and standing up from the table, taking Bianca’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Happy New Year, Bianca,” she smiles softly before turning and opening the heavy glass door, managing halfway through it before turning and looking back at her. She wants her to say something, Bianca can tell, and there’s so much she could say. She decides not to ruin things. This night has been enough. It’s a new day- a new year now, and everything is fresh and new, a blanket of freshly fallen snow without any footprints. She decides to smile and give Adore a small wave.

“Happy New Year.”

The door swings shut, and the magic is over.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #biadore #lesbian au #bianca del rio #adore delano #makes me wonder

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miceenscene · 4 years

Text

N7 Month - Day 14

Name

Everything hurt, that was the first thing Shepard registered. Everything really really really hurt. She could only recall being in this much pain once before, and it took eight billion credits, two years, and a deal with the devil to come back from that one. Her every nerve ending was burning, searing. Blood roared in her ears. Stop stop STOP, make it stop!

And then it did.

The abrupt return to something like normality was so jarring Shepard’s eyes shot open and she sucked in a breath, coughing and hacking at she sat up. For a few minutes she let the world spin around her, eyes shut again as she focused on her breathing. In and out, steady, centered. Then she opened her eyes to survey her surroundings.

She was in a building, or a space station perhaps, or maybe even a ship. The room was so nondescript it was difficult to tell. Just a large room with crates and boxes scattered around in a haphazard pattern. The much more concerning revelation was herself. She’d glanced down at her hands and did a double take, holding them up to stare at them in something like horror.

Before the waking up here and the hurt, half her armor had been melted away by a direct hit from Harbinger. She’d been bleeding out up on the Citadel turned Crucible, Anderson at her side with the best seats in the house. Now her suit was spotless, gleaming and ready for action. She pressed to where she’d had a wound on her stomach, but there was no pain now. She staggered up to her feet, the sheer lack of agony making her unsteady for a few moments.

Had she died? Was the afterlife just some room that looked like a thousand others she’d once ran missions through? Garrus was going to be disappointed about the lack of a bar, she thought automatically before grimacing. Forgive the insubordination… No, no she wasn’t dead. She had orders, she had a retirement to enjoy, some utterly impossible children to raise. She wouldn’t have let herself die and that’s all there was to it. Clinging to that thread of stubborn determination, she finished her self-census. She had all her usual weapons and her omnitool even seemed to work.

“Shepard to Normandy. Come in, Normandy,” she said, opening her comm channels. There wasn’t a response. “Joker, this is Shepard. Come in, Normandy. Alliance, Hackett, anybody.” More silence. “Dammit,” she muttered, shutting the omnitool.

Maybe if she got outside, or found a control room she could get better signal. She pulled out her trusted assault rifle and headed for the only door she saw. Listening for a moment, all she heard was the quiet air circulator cycle on. So she hacked the door open and stepped out into the hall, checking both ways for any sign of movement. Seeing none, she picked a direction and walked silently down the hall.

Stopping at the corner, she listened again, very aware that she was without back up in an unknown environment. If she hadn’t been standing completely still and focused she would have missed it. But she heard very quiet footsteps and the slight creak of body armor. Someone was near.

She waited, listening, as the footsteps drew nearer. Before they got too close, she leaned out just enough to glimpse around the corner. The hall was short and ended in another corner. She didn’t have to wait long as a rifle barrel started appearing from around the corner and then a moment later a person stepped around as well.

Relief flooded her system, making her almost drop her rifle. “Garrus,” she sighed, tears welling in her eyes as she stepped around the corner and ran towards him. “Garrus, honey. Oh thank god.”

Garrus froze as soon as she appeared and stared at her with wide eyes. She didn’t wait, just immediately wrapped her arms around his torso in a hug that wasn’t nearly close enough thanks to their armor.

“God, I was so worried,” she blubbered and sniffled a little. The tension release of him being here, him being safe had overwhelmed her control for the moment. She looked up at him and cupped his scarred mandible with her hand. “How’s your leg? Where are we? I can’t reach the Normandy. What happened with the Crucible?”

He didn’t reply, just stared down at her. Obviously in shock--not surprising given how distraught he’d been last he saw her.

“I followed orders,” she added with a slight smile in a whispery voice. “Somewhere warm and tropical, right?” God, she wanted to kiss him. Right here, any possible danger be damned. “Maybe even a few of those turian-human--”

“Vakarian,” a new voice called from further up the hall.

