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starlightsearches · 3 years

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Eyes On Me

Requests are open ✨ Modern Armitage Hux x F! Reader Warnings: RC is a sex-worker, discussions of sex, language. AN: Hi friends! After stressing over the newest chapters of Office Romance for the last, uh, forever, I thought I'd reward myself by writing something fun, flirty and fresh! I started working on this a few months ago after partaking in @thembohux's wonderful sugar daddy content, and then I had to put it on pause for a while until I picked it back up a few days ago. I have no plans for this story: no additional concepts, no plot points. Mostly I wanted a place to dump PWP in the future. If there is enough interest, or if you guys have any ideas about stuff you'd like to see in this storyline, please let me know and I might continue sooner rather than later. No sex in this chapter, but because of the nature of the story I'm still gonna ask minors to not read. Thanks!!

He’s already at the restaurant when you arrive.

That never happens. You’ve spent hours alone in restaurants sipping on wine and kissing your teeth, waiting for the moment some investment banker with a receding hairline finally decided you were worth his time—as if he hadn’t contacted you first.

You were hoping for a chance to find the restroom before the meeting, maybe fix your hair and refresh your lipstick—like you normally would before introducing yourself to a new client—and instead you’re rushing to the table, fanning yourself with one hand and hoping that you don’t have any leftovers from lunch stuck in your teeth.

Your heels click rapidly against the tile; you’re practically running over the hostess as she leads you towards the back of the mostly-empty restaurant, right next to the wide picture windows, which overlook the garden and the golf course beyond. There’s only one person seated there—a man much younger than you anticipated, closer to your own age than any of your clients. He has to hear you coming, loud as you are, but he keeps his eye on some distant point beyond the glass, brow creased, looking pensive.

You take stock of him as you approach: he wears a crisp, three-piece blue suit in a classic and well-tailored cut, black shoes shined to a polish, so clean you could see your reflection in them. The watch he wears is out of place, understated as it is; certainly not what you’d expect from a man in his pay-grade. It probably has some sentimental value, considering the signs of wear on the leather straps, and the nicks studded in the metal. His hair is slicked back and neat, a shock of red tamed into submission with shiny gel.

When your eyes trace over his face, you find it difficult to look away.

Pale skin stretches over angular cheekbones and a proud nose, his features carved with the decisive hand of a master. His jaw is strained, eyes severe—storm-colored and intense—but framed by soft lashes and an intelligent brow. The combination makes your legs go numb for a moment.

You didn’t expect him to be so handsome.

The tension in his face is lost as soon as you approach, his full, pink lips part in a whispered greeting as he stands. Chill fingers meet your own, his handshake firm and formal, but his eyes widen when you lean in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, catching the faintest mouth-watering whiff of Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille on his skin.

He pulls away from the unexpected embrace, taking your chair in both hands as he pulls it out from the table. There’s a rosy tinge over his skin, his hands gripping the wood back of the chair tightly, but you don’t miss the way they shake when he lets go.

He’s nervous. How sweet.

“Armitage Hux,” he offers, the gentle lilt of his accent like a melody, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You offer him a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

The waiter arrives at the table soon after you’re seated, probably eager for something to do during the post-lunch lull, and you let Armitage order for you, as he’s more familiar with the menu. Soon enough, the table is spread with an array of exquisite desserts and a coffee for each of you.

Armitage sips from his mug as you sink your fork into the chantilly cake, your lips wrapping gently around it, lingering there before you pull it from your mouth with exaggerated slowness, moaning slightly when the fresh berries burst against your tongue. It’s not an act, as far as he can tell, but a genuine reaction of pleasure, as if you couldn’t possibly imagine something more enjoyable than a bite of cake and the taste of a blackberry.

Jesus. What has he gotten himself into?

You sample a few more of the desserts he’s ordered, making silly comments about each, probably sensing his nerves and hoping to put him at ease.

You have kind eyes. It’s the first thing he noticed while scrolling through mountains of photos in the email, discreetly marked as a list of potential assistants for hire. You stood out among all the others; even after his initial hesitance, and the thirtieth or fortieth time he’d decided that it wasn’t worth it, the image of you stayed with him in the back of his mind.

To his dismay or delight—he hasn’t yet decided—the effect is only magnified in person, and he’s glad when you glance away, reaching into your purse and pulling out your cell phone, tapping at the screen a few times before setting it face down on the table.

“I hope you don’t mind if I record our conversation today,” you ask, “I find that it’s helpful to keep track of these introductions, and it would be a little too conspicuous if I pulled out a notepad. Everything that you share with me will be kept between us, of course.”

He nods in confirmation, and you settle into your seat, leaning over the table, attention entirely focused on him. “Alright, then. Tell me about yourself.”

He shifts in his chair, trying and failing to get comfortable. “I’m not sure what you’d like to know.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me about work, or your hobbies. Any pets?”

There’s the softest hint of humor in everything you say, but you treat him like he’s part of the joke instead of its target. He’s not sure if it’s unsettling or not.

“I work in finance—First Order investments. I don’t have time for hobbies . . .” he hesitates, trying to decide if you’re seriously asking him about his pets, “ and I have a cat named Millicent.”

“How sweet. Are you married?”

He splutters into his coffee, setting the cup back down on the table before choking out his answer, “no.”

You wave his distress away with a flighty hand. “It’s alright if you are; I’m not here to judge you. It does help to know, though.”

“No, I’m not married,” he confirms.

“Great,” you lean back in your chair, crossing your legs. The gesture feels more suitable for a therapist than . . . whatever it is you are, “Let’s talk a little bit about why you contacted me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“There’s always a reason. Usually it’s a big life event, but not always. Things like a recent divorce, close family member or friend getting married, a new promotion . . .”

You finish the sentence with a flourish of your hand, inviting him to imagine all the different reasons men would want to buy your company, and his face falls.

If anything, it was the opposite. Nothing had happened for too long, his days all painted with the same brush. Arrive at work. Sell his life for the success of his father’s company. Leave the office too late. Continue working at home, Millie on his lap and a glass of wine.

And then repeat.

“No,” he coughs, clearing the tightness in his throat, “Nothing of that sort.”

You purse your lips. “Is there anything specific you’re hoping to get out of this?”

He turns too sharply, pain singing up the side of his neck, the sun stinging his eyes. How god damn embarrassing, sitting across from someone so lovely, knowing that they had to be paid to be there.

He bites down on the inside of his lip, hoping to stave off any more unfortunate emotions. He’s startled from his melancholy when he feels your hand against his, brushing the tips of your fingers over his knuckles. There’s some hesitation in your touch, a hint of apprehension; it surprises him, and after a moment, he lets his eyes find yours again.

“There’s no shame in being lonely,” you say, before pulling your hand back, a serious look on your face, “it’s the most human emotion.”

He scoffs, “and what would you know about that?”

You glance down, pressing your lips together before offering him a sad smile that’s achingly familiar. “I’m lonely more often than you might think.”

He wonders what might have happened if he met you under different circumstances. If he had found you organically, maybe sitting alone at a hotel bar—would he have had the courage to approach you? Would the conversation flowed this easily, would you have pressed your hand against his shoulder and smiled, maybe left him with your phone number, or held his hand tight in your own as he led you back to his hotel room?

It’s a ridiculous question, a fantasy in the purest sense. You wouldn’t have looked at him twice.

You cough gently, clearing the emotional charge from the moment before continuing your line of questions.

“Why don’t we talk a little bit about your preferences for appearance, like certain kinds of clothing, or lingerie?”

He takes a deep breath, letting out the last of his self-pity with it. Thank god, he knows the answer to this one. “Black lace.”

“Okay, I can do that. Do you have any other requests? Specific hair styles? Nail colors?”

His distaste must be clear on his face, because you laugh, “do people really care about the color of your nail polish?”

“Oh yes,” you nod, eyes wide, “you’d be surprised what some men consider essential.”

“No, nothing like that,” he hesitates, “but if you have any darker lipsticks . . .”

“Of course. What about intimacy? Is there anything specific you’d like to try?”

His toes curl in the tips of his shoes, a familiar guilt accompanying a very unfamiliar thrill, thinking about what he’d like to do to you. He can see it now, the images achingly realistic: his hand circled around your neck as you chase your release against his thigh, or your lips curled around the head of his cock, shiny trails of spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. The way your eyes would roll back in your head as he thrust into you, his lips at your neck, leaving currents of bruises in his wake.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he says instead, embarrassed he had let his thoughts run so wild, especially in public. He digs his nails into his palms, hoping the pain might redirect the blood currently pooling in his dick.

You pluck a stray berry off one of the dessert plates, pressing it against your tongue. “Then we can explore together.”

You can’t help but be pleased; despite a few unorthodox moments, this was a fairly easy meeting. He’s a pleasant person to be around.

You take another bite of dessert, this time choosing to sample the bread pudding, still warm from the oven and coated in a caramel drizzle, letting the sugar melt in your mouth.

“There is one last item we need to discuss,” Armitage says seriously, and you look up at him, setting your fork down again as you swallow, “I have one more request, but it’s a bit . . . unusual.”

Oh, god. Nothing good could come from those words. “What is it?”

He leans closer, speaking quietly. “Unfortunately, my work requires that I attend a variety of events with my colleagues and our clients, and I would like to request your presence as my date. I have a reputation to uphold, both in my personal life and my employment, and I’d prefer to avoid a scandal. To prevent any gossip about this arrangement, I’d like to request your exclusive attention.”

Your teeth click together, jaw tense. Of fucking course something like this would happen—nothing could be too easy.

You take a calming breath, trying your best to give him a diplomatic answer despite your annoyance. “With all due respect, Mr. Hux, this is my job. My employment. I make a living providing my company to a small set of loyal clients, I do my job with the utmost discretion, and if you can’t respect the value of my time—”

“I assure you,” he interrupts, sliding a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, removing a folded slip of paper, “I understand how valuable your time is, and for the privilege of your undivided attention, I offer . . .”

He slides the paper across the table, and you reach for it, unfolding it in one hand.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to keep your features in check when you read the number—it’s actually a little more than you’re currently making per month between your four other clients.

You chew on the inside of your lip, considering your course. The other girls would tell you to make a counter-offer, but you’d never really learned how to execute a successful negotiation, and just thinking about raising your price has your heart racing, the adrenaline doing nothing to aid your mental calculations.

He clears his throat, reading your panic as dissatisfaction, “and I’m prepared to make that payment weekly.”

Holy fuck.

“I can’t accept that much,” you press the paper back towards him, sliding your hand across the table until he stops your progress with his own, his fingers brushing gently against your wrist. He must not be used to touching people unintentionally, because he pulls his hand away, resting his tightly-clenched fist against the table.

“As I said before, I understand the value of your time.”

You trap your lip between your teeth. “I’ll take this amount, twice a month. Gifts are also appreciated—jewelry, perfume, or clothing—but won’t be considered as part of your payment unless I’m also given a receipt.”

“Of course,” he concedes with the faintest smile, “diamonds don’t pay the rent.”

You suppress a laugh at his dry humor, “and some men have truly horrendous taste.”

It’s only for a moment—the briefest flash of heaven. He smiles at your comment, the sun shining in his eyes, illuminating their emerald facets, and everything else ceases to exist.

He’s going to be trouble. You’re sure of it.

He presses his lips together, embarrassed for his little lapse before returning to his serious demeanor, “what happens now?”

“Now, I formalize a contract that I’ll have you sign covering the details of what we’ve discussed today. Then, I’ll contact my other clients and let them know that I will be unavailable for the foreseeable future, and then—” you lean forward, deciding to tease him, leave him wanting, “—you can take me to dinner.”

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mannien · 3 years

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Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - PROLOGUE

The one with graduation, daisies and carnations, and a hopeless emotional addiction.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: some stress and anxiety here and there

Some feelings are addictive. It’s easy to get used to the way something tingles with excitement, warms up with passion, or stings with powerful adrenaline rush. People get comfortable with feelings known and desired and more often than not, they turn them into coping mechanisms. Whatever sticks their wobbly pieces together the longest, is the ultimate solution. Feelings don’t need to be entirely positive or with pure intentions behind them. As long as they cover up the shattered pieces, they stay. They may enhance some experiences, especially when someone decides to stick with something as simple as joy. But some make life more difficult than it seems; they mess up the timeline and allow people to feel so many wrong things before reaching the truth.

An array of emotions weaves through fresh university graduates. A sense of freedom and relief is somewhat clouded by fear or excitement. Someone has an internship lined up, their friends take a year to travel across Europe, a roommate has an apprenticeship at their next job. Others might take things slow and see what the future holds, while some students get prepared to have a fresh start. The overall unknown seems to be the underlying tone in the speeches during the graduation ceremony, but each person in polished shoes and with a rapid heartbeat subconsciously sticks to a feeling that makes them feel more at ease.

Students of each program are called on stage. Every little success along the way is cradled into slippery hats and fitted gowns with the university’s subtle emblem on the front. The audience is sitting on the large balcony above the graduates. People clap with appreciation at each young person walking across the wooden floor and shaking the chancellor’s hand. Some receive a more enthusiastic applause, sometimes even a roar of cheers. As the long queue of journalism graduates makes its way through the hall, the names are listed rapidly. Students walk as if they were a part of an assembly line, trying their best not to delay the process of the nerve-wracking hand-shaking and walking without tripping. The last are always graduates with exceptional results, so the crowds are encouraged to clap vigorously. And that’s what’s heard when the eyes of two women in the audience are focused on the proud figure walking on stage: the loudest cheers of the afternoon so far.

“Remind me, why aren’t we screaming for your boyfriend, and the whole department of journalism is?” A questioning voice surprised Millie so much that she jumped in her seat.

“I’m nervous, Thea. That’s why.”

She stated the obvious. Millie Beaver was the one to frantically fix the sleeves of her gown as a nervous tick. She got up early that morning, dreading the day full of polished festivities and exaggerated elegance requested upon a bunch of tired, educated enough people. The pride in successfully finishing her studies was yet to come; her body was rather keen on reacting dramatically to the large crowds of scholars, pupils and their families. The dread of participating in an unrehearsed event like this clouded her brain and made her focus solely on not loosing it. Though she wouldn’t dare admit it to the smiling man, who was just about to shake some hands on stage. The confidence he wore on his face was something she was used to seeing, even in the least favourable scenarios.

“I still don’t get it, how some people are born so talented that they don’t need to work their asses off to get somewhere,” she shrugged, making her tight black curls shake with her head, “I mean, the hours we spent on reading and researching…”

“I guess we’re just different.”

“Different? It’s not fair, that’s what it is. Patriarchy at its finest.”

The comment made Millie laugh and release some of the tension. Her eyes followed Franklin into the side corridor, where a little crowd of his friends formed a circle around him – the star of the department - before continuing into their seats. His cheerful stance made her bit her lip in excitement; for a moment, she tried to forget about whatever was said through the speakers. She genuinely wanted to be feel happy for him and his academic achievements. After all, she spent previous months on watching him get to the top of their classes almost effortlessly, as if he was born to be talked about by the teachers.

Millie felt her heart speed up at the thought that he might start searching for her for a little cheer, or even a tiny wave of support. But Frank sat down and continued to enjoy his fame, and Thea started to pull her up from the wooden chair.

“Come on, it’s our turn.”

She followed her friend and attempted to smooth out the heavy gown. Her light brown hair flowed as she walked, making her nervously fix it every now and then. She turned to the very end of the queue to find Jane, who wore a wide smile. They made eye contact and the blonde sent her a half-smile, knowing that they are almost through the tough part. It calmed Millie to know that she had her support system, not only up in the balcony, but also somewhere among the students of literary and media studies. At one point she feared that her nightmare of falling off the stage will become reality, but as a surprise to her and her close ones, clumsy Millie walked gracefully and with pride painted across her face.

Mission accomplished: she made it through college without falling.

The main floor of the event hall once again filled with students, their peers, and families. Loud chatter was heard across the building as people were celebrating the achievements of the year’s graduates. Some of the groups moved outside and took in the chilly London air. It smelled of rain and freedom, clouded with light grey pillows in the sky.

The three girls tried to make it through the crowds of chatting people in search for the perfect spot to take pictures together. Jane wore the highest heels of them all, so she was designated to lead them to the wall with the logo of the university. In a tight weave of pinkie fingers, they rushed through the hall just as they would through a college party. Millie felt dizzy from the sea of the same black gowns surrounding them from every angle. Some people waved at them, so she kept her smile wide and left Thea – with her one hand free – to the waving back duty. Their secure escape led them safely to the back wall on the side of the entrance, where some of the students usually found peace between classes and sat down on the floor, watching over the busy entrance to the building during the semester. The carpet remembered a lot of spilled coffees and teas in the wobbly little cups purchased from the cafeteria inside. Millie let out a breath of relief, seeing that only a couple of students found this spot perfect for keeping the memories.

“Hey, congrats! We’re graduates!” Jane welcomed the group that was finishing their poses in front of the wall.

Thea laughed with them, but desperately waved her hand in front of her reddening face to cool off.

“I hate your speed in heels. That was too fast!”

“Don’t worry, at least you don’t have to run to the Linguistics ever again.” Millie pulled her little bag from underneath the gown and looked for a sheet of paper with old notes. As long as Jane was busy chatting up other students, the other two tackled the makeshift air conditioning to prevent Thea’s makeup from running.

“Okay, are we ready for some iPhone memories?” The sound of a snapshot stopped Millie from frantically fanning their friend’s face.

“You sound ready. Do you have a tripod or a selfie stick, though? I want to have a picture with all of you.”

“We could still catch that group and ask someone to snap a few?”

“I’m not running anywhere, I’ve just fixed my face!” Thea puffed her cheeks and did a few more waves around them, certainly for an enhanced dramatic effect.

“Then don’t run anywhere, I’ll call my mom to come here, she’s probably out for a smoke anyway.”

“You really want to have your graduation pictures taken by your mom?” Thea and Millie chuckled at Jane’s resigned sigh. “Maybe Frank could come here? I trust his steady hands more.”

“He was supposed to go to the student’s office after the ceremony. Honours and stuff.” Millie pursed her lips.

“Right when we need him! What a boyfriend.”

“Jane!”

“Do you need a hand, girls?”

A sudden male voice stopped the rising argument and made the three of them look into the corridor. He welcomed them with a warm smile and soft wrinkles by his eyes. With a small bunch of colourful flowers, he stood out in casual, non-graduate clothes, yet with similar youthfulness to him.

“I’m not my brother but I can take a straight picture in focus.”

“What the fuck?” Millie covered her mouth in shock. Hesitantly, she took one step away from Jane and Thea, afraid of her next reaction. “What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to my friend’s graduation, fancy seeing you here.”

“I’m serious!” She raised her voice and made her way over to him, meeting his steps somewhere in the middle of the distance. He was smiling at her stupidly and she couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his reaction.

“I’m serious too, you made it! That’s so cool!” He opened his arms and invited her in, with a small encouragement of his waving hand.

One of the most addictive feelings are those of an utter comfort and safety. This teasing sparkle making your insides warm up and encouraging you to be a little more positive. That’s precisely what Millie felt when she was engulfed in a tight hug by her childhood best friend. Tom held her tightly across her back and swayed them side to side, earning a hearty laugh from the girl who was now, shining. She felt a sense of genuine relief once he squeezed her in reassurance; her brotherly figure showed up, so she was finally able to relax. Suddenly everything felt easy and perfect. All of the stress, fear of the unknown, anxiety about the grand event of the day, and the rest of damaging emotions slowed down their tempo in her veins, simply because she was home. Her smile swiftly changed into more prominent and definitely brighter by a shade or two. As he held her close, he could feel Millie’s warmth suddenly radiate through his body, making his eyes twinkle with joy because of this very girl.

“Congratulations, Minnie Mouse, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered next to her ear, cautious of what others may hear from their little exchange. She did not need any more nerves weighting her down, so he decided not to make a big scene – even though he definitely wanted to tease her worrying head and make sure she’s having a good time. “you’re all grown up now, so I got you flowers.”

“Oh, so otherwise you wouldn’t?” Millie shook his head, but accepted a small bouquet of carnations and daisies.

“Nah, I know you hate flowers.” He winked at her and put his arm around Millie’s arms, tucking her into his side a little too tightly.

“Absolutely. Thanks Tom, I’ll throw them out after the pictures.”

“Go ahead,” He tucked her in even more, making her squirm in discomfort. It was one of their things, to squeeze one another too tight. It made them feel connected as if they were siblings. They knew how sibling love worked, Tom having three younger brothers and Millie being the youngest of three sisters, but it was refreshing to have it a little spiced up. She let out a shy laugh and pushed him away before taking the delicate bunch from him. She lost the smell of his familiar perfume and took a breath. Once he extended his hand to Millie’s friends, he was back to his public confidence and charm. “Hey! Thea and Jane, right?”

They took an intimidating number of pictures; some of them good enough to share with people, other more fitting into a private photo album filled with silly, heart-warming memories. The group shared a lot of easy laughs together; Millie’s girlfriends eased into the lightly flowing chatter with Tom in no time. It made her sink into the bubble of comfort and light; she was smiling brightly when they reached the entrance to the building. Tom opened the glass door for all of them. A slightly chilly air hit Millie in her blushing cheeks and slowed down the pinky glow spreading across her cheekbones. Somewhere in the distance she noticed her parents lurking excitedly at the group and waving them over expectantly.

There was this heaviness slowing her down and taking up an excess of space in the back of her mind. As they were making their way across the university’s main square, Millie slowly turned her head to the side. She perked up at the sound of loud cheers and noticed a familiar group of students. Among them, there was Frank—laughing and hugging people from his department—and he definitely enjoyed being in the centre of attention. She was sure he didn’t even notice her walking by, but she didn’t want it to affect her as much as it was going to.

In turn, what she didn’t think of was the attention someone would give to her best friend: the smiling, cheerful young man, who was shamelessly chatting up Millie, Thea and Jane.

“Oh my God, is that Tom Holland?”

This simple question, raised somewhere from the group of journalism graduates, didn’t surprise Tom. However, it definitely rose the hairs on the back of Millie’s neck. Though he brushed it off and sent her a reassuring smile, Millie felt panic flowing through her veins. They both knew it could happen, but Tom seemed to be focused more on making her a priority, rather than fearing being recognized as the famous actor. He watched her reaction, now fully aware of her boyfriend emerging from the crowd and skipping towards them.

“Hey, I was trying to find you earlier,” he brushed his hand through his dark blonde hair and gave her a brief smile, before turning excitedly to Tom. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“We just went to…” she paused, seeing as he was already extending his hand towards her friend. “…take pictures.”

“The girls had a nice little photoshoot back inside.” Tom cut short his smile, raising the side of his mouth only to her. He accepted Frank’s handshake but didn’t allow it to turn into a bro-hug. It was fairly easy to read their body language; Franklin tried his best to seem friendly with his girlfriend’s celebrity friend, but the said celebrity was too kind to allow his cheekiness outshine Millie’s comfort zone. Jane and Thea turned their heads away at the sight of palms squeezing a little too tight for a friendly greeting. Frank’s friends and a couple other bystanders watched the exchange with prying eyes, and Millie let out a frustrated groan at the unnecessary tension.

“Cool, cool. Can I steal my girl for a moment?”

Frank didn’t wait for an answer, but rather just took her hand and pulled her to the side, hiding slightly behind the group of people. He fixed the tinsel attached to her hat and winked at her, giving her his full attention. He looked at her with his gleaming blue eyes and made her smile at the intimate moment.

“You good, sweetie?”

“Yeah, just fine.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Are your parents here? I haven’t seen them.” She looked around, trying to find his mom’s flowing blonde hair.

“They went to get the table at the restaurant nearby. Wanna join us?” He searched her face and leaned in closer, brushing his nose against hers. Millie laid her hand on his shoulder and allowed him into her little space.

“Why are you asking me to choose between our parents?” She chuckled, but patiently waited for his reaction. “Could we all spend time together, at least once?”

“I told you, it’s not a good idea,” Frank brushed his lips against Millie’s, slowly easing her into him and making her return the kiss. “you can ask Tom to come to the party tonight, it’ll be fun.”

“No promises.”

They shared a few more kisses that left Millie breathless - Franklin wasn’t usually the one to publicly show his affection, so she craved anything he willing to give her. She smiled up at him and let him go, happy that he took the minute to catch up with her.

With one last wave of his hand, Frank joined his party. Although he was instantly pulled into celebratory pictures, he couldn’t help but watch Millie walk away; she joined Jane and Thea in a heart-warming group hug. She was just sweet like this: sticking to her people, making sure everyone’s happy, and embracing all the kindness in the simplest actions. Franklin smiled to himself at the sound of her cheerful laugh and turned back to his friends, but then he noticed the source of her laugh. Her and Tom did a barely-there joyful dance, raising their hands and curtseying to her parents. Alfred, her dad, patted him on the back and shook his hand vigorously, while Millie was being squeezed by her mom.

People from Frank’s department praised him for having any kind of relationship with Tom Holland. Frank watched Tom’s joyous exchange with his girlfriend. Tom was proudly paying attention to his best friend, and Millie’s cheeks were hurting from the smiles. She was content and felt at ease. She was sure that her heart was filled to the brim with love and comfort.

Yes, being addicted to feelings is difficult. It holds people hostage in the arms of the sole premise of positive emotional experiences. It’s also blinding for the addicts, making the loss of certain feelings hurt more than it should. Addiction feeds off the weak, the confused, and the uncertain. It eats them up alive and strives to receive more and more satisfaction. It allows for the illusion of reality, so that the addicts can project certain feelings onto their consciousness. They live in their bubbles of unruly contentment and often forget to look into their souls and perform a regular check-up.

Millie was an addict.

***

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#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #tom holland blurb

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aiorevelations · 3 years

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A Number, Not a Name: Part 18

Enjoy everyone!

4 months earlier:

Regis scanned the fragment of paper spread out across the table before him. Not even a month ago he was a desperate man chasing the shadows of his lifelong mentor. What he’d found in the jungles of South America had been nothing short of a profound revelation. The ancient words inscribed held the key to changing humanity. From the very beginning, he had believed deep within his soul that what Professor M spoke of was true. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew it. Though he’d never have suspected that the place which possessed what he sought was merely some speck on a map. A hamlet of small-town America. In the end, though the where didn’t matter. What mattered was that he attained his goal. Failure was his greatest fear. After what he’d sacrificed to get this far he wasn’t about to fall short an inch away from the finish line. Like Professor M had. When he stumbled upon he’d found a broken sickly old man barely clinging onto life. Filled with regret and sorrow that though he literally held in his hand the culmination of his life’s work, he would never live to see it. Regis had vowed that would not be his fate.

Fate, however, was a funny thing. Previously Dr. Blackgaard had possessed adequate resources yet lacked the knowledge he required. Now just when he had attained the necessary knowledge his funds were depleted. Alas Professor M had died, weighed down in debt, and without any assets to further fund Regis’ research. Dr. Blackgaard was one to keep his research away from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was to inform anyone of his discovery. Who knows what might happen. Word could spread to the general public if that happened it was game over. Blackgaard was well aware however that the little venture he was starting in Chicago wouldn’t provide him with the funds he needed. The choice was before him. Either choose not to share his work and lose any chance of funding or take the chance and inform potential investors of his findings. When put that way there was only one option - the latter. “Blast” he muttered under his breath.

He rolled up the parchment and stood up from his chair, grasping his walking stick as he sat up. Pacing back and forth on the wooden floor he tried thinking of someone who would work as a potential investor. Blackgaard’s mind raced. Too many people had their motives and agendas they were trying to serve. The last thing he wanted to be was someone’s puppet. He’d rather give up his work altogether than be a pawn in someone else’s game. It has to be someone who has enough resources yet can be easily fooled. Someone obsessed with power and ambition that they’d do anything to obtain it - even trust a complete stranger. A person who is so full of themselves they’d never think anyone could bring them down. Sasha meowed, interrupting Blackgaard’s thoughts. He stooped down and picked up his faithful feline companion. Softly, he stroked her neck and behind her ears, prompting a deep purr from Sasha. “Oh, Sasha…Now, who do we know who’d be aware of someone like that.”

Blackgaard had a long list of reliable contacts. Men and women spread across the globe. People who were aware of plots and schemes of power and the people behind them. Blackgaard’s polished shoes thudded on the packed earth as he circled the jungle cabin, left exactly as it had been when Professor M died. Professor M’s research notes and documents were packed carefully in boxes that were neatly stacked. His personal effects and clothes were strewn throughout the room.

Regis placed Sasha down on the floor and walked to where Professor M’s trunk was located in the corner of the small hut. He opened the lid and searched through it until he found a notebook. He scanned over the pages looking for a particular name. An old contact of theirs who Professor M had known even before he met his esteemed mentor. They had come to value her greatly. Every secret or scheme going on she always found a way to find out. Finally, Regis' eyes landed on the name he was searching for. Blackgaard knew she was the answer.

…..

4 months earlier:

Liana stared blankly ahead. She was busy pouring coffee yet her mind was somewhere else. Today would have been Erik’s birthday. She tried to push it to the side and carry on waitressing, but the memories would come flooding back. Picnics in the park. Splashing each other in the lake. The way he’d shower her with flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day.

