#NO ROOM FOR CASUALTY HERE. LET ME BE DELUSIONAL. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cigsand · 11 months ago

Text

﹕ BROTHERLY BOND

Slight Yandere! Gojo Satoru x M! Reader | platonic

writer's notes: might make a part 2 on this but I'm not really sure. But maybe I will or not. Requests are also open !

synopsis: Y/n gets sent to a mission by their sensei; Gojo Satoru who supervises him.

warnings: Yandere themes, delusional gojo, obsessive themes, degradation. Use of he/him

credits to the owner of the drawings above ↑

Y/n, a first grade sorcerer from Tokyo Jujutsu High. He was on his way to their home room with Yuji trailing behind him. “Hey — wait up.” Yuji said trying to keep up his pace with the other.

“Oh — sorry.” Y/n mutters, stopping to look over his shoulder. Yuji smiles at him. “No worries, let's go!” He grinned, patting his shoulder.

Y/n nodded, walking behind the energetic pink haired boy. The two of them weren't technically close because of his under the weather personality and yuji is somewhat energetic and vocal but they try their best for their conversations to not be awkward, keyword; try.

The hallways were lit by the light outside as they walked, stopping at a wooden sliding door. Yuji was the first one to enter the classroom with y/n hesitating. He felt his stomach start to churn, it only happens whenever something bad is about to occur. He brushed it off as hunger since he didn't eat earlier this morning.

He went inside seeing his sensei and other friends. Gojo perked up seeing the young sorcerer enter the homeroom, standing up properly and putting his hands inside his pockets. “Since everyone else is here, let's start!” He grins.

Y/n sat down next to Nobara who greeted him. “Good morning, Y/n.” She smiled at the younger male. “Good morning to you too, Nobara.” He returned the smile to her.

“Alright listen up, my students!” Gojo sang the last bit, grinning. Clapping his hands to get their attention like a kindergarten teacher trying to get little kids to pay attention to them and it worked.

“Most of you did absolutely well during your last missions yet..” He trailed off, his eyes that are being covered by a blindfold glances at y/n. “One of you did hm.. how do I say it?” He tapped a finger on his chin, seemingly deep in thought.

The two—nobara and yuji—were nervous except megumi and y/n, they both knew they successfully nailed their missions without any casualties except for megumi, he encounters a bunch of curses at the same time. “Terrible? Disappointing? No no.. bad!” He snickered at how nervous the two were.

“Gojo-Sensei!” Nobara and Yuji cried out, hugging each other with yuji wrapping his arms around her neck, the respectful man that he is, he doesn't want to be called a pervert or anything of sorts by Nobara! “Please — just tell us! Even if the truth hurts” Yuji dramatically said, placing the back of his hand on his forehead as comical tears run down his face.

Gojo smirked, he lifted his hand — pointing towards Y/n who stiffens up, staring at the hand of his sensei. “Y/n-kun! I must say that I'm quite disappointed!” He placed his hands on his hips shaking his head as if he was his parent.

“What!?” Nobara shouted, his mouth agape looking over to the younger sorcerer. “But Gojo-Sensei, Y/n has been doing extremely well-” Yuji butted in but got shot down by Satoru.

“Ah-ah! No buts!” He sighs, the smile plastered on his face on a daily basis, finds its way back. The sorcerer knew that he has been doing fantastic with the missions he's been receiving and it frustrated him because he can't play the hero for his self-proclaimed brother once.

“You’ll be going on a mission, supervised by the one and only — strongest sorcerer, me! To make up for it of course” He cheered, clasping both of his hands together with flowers floating around him, it quickly dispersed when Y/n chimed in.

“Gojo-Sensei — I think there has been a misunderstanding. I successfully exorcised every curse that I encountered during my missions.” He said, looking at the white haired male. He clenches his pants in his hands. “Did I?..” He muttered, questioning himself.

“Technically speaking — ye- no?.. But besides the point, I'll be supervising you to check if you do in fact do well.”

Y/n grumbles, cursung under his breath before looking at the desk in front of him. “And what type of curse will I be fighting against?” He questioned the older male.

“A special grade curse!” Silence overtook the entire room whilst Gojo shifted his eyes looking at every one of them with a grin on his face.

“WHAT?”

“Oh.. I'm gonna die.” Y/n whispered, tugging on his hair sweating furiously. He slammed his head on the table.

“Isn’t that too much, Gojo-Sensei?” Megumi spoke up, squinting his eyes at their teacher who waved off his concern. “It’s fine! Plus he has me.” Gojo posed, sticking his tongue out. The black haired male knew of his obsession over the sorcerer who was the same age as him yet a higher grade level than him. He knew of satoru's twisted delusional plan yet he didn't interfere knowing the white haired male wouldn't be too happy.

“Still he can't fight— fight a special grade.” Megumi argued.

“I appreciate your concern for - y/n but he's a first grade sorcerer, he can handle it just fine.”

Their glare to each other was intense, not one of them backing down like it was some competition they intend to win — it was like they were communicating through their eyes. A hand patted megumi's shoulder making him look over to y/n who held a nervous smile. “It’s fine — really, gumi’.” He said, taking a deep breath.

“Y/n can't die!”

“He has so much to live for!”

Nobara and yuji cried as they hugged the boy tightly, sniffling. “I’m not dying — I think.” Y/n muttered.

“You think!?”

“Alright that's enough.” Gojo sighs, grabbing the two's collar and lifting them up away from the first grade sorcerer. “Other than that, you're all free to go! Oh and y/n, meet me at 7 pm outside the gates.” He grinned, throwing the two on the floor before skipping towards the door with his hands outstretched, pink flowers surrounding his figure as he giggled away from them.

Y/n deadpanned, shaking his head. “I guess, I need to prepare?..” He stood up, the chair behind him falling backwards as he lazily walked up to the sliding door.

“Y/n! Let's hang out before you die!” Yuji shouted, smiling before getting smacked by the back of his head by megumi who glared at him. “He’s not going to die.” He claimed, looking down at his feet.

“It’s not like Gojo-sensei will let him.” He whispered causing Yuji to look up at him confused. “Did you say something, megumi?” He asked, scratching the back of his head.

The said male shook his head, following the rest to where they are headed.

“Oh! Oh we should go on a shopping spree with gojo-sensei's credit card!” Nobara suggested, stars forming in her eyes as she stared at the sky thinking of how much clothes she can buy with their sensei's card.

“What about we go to a cafe instead?..” Y/n nervous giggled, pulling the two other males. Once they got there, they sat down at the four seater table near the window. “fuwaa! look at those shops.” Nobara pressed her hands in the window, ranting about them.

Megumi stood up. “I’ll go ahead and order our usuals.” He nodded before going to the counter. Y/n was left with Yuji — who was sitting beside nobara — and her. 'this is going to be a long day..' He thought.

A few hours went by and it was time for y/n and satoru to go. “waa! don’t die on us, Y/n!” Yuji cried out, slapping his cheek when a mouth appeared. “Sukuna..” Y/n muttered under his breath, sweatdropping at the pink haired male who was beating his face to get rid of the extra mouth. Sukuna was spewing in about how the h/c haired boy will die in a gruesome and painful way, laughing before Yuji punched the mouth.

“It’s time for us to go now, Y/n." Satoru said passing by the group, opening the back seat door. The young sorcerer got in and he did as well. The car ride made y/n almost pass out but he tried not to fall asleep. Satoru kept his eyes on him the entire ride towards the destination.

“We're here!” Satoru skipped towards the gate of the abandoned school, it made y/n shiver just by looking at it. He was going to find the special grade there?

Nonetheless he followed the blindfolded man, the gates were already open and the conditions of it were bad, rust and mold were on the metal.

The surrounding area was pitch black. It scared y/n but satoru was going with him right?

“Now go inside! I must warn you that this curse is very very strict and that's probably why it chose to be here.” Satoru said, scratching his chin. He was hinting that the curse was a teacher of sorts in this abandoned school.

“Aren’t you coming along, sensei?..” Y/n looks at him desperately.

Satoru pretended to think before giggling. “No but I'll still be able to look after you throughout the entire school.” He grinned, pushing the young sorcerer inside the dark entrance.

“Wait — wait! Sensei!” Y/n breath hitched as he was pushed inside the school. He heard the door shut close and a click, his hand fumbled inside his pocket — pulling out his phone and turning the flash light on. He breathed out heavily, feeling his stomach churn again.

Maybe this was a sign to leave.

Yet Y/n was determined, taking small steps around the hallways. It terrified him to the core, the curse might pop out at any given time. He sighs in relief seeing the hallways with the windows lit up by the two lamp posts outside. He went upstairs, holding back a shout when he stepped on a dead rat, a shiver ran down his body, continuing to go to the second floor hallways.

He began to think about the curse; was it roleplaying as a teacher? If he made enough ruckus in the hallways would it come out considering satoru told him that it was strict. But then again, what he's fighting is a special grade curse. He needs to be extra careful—

Y/n felt a shiver run down his spine as everything felt heavy all of the sudden, he turned around seeing the curse or teacher inhumane face directly in front of his. He screamed in terror, jumping back. He was careful enough to not drop the phone — gojo bought for him.

It shrieked making some of the lockers drop on the floor, y/n gritted his teeth preparing to use his curse technique.

Gojo stood outside the school on a phone call. “I’m going to send the money later, I’m busy supervising my brother on a mission.” He cut the woman off. On the other side of the call, mei mei raised both of her brows hearing the word 'brother'. She didn't know he had one. He hung up the phone before she could reply, twirling it around his fingers.

He heard a loud shriek — that rumbled the ground — coming from inside the school, smirking. He slowly approached the entrance doors.

Meanwhile Y/n got thrown across the hallway, he groans before standing up to see the curse infront of him already. He barely dodged the attack by crouching down and side stepping trying to get away from the angered curse. “Fuck—where's gojo-sensei when you need him!?” he sneered, outstretching his arms in front of him.

Thread manipulation.

A few translucent threads came out of his finger tips as he prepared to use his curse technique. He made the end of the threads sharp, extremely sharp. He reeled his arms back before launching it forward. The threads travelled quickly to the special grade curse, piercing its body.

Y/n breathed heavily, this was consuming his energy and he didn't like that one bit. The curse broke the threads quickly making him panic because it was limited. “Fuck—” that was the last thing he said before staring up to see the leg of the special grade curse, it was going to slam him to the ground. Time seemingly was in slow motion. 'am I going to die here?' He thought.

A small crater was made, the floor was slightly shattered and the ceiling was close to falling, dust particles float around. Y/n felt the air knocked out of him, he was lucky the curse didn't thrust it's foot further into his stomach or else he would've had died.

Y/n rolled over, a rock hitting his side making him wince in pain, dogding another attack from the curse. He hoped that it wouldn't execute its domain too early, knowing his was weaker since he just started to learn a few months ago.

He stumbled into getting up, a few of his threads broke meaning he only has limited use against the special grade. “Curse technique: bindin—” The curse slammed its fist to y/n's stomach — resulting him into being thrown back, making a hole on the wall of the school.

Blood came out of his mouth as he rolled on the cemented ground, the impact made his head spin. He was going to die, tears slowly built up in his eyes. He was breathing hard, looking up at the wall seeing the curse walking up slowly to it, trying to find him.

Y/n tried to stand up, wincing as pain shot up in his shoulder. “fuck— that's fractured for sure.” he whispered, he stood up shakily. Lifting his hands towards the hole in the wall, making a web of barriers — using all of his threads — he sat down.

Y/n perked up, looking up beside him. “Gojo-sensei!” he shouted seeing the white haired man next to him looking ever so relaxed. He lazily waved to him before looking at the barrier he made. “Can't fight anymore?” he hummed.

“That's some cool barrier you did there.” Satoru didn't wait for a reply, seeing the threads get snapped as the curse ripped it one by one. He stepped forward getting in front of y/n. “Only a matter of time before it snaps.” He shrugged.

“You can take a few more hits, right?" Leaning forwards, and tilting his head as if he was mocking him. Y/n shook his head, feeling the pain from his shoulder intensifying. “Ah that's too bad then.” Satoru pouted, standing up properly. He looked over his shoulder. “I'm impressed that the barrier is holding up pretty well. That's just because that stupid curse isn't smart enough to break the wall beside the barrier." He chuckles at his own words.

“You can deal with it right, y/n?”

“Wait—please- help me, I can't- I'm gonna die- you told me that- you'll 'elp me!”

“Nah, you look just fine!” Satory mocked him, analyzing his appearance. His mouth and nose were covered in blood, his uniform ripped in some places. Hair tangled by the mix of blood and rocks. It made his head ache.

“No — gojo-sensei, I'm- I'm gonna pass out at this rate.” He stuttered out, closing his eyes trying to stay conscious for a bit longer. “Too bad, I'm only here to supervise and not intervene.” Gojo grins sinisterly.

“Gojo-sensei—.”

Gojo shushed him, kneeling in front of the sorcerer. “I’m kidding, I'm kidding.” He chuckled before continuing. “Now isn't this a sight to see.” He said sarcastically. It was time for him to play the hero. He lifted his hand and caressed his hair. “Did you even manage to get a hit?” He shook his head chuckling.

“Don't worry, Y/n.. I'll take good care of you. I wouldn't be a good brother if I didn't right?” He tilted his head again, he was getting impatient, cupping y/n's face with his hands to make the h/c headed male look at him. Someone can call him a sadist for being happy to see him beaten up and pleading desperately for him to help but he doesn't care. “A weak and pathetic excuse of a sorcerer, you are brother.”

“I- gojo-sensei..” Y/n's ear rang, his eyes unfocused and blurry. “What?..” Then his head plopped forward, passed out. The said male stared at him for a second before standing up from his position and turning around to confront the curse who broke out of the barrier. He grinned. “You sure did rough him up, hm?”

“Don't worry, I’ll make this quick and painful.” Satoru said, stretching his arms out and legs. He stood up, lazily lifting his arm. Pointing a finger at the curse who looked confused, a red void appears on his finger in a circular shape.

“Curse technique reversal: Red.”

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #x male reader #yandere #gojo satoru x male reader #x you #male character #male character x male reader #platonic #jjk #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #yandere gojo satoru

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ashecampos · 3 years ago

Text

-shot through the heart

and your to blame-

enemies / lovers

Kate Bishop x Female tracksuit mafia member

TW - death, angst

——————————————————

For the longest time criminal mastermind Y/N L/N and avenger Kate Bishop had this little cat and mouse chase throughout the city of Brooklyn, NewYork.

Ten years to be exact.

Y/N was Kates first mission.

—

“take out the girl, in and out” Clint repeats the mission plan to the young archer

—

However as we know now, that mission didn’t go to plan. The two archers shot a rigged bomb which they thought was the young criminal. An explosion blasted throughout the fourth floor of the small abandoned building.

this mission left Clint partially death and Kate just got away with a few scrapes though. Y/N however, left that building that night with a new scar and a broken collar bone.

But that was 7 years ago.

Nowadays Y/N is associated with the tracksuit mafia. Kate is still an avenger. The world is breaking apart at its strings, meaning the tracksuits had an opportunity to strike.

———

Y/N’s POV

One thing I hate more than the cold is early mornings, today we have both. Although I dare say Christmas in NewYork is one of the best things to witness every year, it’s also a pain in the ass.

I walk into the warehouse, combat boots echoing throughout the silent room. I must be early. I shrug and whistle some old Christmas song while equipping myself with guns and knifes. I put extra ammo in other peoples guns, knowing today could go tits up.

“Ah there she is. Hey Y/N, come, come we have a surprise for you. Well for boss but your bound to love this” my main man Tomas comes up to me patting my back with a smirk.

Silently me and Tomas walk into one of the farthest rooms from the exit, confused and tired I walk in behind Tomas.

I step further into the dimly lit room to see a chair in the middle with Hawkeye sat upon it. Chuckling I walk in front of him.

“Awe guys I know it’s Christmas but you didn’t have to get me such a thoughtful gift” i quip as I walk around, silently wondering where the protégé is these days.

i turn back to the group of probably 20 men “what do we need from Mr Barton? you know he has a lovely family he surely has Christmas plans with. Cmon guys let’s not keep the poor man too long” I question the group.

“we need miss Bishop..well the big boss does” another man says almost intimidated.

I smirk “oh what has my favourite avenger gotten herself into this time?” I chuckle while turning back to Clint “where’s the girl?” I say, taking my gun out of its holster, placing the cold metal against the older man’s forehead with a smirk.

“your delusional” he says lowly.

“Keep him here till I find the girls whereabouts. I’ll be in my office” i state to the men while I walk away, throwing the gun to Ivan.

———

in my office I shut the door and throw my body onto the faux leather chair at my desk.

“Kate Bishop why the fuck are you under my desk…if you wanted to pleasure me I’m more into knifes and chains” i smirk as I look down at the woman under my desk.

Standing up from her place under my wooden desk she holds me but the throat and straddles me making sure I cannot move “kinky” I state with a wheeze.

“You want out of this business? Say it and I can guarantee your safety with the avengers” she her other hand to grip my chin, making me look at her.

“Ah yes because mister general Ross would been so happy to invite a Romanian assassin onto the team oh wait isn’t one Slavic spy enough or are you guys going down a more ethnic route?” I use my hand to slowly inch Kates hand off of my neck, allowing me to speak without passing out.

she climbs off my lap “tonight there will be a meet up with your team and mine. It’ll end in blood shed. Please Y/N we cannot afford the casualties and neither can you guys. Call it off” she states before opening the window. Cool air seeping through. “See you there drăguţă” ((sweetheart)) I laugh as she jumps out of the window, I then make my way back to where the other men are

“Okay, okay children let him go, we have insight on the avengers” i say with a laugh. Walking over to Barton I grab my pocket knife, cutting his restraints “tell your team to bring their dancing shoes tonight will you?” is the last thing I say before shoving him to the floor, half of my men go and escort him out of the warehouse.

————

laying down in my bed in the warehouse I shut my eyes. Memories flow through my head. The red room. Meeting the avengers. Being kicked out of the avengers. Meeting the tracksuits. Meeting kingpin. With a groan I throw myself out of the bed, realising I did i fact get a good amount of sleep, an hour until this so called fight. I’m already dressed all I need is to brief the team, grab Maya and Kazi before heading out.

————

it’s 11pm, me, Maya, Kazi and a lot of the tracksuits are huddled into the back of a van. Being transported to the garage.

once we make it there the doors open and we all split up around the garage, I send the snipers up onto the roof of either the vans or the building behind the sign, I send the best fighters behind cars and the others stay with me, Maya and Kazi to await for the avengers appearance.

Not even a minute after I’m comes the worlds mightiest hero’s.

“Hey guys, good holiday. Damn I kinda saw you guys as a sunny holiday Christmas people. Not enough money for your Hawaii trip?” I speak first out of habit. People say my job is to be a weapon. I say my job is a full time career in taking the piss out of the avengers. Anywho a fight breaks out and it’s me against the ant man “I don’t want to hurt you kid” he tries to plead “awe Katie look, you have competition here, he cares about me” I frown playfully, punching him square in the nose, I sweep his feet from under him and when he tries to get up again I slam his head to the floor, knocking him out.

Next I go for Spider-Man, i quickly analyse his power, he’s using web slingers “Oo fancy can I try?” I quickly pull the gear off of his wrist, throwing them to Tomas “here bro thwip thwip” he chuckles while attaching them to his person. The little big boy goes to swing his fist at me. i punch the dude in the ribs, he falls to the ground eyes shutting while I shake my hand in pain “ouch that really hurt” i state with a whimper.

Lastly I walk over to Clint, knowing my boys are going to take care of the rest of the team.

“You killed my mother” I say coldly as I punch the man in the face “say her name” I cry out as his back hits the bonnet of a red car, he lets his body slide down the car until he is sat in front of it. “Maya is going to kill Clint” The Falcon shouts out to the standing avengers obviously not knowing I am indeed not Maya.

I stand up and turn around to correct him but before I can say anything I hear the release of an arrow, seconds later the said arrow pierces through my skin, I look down at the arrows placement.

Right through my chest, awkwardly situated on the left side of my body on from what I can gather is my heart.

Pain shoots through my body, forcing me to fall to my knees.

“Shit” is all Clint says behind me.

My former team the avengers and my loyal team, the tracksuit mafia all stop fighting.

Since the arrow left it’s place in Kate’s bow she didn’t stop looking at me.

Both teams ran over.

Kate got to me first. “No fuck, Y/N don’t you dare leave me like this”

“Hey, Bishop, I really like you. You know that?” I say through staggered breathes as I lift my hand up, grabbing the arrow and pulling it out of my body. “you’ve got good aim”

Darkness engulfs my vision and my body falls onto the cold concrete floor.

———————

#hawkeye #kate bishop #ladyhawke #tracksuitmafia #winter #christmas #the avengers #spiderman #ant man #maya lopez #kate bishop x y/n #reader insert #kate x reader #wlw post #sfw #red room #Spotify

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sad-boy-mono · 5 years ago

Text

High school casualties

Chapter 1/?

Word count-1,779

Masterpost with Ao3 link

Damien sat at his desk, the typing on his keyboard slowly coming to a stop as he finally finished the essay he had been working on for the past few hours. He looked at the bright screen of his laptop and quickly skimmed the concluding paragraph. Satisfied with his work, he closed his device and sunk into his chair as he let out an exasperated sigh. His bed looked more inviting than ever.

