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nonclassyparty · 1 year

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march 5th, 2017 (j.yh)

summary: excerpts of your youth through jeong yunho’s eyes

notes; part of the ‘when sorry seems to be the hardest word’ drabble series. there is no updating schedule for it, they will be posted at random times. the drabbles aren’t released in chronological order but they will be organized chronologically in the masterlist.

tw: bullying

yunho couldn’t sleep.

it wasn’t because he slept when he got home from school so his sleeping schedule got messed up.

it wasn’t that it was too hot in his room because his mom had a constant fear of everyone getting sick during the winter so she made his dad turn the heating on even when spring was close by.

it wasn’t even because he had a math test tomorrow that he barely prepared for. he should be worried about that though, he was never good with numbers.

it was the guilt.

it seemed to worsen each passing night from that party two weeks ago.

every time he closed his eyes, he could see your small body on that chair in the middle of the room from the cracked open door.

he could hear the screams. he could hear the laughter. he could picture jung wooyoung’s guilty, frozen expression as he made eye contact with yunho from the other side of the hall. he could see kim hyoyeon’s beautiful smile as she threw her head back and laughed, the scissors hanging from her fingers.

it was playing like a broken record, over and over again until he had to tumble out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen - hoping a glass of water would be able to quench the inner turmoil and maybe somehow delete his memory for a couple of hours. just so he could shut his eyes and rest, at least for an hour or two.

he doesn’t expect to see his dad on the living room couch, sitting in the dark with a mug of tea in his hand. he’s staring through the window onto the street with a cigarette halfway done.

“oh. you’re up.” his father softly comments as yunho grips the tall glass of water and nods. “can’t sleep?”

yunho opens his mouth to respond. just say anything, he tells himself. just lie and go upstairs to your bed.

“your mother made me heat up the house too much.” his dad chuckles quietly, shaking his head.

yunho’s father was a good man. he never yelled at yunho when he got a bad grade or got into any kind of trouble. always willing to listen and help.

maybe that’s why yunho gets all choked up. because he wants to talk about it so badly. about the terrible thing he’s done.

everything has been bottling up even months before that party but after, it just doubled. and now, it was threatening to spill. to ooze out of him like blood and drip onto the carpets below his bare feet that his mom especially prided herself in for having them picked out.

but how could he tell his dad? would he think yunho is a bad person? would he think he raised him wrongly despite always doing his best to be the dad anyone could wish for?

“yunho...” his father starts, concern gently laced with his deep voice, “is something the matter? i noticed you barely touched your dinner tonight.”

and yunho finds himself cracking.

ever since he was little, yunho found it difficult to hide the hurt but with guilt it was even worse. his parents always knew if he had done something wrong simply because he was slightly too pure at heart. a bad liar. and even worse at handling that he was the bad guy. that he hurt someone. that someone suffered because of him.

“dad..” he croaks out, the glass in his hand shaking lightly that he has to place it on the counter to stop the water from spilling.

“what’s wrong?” his dad always knows. he wondered if all parents were like that? as yunho gets older day by day, he finds out they aren’t. he realizes his dad always knows because they’re so alike. him and yunho. he knows what yunho is feeling or how things will affect him before yunho himself can process them. “did something happen at school?”

“dad...” he repeats, bottom lip wobbling now. tears are already burning at the corners of his eyes and more so when he notices how worried his father looks. “dad, i did something bad.”

many would say yunho is too old to cry.

but at seventeen, he was still just a kid. a kid who knew very little of the world and of life. yunho’s life at seventeen, extended along the hallways of his high school and the basketball court. that’s where everything started and ended.

and even though he’d get ridiculed if he ever cried in front of his friends, doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it in the safety of his own room.

his father sits up at that, face looking even more worried as he places the mug of tea on the coffee table. the cigarette is still between his fingers when he motions yunho to come closer and sit on the arm chair next to him.

“son,” his dad starts, his voice calm and comforting even to a boy that was guilty and ashamed. he puts out his cigarette, so yunho can have his full attention. “you know you can tell me anything.”

“i...” yunho starts but the tears choke him up and it’s only then that he notices how much he’s shaking.

“yunho,” he turns to his father, “anything. if you did something wrong...you need to tell me.”

“i was there, at that party...” yunho sobs out, wringing his hands between his knees as his eyes fall to the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks and getting soaked up by his t-shirt.

“what party, yun?” his dad asks with furrowed brows, as he places a big hand on yunho’s knee in an attempt to soothe him because at this rate, yunho will cry himself into a panic attack.

“a-at the party. when it h-happened...to...to t-the girl.”

“what girl, son?” yunho’s heart breaks when he recognizes the twinge of fear in his father’s voice. he can only imagine what his dad must be thinking. yunho is so sorry that he has to put him through this.

“t-the girl.” yunho motions to the window, towards the small, old house across the street that can barely be seen in the dark even with the street lamps. he knows his father is terrible with names, he could barely remember the name of yunho’s best friend mingi and yunho has been bringing him around the house for the past five years, even after mingi started going to a private school which obviously made him different from the rest of yunho’s friends - his dad always called him ‘boy’. “y/n, dad. the girl who got-...”

“y/n?” his dad’s hand doesn’t move from yunho’s knee. “dohyun’s y/n?”

yunho nods, more tears slipping.

“you told us you didn’t go, yunho. you...you told us you were at home.” his eyes slip shut at the faint disappointment in his father’s tone but it’s nothing compared to the panic that sets afterwards, “did you-?...yunho, i don’t...i don’t want to make assumptions but please. you have to tell me the truth.”

yunho already knows what’s coming. he doesn’t blame his father for asking. it makes him cry harder.

“did you? w-were you one of the kids who-?” his dad can’t even finish which is okay, yunho will be honest.

“no. no.” he shakes his head and feels even worse when his father sighs in what looks like relief. relief because his child wasn’t one of the dozen that was responsible for what happened to you. relief because he didn’t raise a monster who could do something like that to a classmate. relief because what happened to you was awful and nobody wants to know that their child is capable of doing something like that.

but is yunho any better? was he really?

the world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything. wasn’t that what albert einstein said?

so technically, wasn’t yunho the actual culprit?

“i...i was there.” he admits shamefully, sobs calming down a notch. “i saw her. i...i s-saw them.”

“oh, yunho.”

“dad, i didn’t do anything!” the sobs return, ugly and strong rattling through his ribcage, “i just s-stood there! we...w-we all just stood there and...and no-one did anything-”

“yunho, take it easy-”

“w-we knew what was going on!” he cries into his hands, “we k-knew because t-they said it was supposed to be a j-joke. b-but it wasn’t f-funny dad! it w-wasn’t funny and she...she was c-crying...”

yunho brings his knees up to his seat, so he could bury his face in them, voice growing weaker the more he talked. “we could h-hear her...and the door was o-opened just a l-little a-and...”

“i’m a bad person.” he whispers just barely and his dad tightly wraps his hand with his.

“no. no. you’re not.” his father says firmly.

“i am, i’m a bad person.” yunho nods to himself, snot and tears running down his chin as he stares into his lap.

“yunho. hey. hey, look at me.” he lifts his eyes up to meet his dad’s, “you’re not a bad person, son. the kids who did that are-”

“she called my name!” his father goes silent, tears welling in his own eyes and it only causes yunho’s to triple. “she c-called my name because she thought i’d help her b-but i didn’t! i just stood there...i-i just stood there!”

there’s a loss of words. or maybe there just aren’t any words to be said. maybe his father, no more how eloquent and fair he is, doesn’t know what to do in this situation either.

maybe that’s why he wraps his arms around yunho’s frame while he cries despite the fact that his father hasn’t hugged him in years except on his birthday or the holidays.

maybe that’s why yunho cries even harder.

“i don’t know what to say to make this better.” his dad whispers into his hair, “but i can promise you that you’re not a bad person. a bad person wouldn’t be crying like this, yunho. you’re not a bad person.”

and yunho almost believes him.

#yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez angst

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teaandsconeswrites · 4 months

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For Eternity, I Shall Remain

Post 4.2 Hurt/Comfort fic!

Childe returns to Snezhnaya to recover from his injuries. While Childe is bedbound, Zhongli travels to Snezhnaya to visit him, and they share a heartfelt reunion (and lots of hugs and comfort).

Read below or on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51459841

Rating: T | Length: 2.9k | Theme: Hurt/Comfort & Injury Recovery

Childe isn’t sure exactly how he ended up in a Snezhnayan hospital. He remembers the whale, he remembers rounds and rounds of endless combat, each strike barely slowing the path of the massive beast. It had been a battle for the ages, the sort he’d always dreamt of as he tried to hold it back from—well, he’s not sure exactly what it was trying to do, but a massive creature attempting to burst through space-time is rarely good news.

He did it. He held it for so long, until the creature transcended space itself. He remembers they emerged for a briely in the Opera Epiclese, how he and the Iudex had joined forces for a before he and the narwhal plunged back into the void. He remembers losing hold of his Foul Legacy form, how his strength peeled from him as he tumbled through the void.

He remembers his master’s face above him before he’d collapsed at her feet.

His next memories are hazy—the sway of a ship, the crash of waves against the hull, frantic voices poking him with nasty pointy things he didn’t have the energy to fight off.

Where did Skirk go? Had she been proud of what he did, of how strong he’s become? Probably not. She always was hard to impress. He had so many questions he’d been waiting to ask her all these years, and his strength had failed him at the critical moment.

His strength fails him still. He lies motionless, staring at the grey ceiling, unrelenting white light bearing down on him. It hurts his eyes, so he closes them, the darkness a balm to his pounding head.

Every breath is like dragging shards of glass through his lungs. They’d tried to stick an anemo mask over his face to help, but he’d refused it. No more masks for a while. He wants to feel the breeze across his face, to breathe real air, no matter how painful.

He didn’t know it was possible for everything to hurt quite so much. The last time had been bad, sure, but he’d managed to sleep the worst of it off, waking only with the lingering weakness the years have left him all too familiar with. This time, his entire body throbs. Everything feels too large and too sensitive; even when the doctors come by to periodically adjust his position, the brush of the fabric against his skin burns as though he’s being dragged across his mother’s stove.

At least they didn’t take him home. His siblings deserve better than seeing him like this.

Childe sighs. He’d sleep again, but he’s only just woken up.

What to do? What to do? He taps his pinkie against the mattress; it’s about the only movement his body allows him, so he’ll take it.

This is boring. He’s bored.