Liana had known she’d never be able to have peace until her father and all those responsible answered for their actions, but she at least thought with time she’d be able to have a sense of healing. Instead, the more time passed the more angry she became. She should be spending these years with Erik. If he was here she was certain they’d have been married by now probably with children. Living a happy and beautiful life. She’d been robbed of that life and forced to live a cold and lonely one.

“Liana!” Hearing her name, she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Uh sorry. Millie. What is it?”

“You’re pouring coffee all over the counter.” Liana glanced down and saw she’d overfilled the coffee cup, causing the liquid to flow all over the countertop.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She set the decanter down and grabbed some napkins from the dispenser.

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.”

She wiped up the spilled coffee. “I’m fine.” Liana picked up the coffee cup and walked to a table by the shop window.

She set the piping hot coffee on the table. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks so much” the man graciously responded.

“Would you like anything else?”

“No, this is good for me. Thanks.”

“Of course. If you need anything please let me know.” She forced a smile and began to walk to another table where two women were waiting to order. Halfway to the table, she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to the television mounted in the corner of the room. An image of a man’s face caught her eye. His familiar features, grey hair, wrinkled skin, piercing black eyes, matched the image she’d seen in person on multiple occasions. One of the faces seared into her head for the last nearly five years. There was no mistake, the man was none other than Davit Dalmar. Below his image was the headline “Breaking News: Davit Dalmar, CEO and founder of Dalmar Petroleum, announces run for Krudian parliament.”

Liana found herself chilled to the core seeing his face. It took her back, back to that night. The worst night of life. She holding her dying boyfriend in her arms, knowing there was nothing she or anyone else could do. She bit back her lip and took a deep breath. No, she wouldn’t break down, especially in a Budapest cafe.

What was that expression? The past has a way of catching up to you. She’d always planned to go back. To go home. Deep down she knew what she had to do. That pain. That anger. That overwhelming feeling of loss. It was still there. Burning in her soul stronger than ever. She knew she’d never be able to move forward unless she went backward. Nevertheless, when it came to confronting her past she’d find herself paralyzed. Unable to go back. Memories of Krudia, her father, Eric haunted her. Every street or shop in Bulin came with some painful reminder. The very thought of stepping off the airplane filled with her dread and terror.

But now seeing Dalmar had served to remind her of the men she’d left behind. And of what she��d lost. He was a monster. Him and her father both. She felt another wave of anger surge through her. In what world was it fair that Erik was dead and Norvan and Dalmar were still breathing? How could someone be so heartless as to take him from her without a second thought? How could people, like her father and Dalmar, find pleasure in killing others? She may have thought the removal of some malevolent individuals necessary but never took pleasure in their demise only in the justice being served. One thing couldn’t be denied: her father and Dalmar were insane. They had to be brought down. Any reservations or fears she had, Liana knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She was done running from her past.

…..

Present-day:

Jason woke, tied to a chair. Ropes dug into his wrists. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, or perhaps blood, though he wasn’t sure which one. His eyes adjusted to the dim light. He appeared to be in some type of warehouse. Above him, warehouse pendant lights flickered the only source of light in the room.

It all came flooding back to him—what he'd prayed had been only a nightmare—The car chase, men shooting at them, Tasha slumping forward on the steering wheel ….

Tasha. His heart began to race and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Where was she? He prayed she was still alive. He frantically glanced around him but saw no one.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his earlier actions had caused this.

He struggled to loosen the ropes that bound him. Straining he turned every which way trying to free himself. It was no use. He let out a scream of frustration and lowered his head. A feeling of helplessness and utter loneliness consumed him, His head throbbed but the physical pain he was experiencing didn’t compare to his overwhelming guilt.

It’s my fault. The words stabbed through his mind. I got us into this. I shouldn't have acted recklessly—Why didn’t I just stick to the plan? Why did I have to be so stubborn? He shook his head. I wanted so desperately to prove myself that I ended up screwing everything up. If I get out of this I’ll probably have to resign. The last thing the NSA wants is someone who can’t complete a routine mission, let alone their first assignment. Who knows, maybe that’s probably for the best anyway. Donovan saw right through me. My flaws and weaknesses…how careless I could be…and I proved him right. Now not only is the mission ruined but Tasha’s life is in danger because of me. If she dies I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

He glanced up at the ceiling. Right now he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. His whole body felt numb.

There was nothing he wanted to do, nowhere he wanted to go. Nothing mattered anymore, except doing everything he possibly could to right his mistake. To make sure Tasha was safe and if possible successfully complete their assignment.

Whoever was behind this would probably hurt him. The thought barely registered in his mind. He knew he should feel something. Dread. Fear. Anxiety. But he didn’t. All his thoughts were turned to Tasha. They could do whatever they wanted to him. It didn’t matter. He would willingly sacrifice his life without hesitation if it meant they didn’t touch her. At that moment he knew he was powerless. There was only one thing he could do. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

…..

Tasha’s eyes darted around the room, her eyes landing on the metal door to the side of her. She felt something digging into her skin and realized she was tied up. Tasha lay against the wall struggling to recall previous events, how she’d ended up here. Her mind was blank. The last thing she remembered was leaving with Jason for the gala. She looked down at her clothes. Instead of the dark blue dress, she remembered she was wearing light pink pajamas. She looked around the room. The floor was layered with dirt. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the room. Jason was nowhere in sight. Who knew where he could be. For all Tasha knew he could be lying dead somewhere or being mercilessly tortured.

The door creaked open causing Tasha to look up. An older muscular man entered the room followed by a tall brown-haired woman.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what they were probably after. Information. Luckily, Tasha thought, she’d been briefed and trained how to resist such efforts. She sat up in her seat and braced herself for whatever was coming, though she couldn’t help the shivers that traveled down her spine.

Milena’s eyes met Tasha’s. Tasha tried to read them yet they seemed nearly expressionless. The man’s on the other hand were easy to read. They were deathly cold.

Milena spoke. “I have to say that was quite a showing back there. Very impressive. My hired men are known for their efficiency. You and your associate were their hardest targets ever by far.” She crossed her arms. “So congrats.”

Tasha kept a blank expression on her face. "You might as well just skip to the end. I’m not saying anything.”

“Who said anything about getting information? I’m not so stupid as to waste my time trying to get intel out of an NSA agent.”

Elias walked over to Tasha “Never saw that coming did you?”

Tasha looked him directly in the eyes. “Can’t say I didn’t. If I was in your shoes I wouldn’t waste my time either.” Fear trembled through her, but at the same time, there was a defiance in her eyes. Even in face of danger, she wasn’t one to submit or hold back on fiery comebacks.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. He glanced at Milena. “I like this one. Too bad we can’t keep her around.”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be the best company anyway.” Tasha glanced at the metal door beyond Milena and Elias. There was one question she had to ask. Though a possible answer filled her with dread. Life had a funny, even almost cruel way of unfolding. Not even a few hours ago Jason and she had been going at it and now here she was worrying over his safety. Though she was still deeply angry and upset at Jason for what he had done, all that mattered to her right now was that he was alright. “Is…he okay?”

“He’s alive if that’s what you’re asking,” Elias replied.

A wave of relief washed over Tasha. At least she and Jason were both alive. When it came down to it that alone only mattered. A dark thought crept into her mind. But then again who knew what their captors had in mind for them. Perhaps it would have been better for him not to survive, that might have been a merciful fate.

Elias stepped closer to Tasha. Then, from under his black shirt, he unslung a small black pistol from his belt.

Tasha’s mouth began to run dry and her heart began to race. Elias twirled the gun on his finger, only increasing Tasha’s uneasiness.

She ignored him, keeping her eyes fixed on Milena. “You know, you seem like a straight shooter so I’ll cut to the chase. Why exactly do you need us? If you’re not after information I fail to see the point.”

Milena gave a small laugh. “Aren’t you a fast talker? Trying to hide your fear?”

“No, my boredom.”

Milena clasped her hands. “Let’s just say I need you both for a plan of mine.”

Tasha eyed her confusingly. “What kind of plan.”

“That would be giving things away now would it?”

“What things? Are you working for Dalmar?”

Pain flashed across Milena’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was only there for a second and was gone as soon as it came. Not before being noticed by Tasha. “Dalmar, that monster. Heck no! Your whole plan of bringing him down is still happening. You and Edward are just playing a different role than you originally planned.”

Tasha found herself shocked by Milena’s revelation. However, she made certain not to show her surprise to those in the room. Basic training - never show your opponent what you’re thinking.

Milena turned to Elias. “Would you give us a moment?”

He glanced from Milena to Tasha and back to Milena again. He placed his gun back in its holster. “Sure.” The door clanked shut behind him.

“I know what you may think of me and I can’t say I blame you. I’d probably feel the same way too…but I just want to say that I admire your tenacity. I respect what you’re doing.”

Tasha leaned forward. “Really. I would never have guessed. If you respected my mission, why interfere with it?”

“Trust me. I had my reasons. The justice I’d get from your NSA wouldn’t be enough.” She spoke, a hint of sadness showing in her eyes for a brief moment.

From the first time she laid eyes on her Tasha could tell that the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a hardened criminal. That there was something beneath the surface. It was obvious now she’d suffered some tragic painful event in her life. Dalmar’s doing most likely. Tasha thought for a moment about how to respond. She knew the words she’d say would probably not change her mind or course of action, but she had to try.

Tasha spoke softly. “I know what horrific things Dalmar is capable of…Sometimes it seems that men like him just end up walking away but that’s no ex—”

“Excuse for me to take the law into my hands. Yeah, I figured that speech was coming. Guess what, I don’t have time for it.” Milena said strongly before turning around and walked across the room. Well, that went well but pretty much how I expected. Tasha thought as Milena shut the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving Tasha alone once again.

#aio fanfic #Adventures in odyssey #adventures in odyssey fanfiction #aio fanfiction #aio #adventuresinodyssey #jason whittaker #tasha forbes

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guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

Blessing in Disguise

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Hospitals, Explosions, depictions of pain, allusions to mania and depression, self harm/unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death and the dead, gambling, potential underage drinking, theft, guns, gun violence, depictions of bullet wounds, and drunk people.

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs: All the kids are depressed- Jeremy Zucker, Everywhere- Chloe x Halle, Middle Child- J. Cole, She Knows- J. Cole, Breezeblocks- alt-J, Pussycat Doll-Flo Milli, It’s Been So Long- The Living Tombstone, Take me to Church- Hozier, Good Kid- Kendrick Lamar, Death of a Bachelor- Panic! At the Disco, Them Changes- Thundercat, Detention- Melanie Martinez, Recess- Melanie Martinez, Something for your M.I.N.D- Superorganism

A/N: I actually hate this chapter because I feel like the writing doesn’t flow. I feel like it’s to jampacked with things that don’t do anything to push the story forward. Anyway I hope you still read it anyways.

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I did the hand sign stating I’d stand. I knew I won for sure this time because I had a perfect hand of 21. The two other people playing against groaned as I was declared the winner yet again.

Swiping the chips for the 3rd time since I’d been at the casino. I decided to take my wins and make my way to the bar that our “target” was residing.

I had a hunch on where Carmen was but had no actual idea. I’d just text her. In the meantime I had this grown ass man to make a move on.

I was like 97% sure I had the right guy anyway. I looked much older than usual tonight due to Carmen being a makeup goddess and I gotta say flirting can get you a long way.

“Hey,” I spoke, sitting on the bar stool next to the man.

He looked up at me mumbling a quick hey.

“You expecting someone?”

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ “What about you?”

“Same as you,”

“Now I don’t believe someone as beautiful as you is here alone,” He moved his arm that much closer to mine. I pushed out a smile and giggled.

“I could say the same about you,” We made eye contact for a second “But no seriously, I’m just here with a girlfriend. It was my birthday yesterday but she wasn’t free so we came out today,” I lied.

“How old did you turn?”

“Twenty Two,” He nodded seemingly content with the answer.

“So you’re not around here are you?”

“Either you’re a genius or I’m just very bad at blending in, no I’m from New York,”

“Ah, I have some friends in New York, which part?”

“Harlem actually but I recently moved to Queens,” I lied again.

“Oh I don’t many from those cities,”

“If we're being honest I don’t know many people from Queens either my life’s been more hectic ever since I moved,”

“I hear you,” He informed me, leaning on the small backing the stools had.

We talked for about 15 more minutes, him explaining the switch between New York to Nevada. Then Carmen walked up to me and feigned drunkenness signaling she was done with her job. I made my way back. To the man who’s name I still hadn’t learned.

“As much fun as I was having talking to you, my friend is way too drunk to be out in public so we should probably head back to the hotel.” I sat back on the barstool turning my legs towards the man batting my eyes

“Could I possibly use your phone to call an Uber mine is dead?”

“Yeah of course you can…” His sentence fizzed off at the end in place of where my name would be.

“Ciara,” I filled in “And you are?”

“Jim” He started handing me the phone.

I used his phone for an entirely different reason than I’d claimed. The project Carmen had been working on was melting the wires together to fix the flash drive that works inside of phones. It hadn’t worked in years.

It took about a minute to duplicate the phone's data. I stuck the flash drive in my bra before going to give the phone back.

Just as I started moving a loud argument broke out, by the drunk accents I could tell it would soon get violent. Seeing as I had many experiences with an aggressive drunk. I wasn’t going to take my chances and began turning towards the main exit.

I heard the first shot echo followed by another. Soon everyone was shooting. Including Carmen who I think just wanted an excuse to shoot at people passing it off as “protecting her friends”.

She was closer to the exit than I was so she slid me the gun and I was able to ward off anyone shooting in our general direction. Not for long though. A bullet lightly grazed my dominant arm’s shoulder; it still dug in enough to do some sweet damage.

Fuck

What’s up with me? I haven’t been on my A game lately.

We were also out of bullets. Mostly because we weren’t actually expecting to have to fucking shoot at people. I ducked back down behind the bar trying not to get caught on the broken glassware.

“I think it would be a good time to do that thing?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes

“You know I hate doing it,”

“Well I’m literally bleeding out,” I dramatized pointing to my shoulder. “So if you want to get out of here not in body bags, do the thing,”

“Alright, just this one time,” She begrudgingly made her way out from behind the bar and away from me.

I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the glass around me rained down and the bar shook. I could slightly hear the cries from beneath my hands. Once she moved back over to me

“See that wasn’t so bad, birdy,” I scrambled up to my feet ignoring the pull in my shoulder.

I made my rounds grabbing Jim’s phone, cash, wallets, watches, and anything else that looked expensive from pockets and the ground.

I stood awkwardly staring at my feet as I slid from side to side with my butt planted on my skateboard.

“Hi,” I heard squinting my eyes looking up revealing a equally nervous looking Peter

“Hey,” I nodded at him.

The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be he’d apparently asked Liz to prom and he said yes. Which I was definitely super happy about because why wouldn’t I be?

Anyway who cares about that anyway. Props to Peter for not bringing up the whole ghosting everyone thing for like a week thing. Because if he didn’t bring it up I was going to act like it never happened.

We talked about everything and anything. From favorite candies or colors to our beliefs about life after death. I’d found out his favorite candy were skittles, favorite color: red and that he was Jewish but not necessarily religious and didn’t believe in heaven or hell but he believed in the eternity of a soul.

I’d told him that my favorite candy was F/C, my favorite color being pink and that I didn’t know what I believed in. I believed in a higher power but not that they were inherently good because of all the suffering on earth. I’d told him if they weren’t good and had abandoned us while alive. Why would they care or have any plan for us into the afterlife? I think that part is up to us, and what we believe. I’m trying not to think about death.

Then like clockwork he had to leave before 9 which is funny because it’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide his secret identity. He’d told me he lost the internship and normally his excuse to leave was the internship.

I just guess that means he no longer has Stark’s backup. He only had it for a while anyway he’d be fine without it again. Actually when I think about it, from his behavior he’d exhibited as Spiderman in the short few months I’d had the displeasure of knowing him as ‘Thorn’ he’d be weak. He was unconfident, relied on his tools far too much. Couldn’t see himself without the suit. So maybe he was really just going home. So he’d be fine.

I’d also be fine. No matter how much it didn’t look like it at the moment. I’d be fine. I was always fine. I was fine without my mom, without Rose, without my dad, without Olivia and any one else I’d ever been stupid enough to get attached to. I’d bounce back. I always did.

It’d taken Carmen much convincing to not sit around and babysit me 24/7 because of my shoulder. She was sure that I’d do something dumb and it would get infected.

I was sitting on MJ’s bed getting ready for homecoming. My neck jerked again as Bri attempted to detangle and braid my hair.

If I hadn’t spiraled into the Vulture, Kingpin and SHIELD, rabbit hole I probably would have taken better care of myself and my hair.

“Stop moving,” She tsked.

“Stop trying to rip my head off my neck,” I hissed back.

Bri did my nails back when we were still at her house waiting for MJ to pick us up. She actually did pretty good. I think she would do great at a cosmetology school. She's pretty much into everything: hair, nails, makeup the whole nine yards. She did all of that for me.

The make up was very simple, but I was still able to get my signature winged eyeliner. Winged eyeliner is something very dear to me mostly because Rose was the first to put me on it and I wore it everyday since. It kinda felt disrespectful to stop at this point.

The only thing left was the dress MJ had gifted me. Her mom bought her a dress but she still refused to wear dresses so she returned it for this one, she opted for a very nice pantsuit she already had. Then Bri's outfit of course matched her boyfriend’s.

I’ve never really liked school dances they’re always so overhyped, but I go to them all anyways, because then I get in on all the drama. It helped me build up my arsenal of knowledge about everyone.

I was sitting at one of the round tables near the entrance with MJ, Bri, and Olivia. We had a bottle of “Gatorade” open and out for anybody who wanted to drink it. I was about to drink from it when I saw Liz enter alone.

I made my way over to her.

“Where’s Peter? I thought he asked you?”

“I don’t even know he just ditched me,” She let out a deep breath.

“Aw I’m sorry,” I wrapped my good arm around her shoulder.

“Well don’t think about that asshole, you’re way out of his league anyway,” I assured her to which she let out a weak laugh.

“Come sit with me and my friends,”

A girl with knockers dancing all along her head came up to before speaking

“Why are you crying?”

I sniffed pulling my head from my arms.

“I miss my mom,”

“I miss my mom sometimes but I like my grandma too,”

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“I don’t know my grandma says she’s sick,” She shrugged. “Where’s your mom?”

“Well my grandma says she’s in a better place now but I know that just means dead,”

“Yeah my dad is dead too so I know what you mean, I’m Rose. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,”

“Y/N, that's a pretty name,” She smiled. “You wanna come sit with me and my friends Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

I jumped a bit at the voice before matching it to MJ

“What?” I asked in a harsher tone then necessary.

“Jeez sorry,” She reeled back “Someone is asking for you named Carmen. They said it’s important,” She waved her phone around.

My face dropped and I hoped no one caught it.

I grabbed the phone exiting the auditorium.

“Okay what’s up?”

“You know Liz’s dad whatever her name is but yeah, He’s gonna rob that plane that’s moving everything from the Avengers tower,” She rushed

“What!?”

Holy shit

That must be where Peter’s went. So he figured it out too. Kid’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“I’ll send you the location on your phone,”

“Why didn’t you just call me from there?”

“Because you never answer it,”

“True,”

“Y/N?” She whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,”

“Always,” I smiled.

I rushed out of the building not thinking about how I could get caught. Near the buses there was the new Shocker lying unconscious.

I took the webshooter I found next to him. Then made a run for it. Stopping to hot wire the nearest car, I sped to one of the locations that I knew Vulture’s team kept their weapons at. I was throwing everything in the same pile. Getting ready to destroy them.

Then the door creaked open.

I felt the bed dip as my brother sat next to me.

“Are you coming?”

I pulled the cover off my face

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t,”

“No I won’t leave me alone,” I pulled the cover back over my head.

“You gotta eat something,”

“No I don’t leave me alone,”

“Y/N…”

I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t wanna hear it.

“She would want you to eat something,”

“Fuck you! How would you ever know what she would've wanted? No one here knew her and now one will ever get the chance to again so just leave me alone,”

“Y/N-“

“Don’t Y/N me, get the fuck out of my room,” He sat there for a second, stunned “NOW!”

As soon as the door closed and I flipped back over

I was shaken back into the present only to find that I was pinned under the man who’d entered the room before I zoned out. He reached for the nearest weapon. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Which is rare. I have a whole weapons catalog in my brain. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t grab it without giving me leeway to get from underneath them.

Unfortunately for me I put too much pressure on my arm in the seconds I took to grip my shoulder recuperating myself. The man had fired the weapon he had at the pile of weapons that I stumbled back towards.

The weapons then emitted purple light before exploding leaving me caught under some wood and concrete as the ringing in my ears only got louder and louder.

The fire around me crackled loudly and I bit my lip.

The smoke was only getting more plentiful.

I started coughing which only got more and more painful.

When I came to myself, I wasn’t choking anymore and the fire around me had died down. I was able to push myself from underneath the rubble holding me down. Not without lots of pain though.

The dress I was wearing was torn completely, holes big enough to see what I was wearing underneath it already.

So I just took it off.

It wasn’t like I was completely naked I was wearing boxers. Not like I haven’t left the house in a bra and shorts before. Also who gives a fuck I just almost died.

It was like 35° but I wasn’t cold in the slightest. I was actually kind of hot.

If my phone was accurate the plane had already made it near the edge of Queens and Staten Island. Rushing there I was seconds late as I saw the plane crash after I saw two figures fighting along it.

There was fire everywhere but I wasn’t thinking. I was just running because I couldn’t make out Peter’s shape and if he was dead-

I swear to fucking God if he was dead. Not again. I couldn’t handle another death.

Peter was saying something. No, pleading as the Vulture stood tall with his wings still intact. He was talking about how it was a nice try and he doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

Peter might not but I knew what this was. I also knew I wasn’t letting him get away with it.

The wings started producing visible waves of heat. Then it hit me, what Peter was trying to say. The wings were gonna blow. I got a head start and lunged towards the man. The element of surprise was on my side. That was until he used the wings to lift himself off the ground.

Now I was fine with parkour and other activities, but being lifted off the ground by someone else, someone who’d never interacted with me ever, is where I draw the line. Then Peter was shooting a web at the wings. To which Vulture dropped me to go after him.

Oh hell no.

“Give it up Peter,” He continued to get closer and closer as the webs were continuously cut through.

You know how people say they see in red when they get angry? Well the opposite of that happens to me I just see black. Remembering very little to nothing.

Last thing I remembered was fire just fire. From my fingertips, arms, head. It destroyed the wings in seconds, before they had a chance to blow up on their own.

Peter webbed up the man before moving out of my sight.

How the fuck do you get fire coming from your body.

Literally what the actual fuck.

I couldn’t breathe.

That’s what it was, I was dying, I was probably in some coma and this was a weird hallucination my brain pushed out in its final moments.

Okay this is it. I was dying suffocating in some coma.

Or even worse this wasn’t a coma and I was going to die with my body lit on fire literally.

“Oh my God,” I gasped trying to get air into my lungs.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them Peter was in front of me in a torn up ripoff suit.

“Y/N,” He moved trying to catch my eye.

“Y/N, Y/N breathe…”

I couldn’t really process his words. My mind was clouded with fear, fear and anger.

Before I knew it I was hitting my head so I wouldn’t hit anyone or anything else. It’d been a coping mechanism I used ever since I was 3.

Peter reached for my arms reeling back after his hands came into contact with my boiling skin.

“Y/N you have to calm down,” He moved in front of me.

I stopped moving my hands but it was still difficult to breathe.

The monitors beeped all around me and if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough. I could convince myself they were birds.

I could tell from the patter of the knock on the door that it was Rose.

“Come in!” I called out.

She picked up the clipboard examining it. As she did every time she visited. Luckily for everyone there was no nurse she could bombard with questions and criticism.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Itchy, like my guts are on fire,”

To which she replied by singing the chorus to Girl on Fire.

“Anyway,” she brought us back after our laughter. “I got you pizza today since I’m sure you’re tired of McDonald’s,”

“I don’t mind McDonald’s actually, anything is better than hospital food. Well actually, their chicken strips aren’t that bad,”

She placed the box down on my lap. I lifted up the lid and was hit with the smell of the many herbs. I pat by my legs signaling she could sit down. She wiggled into the spot that the bar of the bed allowed.

“What are we watching today?”

“Uh…” I clicked on the TV “Vampire Diaries?,”

“That show is still going?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll ever end,”

Somehow the show turned into us dancing around the cramped hospital room.

We spun like the ballerinas in the broken jewelry box I got from my mom. Arms flailing around. The air conditioner made a rattling noise and a half eaten pizza on the bed. The situation was probably extremely weird or unpleasant from any other perspective, but because it was her it was perfect.

It was like the moment in rom coms where the camera zooms into the main characters dancing as the rest of the characters are put out of focus and they stare into each other’s eyes. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them I saw Peter’s eyes above mine.

His hands were immediately on my face making my look straight at him.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out.

I sat up feeling a pounding in my head and a pull in my lungs. I was met with the fact that I was definitely not on the ground. I was actually very far from the ground on some ride on the pier. My mouth was dry so it took me a minute to get the words out and when I did it hurt my throat.

“Yeah ’m okay jus’ tired,”

“Okay, well don’t go back to sleep because I think you have a concussion,”

“You’re acting like I died or something, how long was I out dang,” I joked I always hated when things got too serious.

“Uh probably...30 minutes? I don’t know I don’t have a watch,” He sniffed and that's when I realized he’d be crying.

“Were you crying? I knew you cared about me,” I smiled “It was only a matter of time before you fell in love with me, I’m irresistible”

He laughed weakly wiping his eyes “This isn’t funny,”

I looked up at him and started uncontrollably giggling. Soon Peter was laughing too.

The moment was interrupted by a squad of police cars pulling up. I absolutely did not want to get down but my tired muscles betrayed me. I was extremely exhausted. I literally could not move. I just had to go wherever Peter decided to take me. I honestly think I might have a few broken ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before though. We stood off to the side watching as Vulture was stuffed into the back of one of the cars.

“So Spiderman?” I smirked.

“Uh.. no?” He said as if he’s questioning himself.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone I’ve known for a while now,” I twisted my body to face him hissing as a sharp sting shot through my body “You're not very good at hiding it,”

“Hey!” He cried out “But seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

“I already said I wouldn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll pinky promise you, and everyone knows you can’t break a pinky promise,”

“Alright,” He sighed.

I tried to move closer again and was stopped by the pain in my sides.

“Okay well, the offer still stands, you’re just gonna have to come over here,”

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 5

Title: Neighbours

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip

The ‘to do list’ is long and lengthy but not unmanageable.

Inside and outside decorations, picking out a tree and having it dropped off the next day, last minute presents and stocking stuffers to grab, a massive grocery list that includes the usual staples and the ‘extras’ that always make their appearance at Christmas time. The convenience of a big city is one thing she’s always missed; malls with everything you need under one roof, strips of your favorite, eclectic little shops, delivery for everything under the sun. Never having to own a car; Uber and taxis summoned with just one phone call, the subway just a block away. The younger Esme...the one fresh off a shitty first marriage...had loved every second in New York City. That spacious loft -with its exposed brick walls and industrial lighting and Juliet balcony- in Brooklyn, the Broadway shows she’d attend, the high end shops like Tiffany’s, Chanel, and Prada that she’d do little more than browse in; dreaming about all the things she would buy if she was ever fortunate enough to have money to burn. Trips to Central Park; reading a book or sipping a latte while sitting on the edge of the fountain or treating herself to lunch at Tavern on the Green. She’d never been bored; filling every minute of her free time with something new to experience. Taking the subway into different ethnic areas; trying new foods and drink and buying newly discovered -to her- spices and intriguing ingredients to try out at home. And while she’d been alone, she’d never been lonely; always finding ways to keep herself busy.

While it’s nice to come back and spend time in the BIg Apple, she no longer misses it with such intensity. THAT Esme..the one who’d lived in that loft apartment and who’d window shop at the high end retailers...no longer exists. She died almost thirteen years ago; her life coming to end on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. It had been time; out with the old, in with the new. And there’d been something so incredibly empowering about it; never returning to either the city or Colorado and having her step father pack up the necessities and ship them to her. Many people would consider it foolish; throwing a somewhat stable and comfortable life away for something so different. A country on the other side of the world, a man she barely knew yet her heart was certain she was in love with, a tiny and cramped apartment outside of Sydney with barely any clothes in the closet and only second hand, mismatched furniture to decorate the place. But it had turned out to be everything she’d wanted; a change in pace and scenery and a life she never knew she was missing out on. That man she barely knew outside of sex quickly proving to be the love of her life; not just a lover, eventual spouse and baby daddy, but her best friend. The one and only person she truly trusted; who’d been so willing to give up his life to save hers and made her feel safe and protected...and LOVED...in ways she’d never experienced before.