Damien, enjoying this new found sense of relaxation, threw off his glasses and rubbed his strained eyes so intensely that colorful dots and random patterns began to flood his eyelids. His head ache pounding harder than it had been over the past few weeks, but hey, at least he finally finished that essay.

Once his eyes felt somewhat hydrated again, he pulled himself out of the old office chair he had been sitting in. He stretched his stiff body, joints popping loudly.

Pretty sure that wasn’t there when I started, Damien thought to himself as he saw the sun peak up from behind his curtains of his window, What time is it anyways?

Damien scanned the area for his phone, spotting it buried under a small stack of papers and sticky notes, as well as some gum wrappers. He grabbed it and turned it on, hissing at the sudden brightness. Letting his eyes re-adjust to the light, he checked the time. It was almost 5:30.

Well I’m only gonna get 2 hours of sleep if I go to bed now, Damien thought to himself as he made his way to his bed, but ya know, it’s gonna be fine. Maybe I can convince my brain it’s only 3! Ya hear that ya dumb stupid brain, it’s only 3 in the morning! Not 5:30! You’re gonna be fine! Everything is fiiiiiiiiiine.

As the delusional teen concluded his thought, he collapsed into bed, falling asleep within moments of his face hitting the pillow. School was going to be rough that day.

===

Yo sorry but Damien REALLY can’t come to the phone right now, so try texting like a normal person

Shayne let out an audible sigh. He had already texted his friend that he was waiting for him outside, like he did everyday. At this point, Shayne was ready to barge into Damien’s house and see if he was dead or not.

Ok if he doesn’t answer this time, I’m gonna murder him. Shayne thought, as he began to call again.

===

Damien’s eyes slowly opened to the sound of a barely familiar ringtone. No one ever called him, let alone at this hour. But without even thinking to check the caller ID, he answered. It was probably important if it was at this hour. Or one committed spam caller.

“Hello?” Damien answered groggily, sleep heavy in his voice.

“Dude where are you? I’ve been waiting for you for the past 15 minutes!” Shayne said, pacing up and down the old wooden porch that lead up to Damien’s house.

Shit, Damien sprung out of his bed so fast his head hurt (Even more then it already did) and he became slightly dizzy. He already started looking around for his clothes, “Uh-yeah sorry! I’ll be out there soon!”

“Ok hurry up, or we’ll be late!” Shayne said hanging up the phone and forcefully putting it back in his pocket with a huff, continuing his pacing.

Damien took a look at his phone and winced. Not only from 8 missed messages and 1 missed call from Shayne. Or the fact it was 8:16 and he had to be at school at 8:40 and didn’t have a car. But his headache was worse than ever. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made it worse, or the sudden blinding light of his phone; either way, he was not having a good time.

Damien fumbled around his room, putting on whatever clean clothes he had, not really caring if it would look good in the end. He stuck a piece of gum in his mouth to substitute brushing his teeth and began the search for his backpack.

About 5 minutes later Damien was fumbling out the door, adjusting the beanie that seemed haphazardly put on at the last minute, still putting stuff in his bag and his shoes half on.

“Let’s go.” Shayne said, not even bothering to let Damien fully out the door before he started walking off.

“Dude wait up!” Damien said forcing on his untied shoe. “Look, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I slept through my alarms.”

“Yeah it’s fine, but- Holy- Dude you look like shit!” Shayne said, actually getting a look at Damien.

“Thanks, I feel like shit.”

“What happened?” Shayne asked. It looks like you got hit by a fucking truck

“Well Shayne, that’s exactly what happened!” Damien joked punctuated his statement with finger guns and a yawn.

“What?” Shayne asked.

“No, I’m just kidding. I was up all night working on homework.”

“Oh, um, alright then, why didn’t you work on it earlier? Dude are you ok?”

“Shayne, buddy, don’t worry about it, everything is fine, totally fine,” Damien said, in an ominously cheerful tone. “Let’s just get to school and meet up with Court.”

“Ok…”

===

“Finally! There are my BOYS!” Courtney exclaimed as Damien and Shayne approached the main entrance of the school where Courtney was waiting for them. “What took you 2 so long?” She asked and wrapped her arms around both of their shoulders.

“Well someone,” Shayne rolled his eyes towards Damien and punched his shoulder slightly, “worked on his homework all night and slept through his alarms!”

“Yeah Shayne, why would you do that!” Damien said, crossing his arms

“Wha- ME!” Shayne spat, taking a small step back. And Courtney, with her arm still around him, stumbled back as well.

“Yeah you!”

“You son of a bi-”

“Ok enough,” Courtney cut them off after regaining her balance, “save the arguments for later, we’re gonna be late! And Damien,” Courtney dropped her arms from the boy’s shoulders and dug into her bag. Then after a moment or two, handed Damien a travel mug, “drink this, it’s coffee. Not exactly the way you drink it but hopefully that’ll wake you up a bit”

“Mmmmmmm, bean juice.” Damien mumbled and took a drink.

“You can have the rest, you look like you need it much more than I do.” Courtney said. Damien gasped in mock offense.

“What doth thy meaneth? Art thou saying I looketh like shit?” Damien said dramatically, lazy hand jesters included.

“Yes that’s exactly what I’m saying.” She deadpanned and began walking into the school, Shayne and Damien following.

“So what where you working on last night then?” Shayne asked.

“Yeah what was so important that you worked on it for so long it sucked the soul of you?” Courtney asked, once again wrapping her arms around her boys as they walked.

“That essay for Mr. Hecox’s class I was telling y’all about a few weeks ago.” Damien confessed.

God he really put it off for that long? Damn is he okay?

“Yeah Shayne I’m fine. I’ve just had this awful headache for the past few weeks and I wanted to work on it when it went away, but it didn’t.” Damien looked and saw confusion clear on both of his friend’s faces. “What?”

Shayne glanced at Damien, then Courtney, trying to figure out how Damien heard him.

“Um, yeah no it’s nothing. Just… never mind.” Shayne gave a confused glanced at Courtney, who gave one right back.

“What, what’re y’all looking at?”

“Oh uh, it’s nothing, just drink your coffee. This is our class anyways so we gotta shut up now.” Courtney pointed at the door, patting Damien’s arm and dropping her own arms from the boy’s shoulders.

“Oh- alright then.” Damien mumbled to himself and walked in with his friends.

They made it in the class by 8:45. So yeah, they were late. But by the looks of the empty desk right by the door, so was their teacher.

“Oh looks like we don’t have to shut up now.” Shayne said.

“Damn all that stress for nothing!” Damien sighed.

“Well, let’s just relax and chat then! Like Shayne said, we don’t gotta shut up just yet.” Courtney said, walking to her desk, the boys once again following her.

The three slid into their desks, Shayne sitting to Damien’s right and Courtney in front of Damien. They began chatting with each-other and a few people around them. Well, two of them were chatting. Damien was silent, resting his head on his desk. He may as well exploit this time to get a little more sleep, or just zone the fuck out. Either way he was resting up to the best of his ability. Trying to make the pounding in his head go away.

===

“-ien? Hello~ Earth to Damien~” Shayne said, gently rocking his sleeping friend.

“Wha-,”Damien hummed, glancing around at the classroom, hearing it quiet down.

“Sorry to interrupt your nap, but Mrs. Whittle’s here.” Shayne said with a sympathetic smile, then turned around to face the front.

Damien began to sit up reluctantly. He dug through his bag and got out the materials that his teacher listed on the board. Looks like they didn’t need much. Which Damien won’t complain about, the less work he has to do today the better.

“Alright class, why don’t you guys take a seat! I’ve got all my bearings so we can finally start!” Mrs. Whittle unlocked her computer. “Ok attendance, you guys know the drill!”

As she went down the list, Damien noticed quite a few people missing. People he was sure he noticed in the room when he first entered. Damien checked his phone again. It was now 8:57. So their teacher was almost 20 minutes late. It looks like people decided not to wait and just left.

“Alright, got that done!” Mrs. Whittle stood up from her desk and made her way to the board. “Again class, so sorry I was late today. We had an issue with one of the cats this morning and it was not pretty, ended up having to take the lil guy to the Vet but he’ll be ok! But anyways I hope you enjoyed this extra time to chat with your classmates. It works out in the end since today I planned something simple for us to work on today!”

As the class carried on, Damien barley paid attention. It’d be fine though, he would just ask Shayne or Courtney what went on and what he needed to know. It would be fine, this was a simple lesson anyways.

===

#smosh #super power au #damien haas #shayne topp #Courtney Miller #ian hecox #sarah whittle #smosh games #Smosh Pit #smosh fic #superheros #Highschool Casualties #My Smosh Fic

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onyxiana-is-obsessed · 5 years ago

Text

The Greatest Hero | Pro Hero!Tomura Shigaraki x Villain!Reader

AN: Flipping it! Shiggy’s a hero and you’re the villain! His hero name is The Disintegration Hero: Ruin. Pronouns used: She/her Length: 1.2k words

Warning: SPOILERS!!

Summary: Pro Hero Shigaraki runs into you, a powerful villain, and you confess you’re in love with him! Now you just need to recruit him!

Full Name: (y/f/n) Quirk: (y/q) Age: 23 Villain name: (v/n) Villain Rank: S

Tenko Shimura had a rather easy day, he was patrolling a particular area and so far, everything was ok. Unfortunately, that didn't last very long. There was an attack at a bank and he was immediately called to the scene. He was told that the other heroes were on their way and if there was trouble, to stall.

So far, there were no casualties or injured civilians- well maybe minor injuries. Tenko worked quickly to evacuate the bank, helping and urging everyone to safety. Everyone had made it out securely, but he needed to make sure the bank was cleared. He ran back in, searching for anyone else. His red eyes scanning every room he could find.

As he turned a corner, he felt someone jump on his shoulders, and before he knew it, he felt his body get slammed into the wall. He grunted as he sat up, his ruby eyes looking up to see a woman. She had a rather (body type) figure, (h/l) (h/c), and mischievous (e/c) eyes.

"Wow! I didn't think I'd see you here, Ruin." She smirked as she crouched down a few feet away. "The Disintegration Hero: Ruin. Must be my lucky day." The girl stood up tall, moving her (h/c) hair out of her eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" The girl feigned a frown.

"Oh what? You don't recognize me? Well... that's fair. I try to stay in the shadows. You know me as (v/n)." His eyes widened as he cautiously stood up.

"N-no way."

"Y-yes way." The villain faked her stutter and laughed. "You're cute, you know. I've heard a ton about you, number 6 hero." He took a defensive position but the girl held her hands up. "Calm down, I'm not here to fight you. I'm actually here for another reason."

"What's that?" Tenko inquired, relaxing just a bit.

"I'm here to recruit you, of course! Imagine! The great and powerful Ruin on team villain!" (f/n) giggled, causing him to scowl.

"I'd never."

"You should!" (v/n) found a slab of rock and sat on it, a teasing smile on her lips. "Hey, Ruin? Ever wonder what you'd be like as a villain?" The blue-haired male squinted at the girl as he stood straight. "I think you'd be... an S rank villain, definitely a leader of a big group or maybe a small one. A thorn in everyone's side! Hellbent on killing All Might." The man growled at those words.

"I would never," (f/n) rolled her eyes. "All Might is my hero!"

"Hypothetically, Ruin. If you were, hypothetically, a villain, that's what I'd imagine you to be. Maybe a freak with a hand on your face," She laughed. "Many hands all over you. I'd assume that when you were a child, you'd be abandoned and thrown away by everyone- ooh! Maybe! You accidentally used your quirk to kill your entire family! Everyone hates you except a big villain. Some guy who would hate All Might more than you, then he'd groom you to hate the stupid Symbol of Peace.

I wonder how successful you'd be as a leader. I'd say not too much in the beginning. Ooh! Your organization should be called the League of Villains! You'd be the leader, the guy who grooms you is the big leader, and everyone else follows you, Ruin. Ready to kill All Might." (F/n) giggled, making Tenko scoff.

"You're delusional," his words made (v/n) roll her eyes again. "All Might is practically a family member, why would I ever want to kill him!?"

"Oh right," (f/n) said, standing up. "All Might's mentor was your grandmother, right? Nana Shimura." Tenko clenched his fist.

"You keep her name out of your filthy mouth!"

"Filthy? Hardly. Besides, if you gave me a kiss, I KNOW you wouldn't be able to resist." She teased, her (e/c) eyes scanning his features. "Also, yelling like that. You're starting to act like a villain. Don't lose control now. Plus, let's say you blamed All Might for your grandmother dying OR! Or you just don't know who your grandmother was."

"You've really taken your time to think this through, haven't you?"

"Will I get a kiss if I tell you?" She winked, leaning forward slightly, making him scowl and look away.

"Get lost." She feigned hurt.

"Oh come on Ruin! Just one little kiss?"

"No."

"How about a hug?"

"Stay the hell away from me."

"Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings." (V/n) pouted.

"So take the hint, you lunatic." The girl burst into laughter as she did a back walkover and sat right down the slab of rock, clearly showing off her flexibility or... something.

"Shigaraki."

"What?" Tenko asked, looking at the infamous villain. She crossed her arms and leg over the other.

"Tomura Shigaraki. That would be your villain name, to hide your real one. Of course, that is if you even knew your real name, Tenko." Just the way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine. He had trouble deciding whether it was a good or bad shiver.

"You've really given this some thought."

"I'm in love, what can I say?" Tenko's eyes widened slightly as his body stiffened.

"W-what?" (v/n) laughed before she repeated herself.

"I've fallen in love with you, Ruin. You're truly all I can think about, so yes, I've given this plenty of thought. Now... won't you make my wish come true and join me?" Ok, he wasn't exactly used to people proclaiming their love to him. Sure, he'd gotten plenty of declarations before, back in high school and when he started out as a pro hero. Slowly, over time, they kinda diminished and he didn't really have a problem with it. As a pro hero, he was just too busy for a relationship. Sure, there were always girls and guys that he ran to that would say they were in love and whatnot, but he had to brush them off.

"Never." (f/n) stood up, arms at her side.

"Keep telling yourself that. You've always been a villain. You're made to be a villain. It's just a matter of time before you come to terms with it." As the footsteps of other pro heroes got closer, (v/n) took that as a sign to leave. In a flash, she was gone, and Tenko finally breathed in relief.

"Say what you will, (v/n). But I'm a pro hero, not a villain. I will be the greatest hero the world has ever seen and I'll make sure you know it, pretty damn well."

#mha #mha imagines #bnha #bnha imagines #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #shimura tenko #tenko shimura #shigaraki x reader #my hero academia shigaraki

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maulsscream · 5 years ago

Photo

(gif by lilkisara)

REUNIONS Maul x Ahsoka

I said I’d write it and I did! The last episode was absolutely amazing and put a lot of things in perspective. I love Maul and Ahsoka with all my heart. Their motives and final show down was perfect for the ending. Yes I wanted a team up but this creates a whole other layer of perfection added to their characters.

Short and sweet :3c

SUMMARY Rated G - 1,425 words

They meet again on Malachor by chance or fate, neither of them really knows. It’s been almost two decades and still, the ache is there.

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

“You.”

Ahsoka was filled with anger. Had she not had Kanan and Ezra at her side, she wouldn’t have held herself back from killing the former Sith there and then. As she should have all those years ago when he had stolen the shuttle. By all accounts, he should have been dead. All those years later, Kenobi’s words echoed in her head. He was difficult to kill.

“You survived?”

Maul’s distorted smile grew wider as he turned around to face her, the Sith Inquisitors disappearing further into the temple. She had beaten all the odds that were stacked against her. Truth be told, Maul had assumed he had been the sole survivor of Order 66. It made sense really. He didn’t care enough to stick around to watch a ship be swallowed by a moon’s gravity. To his knowledge, she had been dead before they even reached the atmosphere.

When Maul had climbed up into the shuttle and escaped into hyperspace, he held no remorse towards his actions. After all, she had asked for chaos. His kind of chaos. She had asked him to play his role and Maul had taken his part to heart. He had followed orders. Good soldiers follow orders, do they not? Indirectly, she had sent him to march down that hallway and meet death. She hadn’t shown him any mercy or any kindness, so why should he have?

With a shout of rage, Ahsoka charged him like a fury, her lightsabers trailing behind her. She raised them up and they clashed in a blinding shock of light. It forced Maul to back up in a defensive stance, his leg extending back for balance. She pressed on, making him take a few more steps backwards. She slammed her blades into his double-edged lightsaber again with enough force that he stumbled backwards, taken by surprised at the speed and force of her action. His back bumped against the wall and he quickly brought the weapon up again to protect himself from another onslaught. She wanted to kill him, it was clear enough by the blazing look in her eyes and the way she wasn’t holding back. He had seen that grimace on her face once before. Ahsoka had been pushed beyond her breaking point by the mere sight of him.

The sheer force of her strikes spoke of all the resentment, ache and loss she had suffered over the years. Fair play. But Maul had suffered as well. The zabrak snarled, holding off the pressure of their weapons so that it wouldn’t cut his head clean off of his shoulders. He had suffered partial loss before but he doubted this was one he could recover from.

Their lightsabers locked with each other. It forced Maul in an awkward position, the buzzing of the weapons ringing in his ears and the white heat lapping at his throat. In the light of their blades, he could see tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t been a Jedi for a long, long time. She was letting her emotions go through her freely, using them to fuel her. To Maul, it only made her more human.

“You should have died on that ship.”

Ahsoka said lowly through gritted teeth so that only he would here. Something about Maul made her ashamed. She hadn’t meant to snap in front of her companions. Thankfully, Kanan understood. After all, he had lived through the Clone Wars if only for a brief period. He had seen his master die in front of him just so that he might have a chance to escape. If there was bad blood between the former Sith and former Jedi, it would be settled here. No matter the outcome.

“So should you have, Lady Tano.”

Maul replied aggressively, using his robotic foot to kick her in the stomach and give himself more room to manoeuvre. When Ahsoka had raced him for the only way off the sinking Destroyer, he had finally seen her true colours. War had changed her. It had changed both of them, and yet her opinion of him hadn’t changed. He was a selfish, stubborn, and cruel half-droid scum.

“Well it wasn’t for a lack of trying on your part, was it? I gave you your freedom!”, Ahsoka shouted back, her chest heaving heavily and her voice breaking with emotion.

They stood apart in silence, weapons lowered at their sides while they sized each other up. Freedom? Surely she didn’t believe those words. Surely she was trying to save face in front of the others. There had been no motives other than her escape as to why she had let him out of his cell. Ahsoka Tano wanted her and her trooper friend to survive and live. If it meant sacrificing someone who she didn’t think deserved her mercy, so be it. Her plans had been to bring him to Coruscant for justice. But with no one left to assess his case, it had been easy for her to make a decision. No matter how wrong she knew it was deep inside. She had thought of Empress Sabine. Qui-gon. Finn Ertay. And all those nameless civilians he had killed. They weren’t just casualties, they were victims. They deserved justice for Maul’s crimes and she would be the hammer that brought it down upon him.

“How noble of you! You’re no different than your masters... Just as self-serving and delusional. What were your words again? I’m not rooting for you?”

She gave another cry as they charged each other and clashed. Their weapons were quickly discarded, flying across the dusty floor of the temple and at the Jedi’s feet. The pair of them tumbled onto the floor, kicking and punching to gain dominance. Maul gained the upper hand, locking her arms behind her back.

“I gave you countless opportunities to save yourself.”, he snarled down.

“You know I would never trust a Sith.”

Her words were seething with hatred. So that’s all he had ever been to her. A Sith. Even after the order had abandoned him, after his master had replaced him over and over, after he had lost his entire family to the Sith, that’s all he would ever add up to. This was how everyone saw him. A Sith. It made Maul’s blood boil, more so than usual. So be it. He would utilise the emotions swirling like a storm inside him just like his master had taught him. He would exact his revenge, as promised.

“You’ve made that quite clearly, padawan.”

Using the Force, Ahsoka shoved Maul off of her, holding him down onto the floor in front of her as she rose to her feet and dusted herself. She was in pain, both physically and emotionally. Seeing Maul only opened old wounds she was certain had healed.

“I’m tired of fighting... especially you.”

She whispered out of breath. Even if her eyes were focused on him, he could tell she was looking past him. The girl he had meet in the tunnels of Mandalore didn’t exist anymore. She had lived through and seen too much to have remained the same, unlike him. Maul took pride in his suffering, used it as both a shield and a weapon. Ahsoka ran away from it.

She had run all her life. From people, from her feelings, from who she’d become. She had lost sense of what it truly meant to be herself. To serve a purpose that wasn’t meddled and sullied by war and men. No more. She was free.

“Trust me, my Lady, so am I...”

There was truth in his voice, although Ahsoka wasn’t sure he had spoken at all. The question remained. If she didn’t want to fight him anymore but also didn’t trust him... why had she let him slip through her fingers? What had happened between the trooper and her? What had become of him? He must have meant a great deal to her.

Maul pulled himself up, one hand holding the structure behind him. He chuckled at the absurdity of his words which cued Ahsoka to do the same. It was an emotionless reaction to their display of force. There would never be trust between them, the mere thought of it was as ridicule as it had been before the Republic even fell.