Childe doesn’t like being bored. It means he has to think about annoying things, like why she didn’t wait for him to wake up, why they couldn’t have spoken a little longer, why he couldn’t have asked her everything he’s always wanted to about the world, about himself, about why it had to be him, why it had to be his family that lost their middle son, their older brother, their younger brother (he forgets he is one, most of the time).

It’s not fair. He wouldn’t trade his fight against the beast for anything, but it’s still not fair. He did a good thing this time, so why did the world punish him for it?

Outside the door of his private room, voices speak in lowered tones, presumably hoping not to disturb him. Trying to work out what they’re saying is a fun distraction from his thoughts, so he strains his ears, catching only a few words.

“…Lord Harbinger…fragile state…visitors…further strain…”

A visitor? Is Her Majesty here? Happy, hopefully, and not angry. She’d approved his little stint in Fontaine in the first place; hopefully his little stay in jail didn’t mess with any of her plans. No, he’d been good, he’d helped.

Then a lower voice replies. He can’t make out the words this time, but he knows the timbre, he knows the rhythm of speech. His heartbeat quickens, fluttering in his chest as he dares to hope.

All the way here? He should’ve expected it, but actually having someone willing to travel so far, for him? He’s not used to it, and he’s not sure he ever will be.

The door creaks and he opens his eyes. Catching sight of the man standing at the door, he blinks twice to check he’s not seeing things, then finally allows the mounting joy to explode into his chest.

Zhongli is here. Zhongli is really here.

Accompanied by two Fatui nurses, Zhongli crosses the room and kneels at his side, eyes as warm and inviting as a hearthfire on a winter’s evening. But Childe knows the way Zhongli’s lips tighten, and the tension he holds in his brow, and he longs for enough strength to reach up, poke the corner of Zhongli’s mouth upward and say, “Don’t worry, not for me. I’m okay, see?” However, in his current state, all he can offer is a weak smile, and he hopes it will be enough to ease Zhongli’s worry, just a little.

“A— Childe,” Zhongli corrects himself before the name slips. “I departed from Liyue as soon as I heard.”

“Zhong—” Childe tries to reply, but his throat is like sand and his chest constricts in on itself, locking him into a coughing fit that sends his body into what feels like an unending spasm. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and it’s so fucking annoying. Of all the aftereffects of his Foul Legacy, this might be the one he hates the most.

There’s a hand on his back, rubbing softly between his shoulder blades, but for the first time his skin doesn’t burn. A familiar cooling sensation flows into his chest, extinguishing the burning flames there.

Slowly his breath comes back to him, and there’s a glass of water being held to his mouth, tipped just so that the water laps at his lips for him to take in tiny sips.

“There.” Zhongli places the glass back on the bedside table and helps Childe settle back onto the pillows. “Rest, your body needs to recover its strength.”

It’s a crime when Zhongli’s hand leaves his back. He’s so tired, so sore, and Zhongli touching him felt better than anything else he’s felt in weeks.

Weeks? Months? He’s not sure how long he was fighting that thing.

“Might you spare us a minute?” Zhongli is addressing the nurses now, and they look hesitantly between Zhongli and Childe.

“Lord Harbinger?”

Childe manages a small grunt of approval and they exit the room, leaving him and Zhongli alone.

“Ajax,” says Zhongli as soon as they have their privacy, “may I come in? I would rather not place further strain on your body through unnecessary speech, but if you wish for some time alone…”

Childe nods immediately. A few months ago he would never have imagined letting anyone go anywhere near his mind, but now all he wants is Zhongli in any way he can have him, to have Zhongli touch him, to speak with him. He needs everything Zhongli will offer him. He’s being far too needy, and a corner of his mind jeers at him, calls him weak and pathetic, but fuck it, he’s hurting and Zhongli makes it all feel a little bit better.

Zhongli removes a glove and places his cool, smooth palm against the clammy heat emanating from Childe’s cheek, a sweet relief from the sticky staleness of bed rest. Zhongli’s hand glows briefly and then he smiles.

“Hello, Ajax,” he says, the words sounding directly in Childe’s head. “I heard you caused quite the stir in Fontaine. An otherworldly beast from the Primordial Sea? Several weeks of combat within said Primordial Sea?”

“You should have seen it—it was just as big as I remembered it from my dream!”

“Your dream?”

“Yeah, from the first time I was down there. Don’t think I ever got round to telling you about it.”

“You did not, but you are ever full of surprises, aren’t you?” There’s a twinkle in Zhongli’s eye, and he strokes Childe’s cheek softly with his thumb. “It is said that your actions bought the nation of Fontaine enough time to formulate a plan and save themselves from the long-told prophecy.”

“Maybe, but I’m just glad to have a good chance to test how far I’ve come—does all that heroic stuff matter at the end of the day when there’s glorious combat to be had?”

“The smile on your face indicates that it may hold some relevance to you, yes.”

Drat. Caught out. Okay, maybe it was nice playing the good guy for a change, even if he got carted back to Snezhnaya before he received any acknowledgement for it. Maybe it was nice playing the role of those heroes in the tales his father used to tell him. Ajax the Great, his father used to teasingly call him before ruffling his hair and sending him scampering back toward the house in boots several years too big for him.

Ajax the Great? Maybe. But not the way his father had envisaged it.

Maybe, if he brought this tale back home, his father would be—

“You should be proud of yourself.” Zhongli watches him with that same, steady smile. “You saved many people—an entire nation, one might say—through your actions.”

“It was nothing,” answers Childe, before he can let himself consider the validity of Zhongli’s words. “Just doing my—”

“I’m proud of you.”

Childe’s heart drops into his stomach and his body tightens from his chest to his throat.

“I cannot imagine that there are many alive, mortal or not, who could hope to achieve such a feat; it is a result to hold immense pride in.” Zhongli pushes a strand of hair back from Childe’s forehead but continues to stroke his face as he speaks. “So allow me the indulgence of repeating myself: I am proud of you, Ajax.”

Each touch is pure adoration wrapped in silk-like gentleness, and Childe’s jaw locks, his vision fuzzy.

Stupid Vision. He glares at the blob of blue on the bedside table. It’s supposed to be fixed now. Why is it still playing up?

He blinks hard, fighting for control over himself. “Thanks.”

Zhongli wipes the pad of his thumb under Childe’s eye, tickling each lash as he wipes away the damp. (Stupid broken Vision.) Then he leans down, kissing each eye in turn, lingering until his lips share the dampness as Childe’s eyes, leaving them shiny as he pulls back.

“Wait,” says Childe. “Want to get in?”

Zhongli hesitates. “Will that not harm you? The doctors informed me you have been adverse to both touch and movement following your injuries.”

“I don’t care if it’s you. Come on, I kinda need—” He needs Zhongli. He needs Zhongli so badly. “I kinda need this.” As pathetic as it is to admit, he wants Zhongli’s arms around him, to lie against him, to smell him, to know he’s there.

All this relationship business has made him far too needy. Childe a couple of years ago would have rolled his eyes at today-Childe, but today-Childe also feels like shit and just wants a damn hug from his boyfriend.

“Please?” he adds when Zhongli doesn’t respond, pulling his best ‘persuade Zhongli to do anything’ face.

Shaking his head but still smiling, Zhongli relents. “If it pleases you.”

“Don’t say it like that. I know you want to just as badly.”

“An interesting comment,” says Zhongli as he stands, removing his shoes and coat. “Yet I do not believe you have achieved sufficient proficiency of mind-to-mind connection to be able to discern any of my desires that I do not share directly within this conversation.”

“Fine, play hard to get. I’ll have to assume you don’t want to then. Poor me, not wanted by my—”

“That is unfair.” Zhongli makes the same sullen face he makes on every rare occasion that Childe wins. Childe likes that face, firstly because it means he won, and secondly because it’s so very adorable.

Childe tilts his head. “Come to bed then.”

Finally, Zhongli slips in beside him. It does hurt, every bone and muscle on fire as Zhongli adjusts their position as Childe instructs, but it’s worth it when they finally settle, Childe resting his head just below Zhongli’s shoulder, listening to the steady hum of his inhuman heart.

A heart of stone, Zhongli calls it, as though it’s some mortal flaw, but Childe loves Zhongli’s love. He loves Zhongli’s steadfastness, his enduring nature, his utter immovability. Having spent the better part of a decade in the Fatui, where loyalties stretch as far as a person’s own interests, shifting as quickly as the winds and tides, he’ll never get tired of how Zhongli is always there, no matter what stupid battle he fights or reckless decision he makes.

“Is this painful?” asks Zhongli, enveloping his arms around Childe’s middle.

“No, I’m good.” It is a bit, but Childe doesn’t care. Zhongli is here, he just had the best battle of his life so far, and once he’s endured this, he’ll be stronger than ever before.

It’s just a shame he’s been left with as many questions about himself as before he went to Fontaine.

Skirk left. Or rather, Skirk stayed. She sent him back, just like before, when he still had so much to learn from her. He wishes he could have asked her what she thought of his mastery over Foul Legacy. The first time he’d tried it, he could barely sustain the transformation for one minute and she’d looked at him like the time Mother had stood in the excrement of their neighbour’s dog.

But now she’s gone. She’s gone and he’s back to square one.

Zhongli shuffles beneath him and a sudden panic rises in Childe’s chest.

“Zhongli?” He tries to sound casual, but it comes out too fast, too strained. Zhongli won’t go, he knows that, but his stomach twists uneasily and his hands prickle with chill.

“Yes, Ajax?” Zhongli settles, his chin resting on Childe’s head.

“It’s nothing.”

Zhongli makes a soothing sound in his chest, smooth and rumbling, sending a wave of relaxation through every knot of tension in Childe’s body. With a tender squeeze of his arms, he noses into Childe’s hair. “I will stay, as long as you wish for me to remain.”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Hmm, so I do. In that case, for eternity I shall remain.”

His words finally settle the last of the niggling doubts, and Childe closes his eyes, his pain a distant and numb background annoyance, leaving centre stage the steadying pressure of Zhongli wrapped around him.

He’s a lucky guy, really. He’s lucky to hold so much power at his fingertips; he’s lucky to hold his position as Harbinger, the same position which allows him to send back as much mora home as his family needs; and he’s the luckiest man in the world to have Zhongli beside him through it all.

He’ll pay Zhongli back for coming all this way for him. One day, when he’s feeling better, he’ll bundle them both up in the thickest scarves and coats, fit Zhongli with a snug pair of valenki (he can’t wait to see Zhongli in those), and lead a trek across the snow plains in the far north.