Australia quickly became home. Despite the lingering issues from Dhaka -the slow healing process and the financial issues and the worry of retaliation IF word ever got out that he had survived- they’d been happy. Not needing much; enjoying those evenings on the couch, watching television and eating ice cream right out of the container, those trips -as a couple and then newlyweds and eventually with a tiny Millie in her daddy’s arms, the long and quiet -and often post coital- conversations that had become their norm. They’d gone through a hell of an ordeal together; forming a bond that other people simply couldn’t understand. Both of them could have easily died that day; Tyler from his injuries, her due to the decision she’d made to stick around in an effort to keep him alive. After that, they’d sworn to never take a single second for granted; enjoying the ‘getting to know you’ process even as a newly married couple and her with a baby growing in her belly. It hadn’t been a conventional start to things; those five days in that cramped and dirty hotel room in Dhaka followed by an unexpected little bundle and her decision to give up her old life. But it had worked. THEY had worked. Despite all the odds stacked against them and everything that said they shouldn’t. The ordeal they’d survived giving them an appreciation of each other; putting down that foundation of respect and mutual awe that everything else could -and would- be built upon.

As amazing as it all sounds -finding the love of your life, discovering your own slice of paradise, starting a family- it’s work. Love and everything that comes with it is a lot of work, in fact. It’s arguments over both stupid shit and important issues; it’s hurt and anger and bitterness due to miscommunication or simply not taking the others feelings into considering. It’s learning how the other works and functions so you can be the one to provide comfort, stability, and aid; patience and deep rooted concern and the desire to keep them safe and healthy driving you.

Lust is one thing; immense physical attraction extremely important and definitely an added bonus. But at the end of the day, it’s other forms of intimacy that keep things alive and well; the simple act of holding hands while sitting on the couch or even driving in the car, the unexpected hugs and kisses, the little things you do for one another without even thinking, the teasing and the laughter and the conversations. It’s one thing to love someone and physically WANT them, it’s another to actually ENJOY them; their company and their smile and the sound of their voice and the way they cheer you up even on the worst days. How they talk you through hard times and how quick they are to dry your tears and want to make things right; willing to do anything and everything within their power to make you happy and to feel wanted and appreciated. It’s all those things that keep things going even when they feel like they’re falling apart.

******

“Mum!” TJ calls, as he bounds down the stairs and through the immense space that make up the living and dining areas; an easy and clean flow directly into the counter. “Check it out! You gotta see my outfit?”

With a mug of tea pressed to her lips, she glances up from the spiral notebook in front of her. It’s one of many that usually take up residence in one of the kitchen drawers; a different colour cover indicating which kid it is assigned to, two for things that are needed when it comes to household items and repairs, another for things like groceries and personal products. She’s always been organized, but something ‘snapped’ over the course of the last five years; an obsessive of sorts when it comes to keeping affairs in order.

“What the heck are you wearing?” she inquires, as her oldest son sprints through the living and dining area and then uses his socks to allow him to slide the rest of the way. An almost victorious and proud grin on his face when he comes to a stop against the island. His outfit of choice is an eyebrow raiser; jogging pants enormous and incredibly baggy, a hoodie at least four sizes too big, a black knit beanie on his head.

“It’s my New York City look. For the mean streets. You like it?”

She grins and sips her tea. “The mean streets, huh? There’s nothing quite as dark and dangerous as the vicious and cold, dark alleys of Gramercy Park.”

“It’s bad ass. New York City. Maybe not exactly where we live, but…”

“You’re pretty far removed from the bad assery of The Big Apple, but I admire your spirit. If I ever find myself getting mugged or having to walk down a dark street at two in the morning, I know who to call.”

“I’d protect you, mum. I don’t care how big and bad someone is. I’d kick their ass for you. Or at least try to.”

“And THAT is why you’re my favorite. Although don’t tell your brothers and sisters; that’ll cause too much drama.”

“Your secret is safe with me. OUR secret.” He slings an arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss to her cheek. “What’cha doing?”

“Lists. One of many. Things we need in the house and things we need to do.” She eyes him from head to toe, mug against her lips. "Is that your dad’s hoodie? AND his pants?”

“He let me have them. I asked if he had anything old I could wear; that he wasn’t going to use anymore. This is what he gave me.”

“You do realize he’s more than a foot taller than you and about...I don’t know...a hundred pounds heavier.”

“I weigh a hundred pounds now. Dad’s like one eighty.”

“He was one eighty five when he got out of the hospital. Five years ago. He’s two ten now. Soaking wet. And you’re five feet? Since when?”

“Since yesterday. I had Tanner measure me.”

“You have a lot of damn nerve, kid. Being only half an inch shorter than me. At TEN.”

“I share DNA with a giant. Dad’s six three. I’ve got more of his genes than yours.”

“Yes, I know. I see more and more of those genes every day. You’re looking more like him all the time. And don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing. A VERY good thing. But five feet? Already? What the hell?”

“I can’t help it. Blame genetics.”

“You’re going to be massive. You’re probably going to be taller than your dad. And if you keep lifting weights like you do and you start going heavier as you get older, you’ll be huge by sixteen. A good huge. It’s depressing. You’re depressing me.”

“Sorry, mummy.” He kisses her cheek once more, then joking places his forearm on the top of her head. “You’re going to make a good arm rest. Thanks for being absurdly short.”

“Don’t be a smart ass. I brought you into this world, I can take you out.”

“Dad says the tiniest ones are always the most feisty. I think that’s why he fell in love with you; you’re little but you don’t take any shit. Even from him.”

“He likes a challenge, that’s for sure.”

Sipping her tea, she watches him as he heads for the fridge; rummaging through it before coming up with a container of some of the baked goods Tanner had already blessed the family with, and a bottle of Gatorade. He even walks like his father; those gigantic feet and that long, slightly bow legged gait. TJ is more awkward; stuck at the stage between still being a child, yet quickly nearing his teenage years. And he’s become far more mature since hitting double digits; still possessing that extremely active and almost hyper personality, but prone to more serious and thoughtful moments. And at times he looks years older; when his eyes darken and his lips set into a thin, serious line and his brow furrows. So much of his dad exists in him. Both inside AND out. And that smile; the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and slightly wrinkles the bridge of his nose. It’s on his face now; as he opens the lid on the container of treats and sets it -and his drink- on the counter top before fetching the pot of tea from the stove and warming up the contents of her mug.

“You certainly are my best son,” she chides. It’s only PARTLY a joke. Although at times he can be quite the handful and his ability to regulate his emotions and temper can cause issues both at home and at school, he’s a wonderful kid; loving so deeply and profoundly.

“Tanner wanted me to give you this,” he reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and pulls out a folded sheet of printer paper. “Things he needs. For his baking. He’s really good, huh? At the whole baking and cooking thing? Like, INSANELY good.”

“He’s quite the talent,” Esme agrees. “But so are YOU. You’ve got your own things you’re amazing at.”

“But not like him. He’s crazy smart and he can play the guitar and sing and all this baking and making dinner and stuff. He’s like a dude Martha Stewart! You know what he should do? Start a Youtube channel. People would LOVE him. People are suckers for a cute kid.”

“Well, you know Tanner; how nervous and anxious and shy he gets. You should bring it up to him. If anyone can talk him into something, it’s his big brother. He idolizes you.”

“I don’t know why. I’m not THAT great.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty damn awesome in my books. And you’re a really good big brother. You should talk to him. He’d be willing to try, I bet. Maybe it’s something you could do together. He’d love that. He loves spending time with you. And I know it’s been hard; him going to a different school.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been the best thing that’s ever happened,” TJ laments, and helps himself to one of the peanut butter and chocolate squares in the container. “It’s been four years and I STILL miss him. I loved having him in my class. And I loved hanging out with him at lunch and at recess. And sitting with him on the bus.”

“It was a hard decision to make. But it was the best decision. For him.”

“Yeah, my school isn’t exactly an intellectual wonderland. He’s better off where he is. With other brainiacs like him. But still, I do miss him.”

“I’m sure he misses you too. But you get a lot of time together. At home and stuff. And I always love Fridays; the bus dropping him off at your school and you guys coming to see me at the store. Hanging out until I close. Hands down my favorite day of the week.”

TJ smiles. “Mine too.”

“And I thought I was organized,” she comments, as she studies Tanner’s very neat and tidy list.

“He’s kinda anal, huh? About some things? I don’t mean that in a bad way. Just that he’s very…”

“Particular?”

TJ nods. “You know, I wish he’d see himself the way I see him. He’s always worried that he’s weird and that people don’t like him because of it. He always talks about how his brain isn’t like everyone else’s and that he wishes it was. You know what I wish? That more people were like Tanner. Because he’s talented and he’s unique and he sees the world so differently than everyone else. I know he struggles with some stuff, but it’s not a bad thing; him being the way he is. Sometime I think he’s better off than all of us.”

“Unfortunately, self hate seems to be a genetic trait as well. Who does that remind you of? Who else sees themselves in a bad light?”

“Yeah, dad is pretty good at that. Not liking who he is. I don’t why; I think he can be kinda awesome.”

“I think he can too. He’s just had a rough time. For a LONG time. He’s working on it. On a lot of things. But you know what’s really amazing at? Being a dad. I’m pretty lucky. I landed myself a pretty incredible guy. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me. And as for Tanner, maybe you should tell him what you just told me. Because I guarantee you, if he heard that from his big brother? It would mean the world to him. He needs to hear stuff like that. Tell him, okay?” She rubs her palm in slow circles in the middle of his back. “It would make his day. Probably his whole year.”

“I will. I’ll tell him. Do you think he’ll live alone? Away from you and dad?”

“I don’t know,” Esme admits, and cupping her mug in both hands, turns around and leans back against the countertop. “Your dad and I talk about it from time to time. If Tanner will ever get to that stage. If he doesn’t…” she shrugs. “...he doesn’t. I mean, he could live in the pool house. He’d be close enough to home so if he did need help, we’d be right there.”

“What if he lived with me? If we got a place together? When we’re old enough, of course. Say when we’re nineteen. And I’ve got a good job. Like in the military or something.”

“That’s a lot to take on, Teej. A career like that and your brother. Would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s Tanner. He’s my baby brother. And not just any baby brother. We were made at the same time. We came out only a few minutes apart. I spent nine months with him; inside of you. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him?”

“A lot will change over the next nine, ten years. You might get tired of him by then.”

“I am NEVER getting tired of him. He’s my brother. I love him. And if it gives you and dad a break after taking care of him for so long, that’s good enough for me.”

“You are something else, Baby-Man. You really are. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I know you do. And I like that you still call me that. Even if I AM almost taller than you.”

“You know, you’ve been so cute and helpful these last few days, that I will ignore your cheap shot. You really ARE your dad. Head to toe. Inside and out. Facial expressions and everything. It’s freaky.” She turns and helps herself to one of the treats; a chocolate concoction with marshmallows and coconut inside and a coating made from crushed up Frosted Flakes. “You know, I craved these for my entire pregnancy with you and Tanner. Your dad used to make them for me. Dozens at a time. He’d even get up at three am to do it. Or to go get tacos. That’s probably why you like Mexican food so much.”

TJ’s eyes widen. “Dad used to bake? At three am?”

“At all hours of the day. He’s actually really good at it. These were my favourite. He made them for me; my first birthday after we got married. We had just had Millie and we didn’t have a lot of money to throw around but he still managed to make it special. Australian wildflowers, a picnic on the beach, and these. It was pretty awesome. One of the best birthdays I’ve ever had. Spent with my favorite human.”

“Dad really DOES have his moments.”

“Yeah, he really does.” Esme smiles, and takes a bite of the square. “You know, your grandma used to make these things.”

“Like mean, awful grandma or grandma Adeline?”

“Grandma Adeline. Your dad’s mom. She was quite the baker. Tanner must have inherited that from her. I know Declan got her red hair.”

“That must have been really hard. On dad. Her dying when he was little.”

“It was.” She sips at her tea and picks up the long discarded pen; absentmindedly doodling in the notebook as she speaks. “ It caused a lot of issues for him. It was pretty painful for him.”

“He still doesn’t like to talk about her.”

“It hurts. Even now. But he’s coming around. It’s not as hard for him anymore.”

“Is it true that grandpa used to beat on him? I heard him and Uncle Koen talking about it. A couple years ago. Dad seemed pretty upset. He normally doesn’t cry in front of anyone BUT you. He was kinda emotional.”

“It is true. Unfortunately. Your grandpa was a drunk and he was a narcissist and he hated his wife for having a child. It took the attention from him. Which I know sounds really weird and twisted. But that’s what happened. And when she was alive, he couldn’t stand her loving on your dad and spending time with him. So he took it out on her; beating her and saying mean things to her. Your dad used to have to listen. Sometimes grandpa would make your dad watch. Said it was to teach him how to ‘treat a woman’ and make them ‘learn their place.”

“I’m glad dad didn’t listen. For your sake. And his. I think you’d beat his ass if he ever did stuff like that to you.”

“I definitely would. And he knows it too. But, your dad isn’t like that. He isn’t the type to treat women like that. I know he has his issues, but THAT? He would never, ever, stoop to that level. It’s just not the kind of person he is.”

“Do you think that’s why dad DOES have the issues he does? The brain stuff? Because of how he got treated as a kid?”

“I don’t think it’s the only reason why, but it definitely added to it. You’ve been asking a lot of questions lately. About mental health stuff. What’s going on? You’re ten. You don’t need to worry about this. Your dad is fine. He’s doing great. A lot better than anyone thought he would. So why…?”

“I gave him shit,” TJ says, then gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I mean ‘crap’. I gave him crap.”

“You gave your dad crap about something? That’s pretty bold. What did he do that pissed you off?

“ I told him it was wrong. That he went away. To work. That he shouldn’t have gone.”

“TJ, why would you…?”

“You wouldn’t have done it. Given him crap for it. And I know you wanted to. I know you lied. When you told him you were okay with it. You didn’t tell him the truth, mum. You just told him what he wanted to hear.”

“Sometimes we do that,” Esme reluctantly admits. “When we love someone and we don’t want to ruffle feathers. Your dad’s come a long way. He used to be gone all the time. He was off doing jobs more than he was home with us. And I know you probably don’t remember all of that because you were so young; the missed birthdays and anniversaries. The time he couldn’t get home for Christmas. You were only three, but…”

“I was little but I DO remember. And you always acted like you were okay with it. But then he’d leave and you’d be a wreck. Just like you were this time.”

“I wasn’t a wreck. I was nervous and I was worried and…”

“Mum, you don’t have to lie to me. I heard you crying. When you thought all of us were asleep. I KNOW you were having a bad time. With dad being gone.”

“You know what? You’re right. I was. Normally I’m okay with it; I can handle him going away as long as he stays out of harm's way. But knowing he’d walked into it? It DID bother me. That he’d been so willing to help out Anil. Especially after what happened the last time he went and got his hands dirty.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell him that? That you didn’t want him doing it? That you didn’t want him going away?”

“It’s not that easy, TJ. Sometimes it’s not my place. I can’t actually tell him what he can’t and can’t do. In the same way he can’t do that with me. And when Anil called and said he needed the help…”

“He should have said no. Anil knows tons of people. Why did he need dad? He could have called someone else.”

“Your dad is very good at what he does. Or what he DID do. One of the best. And I know it sounds strange; to be proud of a job like that. To be so willing to put your life on the line for people you don’t even know. But when Anil called and needed his help, your dad couldn’t exactly say no.”

“Yes, he could have,” TJ insists. “He promised. That he’d never go away again. That he’d never go back out there after the bad guys. He promised ALL of us. And totally broke that.”

“Sometimes it happens. Sometimes he can’t help it. Sometimes…”

“Stop making excuses for him. When one of us screws up, you don’t let us give you excuses. So why do you let dad give them? There’s no reason he had to go. At all. He should have told Anil to get someone else.”

“You know, we are going to have to agree to disagree on this. I said it was okay. If he went. There’s nothing more to talk about. So let’s just drop this, okay? You don’t know what’s talked about; between your dad and I. We keep you guys out of it. For reasons exactly like this.”

“You lied to dad. When you told him you were okay with it. You weren’t. You were far from okay. And I told him that. That you had a really hard time. That you didn’t deserve to go through that. It’s not fair, mummy. That he goes and does stuff like that. I don’t care that Anil needed. WE need him. Us kids. He’s our dad. What happens if he gets killed? Then we have no dad.”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s not going to get killed.”

“He will if he keeps doing stupid shit like this. You should just be honest with him. Tell him how you really feel about him going away. ‘Cause if he thinks it’s okay, he’s going to keep doing it more and more. And then something really bad is going to happen. Worse than last time. And I don’t want that. I don’t want him going away and…” TJ’s voice cracks with emotion. “...I don’t want him going away and never coming home.”

“Tyler...hey…” she lays a hand on the side of his face “...it’s okay...just take a breath and…”

“It’s not okay. It’s never been okay. It’s never going to be okay. And if he goes away and something happens to him, I’ll hate him forever. If something bad happens to him and he never comes back, I’ll never forgive him. For doing that to us. For doing that to you.”

“Okay, I know you’re upset. And I love you so much for wanting to protect me. But right now, you just need to calm down and take it easy, alright? I know you’re going through a lot. I know puberty is starting to come and kick your ass and it’s making everything seem so much worse and…”

“Just tell him,” TJ implores, and noisily sniffles before wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. “Just tell him you don’t want him to go. Tell him, mummy. So he doesn’t think it’s okay to leave again. Because he’ll go and something horrible will happen. And then we don’t have a dad. And we’ll barely have a mum. ‘Cause it’ll kill you. If something goes wrong and he doesn’t come back.”

“You need to to just breathe, Baby-Man,” she steps in front of him and takes his face in her hands. “ Just breathe. Everything is alright. Daddy’s home and he’s safe and he’s not going anywhere. It was just this one time. He won’t have to do that again.”

“You need to tell him. That you don’t want him going. Please, mummy. Please tell him.”

“Okay,” she promises, and draws him into a hug. Heart aching at the realization that her arms can no longer completely wrap around him; shoulders and back both broad and strong. “Everything’s alright, TJ.” She lays a hand on the back of his head and draws it down to her shoulder, the other rubbing his back comfortingly. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him how I feel; about him going away. About how ALL of us feel. Alright?”

He nods.

“Why don’t you go and get some fresh air,” she suggests. “It will make you feel better.”

“You promise you’ll talk to him?”

“I promise.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, then holds him out at arms length. “Maybe afterwards we can take the littles for a walk? You know how much Takota loves when you pull him in the sled. It’ll be good; to go and get a bit of exercise. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You are getting so big. How do you grow up so fast? I remember finding out about you and your brother. I remember when you were born. All seven pounds of you. Now look. In a month's time, you WILL be taller than me. You’re already wearing mens size nine shoes. You’re TEN.”

“That’s what happens when your dad’s a giant, I guess.”

“You used to always call him that when you were little. You’d tell everyone that your dad was a giant. He probably seemed that way, huh? Probably seemed ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

“He still does. Well, maybe not the bullet proof part. We know THAT’S not true.”

“I know it bothers you. What happened back then. I know it’s not an easy thing to get over. That you came so close to losing him. And I’m sorry. That you had to go through all of that. I really am. If there was any way to go back and time and change it, I would. In a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

“I do, mummy.”

“Your dad loves you so much, TJ. You have no idea HOW much. When you were born and the doctor gave you to him? I’ve never seen him THAT emotional. Not even with Millie and she was his very first. After Austin. And he cried like a baby when he got to hold her. But you? I can’t even begin to describe what that was like for him. A son. After losing his first one. He was so happy and so in love with you. And that’s never changed. It never will.”

“I just don’t want to lose him. I don't know why he even takes the chance. Why does he go knowing that he might not come back? Doesn’t he love us enough to stay home?”

“Of course he does. And I WILL talk to him. Just cut him some slack, okay? The last five years haven’t been easy on him either. And he’s done so well. Better than anyone thought he would. But it’s a process; dealing with everything in his past and letting it go. So just give him a chance, alright? Can you do that? For me?”

“For you, yeah.”

“You’re such a good boy. I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you. And you ARE so much like your dad. And that’s a good thing.” She places one last kiss on his cheek and draws him into another hug. “A very good thing.”

******

The front door clicking open and a familiar Louisiana drawl calling out a greeting sets off a flurry of commotion; a mixture of both heavy and light footsteps pounding down the stairs, dogs scampering and barking, excited giggles and happy shrieks and rambling sentences in tiny voices. The kids have all become quite fond of Desmond (Desi, or Des, as Esme lovingly refers to him as) in their three years of spending time in New York City. A former University of Alabama football star, he’d found himself relocating when he’d met a very wealthy -and very much older- sports agent a decade ago; abandoning his dreams of playing profession in favour of a new existence in a new city. His husband -and admittedly the love of his life- had passed away just over a year ago. Leaving him with the elegantly and fabulously decorated brownstone in Gramercy, a small fleet of high end cars, closets full of designer apparel, and a bank account that will never run dry. He’s an enormous man; six foot seven and weighing close to three hundred pounds, most of solid muscle. Intimidating at first blush, but a complete teddy bear; compassionate and empathetic and possessing a heart even bigger than his body. And he’s hilarious and flamboyant; zero filter, exceptional taste in clothes, a love for expensive cosmetics and considerable talent in applying them, and a penchant for anything sparkly.

“You realize your front door was unlocked, don’t you?” Desi inquires as he journeys into the kitchen; monstrous hands curled around a giggling Takota’s ankles as he dangles him upside down. “Any wackadoodle could just walk in here. I know this is Gramercy Park, but it’s STILL The Big Apple. This isn’t the safe and quiet little sparrow fart town in Australia you call home. Where all you have to worry about is kangaroos and koalas and spiders the size of dinner plates.”

“I’ll have you know that koalas can be very sketchy; we have one in the tree in the front yard that hisses and spits and throws shit at you.”

“Jack!” Takota reminds her in between hiccups. “His name is Jack!”

“Well Jack is an asshole and he needs to relocate,” she says, and pats him on the bum and squeezes the cheeks; fingers moving to his sides and tickling him until both the giggles and the hiccups increase. “And it’s the dingos you have to worry about. They’re mean.”

“Dingos eat bad girls and boys,” Takota says, smoothing down his hair and his shirt when he’s put on his feet. “That’s what daddy said.”

“If that was true, we’d only have two or three kids instead of seven. Go and play. So I can talk to Desi.”

“Talk to him about what?”

“Top secret adult only stuff. Here," She snags one of the sugary goodies from the container on the island and hands it to him. “We’re going to go out soon. For a little walk. Get some fresh air. Make sure you pee BEFORE we leave. I don’t want to get you all bundled up and then have you tell me you gotta go. Hear me?”

“I can’t make any promises mumma,” Takota says, and then pops the treats into his mouth and rushes off.

“That kid is way too cute for his own good,” Desi declares. “Gonna be a heartbreaker, you know. Like his mom.”

“For the record, I’ve never broken any hearts. Well, except for the time in grade two when I didn’t want to be Freddie George’s Valentine. He just wasn’t my type; he smelled like tapioca and desperation.”

“You had a first husband, did you not? Must have broken his heart. Or you wouldn’t be on your second husband.”

“My first husband broke my jaw, my nose, more than one rib, and put me in the ICU. He’s lucky it’s only his heart that got ripped out. And what’s up with that hat?” She gestures towards the fedora atop her friend’s head. “You look like a pimp.”

“If I was a pimp, you, my little ho…” he plucks the hat from his head and places it upon hers. “...would be better dressed.”

“What is wrong with how I’m dressed? I dress like this all the time.”

“And you’re still married? Is he blind or did he hit his head too hard one too many times or…?”

“I’ll have you know, my husband doesn’t care about the packaging. Just what’s underneath. Case in point, I once bought this really nice and quite expensive baby doll nightie; totally vintage and gorgeous and this shimmering black and pink. I don’t think he even noticed. It took him like five seconds to get it off me. IF that. He does not give a shit about the wrapping paper. Just the gift that’s underneath.”

“And you, my cute, teeny little munchkin, are the gift that keeps on giving. And you must give VERY well. Seven kids and all. But baggy sweat pants and a huge tee and a way too big Quicksilver hoodie? Oh honey, no. Just no. No, no, nooo.”

“If it makes you feel any better, these sweats are Fendi.”

“That does NOT change the fact they are joggers and you should NOT be wearing joggers on the streets of New York City. You lived here before; has your little, beautiful brain forgotten what it’s like to dress here? We need to get you some retail therapy with old Desi. He’ll hook you up. A little refinement, a little sophistication, a little bling. I got you, girl.”

“Your idea of a little bling is a ten thousand dollar belt you tried to talk me into buying last year. Where would I wear a ten thousand dollar belt?”

“I don’t care if you use it in the bedroom. If your husband resorts to employing it to trap you to the headboard or if he uses it to tie your hands behind your back. That belt was spectacular and you deserve spectacular. We WILL do this; a shopping trip. Chanel, Gucci, maybe some Ralph Lauren if we feel like slumming.”

“Where am I going to wear that type of stuff? I can’t wear Gucci while I’m cleaning out the goat pen or Chanel when I’m gutting a chicken coup. And I certainly can’t wear it out shopping.”

“Not to your favourite haunt no. Definitely out of place in Target.”

“There is nothing wrong with shopping at Target.”

“There is so much wrong with it. I’ll be here all day if we start.”

“Besides, we don’t have high falutin places like Gucci where I live, remember? You’ve been there.”

“Charming little place. Reminds me of some of the towns down south I used to hit up. But girl, you fill that closet of yours with the finest of apparel. Stick with me, I’ll treat you right. And speaking of being treated right, I got the appointment for you; Christmas Eve Eve, two o’clock Sally Hershberger.”

“You are a knight in shiny, blingy armor. You really DO have strings to pull.”

“I may have had to promise some good times...sexy good times...to the receptionist. But, that’s a small price to pay for you. I’m willing to take one for the team. Or should I say, give one for the team.”

“And as much as it's a dream of mine to go to Sally, and seeing how my hair really DOES need some TLC…”

“Oh no. No. Hell no. There’s a but coming. And Desmond Brownell does not like buts. Unless it’s Idris Elba’s. And your husband’s.”

“I don’t know if I can go through with it. Not the appointment; I can go through with THAT. But cutting my hair? As short as the picture I showed you?”

“Girl, are you crazy. You’d be a knockout with a cute little side swept bob. What drugs are you on? Not that you’re ugly or anything the way you are now. I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers or anything like that. But your hair...your whole mom thing with the constant ponytails or messy buns...it needs help. It’s screaming for help. Let me help it. Let me help YOU.”

“Just cutting it? THAT short. That’s not going to go over well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tyler is kind of old fashioned.”

“Old fashioned? You two spent five days banging right after you met. You got knocked up out of wedlock. He proposed in the bathroom. Nothing old fashioned about any of that.”

“When it comes to certain things, he’s very...particular. Especially when it comes to my hair. He likes it long. LOVES it long. I cut it up to my shoulders once and he bitched about it for TWO years. And let’s not get into when I got bangs or when I dyed it blonde.”

“I can’t say I blame him for the bangs thing. You’re way too cute and those big brown eyes do not deserve the attention taken away by fringe. But the bob...girl...that’s fierce. You’d rock it.”

“Maybe just some highlights. Some red ones. He did really like when I colored my hair red. I can get those, a trim, a blow out.”

“You can go to Cheapy Haircuts for Us for that nonsense. This is Sally Hershberger. You are not going to her and getting just a blowout or a trim or highlights. You are going big, or going home. The husband will deal. He’d love you with no hair. It’s no secret he thinks the sun shines out of your ass. Which, I have to admit, looks fabulous in Fendi sweats.”

“Why do you think he bought them? He knows what he’s doing. He bought them for the same reason he buys me yoga pants. And I don’t even do yoga.”

“He’s an ass man. I can appreciate that. And speaking of appreciate. Desmond Brownell would like to do some appreciating right about now. Is he home? The better half? Is he in there working out?” He casts a glance towards the home gym that sits off the kitchen. “More importantly, is he in there working out shirtless? ‘Cause if he is, I’ll gladly take him a glass of water so that fine ass specimen doesn’t get parched or dehydrated. I’ll even rub down those sore, beautiful muscles. I’ve got some very top shelf massage oil at home. Smells like pecan and coconut. Unless he’s more a citrusy type. If so, I can run to the store right quick.”

“First off, you’d traumatize him. He’s as straight as they come. I know that breaks your heart to hear it, but…”

“How does he know he’s straight if he’s never ventured out of straight-hood? Unless he has and didn’t like it….”

“He hasn’t tried it. He likes women. LOVES them actually. Maybe a little too much when he was younger. He is NOT bi. Sorry.”

“But I am. So are you. And you’re damn cute and he’d probably give it a try if you talked him into a threesome.”

“Yeah, right,” Esme laughs. “That would never happen.”

“Do right by your best friend. Or are you worried he’d leave you for me? What’s the old saying? Once you go black you never…”

“My husband is straight. Very straight. And no. He’s not working out. He’s not even home. He’s out with Tanner.”

“The breakfast date, that’s right. Little T couldn’t stop talking about that. Loves his daddy, that’s for sure. You know, that kid is damn talented. Those goodies brought over and that soup? Damnnn. Move over Emeril. Little T gonna set the world on fire.”