“I could never trust a Sith.”, Ahsoka repeated.

“It’s a good thing I relinquished that title long ago then.”

In the corner of her eyes, she could see the smirk she had learnt to be wary of. What was he getting to?

#maulsoka #maul #ahsoka tano #ahsoka #darth maul #sw rebels #star wars rebels #tcw #tcw s7 #the clone wars #fics

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pixelatedrose · 5 years ago

Text

Brilliance Part Two

Brilliance Of A Dying Star

Previous | Part 2 | Next

Word Count: 2,403

Pairings: Rociet, background Intuality, eventual Analogical

Warnings: Uncensored swearing, bombing, minor alcohol mention, fighting (verbal) if there’s anything I missed please please tell me, and if there’s anything you would like me to tag, don’t hesitate to ask!

Summary:

Roman Prince lives in a world where the population is split between super powered people and normal people. These super powers were soon named Flaire. And even though he desperately wished he had a Flaire of his own, Roman lives life working in a cat cafe alongside his coworkers, a few of which have Flaires. His life is fairly normal and tragically mundane until a local superhero crashes into his apartment.

Chapter 2

"You're the guy from last night!!" The shorter man yelled.

Roman scoffed offendedly. "And you're the fabulous bastard who broke my window!!"

The golden haired boy piped up. "And I'm Patton!!" He said. The pair looked at him and his smile became sheepish. "Sorry, I felt left out. I'll just….wait over here for my order." He scampered back and away to a table where he tried oh so hard to look like he wasn't eavesdropping on the heated pair.

Roman turned back to the man with off-colored eyes. "What are you even doing here?" He hissed. "Following me for something?"

The short boy snorted. "No. Why would I follow you?" He said with something akin to distaste. "I just want a damn drink, alright, Sir Fabulous Bastard?" He finished his sentence with a scrunched up face, using his hands to make air quotes.

Roman crossed his arms and huffed. "Fine. What do you want, Ruiner of Windows?"

"Just a m- black coffee."

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

The man scrunched his shoulders and peered bitterly at the menu above. "And a blueberry muffin." He finally said.

Roman let out a breath of air, trying to ignore the increasingly obvious glances and glares the man was getting from Virgil across the room, the thin man trying to look intimidating despite the multiple felines draped across his body. "Can I have a name for the order?"

"Dai." The man said.

Roman raised an eyebrow and wrote 'Day' on the cup. "Dai huh? Isn't that a bit-"

"I am not here to talk, idiot. I'll have you know that because of the ruckus you made I lost my target."

"Well maybe you shouldn't break people's windows." Roman said, handing off the cup and order to Alice.

"I had to hide somewhere and your little apartment just happened to be the perfect place."

"That's a load of bullshit. There were plenty of other places you could have hidden."

"No there really wasn't. I had to be completely hidden and there was only one place that wouldn't arouse suspicion and it was in your house, jackass."

"Oh so I'm the jackass here? For doing what? Being upset you broke my fucking wind-"

A lady with two children pointedly cleared her throat behind Dai, the other woman with her holding her hand. She looked significantly at the children and back up at the arguing pair.

Roman raised his hand in apology. "Sorry, ma'am." He turned back to Dai. "Listen I can't argue right now, but this isn't over, shorty!!"

Dai made a noise and opened his mouth to talk before the golden haired boy took him by the arm and pulled him away.

A few minutes later Alice came out with the two boy's orders. "Patton and Dai?" She called, eyeing Patton as he played fondly with a calico cat named Truffle.

Patton bounced up to the counter, Dai following slowly behind. "Thaaat's us!!" He trilled happily, following it with a short giggle.

He picked up his cup and skipped back to the table. Roman tuned out after that, knowing the drill at this point. Logan would come out with a small bag of three or four raspberry thumbprint cookies, and the two boys would talk while Patton finished his snack and coffee.

That was how it was supposed to go, anyway.

"You delusional moron!!" Dai's voice sounded and Roman looked up from his phone to see the furious boy. "My name's spelled with an 'I' dumbass!"

Roman threw his hands up in defense. "Well how was I supposed to know that. I didn't know there was any other way to spell the name Dai!!"

"Well you didn't ask, did you?"

"And you didn't tell me! What's the 'I' for anyway? Infuriating?"

"That's what you've devolved into now? Childish name calling?"

"Well you look child sized so how was I supposed to know you were above it? I was just trying to come down to your level, Prince charming."

There was a small pause in which Dai seemed to ignore him before he snapped back to attention. "Oh sorry, are you done talking about yourself finally? I couldn't tell, all the noises coming out of your mouth all sound like the same annoying shit."

"You really are a little bitch aren't you?"

"I try." Dai sneered.

Roman hardly noticed when Logan and Patton got up. Logan walked around the counter and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder, Patton doing the same to Dai on the other side.

“Hey, Dai, maybe we should just leave the nice barista alone?”

“Roman, I do believe that you need to calm down a significant amount. You are going to scare the other customers.”

Roman scrunched up his shoulders and crossed his arms. Dai looked at him through furious and challenging eyes. Roman looked away and out the window, letting Logan remove their hand from where it rested on his shoulder. Dai finally turned and started to walk away again.

Of course though, Roman couldn’t keep his dumb mouth shut. “The only one who’s gonna scare customers is this half sized asshole’s glare…” Roman muttered.

Dai spun around, rage so explicit on his slowly reddening face. And if Roman didn’t know any better, he’d think he might have just seen the short boy’s left eye flicker- like static- for just a moment. “What?!” Dai shouted.

Roman shrugged Logan’s hand’s off his shoulders this time. “Oh you heard that? Good! Because it’s TRUE! Your glare would kill puppies if they came too close! Maybe that’s why your friend took you to a cat cafe instead! Keep casualties to a minimum!”

Roman swears he’s never seen someone more angry. “Listen here you janky ass smirking creton, you have no-”

And suddenly Dai stopped. His eyes changed. His expression switched. Something was wrong.

Roman ignored it. Like an idiot. “What? Ran out of clever things to say? Come now, I thought-”

Dai clapped his hand over Roman’s mouth. When had he jumped on the counter? “Shut up for a moment…” He wasn’t looking at Roman anymore. Instead his off color eyes were searching the cafe for something.

This is just another stupid trick. Roman thought. Dai is gonna look at me with that stupid smirk and tell me something like ‘finally it’s quiet’ or something else just as-

Then Roman actually heard it. So did Virgil who had been watching everything from the back. And Roman only got the chance to see terror flash across his friend’s face before the thin man called to the cats in the cafe- his Flaire- gathering them in a corner of the room before Dai tackled Roman to the ground and screamed, “DUCK!!” Right as the ticking noise turned into a boom.

~~*~~

Roman’s ears were ringing.

His head hurt too.

There was someone on top of him.

He tried to take a breath- No he coughed out a breath.

There was smoke everywhere.

He remembered Virgil in the back…

Roman gasped and tried to stand up, pushing the person off of him. “What-” He stumbled back into the back counter holding his head and wincing.

Finally everything stopped ringing enough that he could make out his own thoughts. He opened his eyes to a scene he never expected to witness.

The whole front quarter of the cafe was destroyed. Glass was everywhere and black charred marks seared the ground and ceiling.

Roman glanced over to where Virgil had been. He was crouched low to the ground and Roman could only suspect he was sheltering the cats with his body.

He glanced over to see Logan on the ground next to him, a small cut above their eyebrow. They looked like they would be fine, as would Virgil.

The other customers in the shop looked to be relatively unscathed, as did Patton. How that had happened Roman could only guess.

Roman turned to see Alice standing in the doorway of the kitchen, he was glad to see she wasn’t hurt.

“Dammit…” Dai spat as he stood up, looking around the wrecked cafe. “There’s no way they could have followed me here! How did they know...I could have sworn…”

“Dai!!” Patton made his way over to the short boy, a small crack in his big round frames. “What was that?! Do you think they could have followed you?” His voice was slightly hushed, as if it was a secret.

“I don’t know…” Dai murmured. He pulled out his phone which was relatively undamaged and dialed a number, Roman didn’t bother to see what it was.

Instead he picked his way over to Virgil who was covered in small bits of rubble and dust. “Vee!! Virgil are you okay?!”

Virgil slowly sat up, moving from where he sheltered the small animals. “Y-yeah...I think I’ll be okay...I only noticed the sound in time to call them to me, but I think the cats are okay too…”

Logan walked over to them with Alice by their side. “It seems a bomb went off…” They said, glasses missing from their face. They must have fallen off in the explosion.

“No shit…” Alice said, looking around the wrecked cafe. “What are going to do now though?”

They all paused. What were they going to do?

Logan could easily find themself work in their aunt’s bakery while the cafe was being repaired, but for Virgil and Roman...it was a bit harder.

Virgil’s Flaire would make you think it’d be easy to find work in the animal industry, being able to command and talk to animals like that, but as it turned out, a lot of people didn’t trust him. He had gotten fired from his last job working in a veterinary clinic because too many people filed complaints saying he was too controlling with their animals. He’d been offered many jobs at local pounds and animal control facilities, but he turned them all down. He hated the idea of using his ability to only contain dangerous animals.

And Roman...Well this job was his everything. He could probably find work elsewhere, but it would be hard to find some place that would pay as much as the job he had at the cafe. As it was, he was scraping by with just the cafe and his band. And he really didn’t want to have to take two jobs. And if worse came to worst, he might even be forced to drop out of the band until the cafe got repaired.

What were they going to do now?

~~*~~

The police showed up and started doing their work. Roman and his coworkers were released to go home finally. They all decided to follow Roman to the bar where he was scheduled to play that night. Thomas had joined them too. After their first few songs were done, they all sullenly drank together, mourning the loss of the cafe that had brought them all together.

Eventually Thomas spoke up. “I’ve recommended you all to different places.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “You’ve what?!”

“Calm down. Virgil, I recommended you to a rescue shelter. I covered your Flaire with them and they’re not bothered by it. Alice and Roman, I have a friend that owns a diner not too far from here, they said they’d be delighted to give you work while the cafe is being repaired. And Logan-”

Logan held up their hand. “No need. I already contacted my aunt. She’s more than willing to let me work in her bakery. I thank you for the recommendation, Thomas, but I got this one covered.” They said, a sad, weathered smile finding its way to their lips.

Virgil spoke up. “What about the cats? Where are they gonna go? I don’t want to just give them up to a shelter.”

Thomas nodded. “Don’t worry about the cat’s Virgil. I know someone who owns a small farm who said that they’d take them in for a while. They’ll be safe and taken care of there, I promise.”

Virgil relaxed and they all fell into a quietly bitter silence.

This shouldn’t have happened in the first place… Roman thought. By the sounds of it, it was the same person Dai was after last night… Roman got up, telling the others he just needed to use the bathroom. He instead turned and found himself outside in an alleyway. “That means it’s my fault it happened…” Roman leaned against the wall and looked up at the light polluted night sky, only about ten stars visible. “If I hadn’t been so loud when Dai came in, maybe he could have caught that bastard…” Roman slid to the ground and hid his face in his chest, guilt eating at his stomach.

He heard the door open behind him and he sighed, starting to stand up. “I don’t want to talk about it, Vee-” He stopped when he saw a short boy with golden eyes that didn’t quite match one another.

Dai leaned against the doorway, his gaze met Roman’s for a split second before trailing the opposite wall. “I didn’t know you played in a band.” He smirked. “You sound just awful.”

Roman looked away. “What do you want...If you’re here to tell me it’s my fault, too late. I already-”

“I’m not here to scold you, dumbass.” Dai rolled his eyes. “I’m here to tell you that I’m sorry. It’s my fault your job got blown up and I’m sorry.”

Roman paused. “...You’re not sorry about the window-”

“Hey!! That might have been my fault too, but that one was unavoidable!” Dai yelled.

“Oh my god..AGAIN?! There were plenty other places you could have hidden!! It’s not like my apartment building was the only building on the street!”

“How many times do I have to tell you that your house was the only place I could have hidden properly?!”

“I- ugh...you know what, forget it. My life literally just blew up in my face today…” Roman sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Just go away...Tell the purple haired boy to come and get me when I’m on next…”

Roman didn’t notice the way Dai’s eyes softened for a moment, the way they actually looked sad. He opened the door and before he left he paused. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut, swallowing the words, “You sound good, by the way…” Like hot coals.

A/n: I’m sorry I kept you guys waiting so long and Sorry this chapter is so messy!! I had a vague idea and the words didn’t come too easily this time. I’m so very very excited for this story though!! I have ideas that I’m excited to put to word and I can’t wait to share it with you guys! till next time, stay fresh and minty my friends!

Tag List:

@iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @gattonero17 @soupgromlin @melodiread @septiplierdantisanders @just-a-hufflepuff @themagicheartmailman @awesomefanderhufflepotato @lofinnfish @dabookwormcat @scorching-scotch @sassismypower @chaotic-nonbinary

#sanders sides #ts sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #ts sides fic #roman sanders #ts roman #janus sanders #ts janus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #Brilliance Of a Dying Star #super hero au

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maarmendes · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 2: Unknown Territory [II]

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mental illness... (the main characters are pretty rough around the edges)

Genre: OC insertion; angst; fluff; others.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC [Anahita Shuzenji]

Word Count: 2751

Tags: @bnhabookclub

[Wattpad Link]

Lunch with Bakugo was nicer than expected. We had a lot more in common than I thought. Besides both of us getting in trouble a lot and both getting caught by villains, we both liked old rock bands, MMA, and old action movies. No matter how nicely we hit it off, I couldn't bring myself to be honest with what happened to me. Not that Bakugo would ask me anyway. I was grateful for how understanding he was. We also shared notes on other heroes, he gave me work-out advice and I helped with some strategy studying. It felt like any gaps one of us had, the other would fill in perfectly. He was more of a strength and power type of person, as I was a speed and strategy type of person. Not to say he wasn't good at strategy, he was one of the smartest persons I've met even if he didn't show it. Bakugo admitted he had a tendency to let his emotions get the best of him. I admitted I did as well and it took some training to deal with it. But we also disagree in a lot, such as how good that sandwich place actually was. It wasn't that good. He was delusional.

"I can't believe you're eating ice-cream... It's still cold out!" Bakugo frowned.

"I've told you already like ten times! There's no such thing as the perfect time to eat sweet stuff,-"

"Except all the time... Yeah, yeah, I get it!" He finished for me with an eye-roll.

"If you're that worried, you can always warm me up..." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

"I'll fucking blast you into fucking space."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Blast Boy!"

Teasing Bakugo was turning into my most amusing hobby. It's not like he'd get flustered, that wouldn't suit his 'cool' demeanor. Instead he'd get annoyed, and that's way more entertaining. Back at the U.A, we were met with Aizawa already in class.

"I told you to keep her out of trouble, not kidnap her during lunch." Aizawa glared at us.

"Calm down, old man. It was just a sandwich!"

I prayed for Bakugo's soul. May he rest in peace and find solace in his next life. Blessed be, Blasty.

Luckily, Aizawa simply sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't have time for this... Gear up, you're training with All Might today." I jumped in excitement. Training with the number one hero? That would be the best research opportunity I could ask for. "Except you, Ana. You're with me." All excitement washed away and Bakugo muffled a laugh as he walked away.

"What? Why?!" I walked over to the teacher in hopes of begging for mercy. "Aizawa, please... I promise I will never leave without telling you first ever again!" Adding a pout for good measure was useless against this man.

"You didn't do any of your tests and I have to submit them before the end of the day." I kept pouting, hoping I could at least get something out of it, and I did. With a grunt he caved in. "You can join the rest of the class after the tests."

I threw a punch in the air in victory and wasted no time running over to get my gear, shouting a quick thanks over my shoulder. I was excited about getting my suit on and jumping back into action! It'd been a few weeks since I'd been allowed to go all out and the tests would serve as a nice warm-up. And All Might? The cherry on top of this messed up situation I call life. I was glad the girls shared my enthusiasm for our first real training session. Once changed and walking back to class, we were all having fun commenting on our suits.

"Uraraka! We're twins!" She took a good look at me and laughed.

"Oh, my God! We're like the Pink and Blue Bodysuit Crew!" I gasped dramatically. That got all the girls laughing. I had to admit, she got us a pretty cool team name.

"Then Tsu and Mina can be the Green Dream Team! And Momo, Jiro, and Toru..." I paused for a moment. "The Sexy Squad?" This time I burst out laughing with them.

I'm glad I could fit in even if I got into the class later than the others. They were all very welcoming despite the fact they knew nothing about me or why I transferred. Walking into class, a ping of sadness hit me when I realized I had to leave them.

"Sit down. All Might will be here soon to take you to Ground Beta, where you'll get special training. I'll leave the explaining to him." He turned to me. "Let's get this over with, kiddo."

I sighed and waved the girls goodbye while I followed him out. Taking one last glance over my shoulder at Bakugo, he paid no attention to anyone around him while adjusting the biggest grenades I'd ever seen around his wrists. It amused me how much they suited him.

Once outside, Aizawa didn't waste any time pushing me to the limit. From jumping as high as possible to running as fast as possible to bench pressing the heaviest weights. By the end of the tests, All Might was a long-gone dream of mine.

"Come on, get up. I've seen you do more for less." Aizawa dragged me to my feet.

"For the last time... It wasn't for nothing! I got free pizza."

"And now you get to meet All Might. Sounds more worth it than pizza." I retorted with a look. That was as much as I was willing to move. "Come on, I'll take you there."

For some reason, it still surprised me that we had to drive to some facilities in this school. The amount of resources they have will always astonish me. Once there, Aizawa guided me to some kind of control room where the class was watching some team practice All Might plan out.

"All Might. This is Anahita Shuzenji, Recovery Girl's granddaughter." Aizawa introduced me and I couldn't help but beam at the giant in front of me.

"Ah! Young Shuzenji! Welcome to class 1-A!" Some explosions on-screen caught my attention and I shot the hero a questioning look. "Ah, yes! Today's exercise! The students were divided into teams, some will take the role of heroes and others the villains. The goal is to secure the payload the villains are keeping somewhere in the building with minimal casualties."

A bigger explosion echoed in the room along with a few gasps. Looking at the screen I recognized the sandy-hair student. Bakugo was ceaselessly attacking Midoriya, leaving no room for the boy to breathe. It was the most intense battle I'd ever seen. The look of pure rage in Bakugo's face told me this fight had gone out of hand a long while ago.

"All Might..." Aizawa's tone was low and cold. "Did you just put Katsuki Bakugo in a fight against Izuku Midoriya after I told you to not do exactly that?"

I never thought I'd see the number one hero cower under anyone's gaze, but I guess Aizawa had to be the one to do it.

"I- I might have forgotten about that..."

The giant cleared his throat, avoiding Aizawa's glare. Turning on the microphone, All Might issued Bakugo a warning in hopes to calm the fight down without calling it off. To no one's surprise, that only pushed Bakugo further off the edge. With what to us was a silent scream, the boy blasted off back into the fight. Everyone was commenting on his fighting style and how talented he was, but I couldn't focus on that. This wasn't fair. This isn't what heroes are supposed to do. Heroes are supposed to protect, not hurt. During lunch, Bakugo expressed how much he wanted to fight to the top and become the best hero ever, but also admitted he wanted to protect people, followed by some threats about if I ever told anyone about it. He made it sound like we shared the same desire to make the world a better place... But this wasn't it.

"Call it off..." I mumbled as I watched the boys run towards each other with one last cry of war. "Call it off! He's gonna hurt him!" I turned to Aizawa in a frenzy but it was too late. Midoriya screams and one last explosion echoes. Uraraka deals the last blow and All Might gives the sign.

The fight was over.

"The heroes win!" The hero yelled at the microphone as I bolted out of the room. Midoriya needed immediate medical support. There are only so many blasts one can take. Aizawa tried to stop me but there was no way I'd let this go on anymore.

Running into the building as fast as I could, I get in just in time to see Bakugo standing over Midoriya, trembling with rage.

"Bakugo! Stop!" I yelled out and he froze. I spared no attention to the idiot as I run past him to assist Midoriya. The boy had fainted from exhaustion after sustaining many burns and breaking his arm. He held out for as long as it took to win the challenge and could not fight a minute longer, yet Bakugo showed no mercy. I placed his head on my lap and brush his hair off his bruised face. Rage built up in my chest as I stared at the poor boy on my lap.

"How much of a dickhead can you be?!" Bakugo wasn't expecting the bitterness in my tone. He glared back at me but I stopped him before he could say anything stupid. "You lied to me! You told me you'd make the world a better place! You liar!" I burst out, unable to contain the emotion in my voice. "You're supposed to be good. You're supposed to be a hero! You're worse than a bully, you're a villain!"

I took the crack in my voice as a sign to stop talking and start helping Midoriya. Bakugo didn't say anything back to me. He just stared at the ground, quiet as I healed his opponent. Aizawa and All Might arrived soon with a stretcher and I followed Aizawa as we took the boy back so my grandma could look after him.

I couldn't look at Bakugo. When we hanged out, we shared the same ideas on what it means to be a true hero, to protect everyone from villains. But now, he seemed more like a villain than a hero... Maybe that's why they put us together. Two kids at risk of becoming this worlds' worst nightmare. I couldn't blame them though. I just thought maybe Bakugo would call out to me and prove me wrong.

