#he lost his entire family and the entire population and lost hope in fate p much

[moeblob]

She can transform into a dragon and then falls in love with a man on a mission to slay all the dragons he finds. Who then begins to travel with her brother and his friend and keeps hearing about how "my sister could kick your ass" and he tries to keep his sister away from the dragon slayer because that's a risk he won't take.

Then the sister ends up marrying the dragon slayer.

The end.

[arigatouiris]

daughter of artemis || p.p  — [02]

c h a p t e r  t w o 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe. 

Author’s Note: Killing the links because, no notes means no motivation to update. Let’s hope~

Word count: 4518

02 // κόκκινο red

(y/n) could smell the dust through an incomprehensible distance. In her heart, she knew they were people; the prophecy rang so loudly in her head that she felt she was bleeding by the ear, steam blowing off her ear holes with a massive speed. Her eyes were far too dry to well tears in them, but she hoped and prayed the burning in her eyelids would stop. She walked on the empty streets, hoping to see one face—just one; but none to her avail. This is what the Oracle meant when she said the fates would go into slumber, this would last five years—she wasn’t even sure if five years meant five years. Oracles were known to throw out terms that may mean something else entirely once it happens.

She thought of May Parker, the woman who helped patch her up the day before. Her hand instinctively went to her left hip, the wound had stopped hurting as much as it did, having been sprayed with anti-bacteria and new bandages. When (y/n) swallowed, she was sure it was just drying saliva now; no more blood. Turning around, she walked back to the shelter, her head hung low, wondering if she was the only one alive.

She thought of Spiderman, the teenage superhero; she thought of how he had desperately helped her and brought her to the shelter. She had honestly believed she could have stayed there for a while before going forward and finding Pepper or whoever it was. Rubbing a hand through her hair, she stopped by the entrance of the shelter and blinked.

She swore she saw a silhouette. Her eyes widened just a bit, before chasing after this image—finding a man, old enough to be her grandfather, staring at her.

    “Don’t be afraid, I… I don’t understand what’s going on. People here… People have… Oh dear…” He broke down into tears after laying eyes on (y/n), who stood motionless on witnessing another living person apart from herself.

    “Are there others?” She asked, cursing internally when her voice came out as just a whisper.

The man nodded, before guiding her to another room—the large banquet hall where more beds were arranged. There was a great deal of dust here as well, but the rest were people. (y/n) squinted her eyes and it seemed almost mathematical; this disappearance confused her, it was as if only half of the shelter was gone.

The rest of them were across several ages. From elderly women to middle aged men, it was almost random.

    “We don’t know what happened, but May’s gone and… the others are just…” One woman spoke up, and (y/n) nodded.

    “There was this huge spaceship thing in the city, the Avengers were trying to fend off whatever it was. A lot of destruction over there too.” Another man spoke up.

    “A… A spaceship?” (y/n) couldn’t put the two words together. “What’s… Who are the Avengers?”

The people there just looked at her like she was an outsider; which she was. The man who guided her into the hall placed a hand on her shoulder and offered her a soft smile.

    “Are you not from around here?”

It felt like deja vu at this instant. With these people being so shocked over her not knowing the Avengers and Spiderman being shocked with her not knowing who he was, it felt as if it was all connected.

    “No, I’m… I’m new to town. What a time to be here, huh.” She said, dryly.

There was a great deal of confusion among the people, as one of them explained to her who the Avengers were. A team led by a very rich man, Tony Stark, and Captain America. She didn’t know who they were, but knew Captain America to an extent, having heard rumors of an incredibly strong mortal. Even among the Gods, he was mistaken to be a demigod, but was later confirmed was merely an experiment the mortals conducted on themselves.

    “What do we do now?”

    “We wait.” The woman told (y/n).

❅

Two days passed in an eerie silence. Some members of the shelter cleaned out the dust as much as they could, not completely sure if it was the remains of the lost ones. Television and media started covering the events, as the remaining Avengers gave statements to the press on what happened. However, a strange visitor arrived at the shelter’s doorstep, asking for May Parker.

(y/n) sat at her bed, and wondered where she saw the woman who entered the hall. She had striking red hair, red hair she swore she had seen before—not sure where. She was beautiful, but there was a calmness about her that screamed sorrow; the events following the decimation brought about a stark hollowness in her features. She introduced herself as Natasha Romanoff, but the rest of the shelter knew her as Black Widow, one of the Avengers.

    “Is May Parker…?” Her voice broke at the end.

Only silence followed her question. Not one dared to look at Natasha in the eye, not one dared to answer. It was not fear that prevented them from talking, it was a sort of ignorance—it was as if they didn’t want her to be here, as if they blamed her for everything that occurred.

    “She’s gone.” (y/n) spoke, aloud, bringing Natasha’s attention to hers.

Natasha’s face hardened for a brief second, before nodding once.