“He’s something else that kid. He’s...incredible. There aren’t even words that can properly describe him. But, he IS having issues.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“He’s bored. At school. And we specifically sent him there to challenge him. It’s been great. He’s been thriving and his grades are amazing and the teachers and the kids love him. But he’s so advanced and so smart that they’re going to run out of ways to teach him. Which means we’re going to run out of options for him. Which also means, I’m going to become a heavy drinker and eat my weight in these!” She nods down at the container of sweets in front of her and pops one into her mouth. “What are we going to do? There’s only so many options where we are.”

“Homeschool? You’ve got a degree. You’re smart. You can do it.”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got a business. Two businesses, actually. And six other kids. Besides, he is way smarter than I was at that age. He’s probably smarter than I am. What am I going to do? For him?”

“You know where there ARE a lot of options…”

“We are NOT moving here. Tyler would never survive. This place? New York City? It’s not him. And I have to think about that too. What’s also best for him. We’re happy where we are. Insanely happy. Moving here is not an option. No matter how much I miss you.”

“Guess you’ve got a lot of thinking and research to do. It’ll work out. Always does.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love your optimism? And how much I’ve missed you? Or how much I love you?"

“You can mention it as many times as you like. My ego likes that shit.” He takes her face in his hands and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “We still on for dinner tonight? I’m still bringing Italian? And the wine?”

“We’re still on. Tanner is going to make the salad and the garlic bread.”

“We gon’ be eating like damn kings.”

“Are we still on for the other thing? You know; the thing we talked about? When Tyler and I take the kids to pick out a tree?”

“I got you, don’t you worry. I will let myself in and grab the stuff from the attic and sneak out. I also got the email; that ‘thing’ for Addie arrived. You know what I’m talking about?”

“The doll? I didn’t think it would arrive in time. How does it look?”

“Exactly like her. Now, you want to get a head start on the wrapping? You know I love me some gift wrapping.”

“You can do whatever your little heart desires.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “That is what I like to hear. Now, I’m going to the gym. There’s a Latino hottie there I’ve been trying to talk up for weeks. You behave. Stay out of the wine. At least until later.”

“You gonna wear your ‘Bama t-shirt? The one that’s two sizes too small and shows off your muscles?”

“Sweetie pie, you don’ read my mind. But have you been checking out my muscles?”

“I have a ‘thing’ for muscles. And yours are very nice. Besides, I’m married. Not dead. Tyler’s going to be upset. That he’s not the only one you’re crushing on.”

“You just put his little mind at ease. Tell him he gives me the biggest woodie out of them all.”

“That’ll stroke his ego for sure. See you later? Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be here. With bells and bling on.” He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks and pulls her into a hug; tightly squeezing. “You’re just so wee and cute. I could just scoop you up and put you in my pocket. See you later, gator.” He removes the hat from her head, affectionately tousles her hair before heading out of the kitchen. “And do me a favour? Put proper clothes on for dinner. I can’t be dining with someone in sweats. Desmond Brownell has standards to uphold.”

“Desmond Brownwell needs to remember the cherry cheesecake for dessert.”

“Oh bless your heart. Thinking I need to be reminded. See ya, pip squeak.”

“You and you tall people. So cruel to us little folk.”

“Little folk?” He smirks. “You’re like one of those things in Lord of the Rings. A damn hobbit. Matter of fact, I’mma call you Frodo from now on.”

“You do that, I’ll sneak into your house and kill you in your sleep.”

Desmond laughs. “I’d like to see you try, short stuff. Later.”

“Later,” she calls, shaking her head and laughing when he hollers “Spawns of Satan; I be leaving now!” before stepping out the front door.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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not-so-secret-wonderland · 4 years

Text

hi i need someone to talk about some shit with me because like, call me crazy but

Luna Lovegood

as half french/ greek on her father’s side

and half Japanese on her mother’s

with the lineage Luna draws from both ancient Kitsune spirits and the Oracle Pythia

no wonder she knows so many things she shouldn’t and sees things no one else can, she has her eyes opened and waiting for the truth

like the truth about her cousin Draco, how Narcissa doesn’t even care about the war, and how much better their chances would be if the Malfoy’s stood on the side of the light.

her mother always called her Myōbu after the silver fox that used to dance above her head, whispering and chasing the light

she hasn’t seen the fox since Pandora died, but she knows he’s there

Draco Malfoy

A mix of the Black and Malfoy families, both powerful in their own rights

inheriting the power of the Shadow People from his mother, sneaking around the castle and not getting caught, having to lie so much it becomes his second nature, his number one defense against Voldy Modly, because he knows what lurks in the shadows is much scarier than a troubled man

the Veela Hydra that the Malfoys have drawn from for centeries effects his every walk with beauty, arrogance, and a surprising amount of power when he’s forced into dangerous situations, or angered beyond control

he fears someone will find out what he really looks like when he gets angry, but when Harry manages to almost die and he ends up yelling at the boy until his eyes are flashing and his hair is levitating, Harry just calls him beautiful

and because his stupid boyfriend didn’t realize that all the old wizard families are connected to ancient magic, they dive headfirst into research with Luna’s help.

Harry Potter

Snakes, he should’ve known snakes would be in his past, after all surely those who can Speak existed before Riddle

the ancestors on his father’s side are notorious for their snake dealings, some of them handlers, some of them working with the healing staff of Asclepius himself

drawing from Asclepius, Medusa, and Nagas, using magic like the distant realities he never got to know isn’t enough, but he doesn’t even realize his mother drew from the Sphinxes until Luna tells him

Harry learns the languages of his ancestors and wears them, and their snake affinity, with pride

his friends get roped into the new language thing too, don’t worry

Sirius and Remus

Harry demands they fire call the two and learn more, Draco doesn’t expect to but he does

Sirius also draws from the Shadow People, as most of the Blacks do. How else could he have snuck out of azkaban? Or hidden in plain sight for so long? but the Shadows don’t have to be bad, after all everyone always goes to the shade when it gets too hot

Remus can’t remember where he drew from before the Wolf. Once the infection is in ones body, werewolves mainly draw from the moon, it’s not all bad

Harry says that’s why he’s so calm all the time, Draco hits him for being rude, but Remus laughs and says the Shadows have always worked for him

The Weasley’s

Harry should probably be less surprised because of course they inherit most of their magic from Fire Spirits

though he does remember with fear the one time he actually made Ron mad and the air around them had gotten weirdly hot

he supposes it makes a lot of sense

but even more so is the Pranking Foxes of Huehuecoyotl Mr. Weasley calls on sometimes

Fred and George pefer that magic to the fire sprites, but not everyone can be so picky

no wonder their prank shop is doing so well, Mcgonagall is going to retire the second she finds out

Blaise Zabini

Blaise rolls his eyes when Harry asks, but Draco’s glaring at him so he divulges

His mother hails from the ancient Voodoo Priestesses and the Sirens that refuse to let sailors steal their gold

How else would she lure men in and get rid of them without a trace?

apparently the only reason his father made it as long as he did was because he drew from the Nymphs

Blaise refuses to tell him any Voodoo secrets and promptly kicks them out before Harry can start begging

Pansy Parkinson

It’s no secret that she’s the best seamstress in the school, rumor has it that she makes her ball dresses by hand because it takes less time than finding someone who actually does it right

Her family goes back nearly as far and the Potter’s, only instead of snakes she got spiders

Harry suddenly gets why Ron was always so afraid of her, but the more she tells him the more it makes sense

the eldest being the Djieien, and while Pans may not be a monster she’s defiantly hidden her heart ages ago so she didn’t get killed by Death Eaters

her father gives her the gift of being able a long defendant of Anansi, which really explains how she manages to know everything about everyone, even the first years

Harry decides that’s more knowledge than he feels comfortable with and makes a note not to cross her

Cho Chang

turns out her and Cedric are literally perfect for each other because they both draw from the dragons

Cho, her given name Nà-Huì after the stories passed down from her mother’s ancestors of the kind, gentle dragon Qilin that always wanted them of their choices and implored them to think of more than one solution to a problem

Her nickname comes from her father’s linage with Chollima. he tells her every day that she is too wonderful for anyone to ever control her

but when she meets cedric who hails from the water pixies and sunflower wyverns she doesn’t feel controlled she feels free

Millicent Bulstrode

They’re embarrassed to admit they have magic from trolls

Harry pats them on the back and says he sees it, which almost gets him punched in the face until he explains

Millie is a huge hoarder, but only if it matters. They keep the tickets from the concerts their mom used to take her too, the notebooks, poetry, dresses that they’ll never wear, makeup they hate, even the little squid their mom got them first year just because it reminds them of their mom

They also refuse to throw away the ugly blanket Pansy had made of the Slythetin crew as a joke, the ‘potter sticks’ button, or anything that reminds them of their friends.

Harry reminds them that there’s nothing wrong with being selfish when all you want is happy times with your friends.

Hermione Granger

after hearing about all her friends and how they all have some cool relation to magic, she feels rather down

Luna thinks it’s quite silly

so she gathers everyone around and tells them of the Owl of Athena, rumored to the greeks as a messager but really a creature so intelligent and woven into the daily lives of people that no one would think about their magic

something has to run all the owl networks and have a constant flow of information, but that information is so sacred it’s said the owl only chooses an inheriter every hundred years

but those who are chosen become the brighter spell casters of their times

and Hermione is near tears so she throws her arms around Luna, who can really only think of how similar her friend is to the owl griffin that’s so clearly in her bloodline

there’s just so much more that could happen?????

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billyhargroveinaponytail · 4 years

Text

Good Ole Dacre Montgomery

Warning: soft smut, language,violence

Thank you guys for the love, I hope you enjoy this :)

Chapter 4: ‘Bye,bye Miss American Pie’

@dreamin-of-dacre

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

Wednesday morning had come and Paisley was due to arrive any minute. Myra quickly cleaned up her trailer, after getting off the phone with security letting them know someone would be coming to visit her. Myra opened the trailer door looking around outside when out of nowhere someone was wrapping their arms around her. "MJ I have missed you so much!" Paisley was always so tiny, she was often referred to as a toothpick, but for a toothpick she was very strong; probably because of her 4 older brothers always picking on her.

Paisley raised Myra off the ground squeezing her tightly, "Paisley, I missed you so much!" She spoke out of breath,after being sat back down on the ground she returned the hug. "Where is everyone? I am ready to meet people!" Paisley searched around the empty parking lot. "They're all working right now, either filming or getting into costume!"

Paisley sighed in defeat, "I can wait then! What do you have planned for today?" She removed her backpack and picked her wheeled suitcase off the ground. "I was thinking we'd go find ourselves an outfit and then we can come back and I can introduce you to everyone!" Myra replied,opening her trailer door for Paisley to come inside. Paisley looked around in shock complimenting Myra's temporary home. "This place is nicer than our apartment!" She made her way into the bedroom and bathroom taking in every inch.

Paisley noticed a man's jacket hanging from the bedroom door, "I-is this his jacket?" Her grin resembled something psychotic,Myra nodded "He let me use that last night when he walked me back home." Up until this moment everything seemed like a dream, a perfect twisted dream but now that Paisley was here and Myra was able to share everything with her it seemed real, she really had spent the last two weeks with Dacre and they had gone on a couple dates, learning more about each other and even though she hated to admit it she was falling in love.

The jacket was quickly removed from the door and moved to Paisley's nose, "Mmm he smells so good like come on, how much more perfect can this guy get?" Myra took the jacket from her grip and tossed it onto her couch. "How about this dress store? And I promise to tell you more on the way!" Paisley instantly tugged on her arm, racing them out of the home and to the cars. "So have you two kissed?" They walked towards the large gated area, Myra's Jeep waiting behind it. "Yes," She instantly started blushing and the nervous jitters she had gotten before returned. Paisley's face showed nothing but complete shock, "You kissed Dacre Montgomery, the Stranger Things' bad boy!" Paisley was almost jumping up and down with excitement, Myra always cherished having her as a friend, she was always excited for her accomplishments and always had her back.

The fenced gate swung open and they walked to Myra's car getting inside. "I did kiss him, multiple times and it was amazing! His lips are so sweet and he is so sweet!" Myra felt herself rambling on as she clicked her seat belt over her and started up the car. "So are you two going on a date to this red carpet event?" Myra had never really thought about that, she just assumed they would both be there working and that it wouldn't be much of a date thing. "I-uh-I don't think so, I have you and we're going to be busy helping out the cast!" Paisley clapped her hands with joy, "I can't wait to help, you think they need some extras on set? I could help!" Myra pulled out of the driveway, the gate closing behind her, she drove down the long road passing security and heading into town. "I am not sure if they need help but I can always ask!" Myra spoke before being interrupted by the chime coming from her phone,it was Dacre.

Dacre: I am missing you on set today! ;)

Paisley read the text out loud to Myra, giggling the entire time. "He misses you! That's the cutest thing! What am I typing back?" She starred over at Myra awaiting a response. "Oh uh nothing I will reply later!" She reached out for her phone placing it back into her cup holder. The dress shop was inside a mall about 15 minutes away from where they had been filming, they supposedly were going to be using this mall later on for the show.

Gwinnett Plaza, the large sign read at the opening, the parking lot seemed empty so they'd be able to get in, get what they needed and get right back to set. Paisley tugged the door open for her and Myra. "What kind of dress are you looking for?"

"Maybe something fancy and flowy?" Myra shrugged as they walked down the hallway to the first store. "You need something low cut and sexy! So you can show off for Dacre! Oh like this!" Paisley grabbed the first dress she saw on the rack, it was a long black dress covered completely in lace. "There is no way in hell that's way too much lace and that thing would be skin tight on me!" Paisley rolled her eyes and reached out for another dress. This time she grabbed a long strapless red dress with a ruffled floral pattern at the bottom. "What about this one?" Paisley held the dress up to Myra's figure. "Not for me but that would look great on you! You'll look like a movie star!" Paisley nodded now holding the dress up against her chest. "I'm going to try it on, see if you can find anything for yourself!"

Myra walked through the racks nothing catching her attention, a group of girls where huddled in the corner giggling glancing over at Myra. She gave a confused look and continued searching through the racks when a girl from the group gained the courage to walk over to her. "Is this you?" She held her phone showing Myra a photo of her and Dacre walking into the store together. Myra had no idea someone had taken their photo she didn't see anyone around. She stared at the photo speechless. "Are you dating Dacre?" The young girl waited eagerly for a reply. "No no," Myra shook her head, "We are just friends that's all!"

"Oh alright." The girl sighed before walking over to the group of friends again. Myra was still left in confusion but she brushed it off after Paisley left the changing room. "I feel like a barbie doll!" Paisley spun around the dress flowing with her. "That is definitely the one! You have to get it!" Paisley clapped her hands, swaying her hips to the song playing throughout the store. "Any luck finding one for you?" Myra watched an employee return a dress to the rack that caught her attention. "Oh it's sparkly I love it!" Paisley snatched up the dress shoving it into Myra. "Go try it on!" Myra fumbled inside adjusting the long grey dress up her figure, it had deep v cut and a long slit in the shirt, she could have never imagined herself if something like this but now that she had it on she felt like royalty.

The curtain was ripped back and Paisley peeked her head in. "You look incredible! You have to get that one!" Myra couldn't agree more. The shop had started to crowd up with people shopping around so the two of them made their way to check out and then off to Myra's car. Their two dresses were tossed into the back seat before Myra took out her phone to reply to Dacre.

Myra: Heading back to the trailer and then we will see you soon! :)

For the entire ride back Paisley caught Myra up to date on everyone back home, Myra's ex was still asking about her and her family was still coming over to Paisley's family's home every weekend for dinner. Paisley was adopted when she was 12 she says she doesn't remember much about her birth parents but something about it always seemed off to Myra like she did remember something she just didn't want to talk about it and Myra never wanted to force anything out of her but, she always stayed curious. Paisley's adopted family became close with Myra's during family days at school so close they even began spending weekends together having family dinners and family game nights, it was nice to know that the tradition still continued without Myra there to remind them.

The paparazzi that had been crowded by the parking gate before had now returned, George gave a friendly wave to the two of them as he opened the gate for them. Cameras were turned in their direction from the crowd of roaring people only for them to be disappointed when Paisley stepped out waving to them. She sighed raising her middle finger to them, "Don't be too butt hurt," Myra laughed grabbing her dress from the back seat. "They're looking for the Millie or Joe or any of the Actors, we aren't special enough for them!" Paisley took out her dress,slamming the door shut behind her. "You'll be special enough for them when they find out you are dating Dacre!" Myra slapped her arm shushing her. "Don't say that! We aren't dating we are just friends!"

Paisley rolled her eyes as they walked towards Myra's trailer, "Oh,so do you kiss all of your friends because I haven't gotten a kiss!" Paisley wiggled her brow, with a shit eating grin then, making a kissing face to her. They stepped inside and Myra laid their dresses on the bed and glanced at the schedule she had tapped to her fridge. "Looks like they're about to go inside to the green screen room, you wanna go there or wait until after?"

The expression of joy plastered over Paisley's face, "Will we get to see them filming?" Myra nodded, "Sylvia said you could join us on set, you just have to sign a paper saying you'll keep all information to yourself!" Paisley jumped up and down like an excited toddler,squealing. Myra's phone rung again, it was Dacre replying.

Dacre: Great! I am headed to set now I can't wait to meet your friend, babe! :)

Myra's stomach did twelve summer salts reading his message, he called her babe. She wanted to run to him and shower him with kisses but held back the reactions. Paisley peered over her shoulder to read the message but her phone was shoved into her pocket. "You need to act calm when we get down there and you have to be quiet!" Myra held back her laugh,she had missed Paisley and her crazy behavior. Myra laid her passcode lanyard over her neck and lead Paisley to the large metal building scanning them in through the front door. People were scattered throughout the room as they squeezed their way through. A loud voice echoed over a megaphone as everyone took seats obeying the command. Mary saw the two lost girls and grabbed onto them leading them to empty seats. "Hey girls! Perfect timing!"

"Mary,Sylvia,Jane this is my friend Paisley!" Paisley shot them a wide grin and wave before the director yelled over the megaphone again. "Quiet on set!" A girl in a multiple patterned outfit stood in the center of the green screened room. She turned to face the camera and Myra had realized it was Millie the young girl who was portraying Eleven in the show. Paisley nudged her arm with a large smile plastered onto her face. "Action!" The director spoke as the camera moved positions from the top of her head to zoom in on her face. Millie looked to her right with a confused look; the floor, which had been covered in water, splashed up as she walked in the direction of Billy's beaten up car from previous night. She glanced inside the empty vehicle and walked towards the back of it, the trunk sat open, then her attention was brought to a girl whimpering in the corner someone seemed to be huddled over her.

"Don't be afraid." A familiar voice spoke in a deep monotoned voice. "It'll be over soon!" Eleven walked closer picking up her pace, the water beginning to splash up more around her feet. "Just stay very still." Billy spoke kneeled on one knee. Eleven stood directly behind him as he rose to his feet and quickly turned to face her. The trapped girl continued her whimpering, yelling for Billy, Eleven's eyes began to tear up when the director yelled cut. Everyone clapped and the room filled with praise. Millie walked over to their group waving at Mary, who stood from her chair to help fix her hair down with hairspray. "Millie this is our new intern Myra and her friend Paisley!" Mary nodded to the two of them. Millie shook both of their hands, "It's so nice to meet you guys!" Myra was a little caught off guard by her British accent, she didn't know Millie was British until now. "It's nice to meet you too!" Paisley spoke up in a calm voice this time.

"Glad to see you made it!" An Australian voice spoke up as Dacre walked towards their group. "You did great out there, you've got a thing with kidnapping girls don't you?" Myra spoke up offering up the empty seat next to her, Dacre obliged and moved his face next to hers, she gulped at the sudden closeness. "I mean I wouldn't mind kidnapping you." He whispered in a voice that made her knees go weak. Sylvia coughed to disrupt the now awkward silence. "Oh uh Dacre this is my friend Paisley!" Paisley stood from her chair introducing herself. "Ah yes, Paisley I have heard a lot about you!" Dacre smiled shaking her out reached hand. "Are you going to be joining us for lunch?" Dacre pushed back the lose curls that hang in his face. "Yeah that would be great I am starving!"

The lunch room was almost empty, the entire room consisted off Dacre, Paisley,Myra, a few background characters and the kitchen staff. "The desserts here are amazing, but very addicting!" Paisley shrugged taking a few onto her tray. "Fine with me I am not watching my weight!" Myra laughed taking a cookie off her tray and putting in onto her own. "Glad to know my Paisley hasn't changed."

Joe Keery had walked in with his ice cream uniform on, the small shorts exposing his upper thigh causing a light chuckle to leave Myra. "What is this?" She pointed to his attire. "This right here is the outfit of a working man!" He struck a pose, making the entire group laugh. "I'll grab a tray and I will be right over!" Paisley sat next to Myra her entire face an off shade of red, "He's a sweet heart there's no need to be nervous!" Myra whispered in a comforting tone. "So now that I have got you here you need to tell me everything about Myra!" Dacre spoke up as the two looked over at him. "No way!" Myra laughed shaking her finger in Paisley's face.

"Oh what do you want to know? The time Myra got drunk and kissed a Stranger Things poster or the time she wrote a fanfic for our english class or details about her room in our apartment?" A sinister look grew on Paisley's face. "Everything!" Dacre laughed choking on his drink. Myra could have curled into a ball and died at this very moment, she kept her eyes down at her tray trying to hid the embraced look etched onto her face. "Perfect! So after watching the first season together, we instantly went out and bought posters and shirts, we even held a halloween party where we decorated the apartment up with lights and our own demogorgon creation. Also at this time Myra was a Steve girl through and through. Then we had a season 2 viewing party and Myra instantly fell in love with a blue Mustang pulling into the parking lot then with the man who drove that Mustang." Myra rolled her eyes correcting Paisley, "Camaro."

Paisley laughed continuing on her rant. "For my birthday we had a dress up party and she dressed up like female Billy and then got extremely drunk and made out with a poster of Billy, I think she still even has that poster at the apartment!" The entire time she talked Dacre laughed uncontrollably,worried on drinking anymore in fear he would spit it across the table. "Next we had a writing project in english to write about romance so MJ over here wrote a 'Harringrove' fanfic and she got the top grade in the class." Dacre paused her and looked over at Myra's hidden face. "Harringrove really? I never took you for the type!" He raised a brow, awaiting a response. "Oh come on you know the sexual tension is there, there's no denying it!"

"Continue on then I wanna hear about her room details!" Dacre chewed on his bottom lip keeping his eyes on Myra, sheepishly eating her food. "You know those little funko bobblehead things? We have those all over the walls along with posters and Myra has a Stranger Things comforter and she sleeps in a t-shirt that says.." Myra swiftly slapped her hand over Paisley's mouth. "No more thank you!" "Oh come on I have to know!" Dacre pleaded as Joe joined them at the table, Myra shook her head no changing the subject. "Joe this is my friend Paisley!" Paisley waved shyly in his direction. "Joe Keery it's nice to meet you!" He shook her jittering hand,placing his other hand on top. "You doing ok?" He chuckled looking worried. "oh yeah I'm ok, just uh cold." She lied through her teeth.

Lunch had ended and the group had returned to their designated areas. Dacre, Myra and Paisley stood around in the wardrobe trailer as Dacre dug through his rack looking for his next outfit. "I'm gonna step outside here and give you some privacy!" Paisley pushed open the trailer door, sitting on the steps outside. "I'm gonna join her outside!" Myra walked to the door before Dacre grabbed her up setting her down on the counter top. "I have been dying to kiss you all day.." He spoke in a low growl. Myra grabbed his shoulders pulling him between her legs,pushing her lips against his. He tasted sweet like the mint he had put in after lunch, he ran his hands under her shirt causing her entire body to be covered in goosebumps. Myra ran her hand down his chest undoing the few buttons of his shirt that were yet to be undone.Dacre placed light kisses down her neck then making his way to her ear where he tugged on her earlobe. "We-we have to get going Dacre!" Myra forced out with a soft moan. He nodded mutely as his mouth worked it's way down to her neck then to her collarbone.

"You ready Dacre?" Sylvia's voice spoke from the other side of the door. Dacre came to a halt, helping Myra off the counter and redoing the buttons on his shirt. He adjusted himself in his pants and nodded to Myra with a smirk. "Yeah Syl all ready!" He tossed back a curl from his shoulder and opened the door with a smile. "let's get going ladies!" Myra was lost, what in the world just happened, didn't matter she wanted more of it. Paisley gave her a questioning look, "You ok? You look flustered." Myra was at a lost for towards, she just nodded in response, pushing Paisley to keep up with Dacre and Sylvia.

Sylvia lead their group onto a set that was styled to look like someone's home, there had been family portraits hung up all over and it had the perfect 80s home vibe all the way down to the hardwood floors and textured wallpaper. Millie had returned to set and this time she was joined by Sadie, the actress playing Max. Paisley,Sylvia and Myra took their seats soon joined by Jane, while Mary stood on the set fixing everyone's hair and doing last minute make up touches. Dacre stood in the dining room area receiving notes from the director, he glanced in Myra's direction giving a wink and a playful smile. "What happened in that wardrobe trailer?" Paisley pulled on Myra's shirt gaining her attention.

"Oh uh nothing we just talked." Myra kept her eyes glued to the manila envelope laying in her lap. "huh just talking? You've got a funny way of just talking, I mean the poor dude came out with a hard on and his buttons on his shirt all a mess." She pointed to Dacre adjusting the buttons in the small mirror that hung in the set designed home. Myra did everything possible to keep from laughing, her face burned with embracement.

"Millie,Sadie let's get you two in the hall and we will start there! Everyone else get in your place!" The director spoke over the loud groups. Everyone filed into place,two older people joined Billy at the dining table. The entire cast stood motionless waiting for the next command,as a camera focused on Millie and Sadie standing in the doorway. "Action!" The camera focused on a picture of Heather and what seemed to be her parents as Sadie spoke up.

"This is her house."

"What?"

"Heather's house"

A woman's laugh was heard throughout the home as they turned the corner to hear Dacre speak up. "Isn't that cute huh?" They came to face Heather's parents dressed up at the diner table joined by Dacre. "He's so funny!" The mother continued on laughing,before he attention to brought to the two young girls dripping wet in her living room.

"Max." Dacre spoke in a charming voice. Everyone's face grew with confusion when Max spoke up. "We didn't mean to...barge in. We tried to knock, but..you maybe didn't hear us over the storm." Both of their damp hair drenched the floor they stood on, Dacre continued chewing with a devious look. "I'm sorry who is this dripping all over my living room right now?" Dacre let out a low chuckle,shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Janet, Tom, this is my sister Maxine!" He tossed his napkin onto the table before standing and walking to her. "What on earth are you doing here? Is something wrong?" His expression changed when he came to face Max.

"We just wanted to make sure everything was ok." "Ok?" Dacre gave off an almost unreadable expression."Why wouldn't it be ok?"

"Where is she?"Millie spoke up stepping forward. "I'm sorry, where is who?" His lifeless eyes starred at the two. "Well, they're a little burnt, I'm sorry-" Heather came around the corner carrying a tray of cookies to the dinner table. "Heather!" Dacre chimed raising his arm to introduce the two. "This is my sister, Maxine. And I am sorry I did not quite catch your name." "El!" Millie spoke in a serious tone. "El." Dacre repeated. "Now what is it you were saying,El? You were looking for somebody?" Eleven mumbled a little in confusion. "I--I saw-I saw you.."

"Your manager. At the pool. He said you guys didn't come in to work today, so we got worried." Sadie retorted quickly. "Heather wasn't feel so hot today so we thought we'd take the day off to nurse her back to health." Dacre crossed his arms in front of him. "But you're feeling just fine right now,aren't you,Heather?" Heather gave off a forced smile before speaking, "I'm feeling so much better! Do you girls want a cookie?" Dacre stared back to Millie with an obnoxious look. "They're fresh out of the oven!" She offered the tray forward. "Cut!" The director yelled startling everyone. "Let's film Billy at the doorway then we will start with Heather's family!"

Dacre moved to the fake doorway they had created and stood in the window pane while a camera moved to focus in on him. "Action camera 1!" He exclaimed. The camera slowly moved in to Dacre's expressionless face, as it moved closer the look of pain came into his eyes. "Camera 2 start!" The director spoke from his chair. The second camera was close up on a record spinning around a vinyl player. The song it played was American Pie by Don McLean, it then moved to face Heather's mother who was eating one of the cookies Heather had made. Dacre joined them back at the table, "Is everything alright?" Heather questioned him as he took a seat in his previous chair. "Yes,everything is fine!" Dacre confirmed. "Your sister really didn't want to stay?" Heather's mother spoke finishing off the last of her dessert.

"No, she's just not,you know, really a people person." Dacre adjusted his chair forward, reaching for his silverware. "Well I just don't like the idea of them out there in the storm like that." "Oh they'll be fine!" Her husband spoke up shoveling his food in. Janet reached forward for her glass accidentally knocking it and the contents over. "I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet!" She rapidly cleaned up the stained table cloth. "You ok mommy?" Heather asked in concern. "Yes, I'm--I'm just feeling a little lightheaded is all." Dacre continued feeding his face showing no concern for the situation. "It's all the wine!" Tom spoke arrogantly. "I'm sorry um if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to go upstairs and lie down for a bit." Janet whipped off her lap before standing from the table.