It’ll be just the two of them, and they’ll sit side by side when night falls, watching the lights that he used to drag his older siblings along to see when he was younger. Zhongli will sit beside him, and this time it’ll be Childe’s turn to hold him to his chest, pointing out all the familiar landmarks from his childhood, teaching Zhongli pieces of his history—of him—piece by piece.

He’s not sure if Zhongli will enjoy the cold, but he hopes at least he will enjoy the company.

“I will,” says Zhongli, out loud this time. “I would be honoured to accompany you on such a trip.”

“Now who’s crossing thought-boundaries, huh?”

“Your enthusiasm was rather loud; it was impossible to ignore.”

Childe’s cheeks and ears prickle, and he’s glad Zhongli can’t see his face from here. Mustering all the energy his body will give him, he manages to reach up, touching his fingertips to the back of Zhongli’s hand, and Zhongli catches the hint, taking hold of it and grasping tight, acting as Childe’s strength where he has none.

“Then at least you know how much I’m looking forward to it!”

“As am I.” Zhongli takes Childe’s other hand, bringing it level with the first. “Then will you rest a little, so that your health returns swiftly and you can show me as much of your homeland as you desire?”

“Hmm, I think I can manage that.” Childe snuggles into the crook of Zhongli’s arm and closes his eyes, his body sinking into the bed and Zhongli. Now that his mind is still, tiredness washes over him and, with one final push, he’s able to speak two words before he gives over to it completely. “Love you.”

The last thing he’s aware of is a light pressure squeezing his hands, soft lips against his forehead, and a voice replying, “As I adore you, Ajax.”

#childe #zhongli #zhongchi #tartali #zhongchili #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #4.2 archon quest #4.2 spoilers

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nientedenada · 1 year

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Who wanted the Draconis family dead? J'accuse . . .

Originally posted on r/teslore, reposted here on Halloween as an appropriate tale of murder and ghosts.

In Oblivion, the quest Next of Kin has you kill of all the members of the Draconis family: an aged mother and four adult children. You don’t get an answer who asked for the hit in the first place. Sensible answers discussed in the past include a relative who is eliminating other heirs, or someone with a hatred for the entire family.

But let me share my crazy theory of how Perennia Draconis, loving matriarch of her family, arranged for her own death and her childrens’ at the hands of the Dark Brotherhood. It got less crazy the more I looked at it, and I’m now it’s my personal Truth of the matter.

A lot of people remember Perennia as a nice old lady who wanted to send her children gifts, and unfortunately mistook the Dark Brotherhood assassin as the gift-buying and courier service. But if you pay attention to what she’s saying, she isn’t nice. At all. She’s a nasty old piece of work whose children have gone low or non-contact with her. She has outright awful things to say about three of her four children, and her compliments of the fourth may also be passive-agressive condemnation.

She gives the player a list of where to look for each kid, butchering their characters in the process.

Matthias – Imperial City - Talos Plaza District, Imperial City (he has a home there): Matthias always was a rough and tumble lad. The last I’d heard, he’d fallen in with some pretty tough characters there in the Imperial City. I’d feel so much better if I knew he was well protected, so I’d like for you to find him a nice cuirass. Nothing too light – iron or steel should be fine. And, if possible, I’d like it engraved with “To my Dear Matty, I’ll always be here to protect you, love Mum.”

First kid, gone no contact with her: “the last I’d heard”. After he dies, his tombstone, btw, says

Here lies Matthias Draconis. His mother always told him he’d end up dead if he didn’t clean up his life…“

Sibylla – Muck Valley Cavern. Yes, my daughter lives in a cave, and no, I’m not very happy about it. Sibby has always loved animals (almost as much as Andy loves beer) and a couple of years ago she apparently thought it a good idea to abandon the Empire and live as a savage with the rest of the animals. In that time, I’m afraid Sibby has kind of… cracked. She’s basically as wild as the beasts she lives with. What can I do? I’m Sibby’s mother and I’ll always love her. She obviously doesn’t want or need anything from civilized society, so what I’d like you to do is find a tanner and secure the largest fur blankets you can possibly find. The last time I saw Sibby she was nearly naked, and I can’t imagine there’s much in that cave to keep her warm. When you do bring them to Muck Valley Cavern, be careful! The wild animals are bad enough, but Sibby herself will probably attack anyone on sight.

Again, has ran away from mom, not in contact.

Caelia – Castle Leyawiin (you’ll find her in the barracks): My beautiful Cae! My dearest daughter broke so many hearts when she was younger. But now that she’s an officer in the Imperial Legion I’m afraid she’s let herself go a bit. Not gotten fat! By Mephala, not that! But she’s settled into a more… practical kind of look. Even a bit boyish, I guess you could say. So what I’d like you to do is get my Cae as much pretty "girl” stuff as you can. Flowers, perfume, Nord chocolate, that sort of thing.

This one is absolutely venomous. It’s the most personally nasty of the lot, and the gift suggested isn’t even useful to Caelia, unlike the other gifts on the list ostensibly are.

Caelia says she defied her mother’s plans for her

I came to Leyawiin after a tour in the Legions. Poor Mother. She hoped I’d choose the chapel or civil service, or perhaps even marry well.“

and Caelia says

My mother? Oh, do you know her? She’s such a sweet woman. I’ve been a terrible daughter I’m afraid. I simply must visit more often! Anyway, I have duties to tend to. If you see my mother, tell her I’ll visit soon! I promise!”

“I simply must visit more often”, doesn’t, moved all the way to Leyawiin after retiring from the Legion, I really doubt Caelia wanted to see her mom that much. She’s keeping her mom at a civil distance, even if she keeps up contact.

Andreas – The Drunken Dragon Inn (he owns the place and lives there as well): Andy has been brewing his own beer and spirits since he was six years old. The opening of that inn was the happiest day of his life. I’d like for you to get him some new tavern glasses. I’m sure there are craftsmen in the Imperial City who could make a fancy set from frosted ebony or Altmeri crystal.

This is the only description of a child that seems kind of positive, but I don’t think the bit about brewing his own beer and spirits since he was six is really meant to be.

Perennia complains about living alone when you first disturb her and here’s her dialogue about the list.

My children? Whatever for? Oh! Oh, dear, excuse an old woman’s stupidity! You’re here to pick up my gift list! Using your gift service was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. My children are spread across Cyrodiil, and it’s so hard to shop for them all! So, here’s the list of all my precious little ones, though I dare say they’re not so little anymore! Ha ha ha ha ha! They grow up so fast, I swear! You’ll notice that the list gives each child’s location and some suggestions for gifts. Oh, and here’s the gold I’m supposed to give you. Now please go. Those children are so dear to me, and I’d really like you to get them something special. Thanks again!“

To me, it begins to look like she is paying the Dark Brotherhood fee here and giving the targets of each child. I see her as a hateful old woman who’d lost control over her children, and asserted final control with this murder-suicide.

Now she does come back as a ghost if you activate her tombstone and she attacks you, which shook me when I discovered that. Maybe she was meant to be an innocent lady who is avenging her slaughtered family. But, on reflection, the sort of person who’d undertake family annihilation via Dark Brotherhood would attack you as a ghost too. You were a tool she used, in this scenario, and now don’t have any use to her if you come bothering her grave. So I stand firm in my belief that Perennia is an evil, evil woman who took out her family when they wouldn’t obey her.

#Oblivion #tes lore #tesblr #niente lore

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writingforfun0714 · 2 months

Text

Hi everyone,

First off, I’m so sorry I’ve been inactive. I’ve been busy with life as we all get sometimes.

Here is Chapter One of my Bad Batch fanfic Our Love which I definitely recommend reading before this.

Warnings: spoilers for TBB, spoilers for CW, AU fanfic, Jedi OC fanfic, POV changes, lemme know if I need anything else

Our Love

Chapter 2: Good Soldiers Follow Orders

Words: 8,216

3rd POV

Padawan Wyyntrr’s ship drops out of hyperspace after hours of travel as it approaches Coruscant. Wyyntrr gasps slightly as he catches his breath from sobbing.

“Approaching Coruscant,” the ship’s AI system alerts the blind albino Wookiee. Wyyntrr wondered if the Jedi at the Temple even knew what was happening to the clones.

Wyyntrr shuts off the autopilot and flies the ship himself once he gets close to the planet’s atmosphere. He’s able to use the Force to guide him to the Jedi Temple but something’s different. The Temple didn’t feel like it normally did to the blind albino Wookiee padawan.

The ship slows down and lowers onto the landing platform and Wyyntrr walks out holding his lightsaber, though keeping it off for now. Usually Temple guards would be posted but Wyyntrr doesn’t sense them. In fact…he doesn’t sense anyone. The Force feels cold…dark. He knows this isn’t right. Unbeknownst to Wyyntrr, the Jedi Temple lays in ruin.

He walks cautiously up through the ruined entrance and that’s when he can sense life fading. His blood red eyes widen and he gasps when he realizes he’s walking past slain Jedi and Temple guards.

“N-No…No-no-no!” Wyyntrr starts to panic. He starts running inside until he trips over something, tumbling to the floor, grunting slightly. The Wookiee shakes off the daze and reaches out to feel for what he tripped over and when his hands touch flesh that’s still warm, he yanks back, gasping in fear as more tears start falling into his snow-white fur. Wyyntrr scrambles to his feet and keeps moving, searching the areas himself, hoping, praying that there were survivors.

Back on Kamino, Crosshair is ordered to report to Governor Tarkin. The sniper grabs his helmet before exiting his now empty barracks. There are a few things that still belong to everyone still laying about the room but most everything else is on the ship. Everything of importance at least.

As Crosshair walks through the hallways, he sees squads of troopers walking in formation through the halls. Crosshair keeps to himself as he gets to Tarkin’s office. The door whooshes open and the sniper sees Governor Tarkin sitting at his desk with another Imperial officer sitting across from him.

“CT-9904, this is Officer Rampart. From now on you will be reporting directly to him, understood?” Tarkin asks.

“Yes sir,” Crosshair replies curtly.

“I’ve requested you CT-9904 because of your skills specifically. Emperor Palpatine has ambitions beyond the clone army in regards to Kaminoan technology and Officer Rampart has brought to my attention the value of conscripted soldiers,” Tarkin explains and Crosshair glares coldly at Rampart at the suggestion of being replaced.

“Do not worry. You have proven your worth by complying with Order 66, which is why I am offering you a place within our new Empire. You will be leading a squad of TK troopers back to Onderon to clear out the insurgents. They were obviously too much for you alone to handle and I believe you work best with a squad,” Tarkin says and Crosshair shifts on his feet.