    “Can you tell us what happened?” (y/n) seemed to be the only one who was willing to talk to her.

    “There’s a… A creature named Thanos. Using the power of the Infinity Stones, which are very very powerful stones capable of destroying planets with just a snap of a finger, he… He used them to erase half the population in the universe.”

    “Why?” This time, it was the old man who asked.

    “His reason was to… To restore balance to the universe. We tried to stop him, but…”

    “You failed.” A woman finished.

Natasha bit her lip before looking to the ground. (y/n) looked at the woman who was intentionally hostile to the Avenger, and turned back to Natasha.

    “You tried.”

This brought about everyone’s attention. Natasha looked at the 13-year old before gulping. She didn’t want credit; she didn’t want someone to believe in her, let alone a child, who may have lost her entire family.

    “Um,” Natasha waited for (y/n) to finish. “Did Spiderman also…?”

    “We don’t know for sure… But, possibly.”

(y/n) took a sharp intake of breath before turning away. He had saved her life and had turned to dust. Half of her mind wondered if this happened only because she came to New York. But, she knew that if she began blaming herself at this second, there would be dire consequences she would have to face on her own later.

When silence ensued Natasha’s explanation about this creature Thanos who wiped out half the life in the universe, she decided it was her cue to leave. Nodding once at the ground, the red haired fighter walked away, with no one interrupting her abrupt leaving; no one cared to tell her anything positive, there was no positive to begin with. However, (y/n) had seen Natasha somewhere, her red hair and apparent feisty spirit, which was now overshadowed with the misery Thanos had brought forth for everyone, (y/n) was certain she had seen her somewhere. But, she didn’t and couldn’t place her finger on it.

Immediately, the 13-year old chased after Natasha, and stood a couple of steps behind her. The woman noticed a presence behind her and paused, only to meet (y/n)’s gaze.

    “I… I don’t blame you. It’s not you.” (y/n) said, wondering if Natasha could pick up on her broken consolation.

Natasha smiled bitterly, “I wish it was, it’d be easier to digest.”

She turned around and faced (y/n) head on now, knowing full well that there was going to be a conversation that would ensue. The redhead gestured for the girl to follow her, and led her to the terrace, which (y/n) followed wordlessly.

    “Did you… Did you lose your family to the snap?” Natasha asked, carefully.

    “No, not to this. My mother passed away a while ago.”

    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Natasha’s voice was dry. One couldn’t make out if she meant it or just said it because she had to.

    “And your father?” She asked, turning to the girl, standing beside her at the edge of the roof, overlooking the street.

    “I don’t know who my father is. She never spoke about him, my mother. I came here looking for him… I had one clue, but now things are bleak. I don’t even know if he’s alive after this.” (y/n) didn’t want to give too much away.

Natasha nodded. “So you were alone to begin with.”

One could have taken her words with offense, but (y/n) found it strangely comforting. Smiling bitterly, she turned to Natasha and looked at her red hair. She was beautiful, so so beautiful, but also very familiar. Was it because she was famous as an Avenger? (y/n) couldn’t lie, she hadn’t ever heard of the Avengers when she was in Olympus. So, that wasn’t the possibility.

    “I once believed staying alone is far easier when you have a family. That way, you won’t lose anyone, you won’t need to worry about protecting them or risking their lives. It’s easier because there’s literally no responsibility, and therefore, no weakness,” Natasha said, looking over an almost empty New York.

    “That’s right, though. Isn’t it?”

Nat chuckled, “No. Not at all. It’s all that matters, family. It’s what makes you strong, it’s what makes you want to fight. Dead or alive, it’s family that makes you want to fight. Family is what makes you brave.”

(y/n) never thought of it that way. Turning to the red haired woman, she blinked a couple of times, earning a strange look from her. Natasha leaned sideways against the railing and grinned at her.

    “I won’t tell you to be positive at a time like this. I came here to check up on—”

    “May Parker. I know. I’m glad I could meet you.” (y/n) said, finding an eerie sense of familiarity with Natasha Romanoff.

    “Likewise. What’s your name?”

    “(y/n).”

    “I’ve always found comfort in being alone. Ever since losing my mother, it’s all I knew.” (y/n) said, looking directly at her. Natasha nodded once before trying to say something, and swallowing her words.

    “I was always alone too,” She thought briefly of the red room, and how long it took her to begin cleaning her ledger. “But now I have a family to fight for. And I’ll keep looking for ways to bring them back.”

    “Was Spiderman an Avenger?” (y/n) asked, blinking.

    “He might as well be. Were you close?”

(y/n) shook her head, but stopped midway. “He… He tried to help me when no one else did. That was real… It was real superhero of him to try.”

The two chuckled as (y/n) said those words. Patting the girl’s shoulder twice, Nat turned to leave. “I hope your father is alive.” I hope Tony’s alive, Natasha prayed internally, before walking away.