Shepard turned and a smile broke out on her face. “Vega,” she said, stepping back from Garrus for the moment. That was fine, there’d be plenty of time for a proper reunion back in her cabin. Vega sauntered down the hall, shotgun in hand. “Knew the reapers couldn’t keep you down.”

She reached out to shake his hand, but Vega just gave her a strange look for a moment before looking at Garrus.

“You want to introduce me to your friend?” he asked him.

“She’s not my friend,” Garrus replied in a frosty tone. Shepard’s head snapped over to look at him. What? Were they kidding right now?

“You two really think right now is the time for jokes?” she bit out, feeling deeply hurt that they would choose this moment to be idiots. Fine, if they wanted to be children then she would treat them like children. Garrus, she would have a talk with later. But Vega… “Lieutenant, status report,” she ordered, leaning into every bit of authority she possessed.

Instinctively, Vega snapped to attention for a breath. But then he seemed to realize what he’d done and brazenly relaxed. Oh, he was in for the dressing down of a lifetime.

Then all three of their comms crackled to life. “Lieutenant, status report,” a masculine voice ordered over her comm. Shepard frowned down at her omnitool--she didn’t recognize the voice at all.

Vega was still staring at her in bewilderment, but lifted his hand to activate his mic. “We found the source of that voice, Commander,” he replied. “Armed, but not… entirely hostile. Human. N7. Female.”

“On my way,” the voice replied.

Shepard looked between the two of them. “What the hell are you two playing at right now?” she demanded, patience worn completely through. Her hand curled instinctively around the handle of her rifle.

Garrus swiftly lifted his rifle and pointed it straight at her head. “Put the gun down, ma’am,” he warned in a low fierce tone. Her mouth dropped open in stinging betrayal for a heated second and then a thread of tension unspooled in her gut as something clicked together. She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know how she’d gotten here, but she knew one thing for dead certain--that wasn’t her Garrus.

“Hands where I can see them,” that same masculine voice ordered from behind her. There was no doubt in Shepard’s mind that she now had several guns pointing at her. So she complied, still maintaining eye contact with the Garrus as she was very aware of what his rifle was capable of. “Turn around.”

Slowly, she turned away from the pair she knew and faced the source of the voice. Standing at the end of the hall was an N7 marine. She’d never seen this man before in her life, she was certain. He would be difficult to forget from the imposing figure to the glowing red scars that cut deep into his face. Even his eyes were illuminated a dull red, she realized as he moved closer.

“Lieutenant,” the N7 ordered. Vega pulled the rifle from Shepard’s hands and the shotgun from her back. He quickly patted her down, finding the flash grenades in her belt, and then stepped back.

“Clean.” Vega moved to stand behind the N7, arms full of her weapons.

The N7 approached with measured steps, an assault rifle that was the exact same model as her own raised to her head.

“Name and rank, soldier,” he said, not relaxing from an assault posture. She didn’t know who that Garrus was, or if that was actually Vega, but this N7 was obviously Alliance. As annoying as it could be at times, sometimes the gravitas her name demanded was useful.

“Commander Shepard,” she answered, not hiding her annoyance.

Vega’s eyes went wide. She heard the Garrus behind her adjust his grip on his rifle. The N7 just stepped closer, finger on the trigger now. One wrong move and she might actually be meeting Garrus at that bar.

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time,” he growled. “Name And Rank.”

“Commander Jane Carren Shepard, Alliance Navy, Fifth Fleet, service number 5923-AC-2826,” she answered without the annoyance this time. “N7 class of eighty-one, first human Spectre, commanding officer of the SSV Normandy SR-2.”

“What the hell is going on?” Vega asked, half under his breath, eyes jumping between her to the N7 repeatedly.

“Yeah, I’d like to know that myself,” Jane replied, despite the multiple weapons pointed at her. She locked eyes with the N7. “Who are you?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, just stood up straighter. “Commander Shepard,” he bit out and then looked past her. “Vakarian, restrain her. She’s coming back to the ship. We can sort this mess out there.”

The Commander turned without waiting and headed back the way he came as the Garrus pulled Jane's hands behind her back and fastened a set of cuffs around her wrist. How she got here was still a mystery, she thought as she was led away, but there was a far better question right now. Would she be able to get home?

Ao3 Version

[This is actually the first chapter of a new untitled project I'm working on. It's gonna be a bit before it sees the light of day, but this chapter fit the prompt well enough I thought I'd give a bit of a teaser.]

#n7month #mass effect #female shepard #garrus vakarian #james vega #male shepard #AU #fanfic #fic #shakarian

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