“Here is your mission objective. Your new squad is waiting for you in the barracks,” Tarkin says, handing Crosshair a datapad. The sniper takes it and nods.

“Yes sir,” he replies. He turns to walk out when Tarkin clears his throat.

“CT-9904,” he says and Crosshair stops and turns to face the older man.

“I hope you understand that you are in charge of this experimental squad because out of your original squad, you were the only one that was able to do what needs to be done,” Tarkin explains and Crosshair nods.

“I..understand sir,” the sniper says and Tarkin nods and waves a dismissive hand at the clone, who walks out.

As Crosshair makes his way back to the barracks, he looks at the datapad.

LOCATION: ONDERON

MISSION: ELIMINATE ALL INSURGENTS

He feels his muscles clench and he stops in his tracks. Crosshair breathes as he feels an overwhelming urge to comply with the mission. Memories of meeting Saw Gerrera and his people flash in his memory, but it’s like none of that matters now. Something feels wrong and there’s nothing the sniper can do about it.

Meanwhile…

The Havoc Marauder zips through hyperspace. After about an hour, Youngling Maisy and Omega finally went through every nook and cranny of the ship. Wrecker even got to show the girls his Tooka doll, Lula.

“I think Lula likes you,” Wrecker says. Omega hugs the doll before offering Lula to Maisy. The Youngling takes it and looks at it.

The Crèche Masters all kept toys like Lula for the Younglings but it’s not like the toys belonged to the Younglings. They were communal toys. The Jedi didn’t really promote attachment, even to objects. Maisy didn’t understand the need to own such a thing because the Crèche Masters always had what she needed. So her only belongings were really the drawings taped up on Master Jaeruho’s ship and the Jedi clothes she wore.

“Well, I have bad news and worse news,” Echo announces, getting everyone’s attention. Maisy quickly hands Lula back to Omega, but before she can ask the younger girl what’s wrong, Hunter steps towards the ARC trooper.

“What’s going on?” Hunter asks.

“I located Captain Rex’s last known position,” Echo says.

“And?”

“After being promoted to Commander, Rex was given command of half of the 501st and sent to Mandalore,” Echo says.

“That’s strange. Why split the battalion?” Wrecker asks.

“I’m not sure—a lot of the report was redacted and sealed,” Echo admits.

“So what’s the ‘worse’ part?” Hunter asks.

“On the way back to Coruscant, Rex’s venator-class starship, the Tribunal, was heavily damaged and destroyed mid-hyperspace,” Echo says, “He is presumed missing since no evidence of his body was found.”

“If we’re not going to Rex, then where are we going?” Omega asks. Maisy tenses.

“Nowhere important, just an asteroid belt in a backwater part of space the Empire won’t know about,” Hunter explains.

“You said you would take me to the Jedi Temple!” Maisy argues.

“We will, I promise. It’s dangerous now so we can’t just go to the Temple. We were hoping to have our friend, Captain Rex, get us there, but…” Hunter trails off, and even though Maisy is only 4 years old, she understands what Hunter said.

The ship lurches out of hyperspace and slows down.

“Don’t worry kid, we’ll get you home, I promise,” Omega says, putting a hand on the Youngling’s shoulder.

“Wrecker, how’s our ration supply?” Hunter asks.

“Runnin’ low sarge,” Wrecker says. That’s when Tech joins the group after hiding the ship in between 2 large asteroids.

“You know, Coruscant is a big planet,” Tech says.

“Where are you going with this Tech?” Hunter asks.

“We could go to Coruscant and go through the Lower Levels up to the surface,” Tech explains. Hunter raises an eyebrow.

“Hm..interesting,” Hunter thinks on Tech’s plan.

“Coruscant is the heart of the Empire now so if we do this, we’d need to go in quiet,” Tech adds.

“Uhm, what about-..” Wrecker trails off, but motions not-so-subtly towards the girls.

“Hey!” They exclaim.

“We won’t get in the way, and I can protect Maisy,” Omega says assuredly. Hunter looks at the pleading looks the girls are giving him and nods.

“Alright, but you do what I say when I say it, no questions asked got it?” Hunter asks and the girls nod excitedly. Hunter looks to Tech.

“Put in the coordinates for Coruscant,” Hunter orders and Tech nods before heading to the pilot’s seat.

Hunter’s POV

“Put in the coordinates for Coruscant,” I tell Tech and he nods before heading over to the pilot’s seat. The girls talk excitedly about the planet and because the Youngling’s been there before, tells Omega all about it.

“Wow! So there’s no nature anywhere?” Omega asks the younger girl, who thinks on the question. I feel the ship lurch into hyperspace.

“There’s only one thing I know about. The tree. There’s a tree in the Jedi Temple’s courtyard,” I hear Maisy say.

“I can’t wait to show you around, you’re gonna love it,” Maisy says. I don’t have the heart to ruin it for her…at least not yet. It’s likely the Temple is in ruin and if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t even want to be going to Coruscant.

Personally I get really intense headaches due to my enhanced ability being around so much electromagnetic energy. Not to mention that it’s now the heart of the Empire. Every bone in my body, all my instincts are telling me that the girls are not safe here. But the promise I made the Youngling rings in my head. Besides, we’re not Jedi. We can’t protect her, but Omega’s different. She’s a clone like us. I feel my hand shake so I clasp my other hand over to try and stop the shaking. If anything happened to the kids…

“Hey, you ok?” Echo asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look at him and manage to shake my head.

“Look…I’m not so sure we should even be doing this if I’m honest,” I admit.

“What? Why?” Echo asks.

“Echo, we have kids with us and we’re going into the heart of the Empire. Wrecker’s right, we have to be cautious,” I tell him but frown when I see the confusion.

“You don’t think they’re capable?” He asks.

“That’s not what I said-“ I try, but he holds up his real hand.

“Look Hunter, I know she’s young, but Maisy is a Jedi. You guys haven’t worked with them like I have. My commander was around Omega’s age and she did things I never would’ve thought possible for someone so young,” Echo argues. I sigh when I realize he has a point.

“You’re right, we don’t work with the Jedi. I just…don’t want you to overestimate Maisy and her Jedi powers. She’s just a kid, and we don’t even know if she can even control it like the older Jedi,” I explain and Echo nods.

“We can protect her, we’re an elite squad, remember?” Echo assures me before joining the kids. As Echo joins the kids, my thoughts wander to Crosshair.

Echo’s POV

The kids call my name as I talk with Hunter. I join the girls and see Maisy sitting on the edge of the gunner’s mount with her legs hanging where the ladder is. Omega is looking around the gunner’s mount seat. I smile.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We need a 3rd person for this Jedi game Maisy’s teaching me,” Omega explains. I nod.

“Ok,” I say and join the girls up in the gunners mount. We all sit cross-legged though I’m a bit more cramped just because I’m an adult. Maisy explains the rules before starting.

After getting the hang of it, my mind flashes to Rex and Fives.

“Echo? Echo are you ok?” Omega asks.

“Huh?” I ask.

“It’s your turn,” Maisy says.

“Oh, sorry-it’s just…this reminds me of a game I’d play with Captain Rex and my old squad mate Fives,” I explain. I tap Maisy’s hand and she adds one finger to her left hand as part of the game.

“He’ll be able to get us to General Skywalker,” I tell her.

“Echo-“ Hunter interrupts.

“He would survive. They both would. Rex is formidable and resilient and the General has a padawan to protect,” I assure him.

“A padawan? Who?” Maisy asks.

“Ahsoka Tano,” I say. Her eyes widen.

“She came to talk to my class one time at the Temple,” Maisy explains and that’s when I see tears form in the little girl’s eyes, the loss is still clearly fresh.

“My Master was killed because he saved me. They could be dead!” Maisy suddenly exclaims. I flinch at the little girl’s outburst.

“It wasn’t your fault Maisy. There wasn’t anything either of us could’ve done,” Omega says, putting a hand on the Youngling’s shoulder. Being on Kamino when Order 66 happened, I’m sure it was different compared to being on the war front. Maisy hugs Omega tightly, who returns the gesture.

That’s when Hunter and Wrecker join us. Maisy pulls back and the girls look at them.

“I think we’ve got a seat for you ready Maisy, just need you to come try it out,” Wrecker says. Maisy wipes her eyes, nods and hops down to follow Wrecker up to the front. Omega moves but I silently motion for her to stay.

“Omega, I wanna ask you something,” I tell the girl quietly. She nods.

“What is it?”

“Did…Did Maisy see?” I ask and Omega immediately knows what I’m talking about. She turns sad and she nods slightly.

“Yeah…I saved her…that’s why I promised I’d stay with her and get her back to the Jedi Temple safely,” Omega explains. I put my real hand on her knee.

“You did good…soldier,” I tell her and she beams, lighting up happily before nodding once.

3rd POV

Wrecker shows Maisy the safety seat he made out of basic spare parts laying around as the ship comes out of hyperspace.

“Omega!” Maisy calls and the older girls runs up.

“Look,” Maisy tells her, pointing but the older girl is already in awe.

“Echo, I need you to pilot the ship while I make a fake chain code,” Tech says and switches seats with him.

“What’s a chain code?” Hunter asks.

“It’s the Empire’s new way of identifying people,” Tech explains.

“And you’re just now telling us about them?!” Echo demands from the pilot seat.

“Well I only just learned of them moments ago. Do not worry, I am nearly finished,” Tech says as he programs his datapad. He presses a button and a small disk is ejected from the bottom.

“Got it,” Tech says, showing the small metal disk before heading over to the console. Tech inserts the disk and prepares to transmit the data.

“The Empire will think we’re nothing but a cargo ship,” Tech assures Hunter as the ship approaches a nearby venator-class starship.

“Approaching vessel identify yourself,” a voice announces over the comms. Tech gives Echo a thumbs up.

“Transmitting now,” Echo answers and a tense moment passes.

“All clear for Lower Level admission,” the voice announces and the boys sigh with relief.

“See? No need to worry,” Tech says before Echo they continue towards Coruscant.

As the ship gets closer, everything gets bigger and bigger. Omega awes at the enormous buildings, bright colorful lights and the sheer number of people.

“It’s so big,” Omega awes quietly but there is something that catches her attention.

“You’re from here, right Maisy?” Omega asks and Maisy nods.

“Where’s your water?” Omega asks and Maisy blinks.

“Water? There are water tanks all over,” Maisy explains.

“But…no natural water? You know, like an ocean?” Omega asks and Maisy shakes her head.

“Not on Coruscant. Too many people,” Maisy explains.