But he didn't.

Leaving the class behind, I insisted on taking Midoriya back with Aizawa. I was worried he might wake up in pain on the drive back. I wasn't as much of a healer as grandma was, but I could at least reduce his pain and lull him back to sleep. I played with Midoriya's hair in the hope it makes him feel better. I wished I could do more for him, but I wasn't strong enough yet.

"Feeling better?" Aizawa glanced over the mirror.

"I don't know, he's still unconscious."

"I was talking about you." My attention shifted towards the teacher, not understanding what he was getting at. "I heard what you told Bakugo... It was a bit too much, Ana."

"He lied. I thought he was different, but he's just another jackass." I looked back at the bruised boy on my lap.

"Watch your mouth, Ana." I scoffed at him, earning a glare. "You shouldn't judge people when you have no idea what's going on in their lives. Especially Bakugo. That short temper of his already got him into enough problems as it is."

"That doesn't justify his actions!" My voice came out louder than intended.

"Anahita." He called out softly. "Sometimes we need to be understanding in order to help others. He messed up, that doesn't mean he's hopeless. He just needs a little patience."

I knew he was right, Aizawa was always right. He always knew what to say when I mess up. And I knew I messed up. I said something I would hate to hear and I didn't even understand the situation. There's no excuse for his aggressive behavior but there's no reason for me to be an ass too. There's no way I'd forgive Bakugo for his behavior, even if I had to apologize for what I said. I stayed silent for a while, reflecting on my actions, much as I usually do after getting told off by Aizawa.

"I'm sorry..." I sighed. "I know you're right. I'm sorry I did it... And I'm sorry I raised my voice at you."

"Don't sweat it, kiddo. I got you." He smirked at me over the mirror, making me smile and remember why I look up to him so much.

Back in the main building, I left Midoriya with Aizawa. He instructed me to change, grab my stuff, and meet him back in his office. Sometimes I wish I'd never done anything stupid enough to call for this sweatshop labor... Or at least that I wouldn't have been caught. But I did. And now I have to help Aizawa with his stupid paperwork until grandma's ready to go home.

I was making my way back to class when I spot Bakugo stomping down the hall, a distraught Kirishima trying to catch up behind him. I knew I had to apologize sooner or later, and I'm too impulsive to wait around for the perfect timing, so I might as well get this over with. Running to catch up to him, I called out.

"Bakugo!" He stopped. "We need to talk."

"I don't wanna hear it!" He faced me, clearly still upset, and got closer glaring down at me as he yelled. "You can fuck right off with your stupid opinions! Sorry if I didn't meet your dumb fucking expectations. Too bad you're disappointed, I don't fucking care! So you can fuck right off." We stayed like that for a minute. Both glaring at each other infuriated in our own ways. I tried not to forget what Aizawa said about patience, but he didn't mention anything about being polite though.

"I came to apologize, dipshit!" That remark made Kirishima wince and Bakugo freeze. "I know I was an asshole and I wanted to apologize because I know I did something stupid. Now, my 'stupid opinions' and my 'dumb fucking expectations' used to be the same as yours, asshole! You said so at lunch. That is why I'm so pissed off!" Poking my finger on his chest I unintentionally get louder. "You know you fucked up! You know you did something stupid! And, even if I was indeed too harsh, you know you deserved to be called the fuck out! I'm sorry I hurt you but no way in fucking hell I'll ever be sorry for calling you out on being a fucking dick." Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed a handful of my grandma's signature candy and threw them in his face. "And here! Have some sweets! Maybe then you'll stop being so god damn salty."

I stomped away, leaving a really scared Kirishima mumbling something about Bakugo finally meeting his match. I didn't care. I did what I had to do. If he wants me to fuck off, then so be it, I'll fuck right off just like he wants. I paced around the changing room, still pissed at the way he spoke. I knew he had some anger issues, it was obvious, but you hit it off nicely during lunch.

I thought I'd made a friend, guess it was all bullshit.

I took one last deep breath proceeding to get changed, following Aizawa's orders. All I wanted was to forget about this and get back to work. Who cares about some stupid bully either way? It doesn't matter. It's not like I need anyone anyway. I'll get to the top on my own. People are just a distraction from my goals anyway. Nothing good comes from trusting someone anyway.

That's what I told myself for the rest of the day. Helping Aizawa, walking home, doing homework, eating dinner, laying in bed...

I don't need anyone.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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dememarquette · 5 years ago

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Stockholm

It has been a rough year. Complete Hell, actually, but we made it. We're home. Home. 2018, where the leaves are turning red, cable can be paused, and our old record shop exhausted itself into extinction.

That's all I needed. After death, my standards dropped through the concrete. I found gratification in the mundane. I appreciated the small things. I enjoyed the understated conversations, the intimate ones, the quiet. Just- Any time absent of violence. Pain. When I didn't have to worry about the orders being screamed at us, or the anxiety living under the heel of someone much bigger and nastier. Was it a lot to ask? Generally, no. Following a thwarted attempt at societal collapse? Maybe. We made it back half a year ago. That was six months on the run. We were fugitives. 'War criminals.' We avoided trouble by bouncing back and forth from Hell, running missions, training, and staying on the move while ensuring Buné's new order- Point is, I've been exhausted. I leaned against our apartment. I lost track of what city we're in but when you're anarchists of the divine, it stopped mattering. I didn't want to think about it. I didn’t want to think at all. I let my world fall into serenity and I took peace in as cars passed. I felt the breeze on my skin, the procession of life outside the damned. There was normalcy in the city. I offered smiles to the pedestrians that walked by. I reminded them of a preacher, the charismatic one they used to watch every Thursday night. I obviously wasn't the same guy. I was a disheveled, sadder version, but some smiled back- Before a loud crash sent them running. "Son of a BITCH." Metal clanged against stone. One girl dropped her umbrella. She ran. Her rubber boots beat the pavement until she turned a corner, a block away. "Mother. Fucker. LIED." Adria kneed a recycling bin. "I should have known this would happen. It was too fucking easy." "Too easy...?" "No one gets promoted that quick! Doesn't MATTER if you do all his dirty work," The bin split. "Start an apocalypse," Glass shattered. Garbage blasted down the asphalt. "Beat the new guys in!" I had no idea what part of the last few months had been anything short of excruciating. I just knew better to argue. I picked up the discarded umbrella, shaking off the puddle. "Is it off the table, then?" I asked, spinning it. "Obviously not! I'm up here aren't I?" "Why, then?" She violently bucked her leg. A tenacious grocery bag that clung to her boot. "He wants another job! Another fucking errand before I can prove myself, get OFF! Stupid-!!" She dislodged it, but not without throwing out her calf. The cops would be here in fifteen minutes. In twenty, she would be destroying our wall instead. We weren’t getting that security deposit back. "I thought that's what Glenshollow was." I shuttered the umbrella's canopy closed. Peace was over. "Proving yourself." "Yeah well, it wasn't enough!" "'course it wasn't." It never would be. There was always more hoops, more grunt work. She punched a trash can into the street. It launched past me, aluminum warped. When her fist whipped back around, it specked the wall, corrosively leaving hissing black holes in the brick like the spray of a Tommy. "One more." She huffed. "Just- one more. He says I'm close." "When you're immortal everything is close. What if he never promotes you? What if he is a liar, like he's always been?" "Shut up." My brows furrowed. "Adria. What's the point in trusting him if-" "Shut up. This was the limit. I knew it. There was no reasoning with her. She glared, shoulders heaving with a finality saying I was a much more satisfying target than a garbage bin. I let it drop. I receded to the street in silence. Back against the wall, I stood at my post: Protecting the outside world from Adria. - - - The attack on Delgado yielded over 200 casualties. Months of preparation amounted to a twelve hour skirmish. Powers above squashed the epidemic in no time. It was an incursion controlled by dinner yet the effects rippled through the decades. History was made. It was covered up, then made again, but Buné never cared about petty tragedies and coverage above the surface. He cared about what happened after. It was a victory, not a failure. Overnight, his army doubled. They arrived onto his doorstep in droves. Marked. Branded by their wrath, the shambling husks were primed soldiers. Their consciousness’ were forever crippled into malleable potential Buné can use. Due to her stellar efforts, Adria earned respect, boons, and prestige. Just not the title. Her notoriety made her optimal for missions back in the present. He turned a blind eye to her angelic compatriot, and gave her a team. None of whom she cared for, but she thought maybe her parade of volatile dumbasses was a start to prime her for the big leagues. It wasn't. 'Lieutenant' was a bar being raised higher, and Adria's patience was burning out. Having a team didn't mean jackshit if she was still at the bottom. There was no repose to be had under someone else. While I also yearned for a delusionally quiet life- It just wasn't feasible. Details arrived the following morning. "What is this?" I wandered into the kitchen to find Adria pouring over blueprints. They were three feet by one thin drafts of paper, and full of intricate blocks with barely legible text. I'm by no means an architect or mechanic, but ‘boat’ was a safe bet. She was sitting there, nails knotted in her bangs, reviewing them like she had any idea of what they meant. "His assignment." "And this is what will supposedly get you promoted?" I said, skeptically. "It better." 'Or else what?' I wanted to ask. "And this is supposed to be harder than zombies?" "It's not supposed to be harder. It's finishing what we started." "How does that make sense?" I said, picking at another sheet. I didn't trust our 'team' to go get milk without fucking up, much less a heist? "I do what I'm told so I can get out of this shithole." While I intended to correct her on the ‘we’ situation, of that we could agree on. No matter how far this rabbit hole goes, I was sure there was something to be found at the end of it. Call me an opportunist. I hopped onto the counter. Tilting my head, I realized if you removed the claws, fangs, subterfuge, this felt familiar. I imagined a kitchen. Countertops crowded claustrophobically with congratulations and community love. A bare room that felt like bustling potential and a new lease on life rather than a pit stop. I scooched closer, crossing my legs to wedge between an imaginary dinette set and unpacked vacuum- She knew me by now. Too well. I could see it when her shoulders tense, her eyes snap to meet mine. ’Don’t-’ All that mattered was that her subconscious beat her to it. “So if you're promoted soon…” I rehearsed. “How are we going to celebrate?" Finding no room there, he crossed his legs instead. She was unpacking a mess. An obstacle course of bins, stacked impossibly high. There was no space except the marble. Adria had a hard time throwing anything vaguely sentimental out, and the collective town of Ashwater sent her off with enough supplies to stock a bunker. In lieu of helping (as he had invited himself over to do) he read over her acceptance letter to the Modena Police Academy three times over. He had the message memorized, and its creases too. The edges were folded from her happy dance, and the text smeared from her tears. How many Shakespearean ways could he recite it to her? How many ways could he decree her new title? The answer was a lot. But when that stopped being fun, he asked. "Soooo with this new promotion.” He slid closer. “How are we celebrating?" This came after a mandatory lunch. 5 box milestone. 15 minute break, then a ten. Finally dinner, and now a catch-all celebration. She looked up at him grinning, arms full of silverware. She was hopelessly behind, and would’ve had the place done at noon on her own, but what could she say? "How about we celebrate by...unpacking the kitchen?" "C'mon dep- oops." "Detective." “Detective Kyriakoulopoulos.” He waggled his brows. “It’s time to party! One does not become the most esteemed detective of the wild, formidable city of Modena every day.” "Not yet!" She swiped the letter. Before he could protest- talking with his hands, like he always did- she grabbed them, effectively silencing him. He was pulled to the floor, where his strategy switched. He hooked both arms around her waist, pulling her in. She’d weakly protest. "Come on,” She said, not fighting it. “I need to make it look like I got something done. My family is coming over tomorrow." "And they're going to be real disappointed if they don't have anything to unpack.” He grinned. “Think of Basil and Elyse, all bored. They want to help." “And you don’t?” "...Champagne?" When she came to I was off the counter. It'd been days since her last episode. Weeks. So few and far between, on days where she was kicking some guy’s teeth in, I worried they were gone for good. But she blinked. I held my breath for the fallout. Only she saw these memories, but I felt them. I lived in them every time her eyes went dark, when her lips twitched, and I knew she was following the subtitles. In those quiet moments where the pit of venom in her heart receded, Adria crawled back from her grave. Always in painfully brief snapshots, but she was there. These were the tick on her EKG, the surge in hope telling me she was still alive, under all the cruelty and malice. She didn’t receive them as well. She never did. They hit like a jackhammer. No matter how light, they weren’t her life, they were fake, and she didn’t give a shit about them. Getting as worked up as I did was a small betrayal but one I couldn’t resist. She hated me for it- But still. She was quick to tell me how useless I was when she didn’t oblige. How I would mope for weeks if she couldn’t recite this ‘stupid fantasy’ back. It was the only thing I had, despite promises I’d made to the contrary. We never said it, but we both knew. "What did you see?" I asked, breathless. She dug the heel of her palm into her eye socket, burrowing into it like she’d scrape it off her retinas. “No.” She growled, low. "Adria..." I begged. “NO, Demetrius.” She snatched the blueprints. “I don't have any time for this shit today! I have work to do." “Please.” "Mission. First. Are you going to come with me or not?" The answer was a given. - - - Under the cover of night, we hit the docks. I wasn't given the specifics. That wasn't to imply they did, because they didn't. Wrath demons maximized their shadiness. We never had any idea what we were walking into because Buné expected us to handle it- especially his aspiring lieutenants. There was no hand holding. We had a location, a number, and a time limit. Be a good soldier, and that's all there was to it. Adria corralled us to a neighboring container ship. The ship Buné marked- The Sandfly, an antiquated naval cruiser- bobbed beside us. We were to board, grab our shit, and leave. Casualties didn’t matter. Fifth didn’t care about getting dirty if you had something to show for it. Even so, sneaking past enemy lines didn’t mean a thing when there was friendly fire. She and her ‘team’ had been trading blows the whole way here. One lost a tooth, another revived an ancient blood feud, and a third tried for Adria’s head in a manner that was custom. He was promptly put down. "ENOUGH," Adria slammed him into a metal wall. Spines chipped on impact, and the wall buckled. It wasn’t the first time she cracked a bone on her own soldiers, and she never laid hands on them without leaving something to remember. His wound audibly sizzled and but it was so routine no one revelled in the example. "ALL of you are idiots, but if you want to live, get your shit together NOW. Buné does not care about you stupid peons, and I don’t even remember your names! Do you understand? You're fucking expendable." Three grumbled reluctant acceptance. The forth hissed from the ground. Her patience was thinner than mine. I stood idly by, impassive to the petty demon squabbles. They tended not to mess with me. Not seriously, anyways. They didn't care for me being here. I couldn’t escape errant comments but I never cared about hecklers. Adria abraded anyone who tried harder, and operating under her coriaceous wing meant I learned how to defend myself. Procedural power-grabs out of the way, we moved as a group to board. Those with the spare limbs to do so glided to the bridge with no problem. I needed the extra help- not without snide remarks but Adria shut them up with a heel through their feet. We convened on the other side, up to five injuries before mission start. "I go in first.” She debriefed after egos were bruised, and rebellious spirits squashed. “On my command you will join, one at a time! Any sooner I'll kick your ass back down to Hell. I want us in and out, no showboating. Understood?!" "Yes." They said. No one was ignorant of how important this mission was to her career. She told me on the way here she’d bury anyone who stood in the way. But I was the one interrupting this time. "No-" I said. "Wait." I held a hand to the wall. Nonsensically I felt comfort since boarding- and not because Adria held me by the waist to fly me over. I felt warmth. A metaphysical type. One that replaced the ever-present rotting in my chest I've come to associate with Adria (it’s an acquired taste, psychologists would claim). Whatever this ship was emitting- this cloying homesickness- couldn't be good. My disruption was met with the usual scorn. Special privileges meant I could speak out when others got a boot to the face. She took any input from me during these missions seriously. For reasons that were obvious- I didn't talk much otherwise. "What?" I moved my palm with the wave of energy. The feeling persisted down the entry hatch, and upward, as if part of the ventilation. “Let me go in first. I think it's a trap.” "Of course it's a trap. What else would it be?" The other demoness on our team spat. "Since when is your pet calling the shots?!" "He's going to get us killed." It wasn't unusual for members of her meathead party to be disgusted when I said anything. Perks of sleeping with the boss; I had seniority, even if it didn't align with their thug rules. One bland look and she threw out their objections. "Back off!” She snarled, slapping them behind her.“He's going first." "But-" "No arguing!!" I dipped inside. Their fragile hierarchy devolved into fighting. Stealth was never part of their operation but Adria had been in the game long enough to hold off all four. I padded down the corridor, unconcerned, and tracing the path. The ship was a relic of the past. The whole thing was corroded ceiling to floor, suffering a carmine splattering of rust. Stairs were welded grates, and the doors were embedded with port holes too scratched to see through. It was an asbestos goldmine but I wasn't looking for the ways it'd kill a person. Where the heat ended, the nauseating rot of corruption was back, even if I knew our team was far behind outside. Demons. "-Two of them are in." A radio transponder scratched. Sound feed bounced off the metallic halls. Luckily, I'd been quiet. "She's not." "What's she doing?" Said the room's inhabitant. "Standing guard?" I slid around the door frame. His back was to me. He flicked a lighter in his hand, reclined all the way back in a dubious office chair. On, and off went the flame, prompting me to look above. What I was feeling above was the sprinkler system- conveniently blocked in this room. As tempted as I was to trip a holy water shower, knowing she'd be safe, I knew better. "Yeah." Said the radio. "Seems like it." “She's not one to be a pussy.” "Well she is tonight!" "Maybe she needs encouragement.” He hunched over the command station. It wasn’t modern enough to be outfitted with anything more than ham radio and inscrutable dials. I approached from the behind. I wasn't armed. I never carried anything on me because I never came on these missions to do anything but protect Adria. Anything that could truly hurt her was beyond a pistol or rusty shank. “Shake down one of her lackies, make it real loud. She'll come running." "While you're in there and I'm out here?" The conspirator barked a laugh that crossed the feed like a spike in static. "Hell no. She isn’t known for her patience. Give her time." I wasn't going to. I gripped the back of his chair. Using all 150 pounds to my name, I tipped it. It's wheels spun out from under him. He crashed into the floor, the collision ringing out like gun fire. I took advantage of his momentary disorientation to stomp on his wrist. "What was that?" The disarmed radio chirped, fuzzy. "Was that them? Are they in?" It earned a good kick under the desk. Volume whirred as it spun, revolving on the tile, but safely dispatched. By the time I turned to him, he'd gotten to his feet and was bracing for me. Rigorous training meant I knew how- in theory- to respond to hand-to-hand combat. I was no natural. I didn't have the years of combat these guys did. I didn't have to fight my way out of a sewage pit to survive. I had the eye for one move at a time, not chains. I thoroughly leaned on what she taught me. Eye which foot was forward, recognize where he was putting his weight, while minding my own. So while I was able to lean away from the first hook he threw my way, that's where my advantage expired. The second his fist whirred through the air past me, his leg compensated for the dodge and lobbed the office chair into my knees. No matter the power behind it, in our cramped space with plush seating, that move was good for nothing except bruised knees. She taught me to be skeptical- so as I stumbled awkwardly back, my hands flew up to my face. He hopped the chair. Feinting for another hook, his opposite hand drove heavy punch to my gut. The small, obstacle-ridden area did not give him much of a charging period for momentum but he wasn’t exactly lanky or baby-soft. It hurt- God, it hurt- but pain meant a lot less when you could habitually heal faster than the damned. My block fell to latch onto his forearms. I grabbed him before I could go down. I was winded but he was wailing. I fired them up- I pumped wave after wave of bright energy into his forearms, clinging for dear life. Contrary to the way I set this fight up, I have nothing flashy. Months under her tutelage taught me none of her instinctual killer moves, technique, or style. Maybe for a lack of trying but this was it. My God-given and only finisher- it never failed me before. Why would I stop now? My ribs just stopped aching when he bucked. He took three solid jerks to try to rip my arms out my sockets. All failed when I kicked at knees, and hung off his arms like my next kick was going for his gut. It didn't- he'd drop me, and Adria swore that loss of balance is deadly. Instead I bowed and jumped, headbutting for his jaw. He tucked his head to protect his throat. I got his nose instead, but noted from pitch of the swear, I was doing a whole lot more damage from the arms. I seeked to remedy that. Before I could go for another, he dissolved the height difference and dropped. He twisted- twirling under my arms like a grade school dance. Just when my arms were at the apex (having never let go- his arms were gruesomely soggy in my grip) he jutted up. I arched across his back, then over his shoulder, into the air, and then on the floor. I crashed into the ground dazed, lifting my head just in time for his spined tail to pull a filing cabinet drawer into my temple. It was a miracle I stayed conscious. The collision whited out my vision. Pain lanced through my brain like an electric volt, my head humming. But I didn't need to see him when I could feel him. Those senses worked on another level. I blindly reached out. I found his leg, one hand after the other. Forgoing healing, I devoted every spare bit of Holy power into a lateral pull-up that caved his calf between my fingers. The splitting headache motivated me beyond precedent. His flesh squished, bowing with the pressure fingers exerted like memory foam that didn't bounce back. He collapsed. The muscle was rendered useless, and his cry was ear-shattering through the cellar, and the only thing that pierced the intense ringing in my skull. The lighter fell out of his opposite hand. I swatted that under the desk, too, to join the radio paging frantically for updates. They were right; she would come running when she heard us. I felt her now. "You were going to kill her." I pulled myself to a slouch, hand slipping on the rustle of papers and demon grease of my palms. “You were going to kill her.” He was emerging blearily through the spots in my vision. His hands hovered over his disabled calf, unable to tend to it after I shaped it into an apple core. "What do you care?” He half-cried. “For fuck's sakes, you're the fucking laughing stock of the whole circle. The bitch calls you her pet-" She did that in front of me. "She thinks you're wrapped around her finger!" And she does. Glow from my hands reached my elbows, reflecting in his inverted eyes like cataracts. "Remind me why you care about our relationship?” "Relationship? Is that what you call it?" His leg wobbled. While one arm reached for leverage, the other was after something in his back-pocket. "She's using you. She doesn't love you." She says that to keep up appearances. I followed him to his feet, unconcerned that my vision hadn't fully returned. This fight wouldn’t last much longer. "You were going to kill her." I repeated. "What happens when you fall, huh? What happens when this catches up to you and you aren't worth shit to her anymore? When she has no use for y-" My eyes flicked upward one second before her hand plunged through his neck. Knowing just the way to circumvent his spine, four fingers wiggled through the opposite end of his windpipe. Venom bubbled out his mouth before blood did. Poison seared canals through his lips. Chips of his eroded teeth landed in his lap. His body tipped. "What's with you and talking to them?" She snarled, irritated. She flicked excess onto his back. His final syllables gurgled into the tile, and my power guttered with it. "You were wasting time. You should have taken care of that!" "Sorry," I said, still. I got around to healing my temple, clearing up the humming. Just in case she had anything to refute about what she heard. She didn’t. "What's I say? No time for playing around. Let's go." - - - Shortly after taking care of the riffraff, we had the cargo. It was delivered back to Buné at once. Theoretically this was supposed to prove Adria was competent at not just societal overthrow, but leading too. I didn’t care enough to join that meeting back. I went straight home to cook dinner and mentally prepare for disappointment. When she returned, she slammed the door as per usual. I had dinner on the way, and was wrestling a can opener for dessert. She wasn’t immediately razing the town so it must’ve been good news, despite the firm set of her brow implying the contrary. “What’s the word?” I asked, confused. "My coronation is tomorrow." “...For lieutenant?”