Heather gave Dacre a deep stare as the sound of her mother collapsing in the living room startled her father. "Janet?" Tom stood to assist his wife. At this time Dacre was reaching under the table for a small brown bottle pouring its content onto the napkin he had been using. "Janet? Janet?" Tom dropped to his wife's side. "Janet! Call 9-1-1!" Heather reached for the bottle of wine as her and Dacre rose from the table.

As Tom looked back to get the attention of Heather he was blindsided by Heather swinging a bottle into his head, with a loud grunt he too fell to the ground. Even with wounded head he tried his hardest to crawl away as Dacre handed Heater the drenched napkin. Dacre leaned his arm against the wall observing Heather stomp her foot into her father's back and grab a fist full of hair yanking his head back to cover his mouth with the napkin. "I'm really sorry about this,Daddy,but it'll all be over soon I promise." Tom's screams where muffled by the towel smashed against his face as the camera moved back to Dacre devious expression.

"Cut!" The director yelled, his loud claps booming. "That was perfect guys! let's get everyone changed and get ready for the warehouse scene!" Everyone rose from their seats swiftly going out the doors to the golf carts that waited outside for them. "I have got to get changed you want to join me?" Dacre stepped towards Myra speaking quietly. "I'd love to but it looks like my help is needed getting things ready for this sauna scene.." She pointed to a section in the script, she saw the sadness on his face and replied with a smirk placing a kiss on his cheek. "Raincheck for later?"

"Raincheck for later!" He smirked, chewing on his lower lip.

#dacre x reader #dacre kayd montgomery #dacre montgomery #dacre imagine #dacre #dacre montgomery imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthingsedit #Billy Hargrove #billyhargrove #hargrove #stranger things edit #robin buckley #joe keery #steve harrington

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abbyfreemansmind · 4 years

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Let’s talk about Hazbin Hotel

So, I finally sat down and watched Hazbin Hotel. I’d heard so much about it and felt the need to launch myself headfirst into having my own opinions about it instead of just listening to other people talking about it. This is gonna be a long post, so I’m gonna put it behind a neat little read more. Please note that this is coming from someone who genuinely enjoys adult humour and edgy humour and themes. I’ve got no problem with something that’s all swearing and raunchy jokes. It just needs to be done right.

Point 1 - The Plot The plot is describes as the Princess of Hell trying to open a new hotel to rehabilitate sinners so they don’t get exterminated during the yearly heavenly extermination to deal with Hell’s overpopulation problems. This plot is quickly undone through a few things that anyone can notice during the first viewing. 1 - Overpopulation? WHAT population? The scenery is most often noticeably devoid of any signs of life, outside of when background characters are called for. The scene where Charlie’s doing her news presentation is the most notable example of background characters. After this scene, we see almost nobody outside of the main cast and those weird little egg things. There are a few throwaway demons but outside of that, the streets are devoid of people. There aren’t even the corpses we had just seen during that opening scene. 2 - Charlie may as well be a total nobody what with all the power being the Princess of Hell holds. Just look at how the other characters treat her. You’d think the Princess of Hell would have some kind of benefit that would sway people towards agreeing with this whole idea. Instead, she gets mocked by just about everyone for reasons I can only guess involve winning her sympathy points from the audience. 3 - At no point does she give any proof that redemption would work. She basically says, “Hey guys! I hate seeing you all die, so I have this idea that has no backing evidence, that may or may not work, to try and get you guys into Heaven! Let me sing a song about it where I insult you all!”

Point 2 - Presentation I applaud the animators. Must’ve been hard, especially for Charlie’s overly fast song that really didn’t need to be nightcored, or literally any time Angel Dust was on-screen. Frame by frame. No rigs. All those stripes. All those colours that blend if you stare at them too hard or squint even slightly while watching. All that unnecessarily constant movement. It’s no wonder the thing took four bloody years to animate. Outside of animation, there are too many unneeded details and not enough needed details. Seriously. 1 - The turf war. We didn’t need this. We didn’t need this at all. If you take out the entire opening to it and the entire actual fight scene here, the episode still flows smoothly and we get the same amount of information and worldbuilding. In a pilot/first episode, you should only give the audience necessary details. Leave them wanting more, yes, but make sure they actually know what they’re getting into from the first episode. Make every scene count. Make it mean something. Don’t just shove every detail you can think of together and call it a day, especially if you don’t actually give the audience much information from it. 2 - Why is Hell overpopulated? Why isn’t Heaven? Why can angels go from Heaven to Hell, but demons can’t go from Hell to Heaven? Why does nobody care about being redeemed if Hell is so overpopulated that Angels annually come down and kill people because of it? Why does everyone treat the Princess of Hell like she’s worthless? Why doesn’t Angel Dust know about Alastor if they got into hell within 10 years of each other? Where is this supposed overpopulation problem? Would redemption even work in the first place? Why should I care about most of these characters (who are mostly complete jerks with no redeeming qualities other than “PROTAGONIST”, especially when two of the fan favourites repeatedly sexually assault other characters and, in one case, is both sexist and racist at one point)? Why are there turf wars? I should not be having to ask these questions. Don’t hold the audience’s hand, but don’t leave every single question you present in the show unanswered. Some of the questions presented make absolute sense to leave unanswered. Why does Alastor want to help with the hotel? Why are characters like Vaggie and Niffty, who do nothing all that bad, in Hell? These are questions that make total sense to leave unanswered for now. 3 - What crime is too terrible to be redeemed for? Charlie seems to think that literally everyone can be redeemed. That means murderers, rapists, abusers, tormentors... Certainly her song holds some kind of key to figuring it out! “Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac” Hmm... Okay... “All of you cretins, sluts and losers, sexual deviants and boozers” Uh... “So, all your cartoon porn addictions, vegan rants, psychic predictions Ancient Roman crucifixions end right here All you monsters, thieves and crazies, cannibals and crying babies" Oh... Also, did she imply that mental illness, alcoholism, drug dependency, plant-based diets/lifestyles, rabies and enjoyment of sex were sins in that song?

Point 3 - Edgy for the sake of edgy Hazbin Hotel tries to be an adult cartoon, but comes off as something a mentally disturbed teenager wrote during their emo/scene phase. 1 - The swearing and sex jokes. Oh boy. I’ve worked with children under the age of 15 who swear and crack sex jokes better than the adults in this show. The swearing and sex jokes are the only reasons this show couldn’t be aired as a Cartoon Network show aimed at edgy teenagers. It’s so poorly done that it in and of itself takes away from the quality of the show itself. Also, we have a character who’s name is an actual sex joke itself. Vaggie, full name Vagatha - a lesbian sex worker, of course. Fun fact for those who don’t know, but all of her previous character drafts had her name as some form of joke on the word vagina. This isn’t an accident, this is blatant and intentional. Also, here’s a pro tip for you! You can make an adult-oriented show without having swearing, slurs and sex jokes taking up a solid third or more of your script. 2 - The... “Representation”. Yes, Hazbin Hotel has LGBT+ characters! Yes, it has biracial and Latina characters! Charlie is bi, Vaggie is a Latina lesbian, Angel Dust is a gay man, Alastor is ace and biracial, Husk is pan, Niffty is Japanese (YIKES). Except none of it actually matters. No, really. Vivziepop was all like, “btw you can ship w/e, idc! also, i rlly like the fanon version of human alastor (who is whiter than marshmallow fluff even though he’s supposed to be half black)! :)” and threw all that out the window because... Who knows at this point. Now, if you look at the connected series, Helluva Boss, you get Moxie and Millie - an extremely obvious and loving couple. In Hazbin Hotel, you get Charlie and Vaggie who you probably couldn’t tell were a couple without somebody telling you that in the first place, what with all the loveydovey-ness going on with them. In fact, the biggest hint we even get is literally one line. “Life ain’t a musical, hun.” But then again, I’d be more apt to believe Charlie and Vaggie are friends, or Vaggie is pining after Charlie. Also, Charlie is a really bad girlfriend! She lets Vaggie get abused by practically the entire cast without so much as a single word in her defense and ignores everything Vaggie says. It came as no surprise when I remembered hearing about how the only reason these two are a couple is because one of the people on the team thought they were during storyboarding and Vivziepop just went with it. Also, fun fact, Vaggie fits both the angry lesbian and fiery Latina stereotypes. Charlie fits the stereotype for the bisexual cheater, what with how she seems to actually like Alastor more than her own bloody girlfriend. Alastor is canonically ace because he’s too full of himself to be with anyone else. Speaking as somebody who’s ace... WHAT?! As much as I don’t like Charlastor, it’s partially more popular than Chaggie because Vivziepop actually made them act like a couple for an entire musical number. Also, he’s annoying. He not only kept telling Vaggie to smile (heck you dude), he also smacked her butt, which is a form of sexual assault, people. This was all played for laughs, along with Vaggie’s (actually very reasonable) anger. Niffty is Japanese. A yellow-skinned demon who’s boy crazy and obsessed with cleaning... Big yikes. Finally, Angel Dust. The kinky gay man porn star/drag queen/drug addict/prostitute who verbally sexually assaulted two guys. Where do I begin. When it came to this guy, Vivziepop must’ve been like, “Imma throw every stereotype for gay men on this guy and call it a character!” If you look a Helluva Boss again, you get Stolas, who verbally sexually assaults Blitzo over the phone and also cheated on his wife with him in the first place, so this isn’t a one-off. Also, he was originally AFAB, so that whole line about “Why are you all women?” is more than a little heinous and in extremely poor taste.

In conclusion, this show is terrible. Everything about it. It needs some serious reworking, because as it stands, it’s really truly not that great of a creation.

tl;dr: Needs a lot of work and “ThEy’Re In HeLl!!1!!one!!!eleven!!!11″ isn’t even remotely an excuse for the genuine problems in it. Remember, at least one actual human being on Earth, not in Hell, wrote this garbage fire. Also, the animators deserve a higher wage than whatever they’re getting to deal with these designs. I shudder just thinking about animating them, with or without a rig.

#hazbin hotel #hazho #hh #vivziepop #helluva boss #longpost #long post

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emilkertesz · 4 years

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anything for a brother | solo

who: emil & august

what: a look back on his life!

where: good ol’ metropolis

when: 2001 - 20012

2001;

The first year into the millennium had brought about much excitement for the Kertesz family. After being an only child for nearly eleven years, Emil was finally given the gift of a younger brother; August, Faith and Samuel's second son and their second pride and joy. Just like his older brother, the baby was born healthy, little streaks of dark hair and with those same hazel eyes passed down from generation to generation. To put it simply, he was a beautiful child.

Emil remembered the way the baby felt in his arms the first time he visited his mother in the hospital, how it felt to hold something so delicate so close to his heart. Even at such a tender age himself, Emil spoke confidently to his parents of how he would always protect his younger brother. Even at a mere 11 years old, he would die if it meant August lived.

But the joyous time was shortlived. When August was six months old, the Kerteszs found themselves in a situation they had always feared; Samuel had lost his job, the factory laying him off alongside dozens of other men. The short recession in their country had hit them worst and the Kerteszs, already poor and living in one of the worst parts of town, were left with little money to pay their bills and put food on the table. Unable to provide for his family, the event took a dark turn on Samuel.

To cope with depression and stress, the man turned to the sinful bottle. But what began as a simple glass of whiskey each night turned into something much worse over the years. Something once relaxing turned into an addiction, a lifeline, almost. He couldn't survive without the copious amounts of beer, liquor and spirits in his system each night. Samuel became a drunken mess, angered and frustrated at the world for how they had treated his children, his wife and himself. Though over time it became less about his family and more about his own pride; that anger had to escape somehow.

August mostly escaped the violence of his father, Samuel looked at him as though he were invisible, and the child suffered abandonment from the man he was supposed to look up to. For Emil? He was a troublemaker at school, despite his kind heart, and he became a nuisance in his father's eyes who deserved the beatings he got. Faith? Well, she supposidly didn't work hard enough, she didn't bring in enough income, she liked seeing Samuel suffer as she supported the family by herself... that was everything he liked to scream in her face each night when he had her pressed harshly against the wall.

"You think I don't see how you look at me? You think I don't see you laughing at me? 'cause I ain't some stupid fucking lawyer or doctor? 'cause I'm just another fucking failure?!"

Emil remembered the first night he saw his father raise a hand against his mother. He had been sat in the kitchen, slurring his way through the night as he glared at his wife who simply did her best to ignore his harsh words. But that only seemed to agitate him further.

"Fucking look at me, Faith. Are you that ashamed of me? Look at me!" The man threw an empty bottle above her head so it smashed against the wall, making her let out a scream and stumble backwards, hand over her face to shield herself from the shattered glass. But the man wasn't finished; stumbling to his feet, he grabbed the woman by her wrist and slammed her against the wall.

"Samuel, stop! I'm not ashamed so just -"

Hidden behind the doorframe, Emil let out a gasp as he watched his mother tumble to the floor with a yell, hand moving to her cheek. There was blood on her face. Samuel had hit her and he didn't even care about her injury, all he cared about was feeling better than her. Taking a step forward, the tiny child moved forward with intentions of seeing if Faith was okay.

"What are you fucking looking at, huh?"

The next day, Emil went to school with a black eye.

2004;

For three years, the wife and two sons had to endure the tyranny of Samuel as their house became less of a home and more of a prison. Violence and screaming was simply a part of their daily routines, weird stares from their neighbours who offered no support was customary, and Faith had grown ever so lonely.

Despite his insistence that she was nothing but a problem, Samuel had done nothing himself to support his family. All he did was waste their little money on alcohol and sit in that stupid armchair of his all day long, lifelessly staring at the TV that didn't even sit right anymore.

School was an escape for Emil and August. They arrived as early as possible and left as late as they could. Emil would often land himself in detention simply so he could spend less time at home. But doing that often worried him. He feared for August and feared for his mother. Now fourteen, the teenager had grown to be nearly as tall as his father, and so often became the protective stance between Faith and his brother against Samuel. It didn't always work.

Faith often took as many shifts as she could to avoid her husband and keep income flowing, but it still wasn't enough. On one cold morning in September Emil and August left for school together but something didn't feel... normal. There was something slightly off in the air as they walked out of the house; Emil had noticed the look on his mother's face but hadn't thought much of it.

Returning home that evening just as it was getting dark, the teenage boy closed the door behind him and ushered his brother upstairs into his room before his father could choose something to pick on him about. August was only three and went to pre-school but he had begun to suffer his father's wrath as well. This constantly sent Emil into a state of fear.

As he pulled his coat away, the boy noticed his mother wasn't in the kitchen like she usually was at this time. She was always home before her children, making the teenager frown and slowly turn to look at his dad who was sat in that same, brown armchair, watching the football on T.V.

"... Where's mom?" The boy asked slowly, hanging his coat on the wall hooks.

"Where? The stupid bitch left."

Emil felt his heart fall into his stomach, dread trickling into his veins. "What... left for where?"

"Dunno. Just packed her shit and left. What'd I tell you, kid? She never even cared about you either."

Feeling tears well in his eyes, the teen attempted to keep himself composed, too scared to share weakness around his father but it was scary. Did she... really leave her children just like that? No goodbye, no explanation? She didn't take them with her, she left them with that monster.

"No... No, she wouldn't do that -"

"Well, she did." The old man let out a sneer, almost, dropping an empty bottle beside him. "Who you gonna go crying to now, Emil? You're just as pathetic as she was."

Messing with his hands, the teen shook his head, "I'm not pathetic. Neither is she!" He wanted his mother so bad.

"Was pathetic!" Samuel yelled, rising to his feet and instantly making his son cower back slightly. The action brought the man some sort of amusement. "Was... pathetic. Now where is she? Act like a man, you're nearly fifteen, aren't you? Grow up, stupid kid."

Emil felt his childhood slowly evaporating before his own eyes.

2008;

It had been four years since Faith had left without a single goodbye. Four whole years of pain and loneliness for the Kertesz brothers. Without their mother, Emil and August only had one another and the two had developed a bond unlike any other. Now seven, the younger brother went to school and relied on Emil for everything. Getting to school and back, his food, making sure he was bathed and clean. He adored Emil and saw him as a hero, like one of those superheroes you saw on TV saving the world from mass destruction. The child had fallen in love with those champions and saw them as the escape from his home life. He only wished he could be one too.

It was 24th December, Christmas Eve. hardly a joyous occasion in their household. There was no family, no gifts, no food, nothing. Just another day where they suffered at the hands of Samuel. But he was nowhere in sight, probably stumbling around some bar in town. The family car was never used by the father anymore, just Emil so he could get to school and work easily, and so he could drop August off at his baseball club after school. Anything to keep him happy.

Once a timid child in his home, Emil had grown taller than his father and stronger too. He'd built up tough skin over the years and joining the high school football team meant the once skinny teen now had plenty of muscle on his side and was able to fight back when his father grew angered. It meant he was always the target and August didn't suffer. And that made Emil happy. He couldn't wait to graduate, he'd leave this stupid town with his brother and never look back, gain full custody and begin working so they could have better lives. He looked forward to it wholeheartedly.

But Christmas Eve would have to be his small scape for now. Noticing how glum his younger brother was, the high school senior remembered the Christmas Eve parade they always had in central Metropolis each year. It was the largest parade in the world and those silly superheroes always seemed to visit the event. Whilst Emil thought superheroes were arrogant men pumped full of radiation, his brother adored them. So he had an idea. Their rundown town was only an hour out of the city, he could take the car and drive there now, make it in time so August could see parade he always watched on TV in person.

Wrapping his brother tightly in his coat, scarf and woolly hat, Emil for once was smiling as he carried his brother outside into their old car. They could be there and back before Samuel realised.

"Where are we going, Milly?" The child asked. Such a silly nickname but he didn't complain.

"It's a surprise, bud. It's Christmas Eve, we can't stay at home, can we? Let's go have some fun together. You're gonna love it." Watching his brother beam as him with rosy, red cheeks, he placed August in his car seat in the front and clicked his seatbelt tight. Soon, they were on the road.

The first thirty minutes of the drive were peaceful. They drove down the winding, dark roads as Emil blasted music to sing along to loudly and August played with his favourite toy - a figurine of the famed Electro Man. Something his brother had stolen for him from the store but he didn't need to know that part. It had been snowing the past couple of days so the landscape was coated with a thick layer of sparkling white. It looked perfect.

"Are we going to play in the snow?" August asked, turning to face his brother.

"No... we did that yesterday, remember?"

"It was fun!... Are we going to get a Slurpee? Can I have a blue one?" That was at times all Emil could offer his brother.

"A Slurpee? Boring! We're going somewhere really cool and we're nearly there now."

Despite caring for his brother, the teenager could still be a little reckless at times. Noticing how it was nearly eight o'clock, the guy hissed a curse word under his breath. It was starting soon and they weren't there.

"What's wrong?" August asked with a frown.

"Nothing bud, just running a little late." Without considering the icy roads, Emil pressed the gas pedal so they were soon speeding down the roads.

"Emil... Emil, you should slow down." The child frowned, the speed unsettling him a little. "It's dangerous."

Shaking his head, Emil kept going and turned to face his brother. "Come on, ain't this fun? No dad, no stupid house, we'll be there soon and I swear, buddy, you're gonna love it so mu --"

"EMIL!"

Large headlights and a loud horn. Startling the teenager, he realised he was diving headfirst into a large truck and with a cry, he turned the wheel sharply so they swerved out of the way. But what happened next felt slowed down, almost. Slow, but they could go nothing to stop it. Screeching brakes, a loud crash and smoke.

Then nothing.

...

The two boys had been thrown out of the car onto the middle of the road, bodies torn and battered from the impact of the crash. For a moment, Emil felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing but a ringing noise in his ears as he stared up at the sky, vision blurred. Coughing loudly, he felt the taste of iron in his mouth and he tried to regain his bearings, arm broken at his side. Then it hit him.

His brother.

"August?" He cried, struggling for air as his eyes stinging from the smoke as he tried to see where his brother was. "August, where are you? August!"

Hearing the sound of coughing, Emil turned his head to his side and found his brother not too far from him, also on the ground. But his coughing grew louder as he noticed blood seeping from the child's mouth, his bones bruised and many broken, and a large shard of glass sticking out of his torso. He was losing too much blood. He was dying.

"Emil." The boy cried loudly, sobbing from the pain, "Emil, make it stop!"

Not caring about the pain in his arm, the teenager moved himself to sit upright, and scrambled forwards, grabbing his brother so he was leaning against Emil's body. He was weak, lifeless, like a ghost, but he gripped onto his brother's coat as tight as he could, letting out cries of pain. Emil's worst fears were coming to life, remembering the day he first held his brother in his arms when he was born. Now he was in his arms again... dying? No, no this wasn't happening.

"Stay with me, buddy, alright?" The older brother stammered, choking slightly as he watching the life begin to slip from his eyes, "Don't leave me yet, Augie, I need you, okay? I need you so just stay right here." Feeling the grip loosen a little, Emil shook his head violently and began to scream for help.

"Somebody, help!" He yelled, his voice hoarse and breaking, hands trembling as he tried to stop the wounds from bleeding. No one heard.

It was then that he looked up to the sky. "I'm begging you, I'll do anything you want, please, anything at all, I'll do it." Who was he talking to? Higher powers? In the last attempt, Emil used prayer in an attempt to keep his brother alive, knowing they wouldn't be rescued in time. "Just take me instead, not him, take me! He can't die! Not him!"

Sobbing loudly as he felt his brother slip away, Emil refused to let go of August. He refused to give up hope but survival felt so unlikely. No one was coming to save them.

“This is all my fault...” The teenager rocked back and forth, his entire body shaking as his brother’s lifeless body laid limp against him. He was gone. “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, IT’S MY FAULT!”

It's not your fault, Emil.

The teenager froze, glancing around for the voice he couldn't see. Had help arrived? His brother would be saved, yes?

"Who... who's that?"

Your brother isn't lost just yet, Emil. I can keep him safe. He can live.

The voice echoed in his ears. It was cold, empty, lifeless, but offered words of comfort. "H... How? Where are you?"

Do something for me, and I can give him life.

"... Anything, anything, I'll do anything! Please!"

The voice grew louder. It was pleased. Had Emil gone insane?

Give up your soul for his and I will let him live. Work alongside me and he will get a second chance in life.

Eyes widening, Amir looked ahead to find a shadowy figure floating in the air, created by smoke and staring right at him. It was terrifying... and it wasn't real, was it? It was the loss of blood driving him insane.

"... How do I know you're real? That this isn't some sick joke?!"

Are you really going to give up the chance of saving your brother's life?

Glancing down at the child, Emil felt his throat grow tight and the air grew thick. He didn't want August dead. Eyes cautiously moved back to the figure and he let out a trembling sigh of pain.

"... I accept."

Excellent.

Before Emil could say anything else, the shadowy figure lunged towards the boy who let out a large scream, the darkness of the voice seeping its way inside his body. At that moment, a trade was made, and Emil felt the life from his body escape and his body shut down, eyes closing as he fell to the floor. August opened his eyes with a gasp for air, and his own life returned.

Emil had sold his soul to the devil.

2009;

One year on and things had changed in many ways for the Kertesz brothers. After recovering from their injuries, both August and Emil had moved on in their lives and gotten as far away from their father as possible. Having fought for custody, the teenage boys had moved out of their deadbeat town and into the city. Emil worked three jobs and August attended a better school in Metropolis. They both lived in a van the eldest son had stolen from a car sales company one evening. It wasn't much, but they were safe and happy. Well... August was happy.

The child had little memories of that night and believed his brother had saved him in the crash. Whilst he was right, the eight-year-old knew nothing of what events had occurred. Emil's life had changed forever, and it would never be the same again. The teenage boy, once full of life, had become empty and heartless, only caring for himself and his brother. Why did he feel so... lost? Cold? It was like he didn't feel a thing anymore. No pain, no sadness, anything. That's what happens when you sell your soul away. What else is left?

Though he didn't know it yet, Emil had sold his life away to be a servant to the cruel and wicked Satan himself. He was now a puppet of the Devil, who had shown mercy and had allowed the boy time to recover and start a new life with his brother. But a year had passed and it was time for Emil to uncover what his new life really meant. The new potential he had... the power he possessed.

His brother, after much begging, had been allowed to stay at a school friends for the night. Protective, especially after the crash, Emil was reluctant to accept but wanted August to have as much as a normal childhood as he possibly could. This a fresh beginning. Walking home that night through the seedy streets to find his van, the man had his hands in his hoodie pockets when a certain voice made its presence known again.

Emil, it's good to see you healthy again.

Nearly falling over from shock, the man glanced around to find no one around but him. Not again. That voice... it had returned after the night of the crash. It was... real? It wasn't a hallucination? This entire time, Emil had believed August's survival to be a miracle and the loss of blood had caused him to hear voices in his head. He was very much alive... the voice was very real.

"I thought you weren't real."

You sold your soul to me and you thought I wasn't real? You have much to learn, child. This is just the beginning of our friendship.

"... Friendship?"

Don't you remember that night? You made a deal with me. You promised to do my bidding and I would let your brother live. I can take him away again if you'd like.

"NO!" Emil cried angrily, coming to a halt. "Don't... don't touch him. I'm listening, I ready to... to help."

Good. I like this attitude of yours. As the world's current aide to Satan, I can assure you, you will lead a very interesting life.

"... S-satan?" He stammered with wide eyes. "You're... you're real?"

Of course, I am. I oversee everything that goes on in this world, but I need someone on the ground helping me with my work.

"Work?"

To make humans repent for their sins. This world is full of them, especially this pathetic city of yours. Someone needs to help me find these people, and that someone is you. In return, your brother lives, and you are gifted with powers people can only dream of. These powers will allow you to find those who need punishment, but... I will also allow you to use them to your advantage. Use them to give you and your brother the best life you can have, and I will turn a blind eye to your... methods.

"... Powers? Like those superheroes?"

Superheroes?! Don't insult m--... Fine, I suppose you could put it like that, but you, Emil, are more powerful than all of them. The strength of fifty men. The ability to conjure and control hellfire. You can see into the pasts of every human, see each and every sin they committed, and let them suffer at the hands of the reaping glare. No one survives that glare, I can assure you. That power sounds nice, doesn't it?

Staring at the ground, Emil nodded slowly. He had felt so weak and tormented by the world for so long, now it was his turn to feel powerful. That sounded fantastic.

"I... I'll do it. I'll make them all pay for what they did. And I know... just where to start."

2012;

In three years since earning his powers, Emil had done exactly as his ruler had told him to do. He had followed the rules, tracked down sinner after sinner, and made sure his brother had the best life he possibly could. Through these people he found, Emil had gotten himself wrapped up in the criminal world too... and he liked it. Having unlimited power in a world where he could do as he wished, the man had slowly risen the ranks over the years, made a name in the underground world and established a growing empire for himself that ruled the illicit world of Metropolis.

August was oblivious to it all, of course. He had been told that during one of Emil's jobs as a waiter, a businessman had taken a liking to his work ethic and offered him an internship at his business. Through that, he had created a business of his own. A delivery and chauffeur business that ran successfully in the city and brought in much income. From the outside world, that's what he made his growing empire to be, it could even be used. From the inside? The only things they delivered were drugs, weapon goods, and members of opposing factions in the area.

Life was great. He was full of riches and full of power, it was something the man revelled in so confidently. The once kind boy had become a heartless, cruel dictator who ran the criminal world with an iron fist. He felt no shame in his power, who he and who he worked for, not that anyone knew. When you found about Emil's darker side? You didn't live to tell that story.

But something didn't feel right. For years, he had made others repent for their actions, but... for once, Emil wanted personal revenge. Personal revenge against his father, Samuel, who still lived in that awful home in that awful town. Still sat in that awful chair.

He had been stood outside for some time, eyes wandering to the bedroom windows. He needed some things from the house, photos, belongings of his mother. With little hesitation, he walked over to the door and knocked. And waited. And waited. He could hear the tumbling from inside, a gruff voice of a man who stumbled over to the door and opened it slowly.

"What do you want?" Still as awful as ever. Time had treated him unwell. Time had treated Emil... perfectly. This made the son smirk softly.

"Hello, father. It's been too long."

Samuel's eyes grew with confusion as he stared up the unrecognisable man. This man... covered head to toe in tattoos, expensive clothing, a scar running down his face and an extremely muscular body... was his son?

"... Emil? What are you d-doing --" The younger male shoved the father aside so he could step through the door, heading straight for the stairs.

"This isn't a visit. I'm collecting what's mine and then I'll be on my way." Walking up quickly, he made his way into his old bedroom. Untouched, as expected. Going to the drawer by his bed, the man opened up the storage and grabbed the precious photos he kept inside. Smiling for a moment, he placed them in his pocket before heading to his parents bedroom.

"The fuck do you think you're doin --"

"Shut up! Stupid man." He hissed angrily, heading inside and finding the remains of his mother's items still scattered around. Without thinking, he grabbed her old ruby necklace, her bottle of perfume, and the cardigan she always wore and liked to wrap Emil in when he was a child. All warm memories. Placing everything into a duffle bag, he headed back downstairs and placed the bag outside the door.

Then he looked back at his father. "You look awful."