Once they get to the Surface Level, Hunter groans and braces himself.

“Hunter?” Maisy asks, getting everyone’s attention.

“What’s wrong Hunter?” Omega asks. Being Nala Se’s medical assistant, she can see the squint in Hunter’s eyes and how tense his neck muscles are. A headache.

“Coruscant has such a high level of electromagnetic energy that Hunter’s senses are overloaded…headaches, dizziness, sometimes nausea…but he usually adjusts after-“ Echo explains but that’s when Tech wordlessly grabs a medical stim and injects Hunter with bacta.

“Gah! Tech!” Hunter exclaims, rubbing his arm where Tech pierced him.

“After that,” Echo says, referring to the shot.

They fly with traffic until they get to a tunnel that leads down to the Lower Levels. Maisy clings to Omega’s hand and the female clone looks down at the Youngling.

“The Masters would tell us it’s dangerous down here,” Maisy explains.

“Dangerous?” Omega asks and looks to Hunter.

“Just stay with us and you’ll be fine,” the sergeant says.

Tech flies the ship to a landing dock that only has 2 other ships and lets the ship down easily.

“Here, you can hold Lula. She’s good to hug if you’re scared,” Wrecker offers Maisy, who shakes her head.

“She’s yours though,” Maisy argues gently. She learned from the Crèche masters that even though the Jedi do not have personal objects of attachment, that others do and to respect them.

“Maybe we can find something for you while we’re here,” Omega says and Maisy nods because despite being a Jedi, she is only 4.

“Ok, stay with us and don’t leave our sights,” Hunter tells the girls.

“Are you sure we’ll be ok?” Maisy asks and Hunter nods.

“Here,” Omega says, kneeling down in front of the Youngling. She takes off her head circlet that matches Nala Se’s which makes her bangs fall naturally. Omega turns Maisy and carefully puts the insignia around Maisy like a necklace.

“There. That’ll keep you safe,” Omega says and Maisy smiles.

“Thanks,” she says, looking at the carving before Hunter gathers the girls and the squad heads off the ship.

As they walk into the nearest district, Omega grabs hold of Maisy’s hand and they start making their way into the giant city.

“Where are we going?” Wrecker asks.

“We need to get to a central computer console. That way we can check on the status of the Jedi Temple,” Echo explains.

“The nearest terminal is located by a garage not too far from here,” Tech adds when he taps on his datapad.

“Lead the way Tech,” Hunter says and lets the goggled clone lead. The girls look around as they walk past various shops, vendors and people walking the streets like them.

The group finally gets to the computer terminal.

“Give me a minute ok?” Echo asks and uses his scomp to plug in. While they wait for Echo, a young woman from the garage nearby approaches the group stealthily. Maisy notices first and gasps, getting everyone else’s attention. The boys immediately draw their blasters and point them at the hooded figure.

“Not another step,” Hunter threatens.

“It’s ok, I’m not armed,” the voice of a young female says.

“You’re clones, aren’t you?” She asks and at first no one answers. Echo and Tech share a look while Hunter glances at Wrecker.

“If we are?” Wrecker asks.

“CT-7567,” the female says and the boys freeze.

“W-What did you say?” Echo asks in shock.

“CT-7567…he told me to say that to any clones I come across,” she says as she lowers her hood. She has tan skin, dark eyes and short, curly hair that’s shaved on the sides and long on top.

“That means something to you, doesn’t it?” The woman asks but she knows already.

“Who are you?” Echo asks.

“Martez. Trace Martez,” she introduces.

The computer console beeps, getting Echo’s attention.

“Blast it, the only thing I could find out is that the whole Temple area is sealed off,” Echo announces as the others put their blasters away.

“C’mon, we shouldn’t talk outside,” the young woman, Trace, says, ushering the group to follow her.

“My garage is right over there,” she explains, pointing to the small garage tucked in between two shops.

“Stay close,” Hunter whispers to the girls. Omega nods and keeps a firm grip on Maisy’s hand.

Back on Kamino…

A heavy storm rages on with no end in sight. Crosshair has been assigned a new experimental squad of ‘TK troopers’ and even though he hasn’t said anything, he’s wondering who the squad is. The sniper’s never heard of that designation before.

He gets to the barracks and sees troopers in dark armor like his new Imperial armor is but is surprised to see a female among them. Their helmets are different too and Crosshair realizes they’re not clones. They spot Crosshair and look at him.

“Look, it’s the clone,” one of the troopers says before taking off his helmet. The others follow suit and Crosshair sees how different they look.

“Humph, I guess the new Empire’s going for quantity over quality,” Crosshair sneers.

“Yeah well at least I joined the Empire because I wanted to, not because I was created to,” the blonde trooper says.

“Clearly you were never a soldier because as your superior, you will address me as sir, understood?” Crosshair growls and at first the trooper doesn’t reply, allowing a tense moment to pass before sighing.

“Yes..sir,” he says and Crosshair smirks before pulling out his datapad.

“Here, our mission debrief,” the sniper says and tosses the datapad to the troopers, who gather around to look at it.

“I expect all of you to follow orders,” Crosshair says before they gather what they need for the mission and head out.

The new squad boards the ship and Crosshair’s reminded of the Marauder. Instead a generic gunship waits for them but the instant he has that thought, he feels his muscles tense and that same urgent sense to complete the mission overcomes the sniper. Crosshair feels his legs moving forward almost against his will but deep down…the desire to complete the mission burns through him.

The ship lurches up and out into the storm and at first Crosshair is ignoring the rest of the squad as they talk with each other.

“Hey…can I ask you something?” The blond trooper from earlier asks the sniper. Crosshair glances at him, shifting his toothpick.

“I joined the Empire because they saved my home town from starvation and infections…I wanted to join. But…why are you here?” He asks. Ever since the chip augmentation, Crosshair hasn’t really thought about why but he remembers a thought he had back on Kaller.

“I saw the singular moment when the galaxy changed. I was part of it. I need to be part of the new galaxy, the newly formed Empire. They provide stability and order now that the war is over,” Crosshair explains as the ship exits the atmosphere and enters hyperspace.

The rest of the trip was quiet. Once the squad arrives at Onderon, Crosshair takes the lead. The sniper motions with his hand to follow his lead before running into the dense jungle-like forests.

Crosshair treks through the familiar area and heads to the last place he was at when meeting Saw Gerrera. The sniper sees an empty clearing but picks up signs of a trail.

“They’ve moved,” he alerts the rest of the squad and continues on the trail.

As they pass a small creek, one of the troopers stops.

“Wait—Commander-look,” he says, pointing. Crosshair stops and looks to see another set of footprints in the mud. But…they’re tiny.

“There are kids here?” One of the troopers asks.

“Insurgents are insurgents,” Crosshair growls. The TK troopers don’t argue but share an unsure glance before continuing to follow Crosshair.

Once the squad is close, the troopers use their helmet visor’s heat signature feature to identify the insurgents while Crosshair finds the high ground and uses his rifle scope. Instead of talking, Crosshair and his squad attack the unsuspecting civilians turned rebels. The squad easily disarms and ambushes their targets and Crosshair intelligently stays hidden in the forest to watch as his squad does the actual capture. The squad surrounds the group.

“Who are you?” The blonde trooper, designated ES-01, asks.

“We are a growing few that’s willing to stand up to the Empire-“ a female with brown hair answers.

“And our families,” she says, looking at the children with them. ES-01 sighs, dropping his weapon to the ground and looks away.

“I can’t go through with it,” he says, taking off his helmet, letting that drop too. The other TK troopers look at each other before lowering their weapons as well.

“Insurgents aren’t survivors,” he says, looking at her.

“What are you doing ES-01?!” Crosshair demands over the comlink in a deadly almost raspy tone.

“Doing what’s right,” ES-01 responds before shutting off his receiver.

ES-01 turns to the nearest captive and frees her, unlocking the cuffs. She rubs her wrists and looks at ES-01 before nodding slightly. He gives her a small smile but that’s when a single blaster bolt whizzes by and strikes the young woman in the head.

“No!” ES-01 gasps and catches her limp body. The others in the squad stand by in shock before looking where the bolt came from. Out of the shadows in the forest walks Crosshair.

“What are you doing?! These are innocent people!” ES-01 argues.

“You wanted to know why I joined the Empire?” Crosshair asks and ES-01 goes quiet.

“Power. You see…power doesn’t come to those who are born strongest or smartest…no, it comes to those who will do anything to achieve it. The Empire values strength and power above all else to provide stability and peace and I am showing them I can do what needs to be done,” Crosshair explains.

“I didn’t join the Empire to execute civilians. I’m not following orders and neither are they. C’mon, don’t listen to this clone,” ES-01 says, trying to convince the rest of the squad to turn, and at first, they all hesitate, looking between Crosshair and ES-01. The blond trooper looks at his squad mates.

“ES-01,” Crosshair says getting his attention. When the trooper turns back, he sees Crosshair pointing a blaster pistol at him. Crosshair fires a single shot and ES-01 falls limply to the ground next to the dead civilian. The other hostages gasp and yelp in fear.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” Crosshair growls.

“Crosshair! Crosshair please!” One of the hostages exclaims, using the sniper’s name.

“What about earlier?! Do your words mean nothing?” He asks.

Crosshair’s POV

“Crosshair! Crosshair please!” One of the hostages exclaims, using my name. He’s a male Twi’lek and has a bit of an accent.

“What about earlier?! Do your words mean nothing?” He asks. Memories from my first visit, from talking with Saw flash by in my mind but a searing wave of pain in my head causes me to growl and shut my eyes. No…none of that matters now. But…but it should. I just…any thought of resistance or independence feels painful. It’s either them or me.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” I repeat almost robotically before firing a single headshot at the Twi’lek, killing him. The other hostages cry out and gasp but that’s when I turn to the rest of my squad.

Even though I’m wearing a helmet, I can tell my glare gets through the visor. One trooper raises their blaster and the others follow suit. Without waiting, the other TK troopers fire on the remaining hostages like a firing squad.

“Burn down the camp,” I order and the troopers use their flamethrower packs to incinerate everything, including ES-01.

As the fire grows and consumes everything, the others decide to go wait on the ship but I stare at the fire, thinking on what I’ve done. No…I…I followed orders. I..I will be rewarded upon return and even if I won’t…it’s better than the excruciating pain in my head when trying to disobey. Ever since getting ambushed and experimented on, I have been different. I can feel it, deep down. I can’t think about it for too long because the pain happens. I turn away and head back to the ship.