Her promotions thus far have been unceremonious. ‘Now you don’t have to live in the mire,’ ‘Now we won’t beat the shit out of you,’ ‘Now you don’t have to work minimum wage to support a zombie apocalypse.’

"I didn't picture Buné to be one for fanfare." "Yup." "That's- that's great! Isn’t it?" "All that's left now is to get rid of everything holding me back." I frowned. She said it so cold. So sterile, and she hadn’t made eye-contact with me since she walked in. She just threw down her brass knuckles and kicked off her boots under the table.. "-Me?" She snorted. "No, not you." For the barest of seconds I felt relief. With the way fifth worked, that probably meant axing some a big cat, or turf-war over a street above ‘sea level.’ It concerned me as much as any of her new hobbies. But that relief turned to restlessness, and that restlessness to desperation now that we were both here, back in our quiet kitchen, absent of screaming and bloodshed. It was 2 AM and this time was traditionally ours. “What did you see?” I asked. “Earlier I mean.” She glared, snapping out of whatever she was daydreaming about. “You think you deserve that?” I didn’t respond. “You didn’t even take care of the scraps today. You acted like that guy was going to make you cry.” I looked back at her. Looking at her like this used to make her face fall. Back when she felt things like remorse or concern. This Adria held her ground, yielding only when dinner was going to burn. “Whatever. You can make it up to me tomorrow.” “For your coronation…?” “Yes.” She knew how I hated going to demon things. “It’s not going to be in Hell.” She elaborated, when it must’ve been apparent on my face. “Where then?” "Ashwater." I stopped, pot boiling behind me. "...What? How is that what’s holding you back? You want nothing to do with it." "Buné's orders. He wants to make sure. You coming or not?" "Of course.” I said, my conscious late to catch up. Funny how it deteriorates with disuse. “It’s not going to be a team thing, is it? “Nope. You and me. Just how you like it.” “Good.” - - - That night when she showered, I stole her phone. This was double suicide. She'd kill me if she found out, and she'd kill who I was talking to for good measure. If that happened she'd rot in Hell forever, and they would never have a chance. She'd never have a chance. I ducked outside, and shut the sliding glass door behind me. I cowered behind the curtains. Finding the number required an incognito tab. I punched the number through the cracked glass, and prayed for an answer. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon-" I beat against the balcony rail. It was several painful seconds of ringing, but at the third note, I had an answer. "Hello!" She answered, drowsy. "Ashwater Cottage, Margie speaking!" "Margie!" I cradled the phone with both hands. "I need you to pass on a message. Now." "Huh-?" Her sleepy customer service persona dropped. In the background, a Gilmore Girls rerun muted. "Who is this? I don't understand-" "Get the Kyriakoulopoulos' out of town. I don't care how you do it. I don't care where they go. But get them out of Ashwater. All of them." "What-?" "They are in danger," I swore, wishing she could see my face. I couldn't intone the right amount of peril. Not with Adria listening one thin motel wall away. "But they're in danger if you tell. Trust me on that." "Who is this-?" "It doesn't matter." "Deme...?" She faltered, in disbelief. "Deme? Is that you?" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Just do it. Please. It's their only chance. I don't care if Theo has a gun. It won't help, not against this. It will only make things harder. This is your only warning, for the love of God listen. You're the only one who can help. I trust you." "But, this is- I?" I hung up and blocked the number. - - - The following day we made the drive out to Ashwater. I rode backseat, arms wrapped around her waist. If I had to pick any aspect of our new life to love most, it was this. The very concept of a motorcycle was terror before immortality was in the equation, but this was a way to be close. I learned to love it: it was a way to hang onto her that felt organic. Nothing at all like the way she touched me now. It was a two-hour journey that breaked thirty minutes outside Ashwater. She'd nearly toppled the bike when she jumped off. I held it in place, as she hit up a gas station. She pulled two cans from the saddlebags, and kicked the machine until it caved. It spilled gasoline over her fingers in exchange for a crumpled twenty. "What's this?" "Preparation." I lifted the glass of my helmet. "Preparation?" "Buné says I can't commit without burning some bridges." "Literally, huh." Not necessarily a novel concept in our lives. "Sort of like the hideout?" Her head whipped to me- indignant, before letting it go. Cyrus was never on the discussion table. Any proximity to the subject was too close, but whatever was on her mind disarmed the usual backlash. It gave me a little hope that this is what he meant. Lord knows I'd be more than happy to burn down an elementary school if it meant I was wrong. “Help.” “On it.” Together we straddled four full tanks on the bike. But instead of the compound, our first stop was her old police building. Their town never needed more than two people. It was no surprise when there were no cruisers out front. Cameras were new but our faces were shielded by a thick plate of black plexiglass of our helmets. They wouldn't know how to explain what they saw if they saw it. Demetri and Adria were gunned down at the corner of Lancaster and Franklin. They had a monument in their honor, maybe some ghost stories, but they have been dead for years. Dave, too. She doused the front. She sprayed their unfunded equipment with gasoline.. We watched it burn from the tool shop across the street. Kitschy knick-knacks aside, tourism didn't change the town integrally. Ashwater was asleep by ten. The fire alarm blared, but no one was around for miles. Assistance in arson was no small sacrifice but it’d been gutted of Adria from the inside out. I wondered if she realized the irony of this- burning away a past she supposedly didn't remember. “Why does Buné care about the police station?” I asked, as the front buckled. Electrical equipment I helped fund popped, shooting sparks into the flames. She crossed her arms, staring into the flames. Her expession, unreadable. Adria was never a mystery when it came to her face- I was reading too much into it. There was just nothing there. “It’s not why he cares. It’s why I care.” “You care?” “Not anymore. Come on,” She said, kicking back into gear. “Next stop.” When we moved out to Modena, we didn't leave anything behind. I wondered if she remembered her house on the edge of the property. In her false timeline, it was never hers. She hit the road as a delinquent. In reality it was probably repurposed since her move. Perhaps sold, or given to Celia when she graduated. I wasn't volunteering its existence, and she seemed to ride past it without incident. My gut rolled as we pulled up to her parent's place, though. I was right- even though I was hoping we'd detour. I'd love to burn Cyrus' shit a second time, spit on his memory. I would be just as ecstatic as she was- But she stopped out front, kicking the stand, and parked. No cars lingered in the driveway. There was the daunting possibility Melina's van was in the garage but I needed, needed, to believe Margie worked her magic. "Stop, no." I followed at her heels. My charade broke after she marched up to it in grim determination. "This isn't necessary." "'Isn't necessary'?" She jerked the gas can at the house. Three years ago we enjoyed pie and coffee on the stairs. We listened to Celia's poetry where the gasoline splattered the wood. She was spitefully through, going as far as to break a window for further access. "Those people never cared." "Then why does it matter?" I arced around her as a bodyguard of the front door. "Fuck them. Fuck them all, let's just go. You think he’ll double check a small town in the middle of nowhere? " Tension was heightening. Something snapped. She pitched the empty gas can at the porch, breaking the glass inches from my face. I flinched "SEE? This is what I'm talking about!" She stabbed a finger into my ribs, knocking me back. "This bullshit is why I couldn't get promoted! It's you! It's fucking you! You haven't learned since Mark!" "Me? You said it wasn't-" "Yes, you! You and your stupid, insane sentimentality! This fake life you’re holding onto!" "How is it- NO" She struck a match. I snatched the end in my palm, snuffing it. "Don't." She slapped my hand, grabbed my arm. Bending it in a way it didn’t belong, she slammed me against the door. "What's your hold up, huh?! Spill it.” She threatened. “Give it up. I don’t give a shit about any of this- why do you!" I squirmed. How do I explain? It’s the one thing that’ll bring her back. It’s the last enduring piece of her life that’ll exorcise this monster she’s become. "They cared.” I kept my hands up, placating. "I know you don't want to hear it but they did. J-just go inside. Once. I can see it from the mantle-" I'd burn my whole arm if I had to, I'd throw myself into the fire to spare it. "You'll see the pictures- you don't even go that far ! The halls are covered, Adria. Covered. They have a shrine for you. Remember the school play-? Tree number four? That's how I knew about it." "I DON’T CARE what you think you know! That isn't a thing! It's not a fucking thing, Demetrius!" God, just look to to your left. In the window, where she was smiling. She was missing teeth in a family portrait from the 90's. “LOOK-” "No." Her grip loosened. She lit another, holding it outside of my range. Her nails narrowly clipping it together. "Y-you don't even have to!" My voice cracked. In a spark of courage, I pried her claws and jumped past her. I grabbed the knob. It was locked but that barely can be considered an obstacle compared to the Hell we'd been through. I'd break a window. I'd throw my shoulder out, I'd bust the door in. I'd rob their house, dragging every knickknack onto the lawn like a fucking yard sale to get one memory out of her. Her unhappy childhood wasn't real if there was photos of her playing the recorder at six. She wasn't dead if I could prove she tripped across the stage at her high school graduation, and she wasn't a thug if Melina had clippings framed every time she made the paper thereafter, a hero in their smalltown. "I'll find them for y-" "Don't even think it," she said, icy. "You don't have to come! I'll show you. Buné doesn't have to know-" "NO," She wrenched me inches from her face. "Walking through that door means you're attached to a fucking lie. Are you?" She shook me when I didn't respond. "Are you?! Are you wasting my time?" "No!" "She's dead. You said you understood that so prove it. Prove it, Demetrius." But why are you ignoring the truth? Aren’t you even curious? Don’t you want to see? The look in her eyes said it didn’t even matter. My fingers twitched on the handle. I knew I didn't care if she lit the building with me inside if it meant I had proof. A piece of our past. Hers was a family of love, encouragement, and support that created the most perfect being I knew, but this Adria didn't understand that. Her eyes were heartless and black through the tinted glass. She didn't care if anyone was inside. She didn't check. She’d be just as quick to dismiss cold hard proof as planted evidence of my delusions. Either that, or that Adria was never something she wanted to go back to. I swallowed and let go. My arm dropped to my side. "So." I said, numb. “What's the plan?" She knocked me aside. I stumbled to the other side of the porch. "We get rid of it. Just like the police station." "Great." I said, hollow. "Not so fast." She jammed a tank in my chest. I looked down at it. The acrid scent burned my eyes, even through the helmet. "What?" "This is a test for you." "I don't understand-" "You care a lot more than I do. Clearly." She started at me, cold and hard. I was one wrong answer from failing. “...Fine.” Without taking the time to acknowledge what I was doing, I shook the gasoline over the house. Thinking about it meant I’d see my Adria smiling back. In her uniform, at attention from the living room. My heart twisted. I dropped the light. It went up in minutes. Heat buffeted my face when I lifted my helmet. I hoped physics of some sort would spare the pictures in the frames, maybe a magnet on the fridge but in truth I wasn't looking at them right now. I staggered back to where she was sitting in the dirt. Legs crossed, she watched it burn. We answered everything with fire. It wasn't a stretch to want something out of this. The optimist, opportunist in me says it can't be a waste. I needed something. Anything. Anything that reassured me I didn't sever my own past in the process. I needed to know I wasn't throwing away all physical evidence. Everything that could bring her back. Her memories took shape in the stupidest things. Like a touch at the theater or stupid joke in the car. I pleaded for her to see something . But she watched on with no emotion. No bitterness, no remorse- Nothing. Perfectly blank. Perfectly alien. Her head tilted as we smelled the rubber dripping of Damon and Elyse's bikes, leaning against the side. I breathed in the ash of her destroyed home. I buried my head in my arms. shutting my eyes tight. There was numerous moves I could make here. So many callbacks to the formative flames that made us who we were- 'Fancy meeting you here.' 'Just like that?' Just any time we won. How we reacted with humor, conquest, and of course. Fire. But this wasn't the same. We stayed. We sat there until the roof crashed into the lawn. "Did you wanna know what I saw?" she said, after I'd gone quiet for too long. The smoke in the air was turning to a different scent. Chemical. I imagined this meant the kitchen was up in flames. with it, all of the kid's art, and Melina's recipes. "Yes," I answered, muted. She had removed her helmet. Her green eyes reflected the fire monstrously, until they adopted a brownish tint. Her braid- dark, but not black, fell across her back. Messy, but in the way I remembered it. My heart skipped- the first real thing i felt in a solid hour. "It was a small one." She said. "The first time you held my hand." I picked my head up from the grass, confused. That was not the set-up I used. I brought up her promotion. Usually prying was hopeless. She didn't delve deep into these things, as they were never her life, but I had to try. "Tell me about it." I said, quiet She watched the burning building, hugging her knees. For not remembering her old life, she sure was mimicking it. She looked softer as she tried to recall. But too soft- it was forced. "It was easy.” She said. “I just remember how easy it felt. Carefree." The first time I held her hand I was on a lot of morphine. We both survived a grievous monster attack. Carefree was a funny way to put it. I stayed quiet, before I noticed she wasn’t going to go on. "At...the hospital?" "Yes," she said, too keen. "At the hospital. And what happened after. What she said to you then." My eyes slid to hers, suspicion clawing. She must've known how hard it was to look at her. How much this felt like a continuum of her sick trial. "...The first time she accepted a date, to Jo's? Once we were both patched up?" "Yes." My breath hollowed within my chest. "Yeah." I said, dead. "We always were saying how she had the best coffee in town, didn't we?" "Yup." I buried my face in my hands and laid on the ground, wishing I could sink into the dirt. It took salt in the wound to realize this isn't who I was. I wasn't a man who lived in the past. There was always something new and exciting ahead. I thrived in the moment, and I planned five paces ahead, but this is where I've been months. Disjointed. A fraction of my former self, whittled down into core needs brought out of my by Adria. I am not who I should be and this wasn't who she should be. I needed to go. I needed to cut the dead weight and leave. Today was the last straw- that sick joke was it- She's not there anymore. She was gone. My Adria, the one who always knew what to do, my loving, compassionate, spitfire Adria- would be as disgusted by this monster as I am. And the monster I've become, chasing it. This house was a pyre. A testament to the last chance l had. Adria died in Mark’s basement but I was the one who took every last trace and cremated it. But if there was nothing left for me down here, why was I here? I was doing more harm than good. I could have left her memory in peace. I could have treasured that golden smile, those fond memories, and the way she got high of danger- not sadistically drunk off it. I could have mourned, at left her be in her prime. Instead, those memories were being replaced. They were overwrit by violence. How many times could I watch this Adria cave in a head, before I forget how she'd kiss mine? How many times can I watch her lose her temper, felling the world into destruction behind her before I forgot how she'd cry at pound commercials? How many times can I watch her callously disregard the innocent, before I started to forget how she'd stop at nothing to save them all? At what point is there nothing left of Adria, and I am just as complacent in her murder? The answer should have been never but it was already starting. I aided in the apocalypse. I accepted her deal. I torched her parent's house. I didn't know if she knew what I was thinking or if it was some twisted reward for playing by her rules but she leaned into my shoulder. Her lips were parted, enough to feel the heat of the threat without the intention. I looked to her mouth. Fangs she forgot to hide pressed against the bottom, the pitch black shine reflecting the flame before she licked away the venom. I wasn't looking at my Adria's face. I was staring at a choice: what felt nice versus what was right. But what felt right and what felt right didn't co-exist outside of us. It was learned- and she taught me that yet this year of living off scraps took it back. Without Adria I regressed to where I started: selfish man driven by whims. If I held onto nothing but the way she make me felt, I could have saved her. If I remembered how her embrace was rough, but tender I'd know this Adria was an imposter. If I had held onto nothing except the way she felt against me, I'd reject this monster that gripped me obsessively like a vice. But I didn't. In these long months I forgot it all. I couldn't bring myself to do without, because even a cheap imitation was something. And eventually- everything. I collapsed on the grass, dragged by her hold. She held me against her, rolling until her wings blocked out the firelight. Until the smell of Hell replaced the Melina's singed garden. Until the possessive traction of her lips made me forget I was kissing this demon on Adria's grave I was never going to leave.

#i was going to hate myself if i didnt do anything during qurantine #bitch!adria #bad end #took long enough ):#story

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katedoesfics · 5 years ago

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Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 75

Link noticed the brightness first, but he couldn’t find the source of the light. It was making his head hurt and all he wanted to do was turn it off and stay in the dark. He groaned and shifted, noticing only then a solid presence against him. He felt a warm hand on his arm and realized how cold he felt. He turned his face towards the form beside him, but still only saw a strange, bright red color.

“Link?”

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He wasn’t even sure if he was moving his lips to make any words form. And then it hit him; his eyes were closed. He opened them slowly, and the light only seemed to get brighter, but the red color disappeared. He blinked quickly, allowing his eyes to adjust, and as they did, shapes and colors started to come together. He looked down towards the voice to see Mipha laying against him. Her concerned gaze met his, and though his head pounded, he smiled reassuringly at her.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse and it hurt his throat. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Hey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and couldn’t help but to let his mouth turn up once more. He tried to clear his throat, but did not open his eyes. “Where… when… what’s up?” He couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to ask first.

Mipha laughed. Her fingers moved between his. “Where? You’re in a hospital. When? It’s been two days since you and Zelda sealed Ganondorf away. I’m Mipha, you’re Link, and you were so delusional you tried to hit on a male nurse.”

“Hm.” Link nodded. “I don’t remember that.” Or much of anything, if he were being honest, but he didn’t want to worry her anymore.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness,” Mipha said, her voice softer.

Link settled into the bed and wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. He let his fingers play with her hair and she sighed.

“I guess it’s all over now,” she said.

Link nodded and kissed her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “At least we still have a few weeks left of summer break.”

Mipha laughed. “Guess we will have to go back to our ordinary lives.” She pulled away slightly and met his gaze. “Are you even going to try this year?”

Link shrugged and grinned. “Guess I don’t have any more excuses.”

Mipha fell silent. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment, the tears quickly filling her eyes. She pressed her face against his neck and moved her body as close to him as she could.

“I thought you were dead,” she sobbed softly. “You were dead!”

Link pressed his face against her. He had no answer for her, for he was certain that he had died.

“I can't fix dead,” she said, her voice shaking.

“It was you or me,” he muttered, but Mipha only slammed her fist against his chest, and he winced and grunted.

Her sobs quieted, however, and after a moment, she turned her face up to him. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Mipha shook her head and let her head rest against his chest. “Not now,” she said with a sigh. “A story for another time.”

Link frowned but didn’t argue further. He didn’t particularly feel like talking about it, anyway. He brushed her tears away and pressed his lips against hers. But to his dismay, they were not alone for long. Revali happened to walk by, and seeing Link was up, burst into the room with Daruk on his tail.

“My bitches,” he said cheerfully. “Are you awake for real this time? Or are you going to try to get in my pants again?”

Link hesitated and met Mipha’s gaze. She grinned and shook her head quickly.

“Don’t ruin all my fun,” Revali whined. “What’s the point of having a delusional friend if you can’t exploit him once in a while?”

At that moment, Urbosa’s head poked in around the corner. Her gaze landed on Link and she grinned. “So, this is where the party’s at.”