    “Natasha,” (y/n) called out just before the woman had left, “If it takes long, don’t give up.”

Nat blinked, confused. “What do you—”

    “Your family is worth the wait. Don’t give up.” (y/n) said, grimly.

Nat blinked, eyes serious and almost wide, before turning to walk away. It was strange, meeting a random girl who was alone, but perhaps, there was a reason why Natasha met someone who reminded her of herself.

❅

(y/n) had never seen the sunset from anywhere but Phokis. She remembered her mother sitting beside her as they drank hot chai, stags and deer grazing by the temple area. Her mother enjoyed silence, and with (y/n) being there, the two could almost communicate with unsaid words. (y/n), right then, on the terrace of the shelter, pictured her mother’s silhouette against the sunset, and missed her. (y/n) missed her mother with almost every thought, and every breath, it was as if nothing made sense now that she was certain her mother was dead.

Breathing out, (y/n) closed her eyes and pictured her mother; her hair flying wildly in the wind, a soft smile playing on her lips, her eyes lost in some transfixed daydream only she knew about. Sometimes, Artemis would hum a song (y/n) had never heard, and wondered if it were a song only mortals would sing.

Looking at the sunset on her own, it felt funny now that (y/n) was there by herself. Her heart ached for the past, yet now there was no telling what she ached for more; balance for the world, or this Thanos to undo whatever it was that he did.

    “You’ve changed,” She heard a voice beside her, but she didn’t turn.

    “I’ll find out who killed her.” (y/n) told Apollo, who magically appeared by her side.

Apollo could see anything the light touches; his reach was far greater than Zeus, and he often used this to his advantage. It wasn’t as if he suddenly loved his niece, but whether he liked it or not, she was the only reminder of his lost sister. She was her daughter, and there was no changing it. And Artemis would have wanted her daughter protected against Zeus’ wrath.

    “It’s a mystery.” Apollo’s voice came out as a whisper. He looked at his niece, staring into the sun, looking almost lost in thought, similar to how his sister would be.

    “Since when have you been so okay with not knowing what happened to her?” (y/n) snaps, turning to face her uncle’s confused expression.

Suddenly, (y/n) thought of Natasha, of what she said about family. She took a hard long look at Apollo and saw all that restricted him from finding out who killed his sister. He was a God, a God with responsibilities, a God who was loved and revered by almost everyone in Greece, a Midgardian God responsible for the light of the sun and the harmony among the people. To forgo all of this would mean giving up everything the human beings believed in, and there was no way Apollo could allow himself to do it; even if it meant forgoing trying to find out who killed his sister.

But, nothing stopped her. Nothing stopped (y/n) from pushing forward and figuring things out.

    “She was my family, and I owe it to her to try.” (y/n)’s words were as sharp as her gaze, against the sunlight, Apollo almost found it too bright.

    “What do you know? Where will you begin?”

Her mother had told her never to reveal the dagger, but her mother was dead. (y/n) had no idea if her mother knew she would die after, or if it was all a surprise to her as well; but with one intention in her mind, (y/n) would try as much as she could. Pulling out the dagger from a pouch on her right hip, (y/n) displayed it on both her hands to Apollo.

    “She asked me not to tell anyone about this dagger.” (y/n) said, her voice low.

Apollo’s eyes instantly widened upon seeing the artefact in his niece’s hand. He wanted to pull the knife off her hands, but he knew if he wasn’t careful, he could get hurt. Apollo was gifted with arrows, not daggers, and he hated them; however, he recognized this blade. He knew what it was.

    “This was your mother’s,” He said, almost gasping.

Did she knew about the prophecy beforehand? He thought, as he looked at his niece put the blade back inside. The inscriptions on the dagger were in ancient Greek, signs he could read very well. Signs that foretold the end of Zeus’ reign. He didn’t want to tell his niece what he knows, but the fact that his sister had given (y/n) the dagger insinuated that Artemis knew about the prophecy before anyone else did.

There’s no way, he thought, shaking his head. (y/n) shook her head and looked at her uncle, “There’s no way she could have known.”

Apollo’s eyes widen. Did she just read my mind? (y/n) smiles before stepping back a bit. No, it’s a coincidence, he thought, feeling the thumping of his heart against his chest.

    “She gave this to me telling me I’ll learn how to use it.” (y/n) said.

    “In any case, we have five years and it says you will end his henchmen’s lives and Zeus’ reign as King.” Apollo noticed his niece stiffen at the mention of her grandfather.

    “Uncle,” This was perhaps the first time he didn’t object to her calling him that, “I don’t want to run anymore,” She looked up at him and, “I want to fight.”

Apollo scoffed, “Fight what? Zeus? Are you out of your mind—”

    “I can fight his henchman. My mother was one of the greatest warriors in all of the Greek Gods. So are you. And I’m related to you, whether you like it or not.” (y/n) said, glaring at him.