After boarding, the ship takes off and it’s completely silent between everyone all the way back to Kamino. As we fly through the stormy atmosphere, the ship rattles and shakes as lighting flashes that’s quickly followed by a crack of thunder.

The ship lands in one of the hundreds of identical hangars located all over Tipoca City. The squad exits the ship and I see Governor Tarkin and Admiral Rampart waiting for us. The two approach me.

“I see your mission was a success, despite the loss of one of your troopers,” Rampart notes and I nod.

“All insurgents were eliminated,” I confirm.

“Very good CT—9904. Admiral, I understand why you place such value on conscripted soldiers and I think CT—9904 is the perfect example for future clone troopers and their value within the Empire. Do not worry CT—9904, I will inform Dr. Nala Se of your achievement,” Governor Tarkin says before looking at me then turning back to Rampart. I manage to hold my ground but I feel my blood run cold at the name of the chief Kaminoan scientist.

“Admiral,” Tarkin says and walks out, leaving me alone with the man.

“You are dismissed,” he tells me. I spin on my heels and hurry out silently, following my new squad.

We walk through the sterile halls. When I was younger, these halls were torture. Nothing but testing. Physical tests to strengthen us for battle and mental tests to make sure our mental fortitude could stand up to the horrors of war. Any emotional outburst or independent thoughts were met with punishments by Nala Se. The memory makes me shiver as I follow the group. Hunter, Tech or Wrecker would comfort me when we were young if I needed it. Other times, albeit a bit reluctant, I would comfort them. I miss them. We get to the barracks and the others walk in. I sigh before following, wondering what else is going to change.

There’s a tense quiet in the room and I can tell the others are against me…of course they are, after what I did. There’s only one other person I can possibly talk to. Commander Cody. Before the 501st, Cody was the only clone we’ve worked closely with. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing.

On Coruscant…

3rd POV

Trace escorts CF99 to her garage and they look around until they spot a man in white and blue painted clone armor talking with another young woman, not much older than Trace and who looks a bit like Trace herself. Echo’s eyes widen in shock first and he freezes.

“R-Rex?” Echo asks. The Captain turns around and spots the group of clone troopers in black, red and white armor.

“Echo?” Rex asks before his legs suddenly spring the captain forward and the two embrace tightly.

“I can’t believe it. You’re alive-“ Echo comments as tears stream down his face.

“And what about you? I never thought I’d see you boys much less here on Coruscant,” Rex says, equally tearful as he pulls back to look at the rest of the squad. Hunter approaches the captain and the two clasp hands.

“Hunter,”

“Rex,” the two greet, smiling but that’s when Rex notices they’re a man down.

“Where’s Crosshair?” Rex asks.

“It’s a long story-“ Hunter says.

Wrecker approaches Rex, being out of earshot and easily picks up the Captain, hugging him.

“It’s good to see you too Wrecker,” Rex tells the demolitions expert before exchanging a friendly nod of acknowledgement from Tech.

“It is rather surprising to see you here Captain,” Tech says but before Rex can respond,Omega steps into his view and the Captain freezes. Rex looks at Omega and he can tell by her eyes and face that she’s a clone. The young female clone reminds Rex of himself.

“Rex, this is Omega,” Hunter introduces. Rex takes a couple steps towards Omega and kneels down.

“In all my years I’ve seen many clones, but never one like you,” Rex says. Omega looks at him.

“You’re a generation one,” she says and he blinks in surprise.

“How’d you know that?” Rex asks.

“The lines on your face. I was Nala Se’s personal medical assistant. Generation one clones are the oldest clones,” Omega explains. Rex smirks.

“I’m impressed. How old are you kid?” Rex asks.

“11,” she says.

“Ah, a shiny,” Rex smiles and Omega beams at the nickname. She had heard many clones over the years call each other that. The more experienced ones would take the cadets under their wings…but not Omega. She was to follow Nala Se instead.

That’s when Maisy pokes her head out from behind Tech to look at Captain Rex. He sees the smaller, younger girl and blinks in shock.

“Oh-wh-who are you?” Rex asks but he spots a thin long braid in the girl’s shaggy, wild dark brown hair. He looks at her tan and beige robes.

“It’s ok,” Echo tells Maisy, seeing how unsure the little girl looks.

“Rex, this is Maisy,” Echo introduces. She looks between Rex and the other young woman.

“I’m Raffa, Trace’s older sister,” she explains and motions for everyone to come further in. There’s a small office area with a door so they walk in for privacy.

Once the door’s shut, Rex turns to Maisy.

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” He asks. Maisy looks at Omega and the others. The older girl nods encouragingly as she puts a hand on the younger’s shoulder. Maisy nods.

“I’m a Youngling,” Maisy explains and Rex and the Martez sisters’ eyes widen in shock.

“That’s why we came here,” Echo tells Rex, “to get her back to the Jedi at the Temple. I tried looking for you, but your file the Empire has on you has labeled you MIA.”

“A lot’s happened since Order 66. Where were you boys when it happened?” Rex asks.

“We were with General Bilaba and Commander Dume on Kaller,” Hunter explains, “the General’s battalion turned on them and..” he trails off but Rex nods understandingly.

“We weren’t affected but Crosshair was,” Hunter adds and Rex’s eyes widen.

“I let the Commander go and…Crosshair disagreed with my decision…my decisions,” Hunter explains, glancing at the girls.

“Me and Master Jae were on Kamino-“ Maisy says as her lip quivers and Omega comes up to the Youngling to pick her up.

“I promised Maisy we’d get her back to the Jedi Temple,” Omega explains holding the little girl in her arms.

“And how did you two meet?” Echo asks the Martez sisters.

“Our friend introduced us after the clones turned,” Rafa explains.

“Your file in the Empire’s records state you’re MIA but there’s nothing else about the rest of the 501st,” Echo says and Rex sighs, nodding.

“After you joined Clone Force 99, Commander Tano returned in need of men to help her retake Mandalore from Darth Maul,” Rex explains. Omega and Maisy share a look as the Youngling’s grip on her tunic tightens.

“The Jedi Council wouldn’t allow reinforcements since Ahsoka wasn’t part of the Order anymore but General Skywalker decided to split the 501st in half. Jesse, Vaughn along with myself were all assigned with Commander Tano on the Tribunal when Order 66 happened. I…I fought with everything I had but it was all Ahsoka. She managed to subdue me and remove my inhibitor chip. The Commander and I were the only survivors,” Rex explains, rubbing his scarred temple, where the chip used to be.

“The other half…they came here…to the Temple. General Skywalker was here on Coruscant to save the Chancellor and the 501st left to storm the Temple, at least that’s what I’ve heard from the info I’ve managed to get,” Rex says.

“That means the Temple is no longer safe,” Hunter says and Rex nods.

“I know, but I’m hoping to get to the Temple to find my medic Kix. He wasn’t with my half of the 501st during Order 66 and I know he would never attack the Jedi,” Rex explains.

“That’s the best we can hope for under these circumstances,” Tech says, fiddling with his datapad.

“What about your Commander? Why can’t you contact her to come get the Youngling?” Hunter asks.

“After we escaped our crashing venator-class ship, Commander Tano decided to go into hiding, leaving no trace of her existence. The last time I saw her was…at a funeral,” Rex says, his eyes full of sadness.

“You’re going to the Temple? I thought the entire area was sealed off,” Echo says and Rex nods.

“There is a way in I know of,” Rex explains. Maisy looks at the soldiers before feeling something…something familiar. It’s the feeling the Youngling would get when she was around other Jedi. She could sense their presence through the Force. It feels…like a call for help.

“We hafta hurry,” Maisy says and Omega nods.

“Here, these’ll get you to the surface,” Trace says, handing Hunter a leather pouch.

“What…what is this?” Hunter asks, looking inside. He pulls out a handful of credits.

“It’s to bribe the transportation employees. You guys don’t have chain codes,” Rafa explains.

“Chain codes?” Hunter asks. She nods.

“Just another way for the new Empire to keep tabs on you. But everyone here has a price,” Rafa explains.

“Why are you helping us? Not everyone can spare this kind of cash,” Hunter asks. The sisters share a look before turning back to the squad.

“We have a complicated relationship with the Jedi but the clones were the ones that were there for us to help us rebuild what little was left of our home. So, when our friend contacted us, she gave us a mission to help any defecting clones that want to escape the Empire,” Rafa explains. Hunter nods appreciatively.

“Keep the commlink open. I’ll be back in a few days,” Rex tells the Martez sisters, who nod.

“If you hear from her, tell her-“ Rex begins to tell the two mechanics.

“We know Cap,” Trace says, saluting him and Rex nods. He grabs his pack before motioning to everyone.

“Let’s go,” Rex says and the group heads out.

They step into a lift and once the doors close, Rex takes off his pack and takes out a bunch of clothes, handing them out.

“Here, just in case,” Rex says and Hunter nods and has Echo, Tech and Wrecker all put on the ponchos Rex gave out. It’s a long trek to the surface level taking a maze of lifts, taxis, and a tram but they finally reach the surface of Coruscant with a mere 5 credits left. The whole time Echo was telling stories about Kix and different missions he went on.

“When Rex told me about Fives, I knew I could count on Kix to listen to me,” Echo explains to the girls, who are sitting on opposite sides of the ARC trooper.

“Look-there!” Maisy says, pointing on the window. The others follow her finger and see a giant building that makes a distinct shape in the skyline, poking out over the other buildings.

The closer they get to the Temple, the stronger Maisy feels the call for help. She wonders if the feeling is because of Order 66. The taxi the squad managed to squeeze into comes to a stop at a platform just outside the Temple.

The group heads out and looks around. It’s interesting how the whole galaxy had changed but the constant chaos of Coruscant seems unfazed.

“Oh kriff,” Rex grumbles.

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“That’s the way into the Temple…it’s swarming with the Coruscant guard now,” Rex says.

“Now?” Echo asks.

“It wasn’t earlier. I don’t know any other way in-“ Rex says.

“I can get us in,” Maisy pipes up. The soldiers and even Omega looks down at her.

“Really?” Omega asks and Maisy nods.

“We have to get in,” the Youngling says, clearly determined.

“Lead the way kid,” Rex tells the younger girl, who nods.

“This way,” Maisy says, grabbing Omega’s hand, pointing.

The squad walks inconspicuously down different alleyways until they come upon a dead end.

“Great,” Hunter sighs.

“There,” Maisy points to the grate on the ground before running over to it. She tries grabbing it but the metal is too heavy for the Youngling so Omega helps her. The two girls struggle to get the grate off but they manage to do so with a grunt of effort.