“Mipha already pooped on the party,” Revali said, crossing his arms.

Mipha rolled her eyes. “Your presence ruined the party, Revali.”

“Hey,” he snapped at her. “I am the life of the party.”

Urbosa put a hand on her hip and leaned against the doorway. “Zelda’s up, too,” she informed them. “Looks like we can all get out of here soon.”

Link’s brows furrowed. But before he could say anything further, Daruk spoke up, his tone serious. He met Link’s gaze.

“We’ve gotta get you both caught up.”

“Caught up?” Link echoed. “On what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Revali said. He turned his gaze to Urbosa. “I thought you were bringing along that little thing with you.”

Urbosa raised a brow. “Thing One or Thing Two?” She grinned and looked over her shoulder. “They’re on their way.”

But Link didn’t have to ask who, as he heard their loud voices coming from down the hall. The sound of skipping soles on tile grew closer until Riju and Aryll both skidded to a stop in front of the doorway.

At the sight of her brother, Aryll flew through the door and threw herself onto Link, ignoring his pained grunts as her arms clung around his neck. “Finally,” she exclaimed. She poked his nose with a little finger. “You take too long to get up all the time!”

Link smiled sheepishly at his little sister. “Sorry.”

“I don't like being here,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting slightly. “Can we go home now?”

“Soon,” Link said. “I'm sure we can go soon. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Where else am I gonna be?” she said as if it were obvious. “I wanted to be here with you and Dad until we could all go home together.”

Link turned a nervous gaze to Mipha as Aryll continued on.

“Urbosa and Riju tried to make me leave with them, but I didn't want to, so Mipha said she would stay here with me.” She turned to Mipha and grinned at her.

“He's fine,” Mipha assured him, and Link visibly relaxed. “We got caught up in... some trouble. He saved us.”

“Oh.” Link's brows knit together as he tried to put the pieces together. So much had happened in that battle; so much he was unaware of, and it made him feel uneasy. He turned his attention back to his sister. She had retrieved the Master Sword from the table across the room and was holding it carefully, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. She was smiling and speaking to it quietly.

“I bet Fi took good care of you,” Aryll said, looking up and meeting her brother's gaze with a smile. “She promised me she would.”

Mipha sat on the edge of the bed and raised a brow to the sword. “Fi?”

“That's her name,” Aryll said proudly.

Mipha turned to Link and grinned. “Is that what you named her?”

“I didn't name her that,” Link muttered. He crossed his arms. “It's just her name.”

“Sometimes I think you like that thing more than me.” Her grin widened playfully.

“Maybe the same,” Aryll said, running her fingers along the dull of the steel. “She's special.”

“Room three-sixteen,” Revali said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the room. Urbosa and Riju followed suit, making their way down the hall, Riju speaking excitedly about the hot doctor she saw earlier in the day. Revali made a comment, and judging by the yelp that followed, Urbosa had hit him upside the head.

Daruk smiled and shook his head. “See ya later, brother,” he said before following his friends down the hall.

Link turned another questioning gaze to Mipha, but Aryll answered his unspoken question.

“That’s Daddy’s room,” she said. She placed the sword down at the foot of the bed and jumped off. “He said I had to come over here and annoy you so you would wake up. You must’ve known I was comin’, Link!” She grinned up at him.

“I heard you a mile away, Ary,” he said.

Aryll jumped up, clearly pleased to hear this. “Okay, I’m going to play with Riju, now,” she said. She brushed her hands together. “My job here is done!”

“Stay out of the closets!” Mipha shouted at her as she ran out of the room. “And no running!”

Link snorted. “You’re such a mom,” he said.

Mipha blushed and crossed her arms. “Someone has to be,” she muttered. “Without you or your dad, she’s been running around like a cucco with its head cut off.”

“Wasn’t that Riju’s job?”

Mipha rolled her eyes. “Please. You know how well that had to have gone.”

He turned to the wires that seemed to come out of every place on his body, and he frowned. He pulled gently at the one on his arm; an IV that seemed to be simply pumping fluids into him. He groaned lightly - more like whined - and settled back against the bed.

“Get me out of here,” he murmured. He was beyond done with hospitals and anything that was even remotely relative to the battle he had endured just a couple of days ago. He wanted to stretch his legs, and more importantly, see his father. And Zelda, though the thought of that made him inexplicably anxious. He stretched his legs and wiggled his toes. “I’m so done with hospitals.”

Mipha stood and stretched her arms. “Me too,” she said with a sigh. She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I know you’re fine, but,” she shrugged, “you know, logistics.” She turned and made her way to the door. “I’ll hunt down Impa and get things moving. Don’t go nowhere.” With one last smile, she stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Link looked around the room. He checked his body quickly, ensuring that he was really all in one piece, then found the control for the tv that hung on the wall. He clicked through it with a bored sigh, but most of the channels were still abuzz with news reports of the battle that had taken place in the city.

On one channel, a female reporter stepped carefully through rubble and debris in the city streets. The palace stood tall in the background of the shot. She looked around her as she spoke, occasionally turning her eyes to the camera.

“There’s still no word on the number of casualties,” she informed her viewers, her gaze somber. “King Roham’s statements, however, seem to hold true. Despite the chaos that took place just two days ago, it seems Hyrule has fared better than expected.” She went on to mention reports that came in from other reporters from around the kingdom, and the screen flashed to another reporter. The clip was dated nearly twelve hours ago as he, too, reported on the Faron region.

Link clicked off the tv. He had no interest in hearing anymore about the battle, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape it so easily, especially once he stepped foot out of the hospital. He was sure reporters would be waiting to shove their microphones at him. Not only that, they still had to find and close the fourth and final portal - or the first one, however they chose to look at it - and apparently, there was much more to be discussed.

Link sighed and closed his eyes. Though he had seemingly slept most of the last two days, he felt exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep some more.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #fic #fanfic #loz #botw #shadows of hyrule #soh75

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skulmam · 5 years ago

Text

A Boot

He’s a war veteran, he’s bearded and scraggly with green eyes. Many grimy strands of hair dangle in front of his dust-darkened face, his beard is full of gray, making it difficult to discern the color of his once lush hair. He’s tired and wearing far too much for the current weather. Back in the spec-ops he had a purpose, he had drive and determination, but when the war ended and he became old, after losing his wife and kids to violence, divorce and infidelity, he no longer found greater meaning in civil life. It wouldn’t be worth the effort he thought. Deep crows feet line the edge of his face with a past of squinting, weeping and laughing. It’s hard to tell how much of each is responsible for them, but there they lie. His belongings lie around him, he sits on a blanket, cross-legged blankly staring at whatever is right in front of him, his dazed look keeps passers by away. Stoned. He enjoys their worried faces. Someone cares. His name is Snake and tends to refuse his given name. Many decades after being deployed all over the world and after many proxy and private wars, his body was rather weak and broken. The 2050s have not beckoned kindness to his being. The global soldiers insurance is broken and he makes most of his money from begging or displaying odd public rants.

Tonight there was no one on his spot in the park behind the bushes, no needles to be found or struck by. He laid his head down next to the root of his favorite tree in this cold night. He briefly imagined someone next to him, and then laughed out loud at how ridiculously sentimental he was being and subsequently fell asleep.

This morning started with a repeating boot in his stomach.

“Wake up, gramps!” Yelled some well dressed man. He was accompanied by another younger, handsome man; sharply dressed.

“Ack!!!” Snake yelled in agony.

“No time for sleep, you stupid hag!” The kicks became nudging stomps on the top of his arm. “Get up, asshole!”

Snake groans and coughs in response.

“Ah, fuck this. You’re quite the throbbing pussy for a war hero.”

Laying on his side, Snake was kicked in the face and blacked out.

Snake awoke on a couch, in a nice room with ample windows, fluffy couches and wood floors. His nose was bandaged, left eye, purple, swollen. It was a bright morning.

Oh god what a headache, he thought. He was alone there was a staircase hugging the main western wall of the wide living room where he found himself a golden morning light illuminated the space.

“Where am—“ he groaned.

“—Where are you?!” A man’s whiny voice lowering from a staircase barged in the middle of his murmur.

“Uh… yes.”

I was interrupted ... Snake clenched his jaw.

“You’re in my house. Lovely, isn’t it?”

— “yeah. I suppose...”

“Hm. Can’t you show a bit more gratitude? It’s much better than the piss pile you called your home.”

— “I don’t live anywhere.” Snake said. “Just who are you?”

“I’m your commander, dimwit.”

— “I’m not enlisted. Commander Dimwit.”

“Ahaha… don’t get too comfortable, now. I’ll let that one slide considering lieutenant Jefferies took a bit too much liberty and aggression out on that wide nose of yours. I’m commander Zacharia.”

Snake only blankly stared at Zacharia while the commander lit a cigarette from a fine holder.

“You may be wondering why you’re here.”

Snake said nothing while he sat up to turn to Zacharia. He slouched in the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees.

— “Well, frankly, we don’t have anyone quite so… rugged anymore. Most battles and soldiers are not used to the diet, dirt, grime, soiled underwear, human stench—”

—“I get it, okay?! You guys suck.”

“Mind your manners around superiors. We are an intellectual force now. Very quick and precise. We pride ourselves in that." Zacharia paced around the room, around the couch where Snake sat. "War is not what it used to be. A lot less casualties. Very, very expensive. Plus, we haven’t had a war in decades! No one really knows the field these days.”

—“Mmm hmm.” Snake rolled his eyes, folded his arms.

Zacharia went on about the current state of affairs. Snake had been preoccupied with his life and keeping his head. A short temper and aging cqc skills had gotten him into and out of a lot of trouble in his last 14 years of homelessness since 2041. Now 2055, the world is in a stable state of perpetual insecurity, many governments are still failing after the great economic charades of the 30s and 40s, many coastal cities have been abandoned but mostly along and south of the equator, save in Chile, New Zealand, Lagos and a few others. More are yet to sink. Those that have managed to stay afloat are ravaged by poverty, although many aren’t, only a handful of countries have managed a true transition away from poverty. Zacharia then droned on and on about the glorious army and some other shenanigans about world peace or something.

Snake enjoyed the comfortable living space so he made himself cozy and didn't interrupt Zacharia's monologue in the luminous rustic room.

"... You can't get close to hookers anymore ... sleeping will be done outside, in that horrid hardening cold of the glowing cideehhhh" … The commanders words were merging into each other. They became clear every few seconds and the rest turned into a mumbled garble as Snake's eyes were starting to feel as if they were crossing despite his heroic efforts to stay awake!

"Uh-huh." Snake felt obliged to acknowledge the fact that Zacharia was still speaking to him. "Ah. Of course," he said as his head drifted sideways. His eyelids fluttered shut.

"euunderstann? I said. Do you understand?!" An unfamiliar, hostile tone overtook the commander's cool demeanor.

A whipping sound cut the air shortly before snake felt a sharp, stinging pain on his exposed neck.

SMACK!

"Ahh! Fuck!" Snake folded over as he howled and winced in pain. The grimy middle-aged man helplessly clutched his neck.

"We are still a violent and disciplined force, Sargent Chewy," said the proud commander. "do not snooze on me. I will rip the fingers off your palm."

"It seems homeless life has gotten you soft in all the wrong ways."

"I don't want to participate in your dumb game of checkers," Snake could barely catch his breath. "My damn neck."

"This is chess, sir, and you're a pawn!" The commander leaned toward him. "You have no choice. Refuse or fail, we will cut off your feet and throw you in an asylum. 'This poor war hero is shell-shocked and delusional after stepping on a landmine. What a shame.'" The commander dropped his head in feigned sadness. A bright smile took upon his face as he raised his head. Snake flinched, still feeling the sting of the whip where its bruising silhouette was mounding.

"You're out of shape, but if you cooperate and perform, we will grant you a stinky, Lincoln-log house in the middle of the rocky mountain countryside! Just like you dreamt of as a kid." Zacharia held a polaroid of Snake playing with a small, roofless Lincoln-log cabin in his infancy. He tapped it twice as he shoved it in his face.

"Remember? Sounds nice, huh? A good deal, eh? Once you're done, you can jerk off in peace until that peepee of yours goes soft for eternity."

The commander fixed his sleek black hair, and took back his proud stance in that white daintily buttoned outfit of his. His glossy boots resembled that of a cavalry battalion.

"Get that betrayed dog face off of your face. You had it coming. After All, you are in my house."

[email protected]

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maximusthewolfe · 6 years ago

Text

The Blademaker’s Granddaughter

Also on AO3.

This broke my heart more than I meant for it to, but I love this missing moment between Margo and Fen in the aftermath of learning that Fen’s daughter died in childbirth.

She’d escaped Fillory. She’d discovered the numbing glory that was gin. And yet, no distance, no planetary change of scenery, no strange, burning liquid could take away the depth of her heartache. She wasn’t sure anything would. Eliot was no help. He’d tried, but how could he empathize, really, when he hadn’t even wanted the baby in the first place? It was such a gutting experience like cutting yourself for the first time while refining the shape of a blade. Unexpected and sharp.

There was Frey, which had been – unconventional, a hard enough pill to swallow – but now this? Now… nothing? The family she thought she was building was fake. The marriage she was tied to for eternity didn’t exactly scream “real, true love.” As she pulled the light blue bottle to her lips, the piney scent of it reminding her just a little of the Fillorian forest near where she grew up, she couldn’t help but wonder when so much of her life had become a lie. How much of herself was getting lost to that lie, every day she continued living it. The liquid in the glass bottle sloshed up the sides as she lowered it roughly to the couch beside her.

“Fen…” Margo’s voice cut through her quickly tightening downward spiral.

This made sense, in a very twisted way. That, of all the people who would find her trying and failing to drown out the cries of an infant she never got to hold, it would be Margo.

Margo, who was the whole reason she was suffering any of this pain to begin with. Margo, who was supposed to be in Fillory helping Eliot fix all the things that went wrong when a world that counted on magic to stay afloat was plum out of it. Margo, who should have been anywhere but standing next to where she sat on an old, multi-colored, overstuffed couch in the eclectic, carefully composed chaos of the Physical Kids’ cottage.

It wasn’t often that Fen felt like she understood her husband, but spending time here, and knowing how he felt about the place, she thought maybe she was learning a little bit more about him. To her surprise, it was something she thought maybe they had in common. Carefully composed chaos. She felt a pang of affection for the High King, and it was only that loyalty, and the knowledge of what Margo meant to Eliot that made her finally raise her eyes to meet Margo’s concerned stare.

“Hello? Earth to Fen? Well, Fen to Earth, I guess, really,” she said, unable to stop the self-satisfied smirk that spread across her lips at her unintended play on words. Always so clever, that Margo Hanson. Just not quite clever enough to save her family, Fen thought bitterly.

“Go away,” Fen said, letting her eyes drop back to the bottle at her side, still tightly in her grip.

“Honey, you really shouldn’t be drinking Bombay plain like that. You really shouldn’t drink gin by itself, period. At least add in a twist of lime,” Margo said, reaching for the bottle. Fen pulled it closer to her body immediately.

“I’m trying to help. But if you want a wicked case of heartburn later, be my guest,” Margo said, folding her arms over her chest.

“I think I’ve had more than enough of your help to last a lifetime,” Fen said, spitting the word “help” with extra venom.

“Look, Fen,” Margo said, stepping closer to the couch, like she might try to sit down.

The thought of having to share the same space with her like that, so closely, so casually as if nothing were wrong at all, felt like a thousand tiny knives stabbing at her lungs in a ceaseless rotation.

“I said go. Away.”

“No,” Margo said, her tone fierce.

This was what Fen hated about Margo most – her ferocity, her stubbornness. It was once what she’d most admired about the High Queen. It was truly a sight to behold, the way she could bend even the High King to her will simply by being so sure she was right. Fen had believed that unabashed certainty was exactly what Fillory needed, for a time. But then she’d become the casualty, the bargaining chip, the leverage. As it turned out, the awe of watching Margo wield her fearless power was only nice when her interests aligned with yours. Fen hated her for that. She hated her even more for the unwavering loyalty Eliot gave her, because it was that persistent faith from someone who, while yes, flawed, Fen loved and trusted and believed in, that made it impossible to hate Margo at all. At least not in the enduring way she deserved.

“Fine. Bring me some goddamned limes, then,” Fen said, the forceful bravado she tried to channel from the bossy High Queen standing in front of her felt foreign on her tongue, but she leaned into it all the same.

Margo smiled, just a little, and nodded, heading to the bar to gather supplies. “Now that I can do.”

Fen hoped Margo didn’t take that as a victory. Fen was simply exhausted. Exhausted by her own grief, exhausted by her inability to escape it. The amount of energy it would have taken to continue pushing Margo to leave when that was so obviously not what Margo wanted wasn’t worth the effort.

A few moments later, she returned with two small, crystal glasses, lime wedges, and a bottle of tonic water tucked under her arm. She held out her hand for the gin, which Fen reluctantly handed over, and Margo went to work crafting the perfect drink.

“Why are you here, Margo?” Fen asked as she watched her assemble the drinks. Focusing on Margo’s hands as they worked was better than focusing on the gaping hole with ragged edges inside of her that hurt constantly.

“El told me about your talk,” Margo said, and if Fen wasn’t completely delusional from gin and grief, she thought she might have heard an ounce of remorse in her tone.

“Of course he did,” Fen mumbled. Just once, it would be nice to have her husband choose her loyalty over Margo. One time. Fen didn’t think she was asking for much. She just wanted a little time to sort through this alone, to find a way to live in the fresh Hell she’d been handed and still be Fen, or at least some version of herself that wasn’t completely hollowed out. But no, Eliot had to send in the cavalry. It might have been sweet, a sign that he cared, but he’d sent Margo, which really only added insult to injury.

“Hey, he’s on your side here,” Margo said, squeezing a lime wedge into each glass and moving to slot another on each glass rim, but the wedges were missing a cut down the middle.

“Well, fuck,” she mumbled, standing to retrieve a knife.

Fen held up a hand to stop her and pulled a small blade out of a sheath on her belt. “Here.”

Margo accepted it, looking more than a little bewildered, and Fen felt the tiniest bit of pleasure at having caught her off-guard.

“Damn, ok. Good to know you’re packing,” she said, slicing the wedges before handing the knife back.

“My father was a blade maker,” Fen explained easily.

Margo simply nodded in response and handed Fen one of the glasses. Then, with the other in hand, she took the seat on the couch next to Fen. Despite the civility with which they’d been regarding one another over the past few moments, the sudden closeness of Margo made Fen’s stomach twist, made her skin prickle uncomfortably. She took a large gulp of the drink – it really was good, much better than drinking straight from the bottle – and moved so she was sitting on the arm of the couch instead of the cushion. Margo noticed the movement immediately.

“I don’t bite,” she said, and it looked like she wanted to add something, but stopped herself.

“I don’t like being around you,” Fen said. She saw no reason to mince words, even if Margo was Eliot’s best friend.

“That’s fair,” Margo said, though it didn’t look like she fully believed it.

“Fen, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she added after a beat.

Fen could feel Margo’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to meet them.

“I fucked up. In a big way.”

“You fucked up?” Fen repeated, her tone almost scoffing, dripping with disbelief. “You gambled my family, Margo. You promised something that wasn’t yours to promise in a game you shouldn’t have even been playing, and in the end? I lost everything.” The words rushed out of her, heated and angry, like molten steel, and she did nothing to temper them.

“I know! But Eliot was going to die,” Margo said, an uncharacteristic air of desperation in her tone. Fen hated the way it sounded, hated how it almost made her pity Margo’s choice. Almost.

“My daughter did die.” Fen shot back, “Eliot’s daughter.”

Margo was silent for a long time. Fen was, too. For awhile, the only sound in the common room of the cottage was the clinking of ice as they sipped from their drinks. Fen, sitting in her pain, waiting for something to dull it just a little. Margo, looking for once like there was an answer she might not have.

“It was either a broken family, or a fatherless kid and a kingless kingdom. I’m sorry for how what I did hurt you, but I made the choice with the fewest number of casualties,” Margo said finally. Her words were heavy. Fen could feel them sitting in the air between them, tangible, big. But she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and grab them. There was logic in what she had said, but logic did nothing to fix the shattered things inside of her. It wasn’t cold comfort because it wasn’t comfort at all.

“You took something that wasn’t yours to take.”

“Eliot was going to die.”

“You don’t know that!” Fen lashed out, the anger simmering in her voice coming to a boil over and spilling everywhere.

“I do! And you do, too, if you’d let yourself! He’s a hell of a magician, a phenomenal smooth-talker, and a fuck of a lot better of a person than he gives himself credit for, but he’s shit with a sword. Magic was the only chance he had,” Margo said, and it was clear that they were at an impasse.

“Yeah, well, you’re shit at apologies,” Fen grumbled, tipping the glass to her lips again.

“You’re not the first to tell me that,” Margo conceded, mirroring Fen’s motions.

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“I know.”

“It feels like all the air keeps getting ripped from my lungs, like I’ve just been tossed into the forge, like scrap metal.”

“I know.”

“It hurts so badly, I want to die.”

“I know.”

And there was something there, in Margo’s eyes. Some pained secret she wouldn’t reveal, some fissure in her own heart that hadn’t healed, maybe, that made Fen believe her. Made Fen hate her just a little bit less. She cursed her ridiculous capacity for empathy.