"Is this really all you wanted, Emil? Some stupid photos and a necklace? Or have you come back to laugh at your old man."

Placing his hands behind his back, Emil tilted his head slowly and smirked, "Honestly? Both. I came to see what you were doing these days. Nice to know you're still a deadbeat fool like you always were."

The man stumbled towards him, raising his fist like he always did when his son was young. This time, things were different. Grabbing his father's hand, he forcibly moved back to the side with ease, hearing a cracking noise as the old man let out a cry of pain.

"Does that hurt? Awh." Emil was quite a sadist at times, watching his father suffer brought him immense joy. "Don't worry, this pain will be over in no time, I can assure you that." Stepping forward, the son stared the man dead in his eyes as his own turned a fiery golden, deep with a glare. The repenting stare, something everyone would fear. It caused the sinner to feel every ounce of pain they had ever caused on another person, cause them to relive every horror they had committed in the past.

Emil watched with glee as his father cowered in fear but couldn't escape his grip, being forced to feel the pain of all the times he'd heard his sons, his wife, relive each moment. But then... Emil saw something he didn't recognise. A memory he never knew existed;

...

"What are you doing, Faith?"

It was Samuel, younger, stood in his bedroom. Faith was there too, three small suitcases in front of her. One belonging to her, the others belonging to her sons. She had been packing her things away in them, as well as August and Emil's, all of their belongings. Where was she going?

She looked up at Samuel in horror, growing tense and stepping back.

"Nothing. I... I'm just reorganising our clothes. It really needed it so I--"

"You were going to leave me, were you? Take the kids and go, right?"

"What? No... I--"

"Don't lie to me, Faith. Don't. Fucking. Lie." He had been watching her for some time. He held something in his hand... a belt. He began to move closer to her.

"Sammy... Samuel, what are you doing?" She stammered, eyes fearful and voice timid. "Put... put that down, I swear, put it down or --"

The boys were at school so they never heard their mothers screams. Never heard their father choke the life out of her so heartlessly, like he hadn't fallen in love with her all those years ago. If I can't have you, no one can! Was all he had said. Faith had never abandoned her children. She never would. Samuel had killed her in anger and rage, buried her lifeless body in the forests in town. And Emil had never known.

...

Breaking apart from the stare, Emil said nothing. He simply looked ahead as he processed what he had witnessed. His mother was dead... this entire time. She wasn't halfway across the country with a new husband, new kids. She was dead, six feet under in some random forest no one cared about. No one had ever cared about her except for him.

"You killed her."

"Emil..."

"You... you took her away from and you DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT! YOU TORE THE LIFE OUT OF HER LIKE SOME ANIMAL AND YOU STILL DON'T CARE!" He roared at the top of his voice, pacing back and forth as his temper was on the brink of exploding, his eyes still full of fire.

Teeth gritted, hands clenched, the man let out loud breaths and as smoke rose from his shoulders. "You're fucking dead, you understand?... YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!"

Never had the man felt so angry in his life. But at this point, it wasn't anger anymore. It was pure instinct. Nothing humane was left in him anymore. Before Samuel could act, he watched as his son almost... burned away, his body replaced by some sort of fire demon that towered over him, covered in flames with horns and talons. It was terrifying. Emil had never accessed this kind of power in his life, yet, and he didn't understand what it was, but he didn't care. He relished in it and allowed the demon to take over.

Samuel's death was marked as an accidental fire started by the pit in his home. No one knew that in reality? A fiery demon full of rage had burned the man until nothing about a man remained, and in a roar had allowed the house to become engulfed by deep flames and smoke, burning it to the ground. No one would miss Samuel but no one understood. Why was this fire so powerful? Had someone started it?

Not someone, but a thing. For nothing human remained inside Emil anymore.

#solo #wow #this took forever haha

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miuki-akanero · 4 years

Text

The Mission "To Save The Habitat"

English is not my motherlanguage, so the "Mistake Train" is rrrrready to arrrrrive :.-) Sorry

____________________________________

- “KA-POW!” - screams flew through appartments. - “KA-KICK! KA-PUNCH!”

Putunia Mollar, the young hero of the Habitat was much more determined and cheerful than ever before. That might seem impossible but such is the truth: she was ready to break every breakable and unbreakable wall in her way. She felt like nothing could stop her. The young one didn't care if she was too hazy – her guts were telling her “time to destroy the villain has finally come”.

Today was the day when she will defeat the most horrible and heinous baddy she ever seen in her live – the Green Menace. Today she will save everyone like a real hero! Just like… like… the Masked Driver himself!

Waving her hands unstoppably as if she was punching some invisible enemy, Putunia was getting prepared for the future mission. After all, what if the villain and his minions gonna show up and she won't be able to fight back? That's not right! Real heroes are always ready to protect themselves and to save their fellow citizens. That is their destiny! That is why, in order to defeat the Green Menace, she has to exercise and practice her punching moves. After that she will… she will… And what exactly will she do afterward?

Suddenly, with her leg in the air, Putunia froze up – and that made her to fall down right on her bed. She frowned. Her guts were telling that she is ready, that she is prepared to fight the villain and Putunia wanted to believe in it with all her heart. And yet she got no idea what to do! Small child was always ready to throw her fists, but she wasn't stupid. She was just really determined and persistent, she just believed she could defeat every baddy in her live. But in reality she could not.

The young one frowned again. If she wants to take down the Green Menace, she needs a plan. A good, solid and unpredictable plan. But she hated just to sit and think about things so much! Oh, well, in order to destroy evil, sacrifices have to be maid.

But, really, how can she sneakily fight the villain? To be fair, it would be grate just to beat him into the ground with her mighty glove, but… Putunia already had tried to. And she had been cold-bloodedly defeated. After this legendary battle ( which was great, even if she lost), one of her boxing gloves went missing and all walls in the Habitat were filled with “no punching” posters. Ha! As if Green Menace had any power to stop Putunia Mollar, the young hero of the Habitat!

The girls wasn't sure why, but something inside her was whispering “something bad is going to happen. Something terrible is on the way!”. If there was one thing Putunia knew ultimately well, that would be the fact that everything “bad” or “terrible” is always connected with baddies and villains! That's what always happens in movies and books, so it must be real! Plus, who if not the Green Menace is able to do such despicable act?

Well, of course Tim Tam, the chaos fighter, still lived in the Habitat, but they were only interested in stealing other people stuff and in crushing silence of the day. They were not the real threat. Also there was that strange, even suspicious “wall” mister, but he never leaves his shelter and always refuses to fight her… no matter how hard Putunia insist. Aaand that's mean that the Green Menace is the only one left and he was the reason of horrible feeling floating inside girl's heart.

The tiny fighter's legs wiggled impatiently as if trying to make their owner to think faster. But seconds, minutes and, probably, passed by - Putunia never paid too much attention to time – and she still had nothing. Mollar angrily stomped being absolutely mad.

- “If only I could tie him up!” - viciously thought the young hero. Once she realized what she had thought, she eagerly jumped. - “That's it! That's it!”

Well, of course! If she manages to tie the villain up, he won't be able to move and to do his evilness! How could she not think about it before?

But how she is going to do that? The Green Menace was very tall and strong – he was stronger that Putunia, that for sure. He easily picked her up, disabling her when she had tried to beat his evil body in the past. Straightforwardness is not the answer in this case. She can't just run into him with rope in her hands – which she didn't has at the moment, but that is not important – so she has to act sneaky and one hundred percent smart!

Girl frowned once again and continued to think hard. What would the Mask Driver do? He would definitely do something smart and he would end up tricking his enemy. But how can she trick her opponent? If only the Green Menace was somehow distracted or fell down…

That's when Putunia happily jumped on her bed. Finally, the puzzle was solved, transforming into a one fascinating plan. She just need a rope. Hazily putting on her mast and cape, Putunia beelined toward her room exit and ran right down stairs. Jumping over some stairs she knew she was ready for her fight. Or her sneak attack. Depends on how you look at it.

But most importantly, she was ready to face the day when she save everyone.

But that in the future. Now she has to make her plan come true. And Putunia definitely knew who could give her a hand with it. Tiny Daredevil quickly looked around and, once she noticed a familiar, florist face – who was apparently standing right next to the Carnival gates – ran into them. Young hero ran so fast that the Flower Kid didn't notice anything, until she jumped on them, making them both fall down.

Flower Kid wanted to stand up immediately, but the girl didn't let them do that, holding their hand with all her might.

- “Flower Cadet! Are you ready to prove yourself against powers of evil?” - clearly and slowly spoke young hero, without giving Flower Kid any time to recover. They gave her a blank stare and tried to to realize what was happening. After a while, they nodded with a clear hesitation on their face. - “Splendid! Because now, Flower Power, the evil powers are ready to rise and...”

Suddenly, Putunia went silent and looked behind. Ronbo the Clown stood nearby, giving them both worried look and ready to intervene at any moment. He definitely heard everything Putunia told – well, in other people case “screamed” to Flower kid. The young hero quickly stood up and, without saying a word, dragged Florist with her into deeps of the Carnival. They silently obeyed the tiny daredevil child, at last giving Ronbo a somewhat reassuring smile.

Mollar dragged Flower Child behind the fortune tent and told them as silently as she could.

- “Know, when evil minions aren't able to overhear us, I am ready to tell you your mission, Flower Power. The Green Menace is ready to make another hideous game and I'm going to stop him by making a deadly trap. But, in order to make it, I need your help, Flower Cadet! Bring me anything that is able to tie up forces of evil and hero society will not forget about your investment! Deal?

Flower Kid nodded and than looked down right at Putunia's hand. Slowly they pointed at her boxing glove. Putunia quickly looked at her hand.

- “Flower Power! Have you decided to fight against evil too?” - they nodded. - “All by yourself?” - they gave her another nod. - “And you need your own weapon of justice?” - the florist gave her a small smile and nodded once again.

She started to think heavily. Flower Cadet has already proved themselves as a worthy fighter, they surely had all possibilities to be a good hero, but… She just stared at her hand.

That's the only thing left from…

No. It's not important. Not anymore. Not now, when others are eager to face evil.

Putunia gave Flowed Kid a determined nod.

- “Fair enough, Flower Holder! If you bring me a mechanism with a power to tie things and I shall give you your reward! Deal?”

After receiving a happy nod, Putunia smiled herself. They both shook hand and went their own way. The young hero stood nearby some paper creature and thought heavily. She had no idea what to do now. She was strongly determined to fulfill her part of the deal. Which meant she will have no weapon once they come back. That's mean she need to search for something relevant.

Finally, Putunia's face brightened a little bit once she remembered about Millie and her metal weapon, which her somewhat named “elder or younger sister” called “the putter”. The young once had saw how Millie used it once in order to defeat a “heinous monster-clown”. It's not like Putunia believed that always crying crying clown could hurt anyone, but it would be really rude to accuse her friend in anything, so she did not say anything.

The putter must be a solid weapon as well as her punching glove! She just need to ask Millie to give it away and the Green Menace won't stand a chance!

Putunia passionately run to the backyard.

***

Putunia wanted until night fell. When all adults went to their rooms, she started working. The tiny hero run to Boiling room with the putter in her hands, which was kindly given by Millie – the only thing she asked in return was: “Don't forget to smack this Green Menace freak into oblivion, you dork”, and than she warmly grinned – and the rope, which Flower Kid brought her from mysterious “somewhere”. In the end, with bleeding heart, Putunia give away her punching glove. After all, she promised and everything that happens is for the best… right?

She strongly tied the rope around the creepy door and kept waiting. It was really late and everything around Mollar started to get colder and darker. But the young hero refused to give up and to go to her room. It's just a “smally” wind. She's not gonna step back because of it. Is she does, than what next? How she can face the Green Menace if she can't face some “irrelevant” cold? By bringing some childish scarf or some cutesy flower (no offense to Flower Cadet, of course)? Never!

Putunia stomped her feet angrily and immediately hissed to herself.

She waited for minutes and hours. Again.

“It's fine, sooner or later he is gonna show up and everything will go smoo… smoothly”, she tried to calm herself.

And than, at the corner she noticed something tall. Putunia fell down with a frighten scream. She looked up only to see a… a shadowy creature? Putunia kept staring with a clear shock on her face.

“Shadow with eyes” kept staring at her as well and titled it's own head like some curious cat. The little hero jumped up hastily, ready to punch evil creature as she always did. Once she remembered that she had given away her punching glove, she quickly grabbed Millie's putter and shoved it to “baddies” face. Putunia showed it a harsh glance.

- “Be still, Villain!” - she menacingly screamed and than shivered and looked around. Because she was frightened she almost forgot she had to be sneaky and quiet. - “Go away! Shoo shoo! I would fight you the other day, baddie, but I don't have any time for your suspicious “self” now!”

The tall shadow kept standing without any movements, still looking at her. The tiny one stumped with an obvious anger. Why it has to be happening now? Every time she wants to fight some baddy, there's none, but when she wants to take down one villain, there has to be another one? That's simply not fair! She had no time for this. None!

- “Just go away!” - the small hero whispered madly. - “Because of you I'm gonna miss the Green Menace. And he has to be stopped by all costs! Do you understand?”

- “ The Gre-en Me-nace :-0? Sounds sca-ry and verry important” - finally the shadowy figure said with a little taunt in its voice.

- “Because it is very important!” - encouraged child quickly nodded. And than frowned. The young hero couldn't understand, why had she kept letting this thing waste her precious time. She just to bit it her the putter. Once again Putunia noticed that the strange shadow was about to say something. Without any hesitation, she interrupted it. - “Wait a second!”

The shadow … mister? (this thing clearly had a deep male voice)… froze silently. Maybe she should play nice and ask him of he's a baddie. It would be awful if a hero like her fought an average citizen.

- “Are you a baddie?”

- “Of course not, mis-s!” - happily, without any fear answered the creature.

- “Are you sure?” - the shadow nodded. - “Double sure? You look exactly like a villain?”

- “But don't people usually say “do not judge book by it's cover”? Just be-cose I look like one, doesn't mean I'm a bad-dy” - said the creature and titled his head once again.

“He's got a point”, sadly mumbled Putunia in her inner thought and than she put the putter down. She wanted to interrogate this suspicious thing so badly, but she was also ultimately tired. Hero or not, she still was a young, energetic child and she was supposed to be sleeping at this kind of hour.

She whacked her cheek a bit, simply trying not to fall asleep. The shadowy mister strictly frowned at her.

- “Whut r u do-eng outside so late? At this hour evry child must b asleeb!” - asked he as if Putunia didn't tell him earlier.

- “I told you, I have to catch the Green Menace!” - whispered little girl.

- “Can't u catch him ate th-e morning :{ ? When it is note gonna damag ur health?”

- “Like you can actually find him at the morning! Ha! He just stays in his office and sit there all day! He must so terrified of my ultimate attack!” - a smug smile crossed her face and than it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Putunia sighed heavily. Everything started to feel wrong. Her plan obviously failed and she couldn't help, but feel awful. She looked up at the shadow creature one more time. - “Can you keep a secret?”

“Shadow” stood silently for a moment and than softly nodded. He noticed the sudden change in the little girl's mood.

- “You know, I just noticed that the Green Menace doesn't shows up while everyone awake anymore, and than I thought that he will definitely come out at night – see that door?” - she pointed at the elevator door inside the boiling room and then sat on the ground. Shadow Mister gently sat down nearby. - “So, I have seen him going through it once. And I have never seen other doors around this towery lair, so I deduced that this door is the only exit he had… But apparently… I was wrong”, - she squeezed the putter in her hand and then she noticed a worried look at her companion face. - “Don't think anything wrong! I'm not whining! Heroes do not do “whining”! It's just...”, - she went silent and looked down at the ground.

- “It is just whut? - a sharp, somehow familiar hand petted Putunia's shoulder. - “It is ok-ay to trust me! I won't tell anyon-ne”, - Putunia continued to sit silently as if ashamed of something. - “Do u want me to giv u a pinky promis?

Putunia blankly stared at him.

- “Just listen-listen :-D!!! U giv me your pinky finger and I cross it wis my pinky finger”, - his sharp pinky finger wrapped around her tiny finger. - “ I promis not to tell a word, if I lie, I'm gonna die. Sea? Now if I tell any-von I will hav to eat thousands of needles! Or something lik that. My gud friend told me about this promise and how it is ver-ry unbreakable! So that suppos to b the truth!”

Strange shadow man nodded so happily that Putunia couldn't help, but give him a tiny, exhausted grin. This smile obviously wasn't a great one, but the shadow seemed satisfied. Putunia gently grabbed the sharp hand and again looked at the ground.

- “...I just thought I can save everyone from the Green Menace, Shadowy Companion. I believed it with all my heart! Today I waited, made a plan, searched for deadly items”, - she pointed the putter at the rope. - “But in the end… it was all meaningless”.

Putunia felt tears falling from her tears and instantly wiped them away. Even now she could feel worried look shadow was giving her. Putunia wanted to say something, but the shadowy mister didn't let her do it. He immediately started reassuring the tiny child.

- “Do not cry, pleas! It's ok-ay, everything is ok-ay!”, - he gently lifted and dropped her on his lap. - “What if hes going to show up a littl bit lat-er? U should not giv up so easily! After al, u r a hero, correct?”, - Putunia tremblingly nodded. - “Sea! Heroes always fight til the end >:-0.

- “… but what if fate just saying that I will never be a real hero?” - and then she continued before her somewhat friend would say anything in return. - “No, just hear me out. I always keep trying and trying, but nothing has changed. If the Mask Driver was there, he would already defeat the villain and save everyone! Or everyone would believe him… Or he would never let his enemy take his weapon… Or...”

- “No-no-no-no-no-no and once again “no”. Stop right ther :( U should never think lik that! Yes, not everything gos the way u want it to. But! For the better or the worth, that is just how our liv works. People would be so bord if every-thing was easy! Anyway, that is not the main point. Sometimes people are ver-ry silly and they cannot see the most obvious things, but u should never giv up because of it. Honestly, I saw myself how u bullie… fought this awful green baddie and how u tried to protect everyon! You shouldn't be ashamed because of, u should be proud because u stood up for them>:-0. Do you understand?”

Putunia nervously looked him in the eyes.

- “You really mean that?”

- “Well, of courc I do!” - stranger reassuringly petted her back, and that again and again. Putunia snuggled closer into the shadowy men arms. She yawned a little bit. After such emotional jolt it was no surprise that the young heroin was exhausted. - “It's o-kay if u a little nap. After al, a gud night sleeb is ver-ry important for all small and not so small heroes!”

- “But the Green Menace…”

- “He can waite. No, u know whut :-0. I'm gonna wait for him. And when I zee him, I'm will fight him for u.”

- “Really?”

- “Really. Once I zee him, I'll captur him and teach him a lesson. And he will think twice b-fore doing his evilish doings!” - inspiredly he said. And then strictly looked at Putunia. - “To b fair thought, violence is not the answer. Ples, remember that >:-[“

That's when Putunia laughed sleepily. A little bit quietly and harshly, like it was a short wind wave, but it was good enough to make her Shadowy Companion gently and warmly smile back at her.

- “You sound just like my mommy”, - Putunia slowly closed her eyes and whispered. - “She always argued with daddy on this one...”

- “Oh :-0?”

- “Well, boys were such a bullies when I was in the Kindergarten. They were just awful! So, one day daddy brought me these punching gloves and told me to teach these boys a lesson, so they will see that no one messing with Mollars. Mommy was really mad at him that day. But she did let me take gloves. Daddy was so happy, he laughed and hugged her. That was a long time ago...”

Shadowy figure stared at her as if silently asking her to continue.

- “...It was before he went somewhere, Shadowy Companion. I tried to ask mommy, but she always got mad… and than she started to drink hes strange smelly juice.”

Her shadowy friend hugged her strongly like it was him who saw these events.

- “Because of it, she screamed a lot. And she started pushing me from time to time. Like those bullies. Eventually, she just turned up green.”

- “Is that the reason why u don't lik the green colour?”

- “Well, for the most part, yes...”, - Putunia lowered her head at the shadow man's shoulder. - “Will I see you again?”

- “Of course u will :-3”

- “A pinky promise?”

- “Yes, a pinky promis! Your Shadowy Companion won't go any-where and he won't let anyone hurt u. I promise... Sleeb well, little Korezubik.”

That was the last thing Putunia heard, before falling into oblivion.

***

When Putunia woke up, she was laying in her bed, covered in blanket cherishly. Millie's putter was on the window sill. PSA with that weird, uncomfortably bright flower background was playing as usual.

The young hero looked at the screen for a while. Thoughts and memories floated through her head, screaming and fusing in their own symphony. But then everything was clear. After usual PSA there was another video where the Green Menace's puppet complained about “ a tiny, sneaky hero and her shadowy helper, who came from nowhere and made him a lot of problems”.

Straightaway Putunia noticed something on the table in the corner of her room. It was a big, bright box.

The tiny one quickly stood up and run towards the table. At the very top of the box there was a letter with a bunch of grammar mistakes.

“ I told u I wil help u :-) I alzo found somthing intresting. I hope u will use it well :-3

Sincerly, your Shadowy Companion.”

Putunia fastily opened the box and froze, once she saw, what was there. Her other punching glove, which she had lost in the Grant Battle against the Green Menace, was laying in the box. The small hero gently grabbed it and pressed to herself.

Not only her unknown companion kept his promise to fight the villain, but he also somehow brought her precious glove back.

For the first time in a long while, Putunia made a big, sincere smile.

Well, she didn't fight the Green Menace yesterday. So what? She will try again and again, until the villain will be defeated. Besides, even though she did not attack him, she helped to make him weaker. Flower Power and Shadowy Companion must be so proud of her!

At this very moment the world went brighter as if thousands of stars were flying around her.

Putunia Mollar, the young hero of the Habitat, was finally happy and ready to face the new day. And she couldn't wait to see her Shadowy Companion again!

__________________

You can also read it here

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21256325

Thanks anyway:0

#putunia mollar #Flower kid #FK #boris habit #dr habit #smile for me #smile 4 me #SFM

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kyle-writes · 4 years

Text

The Neighborhood: Part 2

The ichor reflected my light like snake scales shining in the sun, it looked rubbery and sticky, but when I knelt to poke the nearest chunk with my finger it gave way like a kind of light cream substance. Foamy. It didn’t even stick to my nail, dripping off in thick drops that congealed instantly after coming in contact with its lump.

“We’re extending the scene from the Larsons’ to encompass this area too,” Al said as he came up behind me. “Did you…? Milly, you really oughta get some gloves before you go muck-diving.”

I stood up, shaking my hand off instinctively, “Right, right. Get your light out, we’re going down there. Don’t slip on the shit.”

There were over a dozen creaking, unsteady stairs to go down, and with each step the darkness seemed to press down on us harder. As we reached the bottom I could hear officers and technicians setting things up above me. Al’s light flashed past me and to the left, deeper into the basement.

“Holy shit,” I heard him say under his breath, there was a mixture of fear and awe in his voice.

I followed his light with my own as we both hit the bottom and I instantly understood how he felt. The walls were absolutely coated in the black ichor while the floor was almost untouched with the stuff. It was as if there had been an explosion. From the center of the floor a spider’s web of cracks worked their way outwards to the walls, and there was something else too. Something in the center of the web.

Al found the light switch and with a soft click the entire room was finally lit up. We gasped in tandem. The thing in the center of the room…was the top of someone’s head. Their eyes were bugged out and blood red, and it was tilted back just enough to be able to see the top arch of their screaming mouth. Teeth were missing, and the dark hair was matted with a mixture of blood and the black substance.

“Oh Christ,” I heard Al dry heaving behind me. I didn’t blame him for it, I was barely holding it together myself. “T-That’s Mrs. O’Neil. Rhonda O’Neil.”

“Or what’s left of her.” I said. It came out harsher than I meant it to, but that’s how I was when I got uncomfortable. My heart felt like it was going to explode, it was all I could hear. Over my years in the homicide department I had seen plenty of bad things, nasty things. I’d had to learn very quickly that people, at their core, could be absolutely horrific to one another. It looked as if Mrs. O’Neil had been buried up to her mouth in concrete, but of course that was physically impossible. The terror on what I could see of her face told a tale of intense pain.

Our heads turned with a shot as someone appeared at the top of the stairs. Gil.

“You’re both white as sheets, what’s going on?” He began to descend.

“Stop.” I barked, and his eyes went wide as he froze between steps. “You’re going to need to bring some excavating equipment down here with you.”

I wish I hadn’t been there when they “extracted” what was left of Rhonda O’Neil from the floor, but I was. It was my job to be. I imagine Gil was used to that kind of carnage, all I knew is that I didn’t want to be. It was all clinical to him.

First it was discovered that Mrs. O’Neil was not really entombed within the concrete. It was just the top half of her head, which Gil peeled away from the floor with a sickening wet sound that threatened to kill my appetite for the rest of my life. Several of her remaining teeth fell from her mouth as Gil carefully brought the top half of the victim’s head up to get a closer look at. Thin strands of the black substance oozed down onto the floor into little puddles, which broke off into tiny streams that flowed down and away into the cracks in the concrete.

One of Gil’s boys was holding something that looked almost like a radar gun used by officers out hunting speeders, but it was some new technology that could analyze contents of certain substances on the spot without having to disturb evidence. XRF-something or other.

The man looked to be about half Gil’s age, lacking many of the age lines and overall grey-ness the job brought along with it. “Sir, I can’t get a reading on this black stuff. The analyzer just keeps giving me error messages.”

Gil made a “hrmmph” noise, which the tech apparently understood to mean Gil had heard him.

“I still want to get the imager in here and see if we can find anything beneath the floor before we go randomly tearing it up,” Gil said, carefully bagging the remains of Mrs. O’Neil’s head.

“So does that mean we can get the fuck out of here now?” I asked, making no attempt to hide my desire to escape.

Gil pulled the dirtied latex gloves from his hands and used his index finger to push his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, we can take it from here. I imagine you’ve got a lot of questions for the gathering mob outside.”

With Al at my heels, I got out of the house as fast as I could trying to look like that wasn’t what I was trying to do. The fresh, damp air of the approaching evening was heaven on my face and to my lungs. The canopy of clouds had grown darker and denser, signs of an oncoming storm. Normally I would enjoy this brief twilight combination of weather and time of day, but any hopes for having a pleasant day, or even month, were long gone.

Gil was right, the crowd was still thick with murmuring civilians, and more than a few had their phones out recording everything we were doing. And the news vans were back. I frowned. Someone had leaked our newest discovery already, but at least Chief Albrecht was on the scene now---he could handle the media. It was his forte.

Without a word, I pushed under the tape and through the crowd, ignoring all questions thrown at me. I didn’t see Al peel away, but I was glad to be able to take a moment for myself. I stopped at the curb and leaned against one of the dozens of patrol cars that had taken up residence on Washington Street. It wasn’t quite dark enough for the streetlights to come on yet so I could still see up and down the neighborhood without much trouble.

Washington was one of the bigger neighborhoods in the city, located on the outskirts right at the border of the city limits. Still relatively new, it had that classic middle-class feel. All in all there were forty or so houses all the way up and down. Each painted a shade of off-white, with black tile roofs. There were trees planted in the front and back yards of at least half of them, and those backyards boxed in by privacy fences. The whole thing had been a goldmine for the city, built on a large chunk of land that had been hoarded by a single, wealthy family until the final old man had died two decades ago with no living heir. I’m sure the city was more than willing to pick up the “discarded” property. This all happened when I will still a baby rookie in the academy, so I don’t know all that much else about it.

Suddenly my phone began to vibrate in my pocket, startling me out of my fatigued reverie. This time I actually looked at the name of the caller before picking up. It was my wife.

“Hey, babe,” I started.

But she jumped in right away, “Milly, is everything okay? That…thing going on with Washington Street is all over the news and---,” she was in her worried-mode. Even with all my time on the force, her apprehension and anxiety concerning my safety hadn’t waned one bit.

I told her once, at the beginning, that I would never lie to her. So I didn’t. “It’s only getting worse,” I said in a low tone, and I heard her sigh softly. No doubt she was also seconds away from going back to chewing on her fingernails. “I’ll be home late tonight, probably around midnight or so. Get the kid in bed and don’t worry about me, okay?” Silence. “Lexi?”

Another sigh, this one louder and a bit more annoyed. That was assuring. “Okay, okay. Just…be careful.”

I chuckled, “I will, I promise. I always am.” Somewhere in the distance came the distinct rumble of approaching thunder. “Well, shit. Maybe I’ll be able to get out of it early…”

“I hope so,” Lexi said.

“Is that Mom on the phone?” came a tiny voice. “Tell her I said ‘I love you’!”

Lexi laughed and I felt the weight on my chest lighten just the tiniest of bits.

“Love you too, kiddo.” I said, and I heard Lexi repeat it.

She said something else, but my attention had been ripped away in a fraction of a second by a man suddenly walking by me and heading towards a house that I hadn’t really been paying attention to until that very moment. The front lawn of this house looked as if it hadn’t been mowed in weeks, weeds and dandelions grew tall and unchecked, along with a handful of small white mushrooms. The man approached a lawnmower that had been sitting in the middle of the lawn and dragged it down one house and put it in the garage.