    “So be it, I don’t deny that she was a warrior, but she is dead and cannot train you. And I, for one, will not do it.”

    “But—”

    “I will not train you, (y/n).” His words were stone.

    “You are Apollo! You can teach me how to use the bow—”

    “And you are the daughter of Artemis, the bow is as natural to you as breathing.” He said, rolling his eyes.

    “Uncle—”

    “If I teach you or side with you, which I have done once already, I wage war against my own father. What you are asking of me is impossible.” Apollo’s voice lowered, it was almost comforting. His gaze penetrated her own, there was a softness in his eyes she had never seen before.

    “Fine. Then promise me this as a God and not my uncle, that you will not intervene or reveal my location to Zeus.” (y/n) said, without thinking.

    “(y/n), he did not and would never hurt Artemis.” Apollo said, not believing those words himself.

(y/n) scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you don’t know of his jealousy.”

    “Artemis and I are his children!”

    “So was Hercules!” (y/n) fought back, knowing how Hercules met his fate because of Hera.

Apollo was quiet after this. But, slowly nodded, frowning a bit. He hated the situation he was in, but this is all he could do for Artemis. If it is found out that he hid his niece from his father, he would have to face a great deal of torment in Olympus. But, he would make sure word would not get out. After all, he was the Sun God.

    “Uncle, I need your guidance. Please. You’re the only family I have left.” (y/n) said, almost a prayer.

Words could not describe how torn the Sun God felt at her words. He could not bare to look at her, but he knew what he had to do. He could not forgo his duties as a God and as a son, he could not go against Zeus, and as much as he wanted to, he could not help his niece. Acting out of character, he placed his hand on her shoulder, surprising her, and resting his forehead on her head. Breathing heavily, he struggled to find words to calm himself.

    “I am so sorry, but I cannot help you, little one.”

With that, the sun had set; and (y/n) would not see Apollo for a long, long time.

❅

It was when she almost drifted off to sleep did she remember where she had seen Natasha. Just as her uncle had magically transported her to New York, she remembered seeing visions of a few people she had never met before. 

She saw a man, dark spiky hair, a beard and a grin that hung on his lips that made everything else seem insignificant around him. She saw a woman, bright blonde hair and a soft smile that made everything else seem alright; she saw another woman, red hair this time, reminded her of her mother’s feisty spirit; but the last thing she saw before she knew she could open her eyes were the eyes of a boy, staring into her own, making her forget everything else. For some reason, those eyes, kept begging her not to go.

Gasping, she bolted upright on the bed she was laying down on and pressed both her hands to her mouth. Natasha was the redhead she had seen in her vision. Natasha had a role to play with her arrival in New York.

Natasha Romanoff was a fighter; Natasha, the Black Widow, would be her teacher.

She saw hair, kissed by hair, molten anger and rage; she was who would help her.

With this sudden revelation, it was difficult for her to fall asleep. It would take more than eight hours for it to strike day time, and it would take her more time than that to even think of trying to contact Natasha. She didn’t know how, and there was no way she could contact someone as secretive as an Avenger, especially after hearing some of the things the others in the shelter had to say, Natasha was one of the most secretive ones.

The next morning came painstakingly. As if she were possessed, (y/n) ran up to the first person she could find and asked them where she could find Natasha Romanoff.

    “Well, she is an Avenger, so she’s got to be with Stark. Or at least, he’ll know. What’s the rush?”

(y/n) ignored them before asking someone to dial up Stark Industries, she had learned that contacting them could help her contact Tony Stark, which could help her figure out or at least try and have a word with Natasha. They used the phone in the office, which magically still worked, and as the phone rang, she could feel her heartbeat against her chest.

Five years. Trying to find Pepper would lead her to her father. But, before all that, Natasha would help her. It made more sense each time she thought about it. However, the phone kept ringing and no one picked. Disheartened, (y/n) told herself she wouldn’t give up. She called them again, and again, and again, and yet there was no one on the other end. During lunch, all she could think about was Natasha from her vision; not to mention, the other three people who were there. The dark haired male, the blonde woman, and the brown eyed boy.

The next morning, she tried again. And she tried again, the next day. Each day, she rang Stark Industries for over four times, and prayed that someone would pick.

On the fifth day, someone did pick her call.

    “This is Potts, Stark Industries. How may I help you?” A sweet voice answered, but even from the voice, (y/n) could make out a tiredness that was not physically visible.

    “Can I speak to Natasha Romanoff?”

    “Who is this?”

    “She met me at the shelter a few days ago… I had to ask her something. Please, this is important—”

    “A girl from the shelter?”

    “May Parker’s shelter.” (y/n) answered, hoping this would help give her away.

There was silence on the other end, and a lot of shuffling.

    “Is… Is M-May still—?”