“Will it ever go away?”

Margo considered this, running a pointer finger along the rim of her glass until it made a high-pitched, melodic hum while she thought.

“Not completely,” she said honestly, “But it gets quieter. It… turns into something else. Something more bearable.”

In an instant, Fen was intensely curious about what had made Margo hurt badly enough that she spoke with such certainty now.

“How do you get through until then?” Fen asked, instead of the question she really wanted the answer to. As curious as she was, she wasn’t sure she could shoulder another pain anywhere near her own.

“I dunno,” Margo said, her tone softer than Fen had ever remembered hearing it, even when she’d eavesdropped on the occasional quiet conversation between her and Eliot.

“Gin helps,” Margo laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Eliot helps,” she added, “If you let him.”

Fen nodded. Maybe she’d underestimated her husband. It sure felt like she’d underestimated Margo. Fen stayed where she was, perched on the arm of the couch, but she motioned Margo closer. Margo, in another surprising turn of events, took the suggestion without even a hint of snarky protest. She settled her back against Fen’s shins, laying her legs across the couch, tapping at various spots on her glass absentmindedly. Fen let her free hand drop to Margo’s shoulder, and was surprised when Margo’s free hand rose to cover it.

“I really am sorry, Fen,” she said.

It didn’t take away the pain. It didn’t right the wrong or create forgiveness that Fen couldn’t give. It didn’t give her an answer or make the dark, rocky path ahead of her any less dangerous. It solved nothing, but for the first time since she’d learned she was a mother without a daughter to show for it, Fen felt the tiniest bit less alone. And that was something.

#The Magicians #the magicians ff #fentastic #fentastic week #oneshot #fen/margo #fen #fen ff

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fyodorsuggestions · 8 years ago

Text

Dance while we Burn

The spray of blood is messy, the arc of it perfect, the spatter of it beautiful. Oh is there anything better than this, can there be anything better? So many freed of the sin of existing so simply and so easily, without a second to suffer, without the breath to scream. This is easy, this is simple, this is kind. No bullets tearing through muscle and bone, bringing pain with them and taking lives as they go. No knives slicing through throats and leaving nothing but searing agony in their wake, no bones breaking, snapping, cracking under unnatural pressures.

There is no God of War on a rampage here, no fire racing through the streets and eating men whole. There is no God of Light searing the infidels and burning sins with Their divinity. There is no Goddess of the Hunt tearing through the poor domesticated cattle. There are no boys with birds’ feathers stuck to their arms, there are no wolves prowling by, there are no rich Kings or mad dogs, there are no exotic pets or idealistic fools.

There is nothing but a silent spectre bringing death, there is no delusional psychopath waging his war against innocents. If there is a God here, if I am it, then I am the one who seeks to soothe the world. I am the one who wants nothing more than equality and innocence, purity, I want to scrub the earth clean; scrub, scrape until my fingers bleed. And if I can’t, if the filth is a stain, if the corruption is too deep, then I will raze it all to the ground and salt the earth after me.

Isn’t that what a just God would do? Isn’t that what a good God does? To protect the people He so loves, to bless them and protect them, wouldn’t He destroy the devils underfoot to save a soul? So tell me, is what I’m doing so wrong then?

“Is it? Tell me if you want,” I murmur as another body falls to the ground, another of many, a woman with soft brown hair. She didn’t have a chance to suffer, my curse is merciful at least, as violent as her death is she felt none of it. Dead the instant my fingers brushed the nape of her neck, dead before she could even feel my presence behind her because all of humanity deserves a swift death.

I smile as I leave her there, bleeding out onto the already bloody tiles. The entire building gets to look like a sadistic madman’s macabre wax house, full of figures so carefully crafted they can’t be real and so bloodied you hope they aren’t. Oh but they are and I’m not, a madman, crazed maybe but not insane. Flitting from room to room, feeling my heart racing in my veins as I slip behind all of these poor unfortunate souls and release them from this pitiful existence as I was meant to do.

Hiding behind screens works but only to a point. There comes a time when you need to do these things yourself and if my servants would prefer to do nothing but bitterly serve then I won’t use them. If my dear worshippers want to go back on their belief then I won’t stop them but I won’t trust them either. No, if the Wolf wants to accuse and claim I’m so much worse than him, then who am I to contradict his beliefs? A better man would transcend the label, a foolish man would fall for the machinations and a stupid man would even twist his own morality to sate the hunger under his skin.

“Isn’t it convenient I am greater than Man then?” I laugh as I slip on a smear of blood and crash into a wall. The impact of it is enough to snap my teeth together and blur my vision, it hurts, oh it hurts, but I don’t really care. The laughter bubbling and boiling in my throat scalds my tongue as it pours out of my mouth, it burns my lips as froths past them; crazed isn’t the word for this but it isn’t sane either.

Laughter ringing through a morbid house of horrors should be crazed shouldn’t it? Bouncing off the walls, dancing down the halls, it should send chills down the spines of whoever’s left alive, it should act as herald and death bell but this isn’t that. Throwing my head back as I dash down the corridor, slipping and sliding through puddles of blood, this isn’t how a madman acts or sounds. My laughter is joyous, almost reckless and wild, childish? Am I nothing but a psychotic child playing at being God?

“Oh does it matter?” I snicker as I crash into a door hard enough to bounce off it, hard enough to tell the last few people alive that their death’s arrived. The last few people in this restaurant who don’t even realise what’s going on, who probably won’t right up til they’re slumping to the ground.

“Hello, can I help you?” a woman asks as I let myself in and she’s all bright smiles and innocent eyes. She looks like any other manager of any other restaurant, inconspicuous and approachable even though any other manager would’ve already called for security when a strange man walks into their office. She doesn’t know who I am but she’s used to well dressed people filtering through her office as they please, she probably didn’t even care when I slammed against her door because this normal.

When you work for the mafia, laundering their money and giving their people safe places to be, then everything’s normal. Having security cameras on you at all times with no access to the footage is normal, keeping strange hours because you never know who might need your services is normal. For the amount she’s being paid, normal can look like anything, for the amount she’s being paid she doesn��t deserve to burn with the rest of them but the world’s hardly ever that fair.

“Maybe,” I tell her, smiling as she shifts behind her desk, as she glances past me to the open door. They don’t leave door open when they conduct business, they don’t smile as her like this, they don’t bite their fingers and I think she realises. I think she realises something’s not quite right as I reach her desk and no one else follows after me, I think the fear starts to squirm in her stomach as she looks me full in the face.

“Yes I think you can,” I murmur and her brow furrows as she draws the breath to ask oh but she never finishes, the breath never reaches her lungs and the light leaves her eyes before she even feels my palm against her cheek. She barely even makes a sound as she slumps forward, dribbling her mouthful of blood as her brain hemorrhages and shuts down in less time than it takes to think. As I said, nothing is simpler and nothing is easier and nothing is kinder, she felt no pain and now she’s dead.

She’s just another casualty in this war, her and her entire staff, dead in their places without a chance to suffer. Hmm, more mercy than her employers would have offered her, they would’ve had her sacrifice herself for them while not lifting a finger to help her. They value loyalty but so rarely return the courtesy, more’s the pity.

“Your death wasn’t because of who you were or even who you worked for, you were a victim of consequence darling,” I explain with a sigh, “because I can be selfish too and I can be mad and I can be nasty.”

Burning things is an art, arson is a skill and fire is a tool. A tool to start over, a tool for tearing down Empires and leaving nothing behind but ashes. This restaurant doesn’t have a stockpile of weapons, this building isn’t made of wood but we made do, don’t we? We prepare and I prepared for this, I brought my accelerants to soak the bodies with and I know how to start kitchen fires.

When they look, all they’ll find is an unfortunate accident. When they look deeper, they’ll realise complacency is death and demons have their own twisted morals.

“Will you think I’m doing this to get your attention?” I wonder aloud as I carry my containers of gasoline through the building, splashing it wherever I please and watching it mix with half dried blood.

“Will you think I’m a child throwing a tantrum?” I muse as I pour oil into the saucepans and pots and put them all on the abandoned stoves. So late at night there shouldn’t have been anyone here but isn’t that a risk you take when your restaurant isn’t for selling food?

“Will you even stop to consider beyond yourselves? No, I don’t think you ever have, none of you ever have,” I tsk as the oil starts to boil and another laugh falls from my lips. They’re all so short sighted, only caring about themselves and whomever they claim to love as if the rest of the world doesn’t matter. They’re all so selfish, everything is about them and hasn’t it always been?

How do they fill the emptiness in their black hearts, how do they make the most of their lives, how can they rise through the ranks, how do they achieve their goals? None of them care and all of them kill and yet they have the audacity to say they’re better. Why? Because they have more power? Because they don’t really enjoy the evil they do, they had no choice, they were manipulated from birth?

We all were darlings, we all were and yet who among us is accepting responsibility for our actions? You’re letting the villain be better than you? You’re letting the murderous bastard, the evil demon, have higher morals and values?

“I’ve done terrible things but I don’t pretend like I haven’t. I don’t lie, and I don’t excuse,” I giggle as the kitchen heats up, as I pant for breath because it’s so hot.

“I don’t go back on my word and I don’t change my mind after committing so is it really too much to expect honesty from any of you?” I ask, breathing deep as the fire starts, crackling and snapping as it catches itself. Oh it’s intoxicating, it always has been as a pitiful thing in a cold alleyway to the only light on a dark night to now.

“I wish you were here to burn too,” I groan as the fire flares up and scorches the ceiling so lovely. I watch it for a few more seconds, the way it searches for something, anything to latch onto and spread along. Grease fires are hard to fight once they’re out of control and when this one spreads far enough to find the gasoline then it won’t be able to be stopped.

Which is good, I want this building to burn to the ground along with the mafia’s front and their money. Is it petty of me to do this? To take out one of their most lucrative launders just because I needed to burn something? Maybe, but I don’t care because these aren’t good people and even if they had no choice, it doesn’t matter because they wouldn’t have made a better one anyway.

#fi-fi fics #arson

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sam-rose-granger-blog · 8 years ago

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Domino

It was a cold February day, late in the evening. For once she had decided to scope out a Masquerade Charity event, a museum memorial for the veterans of World War 1 and 2, funded by Bruce Wayne. She made her way around the room, not staying to mingle with any single person long enough for them to remember her. Not that they would, the only thing you really noticed about her were her eyes, Blue as the Circassian sea, which were currently veiled by a gorgeous black, white and red mask.

Hence, Masquerade.

She currently stood with Bruce Wayne himself in a secluded little corner of the room, going over the Charity benefactors for the evening. She herself put in a gracious amount of money for the event, not that anyone knew that. She usually just dropped off the cheque and didn’t show up to the actual event. She didn’t know why tonight was different, she didn’t know why she decided to come. She told herself that the mask over her eyes kept her hidden, though that did nothing to calm her nerves.

“So, what made you decide to attend these events for once?” he asked her, sipping his Scotch on the Rocks. Domino almost spat her own drink back up at his comment, giving a few coughs to get her heart and breathing under control.

“W-what do you mean?” She asked, rubbing her throat, making him chuckle softly.

“You think I haven’t realised that there is always one benefactor on the list that doesn’t show up, and I’ve seen everyone else here before, except you. And believe me, I’d never forget your eyes.” He deducted, victory already in his own. She smiled at him slightly, shaking her head a bit and taking a sip of her drink.

“Well done, Sherlock,” he laughed lightly at her remark, “And I will say something, Mister Wayne, something I do not say to very many people, you impress me.”

“Oh?” he remarked with a raise eyebrow.

“Yes, I have spoken with every occupant in this room tonight” she smiled at him and swept her hand across the room, “and none have learnt even half as much as you have, none know more than you do, which I will add, isn’t all that much.”

“Well, maybe you’ll give me the opportunity to learn more?” He asked flirtatiously, to which she sent him a fox-like smile, leaving him hanging in mid-air.

As they conversed, the glass ceiling suddenly gave way with a big bang, shards flying everywhere, blasting them both backwards onto the ground. Bruce Wayne’s immediate respond was to shield her as the fragments cascaded and screams began to ring.

She looked around for the source of the explosion that cause the roof to collapse, when her head was tugged sharply to the side. She looked to see Bruce Wayne checking her for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked her hurriedly. ‘Where’s he got to go,’ she thought to herself, before noticing the large glass shard embedded in her thigh, almost a hand spans width, though he hadn't seemed to realise, so she simply gave him a slow nod, opting to deal with it herself, watching his eyes skimming the room for any other casualties or fatalities.

She gave a confused glance as he hurriedly ran away, down a corridor to her left. Weird, she thought, before she resumed focus on her leg. She didn’t want to just pull it out, that would cause even more damage if she ruptured a nerve or the likes, plus, at this moment, the glass was trapping most of the blood inside, and as much as it hurt, it wouldn’t hurt as much as dying of blood loss.

Her focus was shifted from her leg when maniacal laughter filled the room. She looked up quickly to see several people descending from the shattered ceiling on ropes, all sporting ridiculous outfits, panda suits and clown masks.

And in that moment, she knew who had crashed the party.

Fear shook her as she shuffled backwards into a corner behind a large potted plant, doing this in a manner that was most-likely damaging her leg further, though Domino did not particularly care.

The Joker was here.

He was here.

Oh shit, I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I am going to die!

Her heart began racing a mile a minute and she wasn’t sure whether it was the growing blood loss or something else but her vision became increasingly blurry.

She never wanted to feel scared like this again, isn’t that why she started doing all this? To let go of her fear? Of her Past? Well, it was the plan at least…

Okay, it’s okay, just stay cool. It’s okay. It’s just a robbery. You’re okay, you’re okay, she told herself this repeatedly until her heart stopped pounding like the drums and she was able to at least partly focus on the situation again.

He’s not here for you.

She zoned back in just as the green haired, Clown Prince of crime himself descended down and began a round of the room, watching as his goons stole people’s jewellery and wallets, and this gave her the sense that no one was going to die. Maybe.

She tucked her legs in around her side so as to stay hidden, making sure not to upset the wound, which was beginning to swell and redden at an alarming rate.

She put her hands on either side of the glass and pushed them together, trying to stop the blood flow. She grit her teeth as she felt her skin cut even further and the immediate area around the injury begin to go numb.

She widened her eyes at the sudden white-hot, excruciating pain coursing through her body, as her eyes began to water and her head pounded. Her leg had begun trying to mend itself, with the glass shard still embedded in it. Her enhanced healing was trying to close the wound, and was trying to move the shard away from the injury, and to do that, her body was trying to pull the shard inside.

And it hurt.

She bit her lip, likely drawing blood and pressed her head against the wall behind her, holding her eyes closed to keep from screaming out in pure agony.

“My, that must hurt, darling.” A sultry voice called to her, she opened her eyes suddenly to see the famous Trickster himself mere inches from her face. He was crouching before her with a mischievous smirk on his face, his gaze like a predatory Lion.

He looked dangerous, but she was in too much pain to be as wary as she would normally be. In fact, all she could do was grunt and screw her eyes closed again as she felt the glass pulled in another centimetre. She felt tears stream down her face as her skin tore and the blood poured out.

The Joker tilted his head with a small pout as he watched her movements, “That doesn’t look particularly comfortable, love. Here, let me get that.” He said and not a second later, he had gripped the glass and pulled the shard clean out.

In that mere second, she all but screamed. Her head hung low, basically resting on his shoulder as she dealt laboured breathes.

“Oh, there, there,” The Joker comforted her, though anyone could see he was slightly enjoying her pain, but still he drew soft circles on her back as she used her hands to desperately keep the blood in.

Once he noticed her struggling, he sighed and somehow found it in him to give her the handkerchief from his signature purple suede jacket. She stared at him in shock as he held it in front of her. He was trying to help her? Why? What did he want in return? She thought in confusion. She didn’t notice that he began to get annoyed.

“Well, don’t just stare at it,” he snapped in irritation, “Unless you want to bleed out in a matter of minutes?” her mind snapped back into focus as she decided she’d pay the price for not dying as she tentatively took the scrap of cloth and held it firmly against her injury.

As she concentrated, she didn’t notice him staring at her intently. He was studying her, everything from the deep blue of her eyes to the scar lines, cleverly concealed by make-up but still visible to the knowing eye, on her hands, upper-arms and what could be seen of her legs.

He wondered where she got these marks. Was she in an abusive relationship? Was it some kind of accident? Was it childhood trauma? I mean, he could relate there. Not that he would tell anyone that. But, he didn’t know, there was just something about her, that made him want to comfort her and to empathise.

And the Joker didn’t like that.

She looked up and into his eyes, his eyes almost as green as his hair, they seemed to almost reflect the madness within, almost. But she also saw something else, something she never thought she would see from the Cold, Merciless, Clown Prince of Crime.

Worry.

It was masked and it was faint, but it was definitely there. He was worried about her, and she knew this with certainty because she was excellent at reading people, it was kind of required in her line of work.

Now, make no mistake, she wasn’t another delusional Harley Quinn, who was under some illusion that the Joker loves her, no matter what he does to prove her wrong. She didn’t think that the Joker was her ‘dream guy’ and that they shared some ‘mystical connection’, just because he gave her a bloody handkerchief.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t realise he had used his hands to cup her face, and her eyes snapped back to his suddenly, quickly growing worried, scared he was going to hurt her. On any other day, she could probably take him, or at least be able to get away, but she didn’t trust her fighting ability right now, not when she was like this.

His eyes raked her face as he softly thumbed the soft corner of her mask, and as if finally reaching a decision, looped his thumbs, under the corners, intending to pull it off. Her breathe caught in her throat, she did not want the Joker, of all people, to see her face, she would never be able to continue her work if he knew her face.

But fortunately, he was interrupted.

“Boss,” one of his minions called to him, as the Joker steeled his gaze in annoyance.

“What?” he called back sharply, not liking being interrupted.

“Batman’s on his way,” the goon told him, making Joker turn to the shattered ceiling and to the Bat symbol, high in the sky, bringing a slight smile to the Joker’s face. Time with Batman was always his favourite.

He turned his attention back to the girl in front of her, realising he didn’t have enough time if he didn’t want to go back to Arkham tonight. He sighed deeply and removed his hands from her face and pat down her matted hair once. He cocked his head to the side, making sure he would remember her face. He intended to see her again. Plus, he wanted his handkerchief back at some point, that thing was custom made, and diamond encrusted.

You’d would assume he’d want it back.

He smirked and stood up, patting her on the head slightly, going off with a little, “Until next time, doll.” And walked to his goons as they all went down the same corridor Bruce had disappeared down and… Oh shit, Bruce!

She had completely forgotten about him once the Joker had shown up, but, come on, she was bleeding out and scared for her life. Sorry, but Bruce wasn’t really her priority in that moment.

But still, she worried, if he ran into the Joker, well, money can buy many people, but the Joker wasn’t one of them.

Her thoughts were interrupted yet again, by two figures ziplining through the ceiling, and on closer inspection, she realised the two figures were Batman and the latest Robin. How many were there now, 3? 4? Oh, whose keeping count anyway?

She watched as they did a quick round of the room, checking for any casualties or fatalities, before Batman’s eyes settled on her. She swore you could’ve heard a pin drop in the second his eyes rested on her, before he looked away and in a gruff voice conversed something to Robin, too softly for her overwhelmed mind to comprehend.

She stared as the Robin nodded, though he seemed rather reluctant and annoyed, and proceed to go around the room while Batman took off after the Joker. She felt exhaustion hit like a tidal wave once the both of them were gone, her mind finally realising she was okay, maybe not safe, but okay at the very least. She leant back against the wall and let a sigh escape her lips.

I am never coming to another one of these stupid things again, she thought to herself with a chuckle.

“Do you need help, Miss?” she opened her eyes to see the newest Robin in front of her, eyeing the glass shard, caked in blood to her left and the injury on her leg, which was now only a remarkably smaller bleeding hurt.

She chuckled a little and gazed up at him, completely ignoring his question and changing the subject. “So, how long you been Robin for?” The question threw him off guard and into stunned silence, inclining her to continue speaking.

“I mean it couldn’t have been that long, because the Red Robin has only recently come out, ‘bout a month or two ago if memory serves me correctly.” And still he said nothing, because she was right, he had only been Robin for a month and a half, and Reb Robin had only come out under that name two months ago. But how did this woman know that.

His eyes hardened as she smirked tiredly at his reaction. He opened his mouth to start grilling her for answers, when the Dark Knight appeared behind his shoulder, a steeled look in his eyes.

“The Joker’s gone. We have to go track him down and throw him back in Arkham.”

She rolled her eyes and remarked quietly, “- For how long? -” But still she gained both vigilante’s attention. She gave them a look and asked blatantly, “What? Oh, don’t give me that look Batsy, you know I’m right-” she held her hand out for him to help her up, which he did. She gingerly put pressure on her leg while she continued nonchalantly, “-No Asylum can hold the Joker forever, if you don’t kill him, he’ll just keep coming back.”

“We don’t kill peop-” he began gruffly, before she cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah I know. ‘We don’t kill’. ‘Justice, not vengeance’, but try telling ‘Justice, not vengeance’ to the families of the people the Joker has killed and tortured and scarred. Why let him live, when you could easily kill one psychopathic person and save a thousand innocent more, while giving closure to those who have already lost someone at his hands.” Both members of the Dynamic Duo stared at her in astonishment, while Batman simply replied again.