My gut squirmed again and I felt my throat tighten. “I gotta go, babe.” I said into the phone.

Lexi recognized my tone right away, God bless her. “Alright, honey, be careful.”

Small drops of rain began to fall around me as I shoved my phone back into my pocket and approached the neighbor of the house with the neglected lawn. The closer I got to that house, the worse it looked. The paint looked worn and chipped, and the roof was missing several tiles. I counted and it was only five houses down from the Larson place. How did I not notice it before? Had any of us noticed it? I tried to catch a glance inside but the windows were so dirty I couldn’t see inside the pitch dark.

I came onto the neighbor’s driveway just as he was pushing the mower into the little area between boxes that had been carved out for it. “Hey, excuse me…,” the man jumped at my voice.

“O-Oh! You’re one of the detectives here about…,” thunder interrupted him, and suddenly the sky opened up and rain began to pour down in a thick, grey curtain. He motioned for me to step into the garage with him, which I was more than happy to do.

“What can you tell me about your neighbors there,” I pointed to the dilapidated house.

The man, who was frighteningly skinny and pale a sheet wrung his hands together, thin tongue flicking out across dried lips. “Ah, you see, Ma’am…” He swallowed hard, and I could see his Adam’s apple twitch. “Guy who lives there’s a shut-in, haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in the last five years, ever since his wife died.”

I pulled my small notepad from my jacket’s inner pocket, along with the fancy ink pen Lexi got me for my birthday last year. The wind howled outside and leaves danced along the street. “Tell me all about him.”

#my writing #original content #horror #weird

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 20

AO3 link here

In this life, Peggy does not die in a nursing home with Steve hundreds of miles away. She dies with him right beside her. As he eases himself onto the bed with her, he can distantly register Rose admonishing the home health nurse that they’ve been married, “Probably longer than you’ve been alive,” and that if someone wants to stop them being together right now, they’ll have to arrest Rose to do it.

Rosie has always been a little much.

He is on his side, holding Peggy. He tries to remember all the many times he’s done this before: with the television on or while they read together in bed, the first time she let him put his arms around her after the loss of the first baby, collapsed into exhaustion next to each other from a day of taking care of skinned knees and hurt feelings and the entire world besides, talking with heads bent close about the day or the kids or some small joke that only they can appreciate. He does not even shy from thinking about her tears against his neck after another trip sitting in the hospital, as if she could give in only here in the close-held dark, not even in the privacy of their kitchen. He tries to remember all that time they had: months and years building into decades, a longer life for Peggy than before, even.

All he can feel is her slowing heartbeat beneath his palm.

When she speaks, even her voice is fragile. He does not try to think of the way it used to be, firm and compassionate, the little twinkle in it. That Peggy still lives inside this one, a seed which bloomed into his wife, and he loves all of it, all of her. “It was good, wasn’t it, my darling?”

“It was—” He clears his throat. “It was the best.”

“Hmm.” She does not ask about regrets. She did once, but she must have been convinced along the way, must be convinced by the here and now. Their family overflows the room. Nate already has tears coming down his face, and Rosie is clenching her jaw against them. Emma between the collection of siblings, in-laws, and assorted children and her parents, and signs a collective, “Let’s go,” before starting to usher everyone out the door. The nurse breathes a sigh of relief and seats herself in a chair, a book sitting unread on her lap beneath her folded hands. She tilts her head back a little. Her tight ponytail makes the lines of exhaustion obvious on her face.

Steve presses his face to Peggy’s hair. “Save me a dance, huh?”

There’s no sound when she laughs, nothing wheezing or trembling thinly into the air. He feels it against him in the movement of her shoulders, her spine. “Perhaps I want to give someone else a turn.”

“Not a chance.”

“Well then, Captain.” She tenses, holding back a cough. He rubs a hand on her back, careful, where it can’t be seen. He doesn’t catch the nurse’s eye and ask for the medication Peggy had so adamantly denied. When she speaks again, her words are so quiet even he can barely make them out. “I know there are still some things to be done around here, but don’t take more time than you need, will you? I’ll be waiting.” She closes her eyes.

She does not die that day, but on one like it not too far on. He stays and he holds her until there’s no heartbeat to feel at all.

Steve still carries Peggy’s coffin. It weighs more heavily on him in some ways, and less in others. He still cries, and he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that his kids are crying too.

It’s smaller, this funeral. It is not in London. Steve recognizes every person there. Two full rows are taken up by family or those close enough to it. He sees Tony take Pepper’s hand and thinks about Peggy tossing over her shoulder at the end of a lunch together, “And please see if you can find a place for Aldrich Killian’s assistant, Anthony. I saw her during a meeting last week. She has talent, and it’s being buried by all the time she’s forced to spend fending him off.”

He knows that people expect him to speak. Rose, jotting notes for the program, had written his name at the top of the page before Nate pointed out that Peggy had left specific instructions for the service, and she had expressly asked Steve not to give a eulogy.

He had loved her so much in that moment, an eclipsing amount. Without her word, he would have done it, would have done it because it was his duty and because she deserved him to. Even if he had to pin his spine straight to make it through, even if he would surely have destroyed himself trying to fit her into small words and stories that could never be enough.

He treasures what the kids say, though. Rose is supposed to go first, but she stays put in the front row, arms clenched against her chest as she catches in sharp breaths. Drea squeezes Jackson’s hand, then her sister’s, and walks to the front to start instead.

“I used to debate my mother at the kitchen table,” she begins. “It was just practice, but there’s a reason I did so well when it wasn’t.”

Steve can picture it so strongly, even without his daughter’s words: Peggy sipping gently from a cup of tea, switching between the pro and con positions on nearly any topic with ease. The way Drea celebrated when she delivered an argument well, when she countered one of Peggy’s points or kept her voice firm even when thrown off. She hadn’t noticed the way Peggy had smiled during those kitchen table victories, hadn’t been able to see the way Peggy applauded when they attended all of those speech and debate tournaments, but he had.

Without asking, Emma stands next and Millie follows. Em is very poised, Steve thinks. It has been so long, too long, since he saw her speak in public like this, and he is so proud. Emma talks about how her mother taught her to stand up for herself, how to be graceful about it but unyielding too. After so many years, Millie interprets with ease and fluency specific to Emma. Her voice never wavers as it flows over the audience. As she steps down behind Emma and Steve catches her eye, he sees tears there.

When Rose finally speaks, she talks about how inspiring it was for her to have a mother with a career. She tells a story about the first time she was turned down for a job for bullshit boys’ club, “company culture” reasons. How Peggy had told her over the phone afterward to pour herself a drink and to toast the women who came before them and the ones who would come after. Because there had been so much work done and still so much left to do, so they had better buckle down to clear the way.

Steve laughs thinking about it. His heart aches.

Nate is slow getting to his feet, slow walking forward. In front of everyone, he stands for a moment with his hands in his pockets, not saying anything. He is 58 years old and Steve remembers him as a teenager.

When he does speak, what he says is this: “I love you, Mom. I miss you. You were our bones, but you taught us to stand on our own, too. I don’t think anyone will really know all that you did. Thank you.”

Steve focuses on the air, on the movement of it in and out of his lungs. It’s the only thing he can do. It’s what he has to do, to make sure that he is still breathing.

He asks the kids for a moment alone after the graveside service. Em and Rose try to fuss at him about it, to have him come back to the house with them already, but he stands firm.

“I learned a little something from your mother, too,” he says lightly.

“You always were just as bad as each other,” says Bucky from behind him. He nods at the kids, and, reluctantly, they finally deem it safe enough to leave.

Layla sits on a bench on the nearby path, her head bent over a book although she turns her eyes up toward them every so often. Steve wonders if they had thought it would be rude for her to come over, as if flaunting that they still had each other.

“Hard day,” Bucky says, looking down at the dirt and grass.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve had harder, I think.”

“Doesn’t mean that this is any better.”

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. They buried the Commandos together, one by one, buried Howard. Someday soon, they will probably bury Maria, maybe Layla too.

Steve doesn’t know which one of them will bury the other. He isn’t sure which answer he can stand.

“Ready to go home?” Bucky asks.

The grave is so fresh. Steve can’t think of Peggy down there, still impeccable in the red dress that she’d requested. He can’t stop thinking of it. “I don’t know—” he starts, the words coming out slowly, with deliberate weight. “I don’t know that I can anymore.”

"Of course you can," says Bucky firmly. "You've got your kids and your grandkids and your goddamn great-grandkids." Steve thinks about Will and Santi driving down to introduce Angelina to them. Peggy hadn't been able to travel very well by then. The memory still makes him smile.

"And," Bucky finishes, "you've got me. Till the end of—"

"I know," Steve tells him. He sighs. “I know. Just...Give me a minute, okay?”

Bucky evaluates him, eyes sharp and careful. How long has it been since he lay observing, a rifle in hand? So long that it feels almost imaginary. Finally he nods and walks over to sit with Layla.

Steve stands alone. The breeze rippling the grass brushes ghostly cold along his neck. He thinks of Peggy’s fingers in his, the tip of her frigid nose burrowing against his warm neck when she would come in from the outdoors on a brisk day. He crouches into the dirt and presses his fingers to the temporary grave marker. "I'll be back," he says softly before he lets himself follow Bucky to the car. He will be back here, probably tomorrow, and maybe the next day too. And there will be a time - perhaps soon, perhaps a little later on - when he'll certainly be home again.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #things left behind fic #I feel like it's a little late based on the teaser but heads up for major character death!

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naruwitch · 4 years

Text

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 8: Return of the Gladiator

Dark purple energy surrounded the occupants of the chamber — four at each corner with one in the middle. The quintessence seeped slowly into his ancient form as Haggar approached.

"Sire, the beast is almost to Arus." the witch announced as the Galran Leader stood slowly to his feet.

"This quintessence gives me so much power; I could fight the Paladins myself," Zarkon sneered, clenching his fists.

"There is no need," Haggar smirked darkly, "My creature will destroy them and capture the Voltron Lions for you. Then, the most powerful weapon in the universe will be ours."

o~o

"Great job training today, everyone! We're getting the hang of Voltron," Lelouch said as he and all the others except Rai entered the main dining hall.

"Seriously, how far do you think Rivalz and I kicked the broken alien ship?" Milly asked. cheerfully, "Must have been like a mile!"

"Yeah, that'll come in handy when the Galra challenges Voltron to a soccer match!" Kallen said, rolling her eyes. The training that morning had gone on reasonably smoothly. That is until Milly convinced Rivalz to help her kick some of the wreckage from Sendak's ship. The maneuver had overbalanced Voltron, and the giant Knightmare had landed flat on its back.

"Oh, come on, Kallen!" Rivalz said, exasperated, "You're just jealous that we did something cool, and you can't handle it. We get it!" The Blue Paladin and the other student council members were still trying to get used to the new, war-hardened, moody Kallen Stadtfeld. Not to say she wasn't moody before, but to compare her outbursts to each other, the old Kallen's was like a small firecracker, while this Kallen was a stick or two of dynamite!

"Your kick did kind of ruin our balance, you two," Suzaku commented, taking his helmet off and setting it at the table, "we fell."

"I think that was partially my fault Suzaku," Shirley admitted from her seat at the table, embarrassed, "I reacted too slow."

"Everyone enough!" Lelouch said, pulling up a chair himself, "Save your energy for fighting Zarkon!"

"Hello, Paladins!" Coran chirped as he strolled into the room, a large silver platter held proudly in his hands, "How was the Voltron workout?"

"We're getting there," Suzaku said, leaning back in his chair. Suzaku then placed an arm over the top, "Are you and Allura almost done fixing the Castle so we can leave this planet?"

"Yeah, I feel like we're sitting ducks here on Arus," Kallen added.

"Just about," Coran confirmed, putting the platter on the table. "In the meantime, to get your minds off those duck seats you're worried about, I made you guys an authentic, ancient Paladin Lunch!"

At first, the Paladins were excited about an authentic meal, that is until Coran lifted the lid. What was underneath looked more like a green, gooey, bug-like creature rather than a meal? And that didn't even account for the smell.

"Coran," Shirley whined, "I just got used to that goo stuff, and now you're switching it up?!"

"This is packed with nutrients," Coran replied, still smiling proudly.

Rivalz leaned forward, taking a whiff, then gagging, "It smells disgusting!"

"I know!" Coran chirped, "That's how you know it's healthy!"

"Coran," Milly crooned, holding up some plants she managed to snitch on the way in, "We're on a planet now with fresh herbs, spices, and whatever this thing is. A tuber? Now if you'll excuse me," she grabbed Rivalz's wrist, dragging him away, "Rivalz and I are going to head back to the kitchen and spice things up."

Suzaku and Lelouch chuckled slightly, good old Madam President.

"Hey, where's Rai?" Suzaku asked, finally noticing the blonde was missing.

"He's probably checking on those prisoners we rescued from Zarkon. They'll all be waking soon in the infirmary." Coran said between bites of the… bug?

"Very well, then we will join him," Lelouch said, standing up, Suzaku quick to follow after.

They didn't get far though as a fork was thrust into Lelouch's face, "Open the hatch. Food Lion is coming in!" Coran made airplane noises as the spork hovered in front of them.

Suzaku gulped down nausea as Lelouch scowled, "No, just… no!" Before Coran could make a second attempt, the two of them slipped out of the room.

"You don't know what you're missing!"

o~o

Rai breathed deeply, profoundly trying to slow his hammering heart. He twiddled his thumbs and swallowed to calm his churning stomach. These aliens were the only connection he had to find his mother and sister. The way those prisoners looked at him, though, and what they called him: Champion. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. He sincerely hoped the former. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely registered that the doors had opened.

"We're probably as anxious as you are," Suzaku said.

"These aliens that we saved know something about my family," Rai said, looking back at the fish-like one, "They have to!"

"We hope so too," Suzaku nodded sympathetically.

"They certainly seemed to recognize you," Lelouch said, "They called you 'Champion.' Any idea what that means?"

Rai bit his lip, his knees bouncing anxiously, "I don't know. I can't remember very much from that time. But the way those guys looked at me when we freed them... I don't know if I want to find out."

Further discussion of the topic was interrupted as one of the pods hissed, steam escaped from the device, freeing the fish-like alien from his frozen slumber. He let out a breath of icy air as he opened his eyes.

o~o

Bowls and plates full of colorful, delicious foods came sliding down the table, Rivalz quickly adding the finishing garnish to the front one. Shirley and Kallen's eyes widened, and their mouths watered.

"Well?" Milly asked expectantly.

No further encouragement was needed as the Red, and Orange Paladins swiftly dug into the food. Mouths were bulging with the delicacies. C.C. had joined the group about a minute ago and tried some herself.

"Hmm… not pizza, but not bad either."

"They like the Paladin Lunch," Allura observed as she entered the room. Coran, however, stood pouting at her side, arms crossed. He was a little peeved at the Paladins' rejection of his food.

"I don't want to talk about it." he sniffed in disdain.

"I just got the final nebulon booster working," Allura said, "We should be able to leave Planet Arus tomorrow and take the fight to Zarkon."

Before anyone could reply, however, the room was illuminated in red light as the alarm sounded in the room. The Paladins leaped to their feet, suddenly alert. C.C. got up slower, slurping up the alien spaghetti hanging from her mouth.

Allura swiped her hand in the air, the computer beeping to life. A camera from outside the Castle appeared above them. On it was the front entrance, and leaping, apparently trying to be stealthy, from the small rocks in the way was a little figure with ram-like horns and small, child-like face. The camera zoomed in closer.

"What is that?" Kallen asked.

"I don't know what it is. Maybe it's a local Arusian," Allura deduced. "He's approaching the Castle."

The Arusian native upon closer inspection had brown horns and appeared to be wearing small green pants. He was bare-chested with a brown strap over his shoulder, possibly for the small spear-knife it was carrying as he screamed like a drunk rabbit. He was running from rock to rock, peeking over them suspiciously.

"Oh!" Shirley gushed with a squeal, "He is so adorable!"

"He doesn't look too dangerous," Rivalz smirked confidently, hands on his hips.

"You never know," Kallen's eyes narrowed, her Bayard flashing to life in her hand.

"No," Allura chastised, turning towards the door, "Alteans believe in peace first. Let's go welcome them."

"Maybe we can knit him a little sweater!" Milly said as Shirley continued to gush happily.

C.C. smirked in amusement as she followed closely behind.

Kallen's brow furrowed, "I'm not taking any chances," she muttered, Bayard still tight in her grip as she ran after them.

o~o

The Castle doors opened slowly, dust and sand picking from the tension. The Arusian yelped and dived behind another rock. It wasn't too hard to find the creature as his heavy breathing gave away his position.

"Greetings," Allura said pleasantly, "We know you're there. No harm will come to you." The alien responded with a flip outward, and weapon held out at the ready.

"Aw!" Shirley cooed, absolutely smitten at how cute the alien was. If all alien species were like this, she didn't mind one bit!

"Wait!" Kallen exclaimed, stepping in front of them protectively, holding her Bayard up, though not activated, "He could be dangerous. Drop your weapon!"

"No one takes Klaizap's weapon!" the alien shot back, glaring at the Red Paladin.

"Kallen, put that away!" Allura scolded, before turning back to the Arusian, "Please, kind sir, accept my most humble apologies."

The alien blinked in surprise before he lowered his weapon, standing tall and proud. "I am Klaizap, bravest of our warriors. Our village is over Gazrel Hill," he gestured to his right, "I come seeking answers as to why the Lion Goddess is angered with her followers."

"Followers?" Coran asked, confused.

"Lion Goddess?" Rivalz asked, just as perplexed.

Klaizap pointed to a small carving next to him. It was an image of a divine being in long flowing robes, holding two staffs. A large Lion's head was in place on top, encircled with a sun. "The one the ancients spoke of."

Upon seeing the image, Allura smiled, "What makes you think she's angered?" Allura asked, kindly.

"Destruction is everywhere!" Klaizap exclaimed, "In the past few suns, fire has rained from the heavens, and a giant has danced in the sky."

Rivalz leaned over to Milly and whispered loudly, "I think he's talking about Voltron."

C.C. smirked, "Well, you know any other giant robots around here?"

"I think we got that, Rivalz," Milly replied a little dryly.

"You have not angered the Lion Goddess," Allura reassured the alien.

"How can you be certain?" Klaizap asked, still uneasy.

"Because I am Allura, this is my castle," the princess said, gesturing to her castle.

Klaizap looked between the Castle, all of the humans, and Alteans. He gasped.

"Lion Goddess!" he exclaimed, bowing before the princess in great reverence.

"Oh, well, look at that!" Milly said, smirking slightly.

"Please, bravest warrior, take us to your village so that my friends and I may meet our neighbors," Allura instructed gently.

"Wait!" Kallen protested, "What about our mission to get off the planet and fight Zarkon?!"

"Part of the Paladins' mission is to spread peace and diplomacy," Allura explained shortly, "Arus has been our host for 10,000 years. These people deserve our thanks."

o~o

"So, how long were you held captive by Zarkon?" Suzaku asked the fish alien as he carefully handed him a cup of tea. All of the aliens were out of the pods now. They each were wrapped in a blanket that they found in the infirmary right next door. Even before they started talking to them, though, it was evident from the looks on their faces that they had been through unspeakable terror.

"Some for years," the alien answered, "Decades, maybe. It's hard to tell. Time becomes a blur."

"Were there any other humans imprisoned with you?" Lelouch asked, "Ones that were close to Rai when he was also a captive?"

"Yes, my mother and sister," Rai said anxiously, "their names were Erina and Sophronia."

"I never knew their names, but I certainly remember the other two Earthlings that arrived with you, Champion."

The knot in Rai's stomach tightened. There was that title again, and the same haunted look in the alien's eyes as he looked at him. "'Champion.' Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Yeah, you called himself something else too," Suzaku said, "Zephyr or something?"

"You really don't remember? Unbelievable!" the alien gasped, "You were a legendary gladiator, undefeated in the ring. You defeated an infamous Galra gladiator known as Myzax. That was the day you earned the name 'Champion.' But 'Zephyr' was what you were called before that time by the other Earthlings."

Lelouch blinked, then looked at Rai, "So 'Rai' isn't your real name either… interesting."

"Anyway, what happened? When he defeated this Myzax guy?" asked Suzaku.

"I was there when it happened, as was the younger Earthling."

"Sophie?" Rai gasped. She was in the rings too?!

"We were all prisoners, forced to fight for the entertainment of Zarkon. That day, we were sent to fight Myzax, a vile beast many thought could never be defeated. Slaughter awaited us all. This 'Sophie' was the first of us sent to fight. But fate had other plans," The alien paused, the haunted look returned to his face. The three boys waited for him to gather his thoughts, "You were so thirsty for blood, you injured your fellow Earthling in a rage."

Lelouch's eyes widened as he heard Suzaku gasp. Lelouch's expression became murderous as he rounded on Rai.

"You attacked your sister?! WHY?!"

Rai's eyes widened in horror. "N-No!" he gasped, trembling, "Please! That can't be true! I-I would never hurt her!"

"I was there," the alien said, "We all were."

"After Sophronia was injured, where did they take her?" asked Suzaku calmly, assuming his military demeanor. The calmer you were, the more likely a straight answer would come.

"I know not," the alien looked down solemnly.

"No!" Rai exclaimed, shaking his head and beginning to hyperventilate, "Nononono! Th-there's got to be more to the story! I-I couldn't have hurt my sister!"

Lelouch's brow furrowed in thought, "Well, that ship you were held on crash-landed on this planet. They should have prisoner longs in the database. Information."

"Okay," Rai nodded, calming down, "Let's go then!"

o~o

The Red, Blue, Yellow, and Orange Lions sat perched over the village in the distance. The Arusian community was… small, just like its people. The construction design looked similar to old huts on Earth. Quite the primitive species it would seem.

Allura, Coran, Rivalz, Kallen, Milly, and Shirley were all gathered in the town square with the rest of the village. Rivalz and Milly were passing out some cookies they made (or whatever the equivalent to cookies was for Alteans) while Shirley and Coran had scooped two of them into their arms and were hugging them tightly. Kallen and C.C. both stood awkwardly in the middle of everything.

"Rustic," the immortal commented, looking around.

"Oh, Lion Goddess," the Arusian King proclaimed, "I, King of the Arusians, formally beg your forgiveness. Please have mercy on us and accept our traditional Dance of Apology as atonement for our wrongdoings."

The king clapped his hands twice, and a small pink Arusian scurried to the middle of the square, hands up in a pose.

"Commence Dance of Apology! Hoorah!" the king commanded. The other Arusians cheered around them as a group began to play a set of drums off to the side. The dancer started moving in a strange form. It certainly didn't look like any dance they'd ever seen. She was mostly waving her hands in odd directions.

"Please," Allura said politely, "there's no need for this."

"Moontow halt!" the king ordered as the Arusian paused in a pose again, this time on one leg, "The Goddess has refused the apology. Start the sacrificial fire," an Arusian lit a pile of logs upon an altar, and the other Arusians began screaming as the king turned to face it, "We must throw ourselves in."

Kallen was about to rush over and put the fire out herself when Allura quickly stopped them. "No! No sacrifices!"

The king turned back around in relief, whether it was to continue the ritual or not be burned to a crisp, "So, we may proceed with the dance?"

"That's a better alternative," Allura nodded. The king clapped his hands, and the music started again. The Arusian, Moontow, proceeded to finish the dance. Shirley then noticed that C.C. was giggling a little bit.

"What's so funny? Are you laughing that they were about to kill themselves?!"

The witch smirked, amused, "When you've lived as long as I have, you'd also have a morbid sense of humor as well, Shirley Fenette."

Shirley looked at her like she'd just grown a second head. 'Lelouch, WHERE in the WORLD did you find THIS chick?!'

It wasn't long until Moontow stopped and bowed to them, or Allura, the rest of the village following shortly.

"Oh my," Allura murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed, "Please, please, rise. Thank you for that, but I am not a great being worthy of your worship. I accidentally put you all in danger," the Arusians gasped in horror, "It is I who should be apologizing to you. I am Princess Allura, and these are the Voltron Paladins. Although we originally came from different worlds... and have very, very, very different traditions, we wish to live alongside you as friends."

"But the mighty, robotic angel," the King protested, "has it not come to destroy us because of our immoral ways?"

Rivalz looked like he was about to say something but was silenced by Milly, who elbowed him in the ribs.

"Voltron?" Allura asked a little shocked, "No. In fact, that mighty robot is here to protect you. Let it be known that Voltron will protect every innocent being throughout the universe!"

The Arusians cheered and jumped for joy. Rivalz and Milly soon had Arusians climbing all over them. Coran was throwing and catching an Arusian in the air. C.C. and Shirley had sat down while a couple of the Arusian children began playing with their hair. Kallen tried to walk away from the crowd with an Arusian leaped up and hugged her around the middle.

"I-I don't usually hug strangers, but…" Kallen blushed a little embarrassed as she awkwardly hugged back, "Man, you are cuddly."

"Thank you," the Arusian answered in a deep, baritone voice. Kallen blinked. She wasn't expecting that to come from such a small creature.

o~o

The Galra ship in question had landed in a small lake, half of it already submerged. Suzaku lead Lelouch and Rai deep into the ruined structure through an opening in the top, Bayard in sword form. They had no idea if anything survived the crash, so couldn't be too careful. The three leaped in, using their jet packs to slow their fall. Most of it had been destroyed.

Suzaku then noticed a computer looking device, "This looks like the master control board, but there's no power."

"All we need is power?" asked Lelouch.

"Yes, from the looks of it," Rai nodded, "but something compatible with Galra tech…"

Lelouch hummed in thought, remembering the fight on this Galra ship as the prisoners were escaping… maybe.

Lelouch activated his Geass and tried to picture the same feeling from the battle as he placed his hand on the console. His hand suddenly lit up with red energy, the console blinking to life.

"What the-" Suzaku gasped, "Lelouch, what are you doing?"

"I honestly don't know. I'd tell you if I did."

"Either way, I can't believe you got this thing to work!" Rai said in awe. He then tapped the armor on his forearm, a screen appearing in front of him, "My mom and Sophie's whereabouts must be logged in here somewhere. Once I download this information, I'll find some way to decode it back at the Castle." He pressed a few more buttons, and a downloading bar appeared in red as well as a coding sequence on the larger Galran screen.

Suzaku and Lelouch jumped as the sound of a sonic boom split the air. Looking up, the two gasped in horror as a giant fireball started plummeting towards the planet.

"What the-"

"Oh, no!"

"What? What is it?" Rai asked eyes, barely moving from the screen.

"Something just entered the atmosphere," Suzaku said, "Not sure what it is but it's big, it's Galra, and it's coming right for us!"

"We need to go!" Lelouch said, about to remove his hand, only for Rai to grab it and slam it back down.

"Lelouch, don't move! I'm only fifteen percent done. I'm not going anywhere!" he said stubbornly.

Lelouch hissed out through his teeth in frustration, Suzaku looking apprehensively between the UFO and them. It was coming closer and faster from the looks of it. The download bar was barely fifty percent full.

"Rai, I'm sorry!" Suzaku shouted, grabbing the Green Paladin and rocketing upward. Lelouch quickly followed after them.

"No!" Rai shouted in protest as he struggled against the Purple Paladin, but to no avail. For such a lanky guy, Suzaku was pretty strong!

"Team Voltron, come in!" Lelouch shouted over the comlink, "We need back up!"

"Hello! Is anyone there?!" Suzaku also shouted.

o~o

The rest of the team was still with the Arusians when they heard them.

"Lelouch? Suzaku?" Allura asked, alarmed.

"Where is everyone?!" the Black Paladin asked. He sounded scared, which was an emotion he rarely showed around anyone.

"What's going on?" Kallen asked. The question was answered for them as a rumbling sound erupted in the distance. Turning around, the two women saw the fireball heading straight towards them.

"Oh, no! We got to get to our Lions!" she shouted.

The Arusians started running for an underground shelter on the other side of the village, Allura, C.C., and Coran guiding and encouraging them.

"Everyone, get inside, and stay down!" Allura said, waving them onward.

"I'm on it!" Shirley said, running past her. Allura blinked in surprise as the Orange Paladin pasted her. Only for Milly to drag her back and away from safety.

"Not you, Shirley!" she scolded as her fellow Paladin began silently crying at her botched escape attempt.

o~o

Back at the crash site, Rai continued to struggle in Suzaku's grip, protesting loudly. "No, Suzaku, let me go! My mother!" He ceased, though, as he finally spotted the ship getting dangerously close.

"Run!" Lelouch cried as the trio dashed for safety, away from the wreckage. They barely got within a few yards when the ship crashed and destroyed the rest of the debris. Everything else around it was being blown away in a fiery shock wave that was heading towards them at a terrifying speed. They probably wouldn't have made it, had the Black, Green, and Purple Lions not jumped in between the trio and the blast.

The dust and debris were swept away with the wind as the landscape calmed for the moment. The three Lions stayed protectively hunched over their Paladins. Once it was deemed safe, they stood up to full size, rumbling in concern and relief.

"The Lions just saved us!" Suzaku exclaimed, astonished.

"I didn't know they could do that!" Rai said in equal awe.