    “No, she’s gone.” (y/n) said, grimly.

    “Oh God…” The voice on the other side breathed heavily.

    “Please, is Natasha there?”

    “She’s here. I’ll hand you over.”

(y/n) felt her heart beat in her ears. “(y/n)?”

She remembered my name! “Yes, um, I needed to ask you something.”

    “Shoot.”

    “I need you to train me.”

Again, there was a long silence on the other end. A moment later, she heard a sigh, which caused her chest to drop with disappointment.

    “Listen, kid, I know you’re distraught, but you’re just a kid—”

    “Please, you… I can’t explain, but it’s you. You have to be the one to train me.”

There was something about her voice that made Natasha want to meet her. Whether she would train her or not was secondary, but she had to meet the girl. If she wanted to be trained, there had to be a reason; and perhaps, this would prove a worthy distraction for her, at least until they found Tony.

    “I know a place. Come there, and I’ll meet you there. Let’s talk.”

(y/n) instantly agreed, but knew not how to get there.

    “I don’t know how to—”

    “I’ll come get you. So stay put.”

There was basically no reason for Natasha to do this. Maybe, it was the way (y/n) asked, maybe it was the confidence she displayed, and the dire relentlessness she showed in trying to reach her at all. There was so many things about (y/n) that reminded her of herself, and at the same time, Natasha saw in her something she hadn’t seen in herself for a while.

Hope.

❅

Natasha met (y/n), once again, on the terrace. She noticed (y/n) was wearing the same worn out jeans, but a different and much looser shirt. Hands on hips, Natasha didn’t wait for the girl to explain.

    “Let’s spar.”

(y/n) blinked, but was on her toes immediately. Natasha came at her with a swing, faster than her mother’s swing, but (y/n) dodged it easily. Moving to her left, (y/n) raised her left leg and kicked Nat’s arm, which came to a defence a moment early. Stepping back, (y/n) dodged a couple more hits from Nat, all too easily, but Nat swung her leg below (y/n)’s, and caused her to fall to the ground, backwards. Jumping back on her feet instantly, (y/n) fell forward, landing on her hands and used her legs to wrap around Nat’s shoulders, pushing her to the ground; but Natasha was faster, grabbed (y/n)’s legs and turned her around, causing her to lie on her stomach, her hands pinned behind her back.

However, Natasha was immensely surprised. Those moves weren’t amateur. (y/n) was trained. There was a story behind her that Natasha had never judged was possible.

    “Who taught you those moves?” Natasha asked, releasing the girl.

    “No one.” (y/n) said, lowly, thinking of her mother.

    “Why do you want to learn how to fight? You’re what, 13 years old?”

A moment before (y/n) could answer Natasha, a roar was heard in the sky. Looking up, she saw grey clouds had gathered instantaneously, swallowing the sun whole. There was half a rainbow in the side, but the storm was brewing. Any second now, rain would fall, and the second one droplet hit her skin, Zeus would know where she was.

(y/n) looked back down, at Natasha’s face, and grinned once.

    “I don’t want to run anymore.”

❅

series taglist: 

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson​, @mscoloneldanvers​, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark​, @spider-mendes​, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames​, @alina-margaret​, @yourwonderbelle​, @viarogers​​, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave​ @oliviaisnotlistening​ @mizpotatobiscuits​ @editsbyjenny​ @abbieroseb​ @justtrynagetthroughlife​ @secretlittlewonders​​ @missmulti​ @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com  @eunoiametonia​ @adistiany​ @justletmesleeptillidie​ @ppunderoos​ @myheartonthemove​ @heir2chaos​

[kpopfandomcult]

Get Away | mafia au | chapter one

Pairing: Wong Yukhei / Lucas x reader  Genre: Angst? Warnings: Gore Summary: Wong Yukhei, better known as Lucas by his mafia, family, and friends, is the leader of one of the most dangerous mafias called Neo Culture Technology, better known as NCT. Lucas is known for being notorious, rude, calculating, and emotionless. Y/n is the exact opposite of him. She’s sweet, kind, thoughtful, and caring. When they run into each other on one fateful day, what could possibly be in store for the good little girl that has piqued Lucas’ interests? Chapter: 1/? Note: A BIG THANKS TO @kkookies FOR HELPING ME FINALIZE THE PLOT!!!! PLEASE GO GIVE HER SOME LOVE!!!! HER WORK IS A M A Z I N G!!!! ~Admin CB

It has been two weeks since Lucas escaped prison. It wasn’t easy to get away but it was doable. He had to stay low for a little bit, which he didn’t like at all. He’s a busy man. Things to do, people to see. His right-hand man, Taeyong, is the one who told him to stay low. He knew he was right but he hated the idea of it. Nevertheless, he did as he was ‘told’.