“We’re going through the sewers?” Hunter asks.

“It goes to a bathroom in the Temple,” Maisy explains.

“How do you know?” Omega asks-not with any venom in her tone but pure curiosity.

“I saw the door once. It was boarded over but I can get through it,” Maisy explains.

“Alright, I’ll go in first,” Rex says and climbs down the rusted ladder. Maisy follows him and the rest of the squad follows the Youngling.

Rex uses his helmet light to see and once he gets to the ground, he holds his hands out for the Youngling.

“I’ve got ya,” Rex assures the Youngling as he lifts her down to the floor. She looks up and helps Rex with the others. The boys grab their torches and shines the light around the dark but empty tunnel.

“Ugh, it smells in here,” Wrecker groans.

“That way,” Maisy points and the group starts walking.

Meanwhile….

3rd POV

On Kamino, Crosshair heads to the mess hall after feeling stifled in the barracks with the other troopers. His new squad leaves much to be desired as far as a team goes and the sniper can’t get his mind off of Cody. Perhaps if his own squad wouldn’t help him, maybe the clone who vouched for them would. After all Cody was a Marshal Commander. If anyone could help the sniper, it’d be him.

He heads to the library to see if he can look up where Commander Cody is stationed. The sniper finds a computer out of the way and secluded though it’s practically empty anyways. He sits at the chair and turns on the monitor. Not that he didn’t know how to use a computer, he just wasn’t as proficient and as fast as Tech or Echo.

Crosshair’s POV

I type in the search file and put all the info in. CT Number: CT-2224. Designation: Cody. Battalion: 212 and finally, Rank: Marshal Commander. I hit the ‘enter’ key on the keyboard and the screen loads before a bunch of info appears on the screen. My eyes scan each line.

CT-2224 Status: Alive. Rank: Commander. Currently stationed on Utapau. This information seems pretty recent but my eyes stop when I get to the last part.

“Successfully executed Order 66,” I read. It doesn’t say when he will return. There’s only one place in all of Kamino where things are truly said: the mess hall. I log out of the computer and hurry out of the library.

I make my way to the mess hall and when I walk in I see it’s a bit crowded. Cody belonged to the 212th so anyone who served in that battalion or who worked closely with the 212th would know something. I glance around and that’s when I spot two troopers in golden yellow painted armor. They’re alone so I grab a tray of food before making my way over.

Once I get close, the two stop talking and look at me.

“You mind? Everywhere else is full,” I ask, motioning with my head to the noisy mess hall. The two share a look before shrugging so I sit.

“Haven’t seen you before,” the trooper on the left says, taking off his helmet. His mop of messy blond hair and 5 o’clock shadow makes the man look…battle-worn.

“Name’s Crys, that’s Trapper,” the blonde trooper introduces.

“Crosshair,” I introduce myself before taking my helmet off.

“Woah, you’re a CT-99? I heard you guys completed more suicide missions than a battalion,” Crys tells me. I nod.

“Where’s the rest of your squad?” Trapper asks curiously.

“Busy…I’m actually looking for one of your boys,” I explain.

“Oh yeah?”

“Commander Cody. He knows me and my squad well and was wondering if anyone in the 212th knew where he was?” I ask. The two exchange a look before leaning in closer to me.

“There’s talk Cody was reassigned,” Trapper whispers.

“We’ve heard some of our brothers talk about Cody…how he’d talk about the Empire. But he’s been reporting to Governor Tarkin so it’s only a matter of time before he shows back up here,” Crys adds in a hushed tone.

“Thanks,” I tell them before standing and grabbing my tray. They nod and I walk off to find Admiral Rampart. I have to convince him to let me go find Cody.

As I walk through the halls, I actually pass by Admiral Rampart.

“Ahem-Admiral-a word?” I clear my throat before I ask, causing the man to look up, mildly irritated at me but motions for me to follow him anyways.

“What is it CT—9904? You completed your mission on Onderon and there haven’t been any new assignments for you yet,” Rampart tells me.

“I understand—sir—I was just wondering about my new squad,” I say.

“What about them?”

“Well sir, one of them disobeyed orders,” I say, though not explaining what happened.

“I’ve talked with Governor Tarkin and we agree that one casualty is worth the price of success. How many droids did the Separatists go through? How many clones?” He asks.

“Actually that’s what I mean. I was wondering if maybe a clone trooper could replace the trooper I lost on Onderon? Commander Cody perhaps? I’ve worked with him before and he is just as if not more capable than I am-“ I vouch for the commander but Rampart holds up a hand, stopping my slight rambling.

“I do recognize the value of you clones CT—9904, but the whole point of your new squad is to prove that conscripted soldiers can and will follow orders. As for CC—2224, he has been assigned on a mission to Dantooine,” Rampart adds that last part about Cody rather off-handedly. My eyes widen but I nod in acknowledgement.

“Actually, since you seem to show such enthusiasm and eagerness, I’m going to assign you and your new squad a rather…controversial mission,” Rampart says.

“Controversial?” I ask.

“As such I hope you understand that this mission comes with a certain level of discretion? Here’s everything you need to know,” he says, handing me another datapad. I look at it and nod.

“Yes sir. We will prep and leave immediately,” I tell Rampart before we part ways and I head to the lift.

Once I’m alone in the lift, I think on our conversation and look at the datapad.

“Destroy Separatist stronghold on Ankus and eliminate any and all survivors,” I read. If I use my time wisely, I could complete my mission then go to the nearby planet of Dantooine to look for Cody. But the mission comes first—it always does.

Back on Coruscant…

3rd POV

Youngling Maisy manages to successfully guide the group through the tunnels and into the Temple. They get to the sealed off door so Rex, Echo and Tech get to work.

“We hafta hurry,” Maisy repeats.

“Why? No one’s after us,” Omega says.

“You don’t hear the call for help?” Maisy asks and Omega frowns in confusion.

“Call for help?” She asks worriedly.

“No one’s calling for help kid,” Hunter tells the Youngling.

Before the younger girl can argue, Echo, Tech and Rex get through the door and make a hole to climb through. They walk into a storage closet before stealthily walking out with the rest of the group following.

Rex uses his torch to look around. It’s a bathroom that looks as if it’s been unused for years.

“Where are we?” Rex asks.

“We’re underneath the Archives,” Maisy explains, “there’s the way out,” she points.

Rex, Hunter and Echo are out first and the rest follow. The group makes their way down the eerily empty and silent corridor. There’s no sign of anyone.

They keep walking but stop when they get to a destroyed room. Maisy gasps quietly as her eyes widen, seeing the dead bodies. Omega notices and immediately pulls the little girl into her so the Youngling’s face is buried in her hip.

“Don’t look,” Omega instructs and Maisy nods, letting Omega pick her up.

“They’re…501st,” Echo gasps as Rex stares at the bodies. Rex looks over at a Jedi. A Mon Cala Jedi he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter.

“We should keep moving,” Hunter says and Rex nods, leading the way.

They get to the destroyed great room and bodies are laying everywhere.

“Wait—we hafta go that way-“ Maisy points to the left.

“What? Why?” Echo and Omega ask.

“It’s the call for help—it’s that way-“ the Youngling points before squirming out of Omega’s arms. She hurries down the connecting hall and clones chase after her.

“Wait! Maisy!” They call but the Youngling keeps running.

Maisy’s POV

“Wait! Maisy!” I hear the others call out for me, but I keep running. I’m so close. I can feel it. The hall opens up to a destroyed room and that’s when I notice the dead Younglings. I gasp, slowing down, allowing the others to catch up. They see the bodies as well.

“Even the children,” Rex gasps, clearly in shock that his men would do such a thing.

Me and Omega walk towards the pile of rubble at the back and when we come around the pile, we gasp when we see a white Wookiee.

End.

#star wars #bad batch #fanfic #bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic our love #tbb fanfiction #tbb our love #our love #our love fanfic #tbb our love fanfic chapter 2 #chapter 2 #jedi oc #jedi oc fanfic #tbb jedi oc #tbb au fanfic #thank you all for being so patient with me

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venus-haze · 2 years

Note

You've done vampire!Elvis but how about Werewolf!Elvis? I can only imagine...

I went with a but of a horror movie route for this one, I hope you don’t mind! I specifically though of Elvis’ cover of Blue Moon from his debut album for the howling and overall tone of this, it’s like the perfect combination of haunting and romantic🖤

Werewolf!Austin!Elvis x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes such as obsessive and manipulative behavior, mentions of body horror/gore, and elements of isolation, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

You’re walking home alone at night and with each step want to berate yourself for being too stupid to not call someone when you last passed a payphone. The full moon was bright, which should have quelled some of your nerves. Instead, a chill rolls down your spine

Too afraid to look behind you, you know you’re being watched, or followed, or both. You keep walking, your heart racing despite not doing anything strenuous, and when you finally muster up the courage to glance over your shoulder, there is, in fact, a man a few yards behind you

You start running because it can’t hurt things, until he starts running too, and for some reason, you decide to make a break for it in the nearby wooded area, hoping you can lose him at some point, but it seems like he knows them better than you do

Out of breath and terrified, you take refuge behind a tree, hoping you can make it back out to the road without him noticing. You hear a rustling in the autumn leaves that have fallen to the ground, and when you peek out from your hiding place you see a wolf, and you almost wish it had been the man instead when it begins howling almost hauntingly

You make the panicked decision to start running again, which works out about as well as it did the first time, and lose your way under the tree cover, slipping on wet leaves and tumbling down the hill littered with gnarled tree roots and sharp stones. As you go in an out of consciousness, you know you’re dead

Until you’re not, and you wake up with a major headache and an sharp pain in your side that prevents you from moving. You’re not sure where you are, but not long after you regain consciousness a man who looks like he could have been a movie star comes into the room, relief on his face

“Jesus, girl, I was startin’ to worry you’d never wake up,” he says. “You feelin’ alright?”

“Just my head and pretty much everything else,” you answer. “Why didn’t you bring me to a doctor?”

He jerks his head toward the window, rain pouring down outside. “Road’s washed out. The rain was startin’ to get real bad when I found you. What were you doin’ by your lonesome out there anyway?”