“We do not kill people.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, “Yeah, I get that, you have a moral compass. Maybe I’m just lacking that pesky thing, but still, I think your logic is seriously flawed, mate.” She walked past them while clasping Batman on the shoulder and gently ruffling Robin’s hair, causing him to huff indignantly and straighten it while she smiled at him sweetly.

She adored children. Even if the fourth instalment of Robin was anything but a child.

“Any who, this was fun,” she said over her shoulder as she removed the high heels from her aching feet, “But let’s not do it on a regular basis, M’kay? There are many people who would be hella pissed if I died, so on that note, ciao.”

She waved them good bye and left the building, imputing a few things into her phone as a sleek black Maserati pulled up amongst the paramedics and police, and strangely, no one stopped her as she drove away.

Batman and Robin stayed in silence for a few moments, when Robin spoke lowly, “She has a point, you know.”

Batman glared at the floor in annoyance, before shaking it off and walking towards the Batmobile, “While that may be, we can discuss this later, but right now we’re losing time.” The pair got in the car and drove off in pursuit of the Joker.

Meanwhile, Domino was looking out the window at the night-lit city she loved, replaying the evening’s occurrences over in her mind. She had met Batman and the Joker and Robin, as herself, all in one night. Not to say that this was the first time she had met either of the two, for she was more than what she seemed, but, that’s a story for another time.

She carefully removed the mask from her face, putting her full features on display. She looked the intricate lace over in her hands, two halves, one black, one white, both intertwined with red. It represented her.

The good, the bad, and the deadly.

“Are you all right, ma’am? I raced over once I heard what had happened. Thankfully, no officers where around to fine me for drastically breaking the speed limits.” Her chauffer/ butler/ Legal guardian/ permanent residential at her mansion/ general employee and loved friend, inquired worriedly, putting a joke in at the end to ease her mind. Looking back at her in the review mirror, he noticed the faraway look in her eyes.

She laughed slightly, and looked up at him, smiling, a beautiful, sweet smile he adored, “I’m fine, Will,” he sighed in relief, while she continued, “Just remind me to go armed next time one of these events are on, if I ever work up the nerve to go to one of these events again that is.”

He laughed happily, and assured, “Will do, ma’am, will do.”

To be Continued…

If i feel like it.

#DC #Joker #Bruce Wayne #Damien Wayne #crime #Gothom #Meta-human #Domino

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toxic-bluebell-blog · 7 years ago

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Time Is Not a Virtue

Chapter I

At first, this was going to be a one-shot but I’m already invested in these terribly-written characters so now each chapter is going to be themed around a different song, but it will take place within this environment and with these characters.

(Loosely) Based on: Bling (Confession of a King) by The Killers

Genre: Romance

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The king felt...odd. On the one hand, he felt pity for this man who looked exhausted and bruised, and who’d been found lying on the side of the road to the Palace, not dissimilar to the condition he had been once; on the other hand, he wanted to wring his neck out in frustration, perplexed the allure of the man and his strange words, and annoyed by his lack of cooperation. You’d think that having been rescued- by the Palace guards, no less- he’d be grateful, giving thanks in whichever way he could. Instead, from what he’d been told by the physician he’d barely spoken and when he did, it was nothing but nihilistic nonsense. His majesty thought back to the explanation his guards had given:

After another successful, tiring day of training down at the barracks, the herculean men rode back on their pristine, charcoal horses, each carrying a symbol of the palace- a sparkling silver crown intertwined with small, crimson roses and thorns- on their saddles. Each day was like this, under the orders of their ‘glorious’ king- he wanted the toughest, most powerful soldiers in all of the seven realms, to the utter dismay of said men; the man would stop at nothing until he knew that his men could destroy mountains and kingdoms alike- he was more delusional than those who dreamed of peace. Still, the king was ruthless when it came to treason as he was to most things, and a thought that portrayed him as anything less than a god was met with punishment the men didn’t dare think of.

This particular day, however, had been different: the soldiers had decided to take a more scenic, but fast, route back to the palace; they couldn’t bear to look in the eyes of the people,not after the king had ordered them to raid all of the villages for a spy- the king was far too anxious and powerful for anyone else’s good. It pained some of them to even think about the event- the screaming mothers and crying children, the desolate yet understanding look on the worn down faces of the elderly, the hate hidden under a veil of acceptance- all of which were things that had haunted them since and would continue doing such. Others... other soldiers revelled in the unnecessary bloodshed- their families were safe as all relatives of the military lived decent lives and so were not subject to such treatment; why shouldn’t they have fun with it?

Knowing the whole kingdom like the back of their hands was their jobs, and this part of the kingdom was beautiful, with lush evergreens standing like giants beside them, a glistening stream guiding their way with its mesmerising and graceful movements, and birds singing in unison, each greeting them with kindness they hadn’t seen nor deserved for a while. With all of the battles there had been of late, the men, some as young as 16, hadn’t seen untouched nature, untouched peace like this in a while.

Suddenly, the serenity was breached by the sight of a man on the road, seemingly dead. Usually, the men would’ve been on their way immediately- the king was not very patient, after all- but they couldn’t pass once they saw the man. He was clearly not native to the region: sign number one- long, brown hair, unusual in the kingdom populated with platinum blondes; sign number two- a navy blue cape with a golden sword enveloped in flames wrapped his small figure, something he, a commoner, surely couldn’t afford; sign number three- mismatched eyes, one violet and one green. Twitching, the man looked half-dead, with a bloody slash in his plain beige shirt, and the troop contemplated what to do. Should they leave him here? Should they let him die? Or should they bring him to the palace and let him answer to the king, a rather xenophobic man? Without words, the men assured each other that they were thinking the same thing: they can’t let another innocent die in front of them, wondering where was their saviour, their mercy? Besides, a man travelling with such a large amount of currency- currency of the West, the archenemy of the North no less- was very suspicious, and the king would have their heads if he’d found out they’d let him be.

He allowed a smug grin to adorn his features for the briefest of moments acknowledging that he’d trained them well, but not wanting to let his cold demeanour slip. It was the right thing to do- this man was from another kingdom, after all. He must be a spy, the king thought, he must be for no foreigner dared enter his land without it being an act of war!

“Enough. I’m bored of your ramblings Jacel- I shall see this man myself,” He interrupted the messenger’s declarations of the information about the man, rising and swiftly heading to the infirmary without bothering to hear the ‘Yes, Sire’ from Jacel. This man had been the talk of the servants all morning and it was driving him mad: ‘Have you seen him?’ ‘He’s so mysterious!’ ‘What a handsome man!’ ‘I hear he’s a foreigner!’- who could this man be that he deserves so much adoration and gossip from everyone? No, he simply couldn’t send one of the servants to fetch the stranger; if he didn’t sort out this business immediately he would lose his mind, having to listen to another servant ramble and see them swoon at the mere thought of him when they thought their Majesty wasn’t observing- this was a common occurrence, as people often conveniently forgot about the king’s tendency to mentally note every simple little thing as a tool for him to manipulate at the right opportunity; he noted that he needed to stop being as lenient with the servants, otherwise gossip could soon turn to talk of mutiny and he definitely couldn’t have that.

The plain, white walls of the infirmary contrasted the grandeur of the silver and red that adorned the hallways that led to it, a reminder of the lack of attention it had been paid; the king rarely became unwell, and casualties were few on the return from most battles, so there had seemingly been no need for the place: the war with the West was more strategic than brute force, more a war of espionage and secrecy than genocide, although with the lack of progress on both sides they were prepared for that last option. Nevertheless, it was a huge room, with what must’ve been hundreds of beds within it. The Palace certainly had more than enough space for them, so why not?

On one of these many beds, a lone, slim figure lay sleeping on the bed. Marching with authority towards him, he questioned what was so special about this man he seemed-

He seemed breathtakingly handsome: long hair the shade of pure earth lay lazily in front of the resting eyes, failing to hide the dark blue stains under his eyes; light, sun-kissed skin the colour of the desert sand in the East and certainly, from what the king could see, as smooth as the dust of time. Now the king knew exactly the beauty they had been speaking of. If it managed to catch someone as stoic and serious as him by surprise, then there was no way to exaggerate it.

Although the man looked peacefully angelic while he slept, the king suddenly remembered his quest and the thought of the man’s loveliness was lost... That was until he shook the man awake, too impatient for his own good, and he opened his eyes, yet the chestnut hair lay messily in front of them, refusing to allow the monarch to see them.

“...You must be the king,” the man stated plainly, holding his side slightly, trying not to move the bandages- it had been but a day, so the pain he felt must have still been great. “What do you want from me, King of The Northern Lands?” The words had no emotion behind them, matching the numb expression on the young man’s face.

The king blinked for a moment before regaining his composure, confused by the allure of this man. Still, he had wanted to see the man, and he’d be damned if he’d let his coldness slip for some pretty face- he managed to fix the issue quickly: “I’ll get straight to the point: Who are you, where did you come from, why are you here, and how did you manage to collect such a large sum of money?” the king asked impassively, maintaining his strict posture as he attempted to do the same with his voice and expression.

“Who I am is unimportant, why I’m here is unimportant, how I got that money is unimportant,” the man answered curtly, shuffling closer on the bed to the king. “I have some questions for you, your majesty.” The boy said the words as if they had left a sour taste on his tongue, but pressed on: “I’m supposed to be dead, forgotten on the side of the road- but here I am, talking to the most merciless man in all of the Seven Regions, and I’m not dead: Why?” He stared down at his feet, as if ashamed of the words that had left his mouth.

“Who taught you to speak to authority like that? To ‘the most merciless man in all of the Seven Regions?,” the king repeated, refusing to let the amusement he felt adorn his features. This man was so familiar, brave- or perhaps foolish- enough to ask such questions, as if he was in control. “I’ll ask you again- and I’m not a patient man, though I may seem like it- who are you, where did you come from, why are you here, and how did you manage to collect such a large sum of money? Be quick with your answer boy, I haven’t all day.”

With a defeated sigh, the boy slouched back onto the bed: “My name is Adreen, from Nowhere. I... I’m not quite sure how I managed to get to this kingdom. All I remember before I blacked out is trading in a crown-”

“A crown? How did you manage to obtain a crown?” the king questioned incredulously, sitting down beside the man. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that he could probably hypnotise peasants and nobles alike with just his looks, but he still seemed a commoner; the boy wore simple garments, except for the cape and even still, the regal cape looked worn and old.

“Don’t interrupt me and maybe you’ll find out,” the boy snapped back at the man, glaring at the king who simply gestured for him to continue. “As I was saying, all I remember before I blacked out is trading in a crown- which I obtained from the Queen of the Western Peninsula- for the money you saw in my satchel. I went home and... I didn’t receive the friendly reception I was expecting... needless to say, I had to run as far as possible from the place if I wanted to survive but...Somehow, I ended up on the route to here. I don’t even remember running.” The boy, crossing his legs on the bed, looked as bewildered as the king felt.

“You stole from Queen Ornette? Impressive.” The king truly was impressed with the boy: Ornette was an enemy of his and anything that inconvenienced her in any way brought him joy. Plus, her palace was more secure than the corset of a woman- there was no way to enter without certain death. “And what do you mean ‘Nowhere’? Surely you’re from somewhere, boy. Everyone is.” The king, genuinely intrigued, probed.

“You’re right- everyone is from somewhere... everyone except for me,” the boy stared at the floor, a sullen expression resting on his face. “I... I don’t know where I come from. My parents left me when I was really young, so I don’t remember much about them. And, even though I lived in the West, I knew early on that I wasn’t one of them. I mean, everyone here is looking at me like I’m some kind of freak because they’ve never seen anyone like me...” He trailed off, his words heavy as he shut his eyes in thought. “Still, this was my way of proving myself to them, of becoming one of them. They hate the Queen and aren’t exactly rich, so I thought that by doing this, by ensuring the survival of them all...I’d finally be one of them...apparently I was wrong.”

The king was unsure of what to say: he hadn’t been expecting the thief to have been an underdog, but rather some selfish person with a love affair with mischief. “You said that you weren’t attacked until you got home,” the king changed the subject, uncomfortable with the way this conversation was progressing, “But the Army of The West is one of the most formidable foes that we, the strongest kingdom, have faced- even the Royal Guards aren’t to be underestimated. Are you saying that you single-handedly fought them all off?”

“ ‘The most formidable foe’- Are you sure you have the strongest kingdom?” the thief mocked, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground the whole time. “Yeah, I did- a couple of smoke bombs, a few poison-barbed arrows, and half a dozen sword fights and I was out of there,” he said nonchalantly, waving his hand dismissively. The king simply stared in awe at the boy, wondering how such a feat could be accomplished by a group of people, let alone one individual. “However impressed you may be,” the boy continued, glancing over at the awestruck royal, “the success means nothing if... if it wasn’t enough to be accepted by them, to become one of them. Everything I’ve ever done was to help them, to save them. My chances of redemption and acceptance- gone. the time for trying is over. So, what is the point?”

“The point of what, boy? Finish your sentences when you speak to me,” the king replied, arising from the bed with a flourish with his back to the boy. A sad story, yes- but the king opened his heart for no one; he’d learned from the past that that was the easiest way to destroy yourself, to inflict the deepest pain on your soul.

The boy kept his dead stare on the ground as he whispered: “...of staying alive in a world that doesn’t want me.”

“How irritating,” the king sneered cruelly, raising his voice as he turned back towards the boy who seemed surprised at the random statement. “Don’t you know that self-pity gets you nowhere in life, boy? Besides, I can’t have you thinking that way with the proposition I have for you: I’ll let you stay at the Palace, be my right-hand man. You’ll never want for nothing and you’ll live as I do: as a king. A man with enough skill to defeat the Queen’s guards is a man I need on my side.” It was true; the king had been at a stalemate with the Queen for six years now, and this man could be the tiebreaker, the champion, the trap card. “Don’t tell me that it’s over: stand up, and get vengeance against everyone who ever doubted you-”

“No- It’s hard enough to live,” the boy began, rising slowly to face the king, furious at the mere idea, “But to help a genocidal man slaughter my people for power-”

“Your people? I thought they weren’t your people,” the king teased amusedly, sitting back down on the bed gracefully. “Besides, I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime.” The king’s vexation was just barely surpassed by his need to persuade the boy- he needed to stay calm otherwise he knew he’d lose any chance of him appearing trustworthy.

“You seem so sure of yourself, your majesty,” the boy proclaimed boldly, daring to step closer to the taller man, unperturbed by the promising look in his eyes, “I once heard of you as the king who was nervous about his every choice, but was better for it. Who contemplated and stressed over every tiny detail before executing a choice- the right decisions came about as a result, and you had success after success. Now you’re arrogant and assume every choice you make is the right one, despite making no progress in the war with the West and you it seems as though you haven’t thought through this offer of yours. So, my dear king, answer me this: How do you know that you��re right if you’re not nervous anymore?”

The king was impressed by the nerve of the boy- no one dared to speak to him like that, especially those lonely few who had faced his rare offer of a better life- it was refreshing, really, to be challenged like that, to see fiery passion in the young man’s eyes that he knew the boy hadn’t felt in a while, so vastly different to the dreary atmosphere that had encompassed him earlier. “I know that I’m right because my kingdom is more wealthy and more powerful than ever, and although you’re right to say that no progress has been made in the war, I’ve never suffered a loss. But I’m sure that you knew that already,” the king said in a calmer tone, as he stepped even closer to the boy so that the distance between them was barely a few inches, “It’s not so bad, you know. The glory, the power, the money. What is it that is so unappealing to you? You do realise that the other option is death, right? I can’t have someone with so much to offer and so much disgust towards me live now, can I? You’re far too dangerous but...” He trailed off, letting the words of praise get swept away in the wind.

Without hesitation, the boy took a step back, the loathing apparent on his face as he snarled: “That is a fate I gladly accept.” Relief washed over his face as he sat back down on the bed, assuming that he’d get what he wanted.

The king contemplated his choices: no one who stood up to him in such a way deserved to live; but the boy was an asset, and he couldn’t dare to let such expertise go to waste- even without evidence, the king had accepted his claims of victory as truth, too desperate for it to be anything but. But the boy was an enigma: it seemed that the things that everybody wanted- that the king had wanted- were lost on him, and he seemed rather vacant about them. It appeared that the only thing the boy wanted was Death, as if she were the bringer of joy rather than despair.

Out of nowhere, the king recalled the earlier conversation and knew that he’d found his weak point. Allowing a knowing smirk to grace his pale face he simply stated: “What if I told you I could give you the one thing you truly desire most?” He turned away from the boy- he didn’t need to see the shocked expression on the boy’s face to know that he was waiting with bated breath for him to continue: “What if I told you I could help you find your family?”

Gasps and murmurs were heard around the room, the servants now too enveloped in the narrative to care about the king discovering them eavesdropping. The monarch could’ve sworn he’d even heard a plate shatter in the background.

“I-you don’t- you can’t- don’t you dare bring them into this,” the boy yelled as quiet as he could, struggling to mirror the monarch’s stoic stature, his face betraying him with fury.

“Oh, struck a nerve, have I?” the king purred amusedly, analysing his nails as if more interested in them than the fact that he had the young man right where he wanted him. Having discovered his weakness, the king could twist this man like clay into doing whatever he wanted. “We can do that, you know. All you have to do is cooperate.”

The young man searched the entertained king’s face for any hint of a lie, but couldn’t find anything. “How? How would you even-”

“Well, when you came into the infirmary the physician couldn’t help but notice that interesting birthmark on the left side of your neck,” the king intruded on the young man’s sentence carelessly, once again turning and stepping closer to face the boy- respecting the personal space of others was not quite his thing. “The same birthmark passed on to each and every one of the Natives Lost To Time, a once prosperous kingdom that seemingly dwindled into nothing- we all assumed that they had all died. Of course, with your existence this is obviously not the case. That and your accent are both key indicators of this.” He looked at the boy who seemed to shocked to even try to process in a matter of minutes. The king continued: “This a lot of information to take in at once, I know. So, I’ll give you until tomorrow to say yes. In the meantime, one of my soldiers is going to have to restrain you to the bed- a man as dangerous as you in your current state should never have been that close to me...”

The boy sat back down on the bed, his eyes widened, as the king marched out of the door fully aware that he had emerged as the victor and his prize would be a great one. Before leaving, he turned around and simply stated: “When I offer you survival, you say it’s hard enough to live. Change your mind and you’ll realise it’s not so bad.”

Before the light-haired man could exit the dull room, he was stopped by a defeated sigh and the words: “Is there a contract that I can sign?” the young man stood up, removing his face from his hands.

“Jacel!” the king called out loudly, despite the poor man being in the room along with the other servants, as he sat down next to the boy and gestured for the man to come over. Jacel almost tripped over himself as he rushed over to the king and his associate, his quill and paper in hand. “What are your terms, boy?”

“First off, stop calling me ‘boy’- it’s Adreen, alright? Secondly, I will work with you up until you find my family and return the tribe to prosperity. Third, I know this war with the West isn’t a ‘physical’ one- I need it to stay that way,” the boy- Adreen listed off, counting each demand on his hand.

“Counterproposal,” the king retorted, looking over to see Jacel hurriedly copying everything down. “All of these demands will be met, save for the second- I’ll tell you when it’s over. You could end up working with me for a while, long after we find your family. Who knows, you might end up wanting to stay here.”

Adreen snorted in disbelief. “I seriously doubt that... But as long as you keep your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.” He put his hand out in agreement, awaiting a handshake.

Without hesitation, the king shook his hand. “Deal. Everybody, arrange a feast- tonight, we celebrate the future victory over the West!” He stood up and turned to the servants, only to see them looking very worried- the king never rejoiced in front of them, so seeing him smile was a new sight. “What are you guys waiting for? Hop to it, or I might reconsider allowing you to join us in the feast as well-”

He was interrupted with cheers from the servants, anxiety replaced with joy; the king was not the kindest man and was scarily good at controlling his emotions, but they’d be damned if they weren’t going to take advantage of his rare good humour, real or not. They all hurried to make the preparations- they knew it would have to be as grand as possible so as to maintain the king’s good mood.

After the servants dispersed from the room and they had officially signed the contract, the king spoke up. “Say, you happened to change your mind awfully quick after my proposition- what changed? I know it’s an important subject to you but...” He turned to Adreen, awaiting an answer. He knew the offer was too good for him to pass up, yet the boy agreed almost immediately, juxtaposing his disobedience from earlier.

“I...My mother told me once that ‘it ain’t hard to hope when it shines like gold’,” Adreen reminisced fondly, eyes travelling to the view of the Royal Garden outside. “But it ain’t that simple- if you don’t have anything to be hopeful about, than nothing shines at all. This could be the gold she was talking about- if I find her and my people, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Fair enough,” the king replied blandly, “Come, let me show you your quarters- I can’t have the guest of honour staying in such a boring room can I?” He motioned for Adreen to follow him down the elegant hallways, excited for the future this man would bring.

Was hope for the future all that the king felt at that moment?

Certainly not.

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#this is awful #why am i so terrible at writing lmao #have fun reading this mediocrity no one #bling (confession of a king)#the killers #i have no clue what to title this

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