Eventually, Lucas got tired of waiting around and decided to ‘sneak out’. Of course, no one was going to stop him if he walked right out the front door, but they’d either: follow him or nag his ear off about how much of a bad idea it was. So, he snuck out with ease around nine-thirty at night. He honestly didn’t have any idea of what he wanted to do; he just wanted to get out of that stupid house.

As he was walking around the town, he spotted a lot of red clothing in a small group. He mentally cursed as he saw it was the red bastards; aka a rival mafia called ‘The Red Hounds’. They, along with many other colored mafias, were enemies to NCT. It was quite easy to tell who was apart of what mafia since they stupidly always wore their color. Usually, they’d have bandanas with some sort of marking on it, so not everyone with a colored bandana was accused of being in a mafia. 

Luas quickly steered down another street right after seeing them. It’s not that he was afraid of them or worried about the fact that he was outnumbered, no, no. He only had a pistol without any extra ammo. He always carried it around with him, but he didn’t think he’d have to use it tonight; he didn't think he’d have to use any sort of weapon tonight, so that's why he only had his pistol. He sighs as he hears one of them shout something about seeing him, making him curse. 

He quickly took off running down the street, weaving around people as he went. He could hear multiple footsteps trailing after him, hearing them run into people and knocking people down. Lucas would turn around and take all of them if he weren’t in a highly-populated area. He’s killed many people in his lifetime but he doesn’t want to kill innocent people. He may be a cruel, terrible person, but killing the innocent wasn’t his choice if he got a say. He’s also supposed to be hanging low right now and if anyone recognizes him, that’d be bad for everyone. 

I smile goodbye to the last customer, telling them to have a good night. I let out a sigh of relief as the café door swings closed. Both of my coworkers that were working this shift with me had decided to take off together. I mean, they are dating and we weren’t too busy at the time, so I didn’t mind. 

What I did mind was when they didn’t come back and left me to handle all the customers. Since it was only me, the process was quite slow which caused many people to become angry with me which resulted in my patience running thin and to start to get aggravated. 

As soon as the last customer walked out the door, I felt euphoria take over my being. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life. 

I wipe off the counters and clean mostly everything, wanting to leave a little work for the two hooligans that ran off. I clock out and head towards the door, realizing I had forgotten to flip the sign. The ‘OPEN’ side flips to the ‘CLOSED’ side as I stare out the window for a moment, watching a few people walk by every once in a while.

I turn to head towards the break and locker room, wanting to get out of my uniform. As I’m a couple feet away from the door, I hear the bell above the door jingle. I let out a loud sigh and spin around, ready to shout at whoever it was that we are closed.

My words get lost as I see the beautiful stranger in front of me, making me bite my lip. I shake my head as I realize that I had just considered doing overtime just to serve this man some coffee. ‘There’s another coffee shop right down the road,’ I think as I start to walk towards him.

“Sir,” I say as I see him look out the window, looking both ways rapidly. I roll my eyes as I get no response. “Sir,” I reply louder, starting to become a little concerned when he started to pull the blinds down. “Hey, dude!” 

I seemed to have got his attention by the way he stopped moving for a few seconds to look at me. “What?” he snaps, going back to what he was doing. I huff as I march over to him. “Don’t you know how to read?” I say louder and ruder than I intended, making me feel guilty. I cut myself some slack seeing as how I had a tough day and we were closed already.

The man finishes with the blinds and stands to his full height, making me marvel at how tall he is. He stares down at me for a moment with an unknown look. “What?” he asks with a slight smile as if I was messing around with him. 

“Are you deaf too? Dude, we are closed!” I say as I cross my arms over my chest, becoming angrier by the second. I was ready to go home. 

His amused look gets wiped away as he hears me shout. “Shut it!” he whisper-shouts before running to the wall to shut the lights off. I gape at him as he does so, not believing my eyes. 

“Hey! What’re you doing? Get out of here before I call the police!”

He glares at me as he starts to march towards me. “Listen, you’ll be doing no such thing. Now, you either shut it or I’ll make you,” he whispers deeply. I freeze up at his words, slowly backing away. 

“Look, if you want money, just take it! I—” I begin to shout before he rushes to me and presses me to the wall, clamping his hand over my mouth. 

“Last chance. Shut it or I’ll—” He’s cut off from shouting outside, making me jump and him to curse. He quickly grabs my arm and drags me to the back, pushing me behind the counter. 

“What are y—” I go to shout once more when someone starts to bang on the café door. 

“Open up, Wong!” I jump out of my skin and instantly start to head to the break room to get my phone to call 911 when the mystery man suddenly pulls out a gun. 

“Stay there or I will shoot you,” he says lowly in such a dangerous tone that it makes goosebumps crawl over my skin. My heart begins to pound as I watch him look to see how many bullets he has. He then looks towards the door as he hears the glass on it shatter. I cry out and duck down behind the counter, my cry barely audible from how loud the glass shattering was.