A fascinated smile graced Lelouch's lips before catching a shape out of the corner of his eye, "I think the praise will have to wait guys. Look!" he pointed at the wreckage.

As the dust cleared, a large, coffin-like black ship stood towering over them; it was even taller than the Black Lion. With a hiss, the structure's outer walls fell apart to reveal the passenger. A giant, monstrous robot blinked to life in front of them. Its eyes glowed ominously, one yellow, the other purple, and slit. It zeroed in on the three Paladins.

"Get to your Lions!" Lelouch ordered as they rushed to obey. As they ran, the monster's right arm raised in the air and began to spin like a drill, producing a giant ball of purple energy. They had barely settled in their seats ready for the incoming attack when the monster swung the ball directly at it. The three instantly jumped out of the way as the ball collided with the ground, leaving a crater.

But the robot wasn't done. With another swoop of its hand, it directed the ball towards the Green Lion's position. Rai barely got out of the way in time before it slammed into the rock formation. The ball then swung back around to its master, who then flung it at the Purple Lion hovering above. Suzaku fired his Lion's laser beam to destroy the ball, but there was little to no effect as the energy just was absorbed by the orb. Suzaku didn't have time to react as the ball hit him and Purple square in the chest. He cried out as they rolled to the ground, skidding across the landscape.

He groaned as he lifted his head, his eyes widening as the monster was charging towards him. It didn't get far though as the Alpha of the Pride, the Black Lion, lunged at the robot, locking its jaws onto its shoulder. Despite the attempt to hang on, though, the robot grabbed the Black Lion and threw it off of him.

Before the robot could attack again, a barrage of lasers bombarded it, forcing it to shield itself.

"Lay down some covering fire so they can get out of there!" Kallen shouted from the Red Lion.

"I'm on it!" Rivalz called out, providing help.

"Got it!" Milly confirmed.

The Blue and Yellow Lion began firing beams from their tails as they aided the Red Lion in covering fire for the Black, Purple, and Green Lions. Soon, the Orange Lion was seen charging in as it ran across the earth torts the Beast.

"Take this!" Shirley shouted as she charged in from behind on the ground. "Battle Lion Head-Butt!" She rammed into it, causing the robot to lose its balance and fall on its knees. This tactic was enough of a distraction for the Paladins to regroup quickly.

"Guys, are you okay down there?" Kallen asked as she looked to her teammates from above, the Lions slowly backing away from the beast.

"Still alive for now," Suzaku said as they ascended into the sky with the others.

It didn't take long for the robot to get back on its feet, glaring up at the complete pride now.

"Are the Galra behind this?" Shirley asked, grimacing nervously.

"Since when do the Galra have a giant robot too?" Rivalz exclaimed.

"They must be. Who else would it be?" Lelouch confirmed.

"I've never seen them make a weapon like this before," Rai stated, answering Lelouch's unvoiced question.

"So, uh, what's the plan? Shoot at it with everything we got? Take out its weapons? Call it names?" Rivalz asked, sounding just as scared as Shirley.

"If we want to take this monster down there is it one way to can do it," Lelouch said, the other Paladins braced themselves, as they prepared to call forth their mighty friend.

The Lions then roared out as their eyes glowed, their bodies giving off the energy of their colors. They then flew in formation to the sky as they began to form up.

"Form Voltron!" Lelouch invoked as the colors clashed in the sky.

The Lions all roared in enthusiasm as their limbs and legs contracted and extended to form each part of the giant robot. The black head and body, the red and green arms, the purple and yellow shins, and blue and orange feet. Finally, Voltron's stern and battle-ready face appeared at the top, and the juggernaut was prepared for battle.

Voltron landed on the ground as it glared at the Ro-Beast, that glared right back at it.

"Remember, we are one unit, fighting with one goal!" Lelouch shouted as they prepared themselves for the fight.

The Ro-Beast's arm spun again, generating another energy orb, readying for another round against them. Voltron himself stepped forth with the orange Lion digging in the ground as Voltron leaped forward.

The Robeast swung its arm, sending the energy orb out towards Voltron in the air, but he expertly dodged it with a quick corkscrew.

Kallen screamed a battle cry and thrust forward the controls as the Red Lion plunged ahead, locked into the robot's arm. They stood there in a stalemate before Rai cried out and flung the Green Lion towards the robot's head, knocking him back against the mountains. Team Voltron didn't give it too much time to recover as the warrior leaped into the air, intent on smashing the robot's head further into the earth of Arus. The ro-beast was barely able to raise it's arm in time to block as they made contact, metal grinding against metal. In retaliation, the ro-beast called the energy ball back to him. Voltron noticed it too late and didn't have time to dodge before it impacted them from behind.

The ro-beast brought its arm down again, ready to hit them a second time, but the team recovered quickly and activated their thrusters, zipping out from underneath it just in time.

"I thought Voltron was the most powerful weapon in the universe!" Kallen screamed as they dodged another attack.

"Yeah, so how's this monster kicking our butts?!" Shirley shrieked in tandem. Keeping an eye the orb for another attack, they didn't notice that the ro-beast had run up behind them until they were punched upwards almost over the mountain. They landed only a couple of Voltron footsteps from the Arusian village.

"Oh, no, the village!" Suzaku gasped.

"We have to protect those people!" Lelouch said breathlessly.

From within the village itself, Allura, Coran, C.C., and the other Arusians had taken shelter in a cave. Even from their hiding place, they could feel the tremors in the ground from the two robots fighting furiously.

The ro-beast send another orb of energy at Voltron, hitting the Defender of the Universe in the face as it tried to block. They would've crushed the village had Milly, Suzaku, Shirley, and Rivalz not wrenched on their controls. The thrusters activated, allowing them to hover mere inches from the town below, before recovering and flying back towards the beast.

"That was way too close!" Milly said. This time they flew past and behind the Ro-beast, so if they did get hit again, they would be propelled away instead of towards the village.

"We got it away from the Arusians, but we can't take him down!" Suzaku said.

Rivalz suddenly had an idea, "I got it! I'm going to power kick that orb thing!"

"No way!" Kallen shouted, "the last time we did a kick, we fell!"

"Oh, come on! Stop living in the past, Kallen!" Rivalz fired back.

As Voltron turned back around and flew off. The Robeast matched them and sent the orb at Voltron as he leaped into the air, Rivalz crying out he made Voltron aim a kick at the orb...barely missing by a few inches.

"Oh, no!" the Blue Paladin cried as the orb, smacked Voltron clean in the chest, causing him to flip and land with a loud thud on the ground.

The ro-beast charged at them at full speed as the Defender of the Universe struggled to his feet.

Lelouch grit his teeth from the inside of Black, "Rai, fire lasers now!"

"Got it! Fire!" the Green Paladin exclaimed, the arm raised to attack… only for the two wings on Voltron's back to spring forward, and magnetize themselves to the Green Lion's maw.

"Oh, whoops!" he gasped, frantically hitting some buttons on his control panel to take the shield down.

"No, Rai! I said lasers! Lasers!" Lelouch ordered just as desperately as the ro-beast made contact with the shield. They were sent flying backward again, and with another hit from the energy ball followed, knocking them back further.

"Every time we focus on the orb, we're blindsided by the monster!" Suzaku said.

"Yeah, but every time we focus on the monster, the orb hits us!" Shirley added.

"Then what do we do?!" Rivalz asked, starting to sound a little panicked.

"ORB!" Milly screamed as the orb hit the robot again, slamming them into the side of the mountains.

"Lelouch, we've got to move!" Kallen shouted through the comms.

Lelouch wasn't paying attention to Kallen, though. Instead, his eyes were closed and focusing on the ro-beast. Or rather, what he heard coming from the ro-beast. He noticed that the mace that the beast was holding was making a strange sound like it was charging up. Now that he thought back to all the continuous attacks from the monster, the orb attacks came in counts of three before the orb regrouped with the wielder.

As Lelouch was making these observations, a light flashed before Rai's eyes. He was no longer in the Green Lion, facing a monster robot, but back in Galra captivity. In an arena. Fighting for his very life… against a monster that had a weapon almost identical to this one, making the same sound.

"That sound," he muttered, before his eyes widened in realization, "I recognize this monster, from my time in Zarkon's prison! I know how to beat him!"

"Watch the pattern of the orb's attacks correct?" Lelouch asked.

"Yes! That's right!" he nodded as Voltron quickly leaped back from the mountains just as Myzax's attack hit where they had been laying only a second before.

"Everyone, listen!" Lelouch shouted, "there's a loud sound when the orb returns to the base of the weapon. Can you hear it?"

The other Paladins quickly quieted down, straining their ears to hear. Lelouch was right; there was loud drilling like sounds coming from the mace right now, as the top of the weapon was spinning around the orb.

"And every third time," Rai continued, "that orb needs to charge up. That's this monster's weakest point. We need to attack within that time frame!"

"Okay, so what do we do in the meantime?" Shirley asked, worry still prominent in her tone.

"Defense!" Suzaku answered for Lelouch, catching on to his and Rai's strategy, "Rai, bring up that shield!"

"Way ahead of ya!" he shouted as the Green Lion brought the shield and landed it directly in front of them. And not a moment too soon as the orb crashed into it a second later. The sphere crashed into it, the Paladins grunting at the impact, and ricocheted off into the air.

"One. Two more to go!" Lelouch called out.

Myzax swung his arm around, sending the orb arcing right back at Voltron, impacting the shield. It bounced off of them as they cried out. Even with the protection, the ball was doing a massive amount of damage.

"We can't take much more of this!" Milly shouted through gritted teeth.

Myzax swung his weapon again and sent the orb down at Voltron once again as Voltron stood ready.

"Last one! Everyone brace for impact!" Lelouch ordered. The orb struck the shield, this time shattering it and knocking them off their feet once more. But just as Lelouch and Rai predicted, the globe returned to the base of the weapon, the drilling sound emanating as it charged back up.

Seeing their chance, Lelouch didn't waste another second. "NOW!"

Kallen swung her hand back on the controls and thrust it forward as hard as she could. The Red Lion's head shot up, a blue laser beam erupting from its mouth. The attack hit Myzax square in the chest, sending him tumbling backward in an explosion of fire and smoke. As it cleared though, Myzax quickly got to his feet, preparing his next attack, weapon now fully charged.

"It didn't work!" Milly cried, shocked that the attack didn't seem even to dent it.

"So now what?!" Rivalz said as Voltron took another hit to the chest, shield still torn in two on either side.

As Voltron tumbled backward, Rai's mind flashed back to his arena fight again; he plunged back from an impact form the orb. He rose up slowly, panting from exhaustion, holding the sword tightly in his hands.

Wait… a sword!

"When I attacked him before, I had a sword with me!" Rai exclaimed.

"ORB! ORB!" Shirley shrieked as the orb crashed into them again, this time Voltron blocking it with the Red and Green Lion's arms.

"We can't take another shot like that!" Kallen yelled. Voltron had taken too much damage. If another attack hit them, they probably wouldn't survive, much less win!

Suzaku groaned as he struggled to sit up straight again. Suddenly, a wave of what seemed like electricity raced through his being. He gasped as the Purple Lion's purr practically vibrated the cockpit, and a small panel to the right rose up from the control board.

"Wait a second, guys! I think my Lion's telling me what to do!" he informed them as the information was practically downloaded into his brain from the Lion.

"Whatever it is, hurry up and do!" Rivalz said, "He's about to fire his third shot!"

The Paladins all gasped as Myzax swung his arm around again, firing the orb at them once again. Having escaped from the ditch they were trapped in, Voltron lifted his arms in defense just as the sphere impacted them. They flew backward and rolled, tumbling several feet before stopping.

Suzaku grunted, regaining a sense of his surroundings as he looked at the foreign port again as Myzax charged at top speed and jumped into the air. He intended to crush them into the ground with the orb still attached to the weapon.

With a battle cry, Suzaku ripped his Bayard out of its magic pocket and jammed it into the port, cranking it to the right.

Suddenly, Voltron slammed his hands together, a bright flash of blue light illuminating their surroundings, then pulling apart with a thick strand of blue energy. And he swung right into Myzax. It was so fast that Myzak didn't have any time to react. The sword positioned sturdily in the Red Lion's jaws, slashed like butter through the ro-beast, Voltron landing on his other side with one leg crouched down, sword outward.

Myzax, in a spark of static energy, collapsed to his knees, before exploding in a fiery inferno. Voltron swung his sword twice more before proudly holding it at his side in victory. The Paladins all cheered in relief. They did it! The monster was defeated.

"How did you do that, Suzaku?" Milly asked enthusiastically.

Suzaku, being the only one that wasn't cheering, sat stunned still in his seat. Finally, after two seconds of processing what he did, he pulled his Bayard free from the port.

"Whoa, heheh, thanks Purple," he smiled graciously.

Meanwhile, in the distance by the original crash site, the camera attached to the shuttle caught sight of the column of smoke over the mountains.

o~o

"NO!" Haggar shrieked as she saw what happened through her link with the camera. She then a calm, deathly tone said, "I'll make another, more powerful."

"That won't be necessary. Sendak is still alive on Arus," Zarkon began as he looked away a bit, "I've given him instructions for how to proceed."

"Can he be trusted?" Haggar asked as she knew that Sendak was loyal, but you never knew if it was a ruse for something else.

"I trained him, and he has his mission. He fights in the name of Galra. Only success or death will stop him."

o~o

"Zarkon has challenged us to rise from the mud and prove our worth," Sendak informed the one surviving Galran with him, Haxus, "We will not let him down."

"Sir, how are we going to take the Castle with just the two of us and five damaged sentries?" Haxus asked.

"By exploiting our enemy's weaknesses."

"What weaknesses?" Haxus asked, still unsure of the situation.

"The worst weakness of all: they value the lives of others," Sendak said, looking down at the Arusian village, as the populace happily went about their day. None was the wiser on what was beyond the horizon.

o~o

The Paladins, minus Lelouch, Suzaku, and Rai were gathered in the hanger as the former prisoners of Zarkon were loading up in one of the Altean pods.

"Good luck out there," Rivalz said with a small wave.

"Thank you all for everything. We never dreamed we see our families again," the fish-like alien said, bowing slightly in respect, "But you gave us hope. You gave the universe hope."

A few minutes later, the pod was flying into the sky, away from the Castle and planet Arus, escorting its precious cargo home.

o~o

Meanwhile, outside the Castle, Rai was sitting on the bridge overlooking the ocean. Two of the mice were seated on his lap, Platt and Plachu. Rai smiled and scratched Platt's head as the larger mouse squeaked at him.

"Hey Rai, there you are!" Suzaku said, running over to join him. He sat next to the Green Paladin, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying his best to show support and cheer him up, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rai nodded, "just thinking about stuff."

"Like what?"

"About the fight… I remember why I attacked Sophie."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, the memory of what happened came back when we were fighting the monster. Mum was being sent off with the weaker prisoners to a work camp. Meanwhile, Sophie and I were forced to fight in the Gladiator Arena. She was going to fight first, but she was scared. We all were."

(Flashback)

Sophronia trembled as sentry lowered the shield, extending the sword towards her delicate hands. Sobbing, she ran into her brother's arms.

"I don't want to go out there!" she sobbed into Rai's abdomen, "Please, big brother, don't let them take me!"

"It's going to be okay, Sophie," Rai said in an equally terrified tone. He knew that whoever went out there was going to die. If Sophronia did, she would die in minutes. He glanced between her and the sword the sentry held. He made a decision and acted before he could change his mind.

With a wild roar, he threw his sister behind him, and charged the sentry, ripping the sword from its arms. With an animalistic snarl, he turned back to her and the other aliens.

"THIS IS MY FIGHT!" he snarled, swinging the sword down on Sophie's leg, leaving a large gash as she fell to the floor with a shriek of pain. She held her leg as tears streamed down her face. He growled as he landed on top of her. "I WANT BLOOD!"

His resolve almost wavered as he looked into his sister's eyes. Terror, and betrayal plain as day on her face. His face quickly softened as he whispered, "Take care of Mum," before they dragged him away. The last thing he saw was one of the aliens kneeling to examine Sophie's wound before the gate closed.

o~o

"...that was the last time I saw her," he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"You saved her," Suzaku said, eyes wide. "You attacked her, so they'd choose you instead."

"Yeah…" Rai said, but tears continued to roll down his face, "...but the look she gave me when they dragged me out… I don't know if that's her last memory of me or not…"

Suzaku suddenly pulled Rai into a hug, "We're going to find her. And your mom. I promise."

Rai stilled for a moment before returning it, sniffling, "Thank you…"

In the distance, Lelouch observed the two, having heard the entire conversation. Now that he knew the reasons, Lelouch understood why Rai acted the way he did, as Lelouch probably would've done the same thing if that had been him and Nunnally.

Speaking of Nunnally… Lelouch looked at the ground, guilt rising in his chest. Though it wasn't entirely his fault, he'd still left Nunnally alone on Earth. No note or message for Sayoko, no clue to where he was. It had already been about a week since their blast off from Earth. He did not doubt that by now, missing person reports were being made for the other student council members. Once their faces hit the media, he had little to no doubt that their cover would be blown sky-high. And if his face were one of them, someone in the military or royal family would see it, recognize him, and make the connection.

Not to mention the Black Knights. Without him as Zero, and even Kallen, there to assist them, how long would it be before the group did something stupid and got themselves caught? Whether by either Cornelia or the police?

He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. This was slowly turning into a nightmare.

"So," C.C. said, walking up next to him, the small blue mouse and pink mouse mounted on her shoulders, "What's the great Prince Lelouch vi Britannia going to do now?"

"Don't call me that C.C.," he almost snarled. "You know I no longer answer to that name!"

C.C. shrugged, "Still, you should answer my question."

"...Britannia still needs to be stopped," Lelouch said. "If the Galra Empire is as close to Earth as Allura says, that goal is paramount now."

"But Lelouch, if you defeat Britannia and leave it in shambles, how do you expect for them to defend themselves against an alien invasion?"

"Once the Emperor is gone, and someone with better ideals takes the throne, we can make preparations for that. But that won't happen as long as the Earth remains divided."

"So you plan to return? Alone?"

"If I have to," Lelouch nodded. "There have to be others. Perhaps even the Princess can fill my place as Paladin."

"When do we leave?" C.C. smirked.

"...Tomorrow night."

o~o

"Hey, Ohgi, still no word from Zero or Kallen?" Tamaki asked from the upper floor of the Black Knight's hideout.

"No, nothing," he shook his head in frustration. The Black Knights had not had contact with Zero for over a week. It wasn't unusual as none of them knew where their masked leader disappeared to on days they weren't doing operations. What really worried him was that Kallen had vanished into thin air as well.

"Oh, come on! We usually hear from him by now, don't we?" Tamaki complained with an exaggerated groan.

Sugiyama was flipping through the channels on the television, seeing if any news stories would warrant their attention. He was about to press the up button again when the screen glitched out. The face of the Britannian news station suddenly appeared on the screen. The reporter was standing in front of the Ashford Academy.

"We interrupt this program to bring urgent breaking news," the news anchor said. "Seven students, all registered at Ashford Academy, have been reported missing today."

As soon as 'Ashford Academy' hit Ohgi's ears, he sprang to his feet, he and the rest of the Black Knights quickly gathering around the screen. That was the school Kallen was attending.

"Don't tell me…" Minami muttered in fear.

Seven student photos appeared on the screen a moment later, each with their names written at the bottom in alphabetical order: Milly Ashford, Rivalz Cardemonde, Shirley Fenette, Suzaku Kururugi, Lelouch Lamperouge, Rai... and Kallen Stadtfeld.

"No…" Ohgi muttered in horror as Kallen's face appeared at the bottom of the list.

o~o

"The group of students was last seen around the Lake Kawaguchi area."

"Sayoko?" Nunnally asked, fear in her voice. The Japanese maid only stared at the news report in horror.

o~o

"Records show the students boarded a train to the area, and witnesses have stated they spotted the students by the lake about a week prior."

"It can't be..." Viceroy Cornelia li Britannia muttered as she and sub-Viceroy Euphemia li Britannia locked eyes with the fifth name on the screen.

o~o

"Authorities and law-enforcement urge all citizens and numbers that if they have any additional information to contact them immediately."

"Prince Lelouch!" Jeremiah Gottwald exclaimed, springing from his seat at the bar, Villetta Nu staring in disbelief at his side.

o~o

"Charles," a female voice called out from behind him.

"Yes, Marianne, I know."

"It seems there are more unusual circumstances than we thought. I still have been unable to contact C.C."

"She remains with our son, that much is certain. We find Lelouch, and we find C.C. This is of the utmost importance. Summon the soldiers. They will find them and drag C.C. back here where she belongs."

"Right away."

#Fanfiction #AU #Code Geass #voltron #lelouch lamperouge #shirley fenette #kallen kozuki #rai (lost colors)#rivalz cardemonde #milly ashford #suzaku kururugi #princess allura #coran #c.c.

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rosecorcoranwrites · 5 years

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Editing Advice Part 3: Rewriting

Last time, we discussed how to address plot holes and keep world building internally consistent. Today, I will share my thoughts on rewriting, specifically on when you should rewrite, and when you should stop. I should mention, though, that parts 1, 2, and 3 of this series can and should be done simultaneously. That is, while you're rewriting, you can fix plot holes and issues with timing, and when you're looking at some inconsistencies in world building, you might find a section you need to rewrite. So the first answer to "when should I rewrite" is "when you have to fix the problems with continuity, world building, and plot".

But what about in general? First of all, what do I mean by rewriting? I'm not talking about tweaking a sentence here or there, or find/replacing a character's name, nor am I talking about changing the details of how a certain magical creature looks or wether the moon should be waxing or waning in one scene. I'm talking about full on changes to scenes, chapters, or entire books. This is hardcore stuff. Fun, but hardcore. First, let's talk about dealing with different drafts.

My Draft Philosophy

While some writers will tell you to completely scrap each old draft and literally rewrite each new one from scratch, I think this is utter madness. First of all—

and I realize I am only one of five writers ever to say this—your first draft is good! If it wasn't, then you shouldn't bother rewriting it and should move on to some other project. Is it perfect? Heck no! That's why we're shiny-ing it up. But it's good. There are good sentences, good turns of phrase, good exchanges and flow. What's more, there is heart; when you wrote it, you were feeling certain things that you won't be feeling if you completely rewrite it. Don't forget that, and don't throw it away.

Well, now that that's out of the way, what should you do with your first, or second, or third draft (did I mention I rewrote my third book four and a half times?). Save them each as a separate document! You never want to write over an old draft, because you might, even years down the line, think back on something that you can reuse from one of those old drafts. I'm speaking from experience here. Just as there are parts of your old drafts that you dislike, there will be parts of your new drafts that you end up not liking as much as what you had previously written. Computer memory is cheap, and writing time isn't. Save everything!

I'll even save each chapter of a to-be-rewritten/edited draft as its own document. This helps me break rewriting into chunks and, occasionally, rethink structure. Maybe the story would flow better if I moved this chapter before that one? Maybe I should break this long one into two short ones (separate documents will more easily show you the word count of each chapter). I'll even do this for particularly tricky scenes, saving only the scene into it's own document so I can really play around with it without fear of altering the rest of the chapter. When I'm done with the scene or chapter, I copy/paste it back into the larger draft of the whole book.

When to Rewrite

But how does one know when a scene or chapter should be rewritten, instead of changed a little. The simple answer is, when you don't love it. When you're reading through your book, happy as a clam, and suddenly there's a part that irks you, or feels off, or is kind of boring. That part needs to be rewritten rather than sent out into the world in a subpar fashion.

Obviously, you'll need to rewrite scenes that contain large continuity errors, internal inconsistencies, or plot holes, but there might be scenes that are perfectly serviceable that still don't sit right with you. They're not as good as they could be, and you know it. Rewriting, to me, is a very personal thing; you might even have beta readers who think your story is fine, but if you don't think it is, then it isn't.

Given the personal nature of the beast, it's hard to talk about it in generalities, so I'll instead deal with examples. I'll use my own writing, since I've done my share of rewrites for a number of different reasons.

Miscast Spells had it's major changes when I went from planning to drafting, so I didn't have too many rewrites, but I did significantly change the prologue; it was actually the last scene of that book that I wrote. Why did I rewrite it? Well, it was boring, so I spiffed it up, added more characterization, and actually showed Emmaline getting cursed during it (yes, that very important scene was not in the first draft!).

I would say I went through about three drafts of Outcast Shadows. The first one existed before I wrote Recast Light, and I didn't know how the trilogy ended. Sebastian had a bit of a different motivation for his actions ( he actually wanted to destroy Chiaroscuro! Yikes!), but when I started writing Recast Light and looking at Sebastian's character, this motive didn't ring true to who he was. This meant I had to do a major overhaul of his storyline, but it was obviously for the best. In the final draft, I rewrote particular scenes—when Sebastian first speaks to Millie in Chiaroscuro, when he explains about the threat facing the city, what happens between him and Alistair in the courtyard—in order to really emphasize character relationships and feelings. I wouldn't say the old versions of those scenes were bad, but they weren't what I wanted for the story overall. I didn't love them, and now I do.

And then there is Recast Light, the problem child. When I say I rewrote it four and a half times, I mean I basically changed half of what happens in the book, significantly, four times, and then tweaked the rest here and there (that's where the half comes from!). For example, in the first two drafts, there was an entire subplot involving Chiaroscuran anarchists; if you've read the book, you'll know that that is no longer a thing (though two of their members, Augustus and the Empress, remained in the story). Why did I cut it? It was random and added nothing to the story; I didn't love it.

Then there was Sebastian, my problem child within a problem child. In the first draft, he slept through most of the book (no, really!), and in the second draft, he was awake, but hardly interacted with the rest of the main characters (he was hanging out with the anarchists). It wasn't until the third draft that he finally joined everyone else like a proper main character. Why did I change it? A better question would be, why did I write it so poorly the first two times. It was so weird and not at all what I wanted that I couldn't let it stand.

Then, I overhauled the entire second half of the book between the third and fourth drafts (everything after chapter seven, for those of you who have read it). None of that was there before the final draft. I'm still shocked by this, and I'm the author! Why did I rewrite it? Several reasons. First, the way the main cast dealt with Alcea in the first drafts was totally deus ex machina. Gross! Second, none of it tied in enough with the first two books. It wasn't narratively satisfying, instead feeling thrown together. Sure, the story ended, but it wasn't how that story should have ended, given everything that came before it. I wanted to bring back elements from the other books so that the trilogy would feel like a cohesive whole.

As a side note, the above example is also a reason not to kill your darlings. I had always wanted a ballroom scene in my books, but could never find a place to put it that made sense. As I was writing my fourth draft, flailing around for a way to fix it, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Eh, why not?", figuring that a ball scene couldn't hurt what was already massively suffering. So I wrote the scene, and suddenly everything fell into place: how Sebastian could naturally meet-up with the rest of the cast, what Alcea's endgame would be, and from there, what the characters would need to do to deal with her. It all fit, and all because I had a silly little pet project of cramming a ballroom scene into the book. Don't kill your darlings; use them.

When to Stop

Hopefully those examples can give you a feel for how to go about choosing when to rewrite, but then there is the opposite question: when should you stop?

This is actually an important question, because some writers never stop, and if you never stop, you'll never publish. Worse, still, are certain writers (usually poets) who continue to rewrite works that they've published! I feel like this is a case of the perfect being an enemy of the good, in that it is almost impossible to actually create a perfect story (there are, in fact, only four in existence: Fullmetal Alchemist, Coco, Erased, and Ghost Trick). What you need to realize is that you aren't going to send a perfect story out into the world and should instead aim to send out the best version of your story.

Thus, if the answer to "When should I rewrite something?" is "When you don't love it" then the answer to "When should I stop rewriting something" is "When you love it". When you read what you've written, or rewritten, and it makes you smile, or get excited. When you no longer feel annoyance or boredom or dissatisfaction at reading that scene or chapter. Again, this is pretty personal, so there aren't any specifics I can give you. Just pay attention to how you feel about your own writing; if you really love it, you probably don't need to rewrite it any further (though you might need two tweak it for continuity and world building and such).

A Few Other Tips and Tricks

Everyone has their own style of taking on the rewriting process. Some people use Track Changes, or different colors of font and highlights. Some people print their documents and make changes on the paper itself with a red pen. I would say to find whatever works for you.

My process is: I usually read each chapter through, changing what I can and marking other things for later review, usually using Track Changes. I will leave myself notes, like, "Check for continuity with Chapter 5" or "Is this clear?". If it's something that irks me, but I'm not sure why, I'll usually highlight the whole section for later review and rewriting. I will then move on to the next chapter and do the same thing, then return to my notes after going through the rest of the book.

When it comes to how to rewrite a scene, I will usually outline my thoughts on paper. I might chart out two possible scenarios and see which one works best, or enumerate how changing one thing will effect the rest of the events in the story. I like writing on paper because it's quick, impermanent, and easily scrapped. There's also something about moving my hands, using different colored ink, and seeing my ideas written out spatially that helps me think. It's a way of seeing the story from a different perspective that I find helpful.

And that's it for rewriting. We've covered the main chunk of the editing process, the hard part, if you will. All that's left is copyediting. See you next time!

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