I silently curse out my boss for not paying to get the panic button behind the counter fixed. ‘We won’t get robbed,’ he said. ‘That’s what phones are for,’ he said. If I live, I’m suing him.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. You’re out of jail, I see. What’re you doing on our side of town, Wong?” I hear a new voice ask. The mystery man, known as Wong by these men apparently, gives a dry laugh as he studies them. 

“Your side of town? You make me laugh, Porter. I own this entire town, no the entire state, no,” he trails off before continuing, “the entire country,” he finishes confidently with a cocky smirk. “Hopefully the world, one day.”

I listen to him talk as I try to figure out who he is. ‘He’s obviously someone with a lot of power if he’s confident enough to say he owns the entire country. Who is he though?’

‘Porter’ laughs as he starts to walk around the café. “The whole country? C’mon, Wong. I know you aren’t that stupid.” ‘Wong’ doesn’t say a word as he just stares at them with an intense glare. I was glad that only Wong was able to see me, I didn’t want the other men to see me. Wong seemed to have somewhat good intentions. I mean, he did make me hide before the other men could see me. 

I’m brought out of my thoughts at the sound of someone yelling and slamming their hand onto the countertop, making me jump. “Shut up! You have no right to say that!” I hold my breath as I go rigid, hearing my heart pound in my ears. ‘What part did I miss?’

“Oh? And what’s this?” 

I’m confused about what the man is talking about until I feel a sharp pain on my scalp, being forced to stand up by him tugging on my hair. “Why, aren’t you a pretty thing? She your new playtoy, Wong?” I cringe as the man caresses my face, making me push him away from me. 

“Don’t touch me!” He chuckles at my words, making me wonder why all these men tonight continue to not take me seriously. 

“Aww, why, doll-face? You—” He lets out a scream as a bullet suddenly flies through his chest. I scream as he does, feeling blood splatter onto me. Gunshot after gunshot rings out in the café, making me quickly dive back under the counter. I hold my hands over my ears as I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this was all just one bad dream. 

The gunshots and screams slowly come to a stop, making me shakily taking my hands off my ears to hear better. I let out a shout of terror as I see Wong walk towards me. I instantly start to crawl away, quickly getting up to run. 

“No! Please! Leave me alone! Don’t kill me!” I pleadingly shout as I run, seeing the dead bodies on the ground, blood splattered and pooling everywhere.  I cry out as Wong grabs ahold of my arm, harshly tugging me back to him. I stare up at him with complete fear in my eyes. 

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

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[newshorerpg-blog]

RASHID AMAN NANJIANI

Age & Birthdate: December 1st, 1982 (34)

Birthplace: Lincolnshire, England, U.K.

Gender: Cis-Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Location: Lafayette Boulevard

Occupation:Commercial Diver

Length of Time in Newshore: Six years

↪ BIOGRAPHY

Triggers in biography: abuse, alcoholism, death  

Rashid was born with a plastic spoon in his mouth, the product of two loving working-class parents, both of whom led rather bohemian lives in 1960s Karachi before marrying and migrating to England. To say that he grew up in the streets of Mablethorpe wouldn’t be as precise as to say that he grew up next to the crystalline, turquoise hues of the beaches which surrounded it. No matter how tumultuous it grew, or how its waves were always in a constant state of unrest, the child had always been fond of the ocean. Every day, the boy came home to their decrepit apartment which they shared with what seemed like half of their small town’s rodent population with scrawny knees, tattered clothes, and pruney fingertips, but a smile, wide and Duchenne in its form, always presented itself in his boyish features.

Money was tight in the Nanjiani household, with both his parents taking odd jobs just to keep their family of four afloat. The weekly salary from meager jobs only enough to sustain their most fundamental needs, yet their optimism sustained. It wasn’t until his father had been fired from his day job that things began to finally point south for the family, with screaming matches becoming more and more frequent. By then even his ceaseless positivity couldn’t cast light on the situation; his polite requests to stray from his father away from the confines of alcohol rebuffed with incomprehensible screams. The illusion that he could save his father from pretty words alone was halted at age sixteen, when his father who two years into his addiction, struck him in a bout of rage. Only then had he realized that his home life had become perilous, selfishly seeking for a way out. It was rare not to find the teenager huddled in books in an effort to raise his GPA, and in spite of his love for the Nanjiani matriarch and his younger brother, his plan to leave the toxic home behind.

College was a gift wrapped with a pretty bow as he matriculated to a university in Northern California, thousands of miles away from his dad’s alcoholism. In college, he struggled between juggling odd jobs and studying profusely, all the while attempting to catch eight hours of sleep, and even then they were few and far between. Yet this was a small price to pay as he found again hope for himself that perhaps there might be a version of his future that wasn’t entirely desolate. The barest semblance of hope came in the form of his first serious love, Penny, a performing arts major, who’d singlehandedly written the symphony of romance that laid rest in Rashid’s heart. In spite of his relative happiness, something felt missing in his career; he realized his aptitude for the sciences very early on, only his heart wasn’t completely into it. His Eureka moment came in the form of an army recruitment service in his college, where he realized that his passion lied not solely on his major in biology but in kinesiology, studying the human body and learning the strengths and vulnerabilities of every nook and cranny – and, ultimately, using it to serve a greater goal, an idea much larger than himself.

Joining the Navy and applying for citizenship soon as he graduated college at 22, he trained in the bases of NSS Fort Meade and later at the Naval Special Warfare Training Center. In the training grounds, he had a régime so different from the comfortable lifestyle like the years that preceded it. Soon enough he’d ascended in the ranks, becoming a lieutenant commander shortly after his twenty-third year. Yet this brief success was followed by a bittersweet revelation: before he left for South Asia, his long-term girlfriend became pregnant with their first child. After this a remarkable change grew in him. Torn between obligations, the man was constantly at an odds, guilt complex arising for again not being able to be with his family at the time they needed him most. Though he bore much responsibility as part of the Navy SEALs and later as a high-ranking officer with missions in Pakistan, his performance was above average at best and lukewarm at worst, his withdrawn disposition becoming an open discussion to many of his superior officers and among his comrades.

Criticism for his behavior fell upon deaf ears as he simply pushed himself to do better, that is, until a fellow high-ranking officer finally confronted him. Symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, untapped in his years of service, soon became evident. His soul’s canvas, once crafted from the sun and stars, was now reduced into strokes of amoral and sinful sensuality. Years of combat hadn’t been so kind to him, unraveling more stains from his abusive past that remained partially repressed even until this day.  When he learned that his father died, he had little reaction. He was too far gone to care about a man who’d contributed to the bitterness governing his system, missing his father’s wake and funeral despite his growing concern for the mother and brother he’d loved and lost.

An honorable discharge was given at age 30, but the trauma resided. A post-mission psych evaluation had mentioned memories permanently blocked by his mind; it was there, somewhere, buried beneath layers upon layers of regret. He was a portrait of equal parts despair, longing, and shame; as he looked upon the mirror to bask in his own reflection, he realized just how changed he was after seven years in the trade. He took this time to tend to his remaining family of two, formally asking the former to relocate from England to Newshore, where Penny and their child stayed. Despite his flaws Penny accepted him, and together in a cramped apartment in Lafayette Boulevard they tended to their family of five, which soon grew into six, and later seven. Work wasn’t difficult to come by in the small town, finding an ample-paying job as a commercial diver and doubling as a surfing instructor when needed. He enjoyed regular patrons, became open to new friendships, and finally found a place to call home. It was small and quaint, but it was theirs.

At thirty-four, his smiles grew more frequent, his disposition more radiant, his heart expanding its territory to include friends and acquaintances all over the town. Yet Fate, again, reared its ugly head at the man, and no sooner did he buy a new apartment did the love of his life run away from his family, leaving him to fend for his mother, brother, and three children. As their money depleted – a commercial divers’ salary wasn’t enough to sustain a family of six – their old belongings were auctioned, with Rashid going so far as to sell their wedding ring: the only reminder of her. Tragedies came and went, but he and his family, leaving Rashid with the obligation to be with them as best as he could. Heavy was the burden that laid upon his world-weary existence, but still he struggled on, if only to dedicate himself into making his children’s lives carry none of the tumultuous thunder of his own and into ensuring that none of the sins of his past would come back and haunt him.

↪ PERSONALITY

When you are pulled into Rashid’s orbit, it’s easy to feel as if you’ve entered another realm. There’s a certain oddity in him that could only be described as contradicting: being extremely giddy and making awkward dad jokes at the one; drinking himself into a stupor and basking in his own self-pity at the other. It’s rare to see this man without a smile in his face, owing mainly to his desire to pull up the moods of everyone surrounding him. His face especially lights up when talking about children, a clear manifestation of just how dedicated he is to the set of three. As a main provider of his kids’ security, he protects and provides for them no matter what, and this same loyalty can be mirrored to his remaining family and friends.

Having kids has definitely changed this sallow man’s humor, even though this happy façade occasionally drops and his brain taps the stains of his past. Resting underneath that joie de vivre is his own crippling self-doubt and remorse for his past actions. It’s almost certain that the other’s repressed memories and guilt complex is hindering him from truly living his life to the full. When the darkness does surface, it tends to consume him, and he’s better off with no one for company at this time. Only the most persevering can pierce through his shell, and those who do are rewarded by a rather sympathetic man who is able to provide words of comfort in face of adversary and is willing to be a shoulder to cry on. Overall, he is a charmer, a goofball, and a crestfallen oddity rolled up into one inherently flawed human being, borne out of his life’s manifold calamities and fleeting radiance.