You recount the situation to him, and he looks genuinely concerned, which makes you feel a bit better. When he relays that he doesn’t have a phone, being so far out from town, your mood sinks just as quickly. The more you observe the place, the more you notice it doesn’t have much of anything. You know people are looking for you, but with the road washed out by the downpour and no phone, there’s no way to let anyone know where you are

He could have left you for dead, though, this man who had so little himself, and yet he took you in. He shares that his name is Elvis, and a handsome smile spreads across his face when you tell him yours

He spends the next week or so tending to the gash you have in your abdomen, and you can hardly stand to look at it because of how deep it is. Still, it’s healing a lot better than you expected from a man in a cabin in the woods who wouldn’t give you a straight answer when you asked him what he did for a living or how he could possibly survive on his own out there

When Elvis thinks you’re asleep, he goes out at night and only returns hours later, close to sunrise, yet he shows no signs of exhaustion in the mornings

Though the rain’s subsided, the road is still washed out, and you come to terms with being stuck with Elvis for longer than you’d expected. Not that you mind, he’s charming and funny, but you feel like a burden, and whenever you try to do something like clean up a little or cook, he insists it’s not good while you’re still recovering

As it nears a month since that terrifying night, you notice his behavior becoming increasingly erratic, especially when he comes back from his nightly outing to god knows where and declares his love for you at what you figure must be four o’clock in the morning, kissing you passionately and then not acknowledging it at all as the two of you eat breakfast just a few hours later

Washed out road or not, you need to get out of there. Not long after Elvis leaves around his usual time, you sneak out too, figuring it couldn’t be too hard to find the road from where you were, until you walk far enough to realize there is no road and you can hear an a familiar howling that makes your blood curdle—loud, clear and far too close for comfort

Then you see it, the silhouette that’s haunted your dreams for the past month approaching, getting closer until you recognize Elvis’ face contorted in pain and panic. “I knew it was you, Y/N. It had to be you,” he says frantically, stumbling forward toward you. “You should be ready now. This won’t hurt you”

“What? What are you talking about?” you ask, unable to produce any more words as you witness his painful and grotesque transformation under the silver moonlight. You stare at the wolf before you, unsure of what to do next, but he makes his move first, lunging straight for your throat

Taglist: @eliseinmemphis @kittenlittle24 @crash-and-cure @im-lame-irl @loudwombatmugkid @rxsesss @roseymary04 @queendelrey @jovialladyaurora @positivitylane112 @moonknightswif3 @holy-minseok @datsavageavenger @21bruhs @luckyevansstan

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #werewolf!elvis x reader #headcanons

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firawren · 6 months

Text

"Transformation" A Beauty and the Beast fanfic

Chapter 5, “Camouflage,” rated G, now posted

Chapters: 5/17 now posted Fandom: Beauty and the Beast (Disney Animated Movies) Rating: Explicit

Romantic relationships: Belle/Beast, Gaston/Lumiere Platonic relationships: Gaston & Belle, Gaston & Beast

Key additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Love, Happy Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Monster Fucking, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Redemption, Family, Friendship, see full list of tags on AO3

Summary:

Belle said she loved him. Everything transformed to how it used to be.

Except the Beast.

Forced into a new deal with the Enchantress, Beast will remain in this form forever. Belle doesn’t mind; she’s happy with him no matter what he looks like. Beast tries to just be happy, too, and for a while, everything is wonderful. Beast doesn’t know how he got so lucky, and Belle finally feels at home. But when the trauma of his past resurfaces, the future they’re trying to build together comes tumbling down.

Gaston’s ideal future isn’t going to plan either. Instead of getting married to Belle, it looks like he’s becoming friends with her, while developing feelings for someone else he’d never expected. This wouldn’t be so bad, except that the closer he gets to both of them, the more he learns to question his values and feel guilty for his past. And when that past finally comes to light, he stands to lose everything he’s gained.

This is a story about how sometimes the things we want to transform can’t be changed, and sometimes the things we think are hopeless can transform through love.

Excerpt from chapter 5:

“You know birds?” Gaston asked, fists finally unclenching, surprised that a soft-looking, fancily dressed man like Lumière would know anything about the outdoors.

Lumière smiled. “I could hardly run a kitchen without knowing about game. But birds I do have a particular interest in. Most other animals try to blend into their surroundings, but so many birds seem to want to stand out, at least the males. I suppose I’m attracted to their showmanship. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“What, camouflage? Of course I understand that. I’m an expert.” Gaston was rather impressed that Lumière knew about camouflage among animals, but wasn’t sure what his point was.

Lumière chuckled. “No, I think you are an expert in the opposite: standing out. I meant that you seem like the kind of man who appreciates showmanship, like me.”

Gaston frowned. It was true that he stood out because of how exceptional he was, and he enjoyed the deserved attention, but how could he be anything like soft little Lumière?

Belle chuckled. “You’re right, Gaston loves attention. You should see how much he gets, too, back in the village.”

“Oh, I can imagine, mademoiselle,” Lumière drawled, eyeing Gaston in an appreciative way that Gaston was well accustomed to, and which made him feel more willing to be friendly to the man. Maybe now he would recognize Gaston’s superiority and just concede the whole contest with Babette before they’d even begun. Though Gaston rather hoped not, honestly. Belle was the only challenging conquest he’d ever faced, and as angry as her rejection had made him, it had also given him the same sort of exhilarating energy rush he got during a difficult hunt. In the weeks since then, he’d come to realize he was maybe growing a little tired of everything being easy for him all the time. Challenging Lumière held a unique appeal.

“Since you enjoy showy birds, I suppose peacocks are your favorite?” Belle asked Lumière.

“You are completely right, mademoiselle! How could they not be? Such gorgeous plumage! We used to have some here, before—” He ceased speaking with an abruptness and inflection like he was cutting himself off, not just ending the sentence, and Gaston couldn’t miss how he nervously darted his eyes toward himself for a moment.

“Yes, uh, I’m sure that was lovely,” Belle stammered quickly, and turned to Gaston. “Do you remember when that traveling menagerie came through the village a few years ago? They had a beautiful peacock with them.”

Both Belle and Lumière were acting strange now, setting Gaston back on edge. He didn’t want to call them out on it, though, preferring just to observe and see what he could learn from it, for now. So he went along with the thread of Belle’s conversation. “Yes, I remember. The tiger was much more impressive, though.”

“I felt sorry for the tiger. It looked so forlorn, such a beautiful big creature trapped in a tiny cage.”

“I could have put it out of its misery. Would have made a great trophy in the tavern. People would have come from all around to see that.”

“Gaston!” Belle gasped. “That’s awful. How could you want to kill such a beautiful animal?”

“If it was a trophy, everyone would get to admire its beauty forever,” Gaston pointed out.

“You see, I knew you were a great admirer of beauty, of spectacle,” Lumière said with a smug smile. Annoyance prickled at Gaston again. Lumière barely knew him, yet was acting like he had him all figured out. Meanwhile, Gaston couldn’t figure out anything about the odd people in this odd place full of secrets. Frustration started to buzz in his veins.

Continue reading chapter 5 “Camouflage” of “Transformation” on AO3

#transformation fic #batb fanfic #beauty and the beast 1991 #batb 91 #beauty and the beast #belle x beast #belle #the beast #gaston #lumiere #monster fucking #sexy times #fanfic #disney fanfiction

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athenasilver7 · 2 years

Note

Heya! How are you?, I find this blog a bit dead so I think about asking for headcanons of Brook with her GN who can't sleep for days because of projects, you know, a little bit fluff maybe? I hope it's not too much trouble- anyway, how do you manage to make angst fics? I need your advice.

I actually don’t know any advice I could give for angst fics! I’m constantly overthinking and imagining worst case scenarios, maybe that’s what helps me? Haha, not very good advice though! Please don’t force yourself to overthink or purposely imagine bad scenarios!😭 Sorry I can’t be of any help!💖💕💕

Brook x [overworked] GN Reader

This….is just sad to watch.

Actually, not even just sad, watching this happen pisses him off in a way he can’t explain.

Like, why are you willingly overworking yourself?

When you snap at him and tell him you’re not “willingly” doing any of this, and that you just have a lot of piled up work to do, he just gets even more pissed off.

He doesn’t talk to you for awhile.

He’s just worried about you, and yet you snap at him? The gall!

He’s never caring for you again!

…..

…………

…………..Okay, you definitely don’t look too good.

You’re a human. You’re weak. What if you die from this??

Surely you can take a small break.

But he can’t just ask you. You’ll just yell at him again.

…..

He grabs your ankles and tugs. You tumble backwards, but he catches you in time. Before you can even process anything, he throws you on your bed and burrito blanket wraps you.

“Stay.”

“BROOK WHAT THE HELL!” You thrash around and look extremely stupid doing so.

No seriously, he has to suppress the urge to record you and post it on his blog.

I’m The Grim Reaper masterlist

#i’m the grim reaper #itgr #brook #webtoon im the grim reaper #itgr webtoon #im the grim reaper #brook x reader

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whentheresmoonlight · 6 months

Text

Sand Lines Ch3, Thursday

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 18.1k/40.6k

summary: It wasn’t a vacation. It was only convenient that Katsuki’d managed to trick Miruko into thinking it was.

Katsuki doesn’t need a break. Post-war life has been peaceful. Too peaceful. So under the guise of a vacation, Katsuki heads to the American southwest, the only place where he can do the thing he wants to do the most: blow stuff up. Big time. And it’s all going to according to plan for about five minutes, until Deku comes along. They’ve barely seen each other since graduation last year and Katsuki could, should blow him up for getting in his business yet again. Instead, they learn about post-war life in the way they’ve done everything: together.

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Alamogordo, New Mexico

Twin phone pings raised Katsuki from sleep.

The sun was up, and Katsuki had to squint the room into the cool morning light that wouldn’t melt into yellows and golds until the sun made its way over the mountain. So it was early, but not that early.

“What was that?” Izuku asked as he leapt out of bed, already hunting for which pocket on which disposed pair of pants he’d left his phone in.

“Beats me.”

The two of them had hardly received a single notification between them since being in New Mexico, at least not while they were awake. Most notifications from Japan came in the middle of the night, and, of course, the two of them were always together, so there was no need to text each other. So it was a jolt to get a sound notification, even just after a few days of relative silence.

“It’s a local alert,” Izuku said, phone in his hands and pants still dangling from one finger. He was already reaching for the car keys. “It’s less than a mile away.”

“Then what are you doing without pants on?” Katsuki huffed, yanking a pair on himself.

“Wha—you’re not wearing a shirt!”

Both were immediately rectified, then Katsuki reached for his costume accessories. Perhaps his gauntlets were excessive, but he’d never run into a mission in Japan without them, so why would he here? There were more variables, more unknowns in this place than the place he’d lived all his life and regularly patrolled. He needed all the firepower he had. Katsuki stretched his fingers and noted that they felt fine again. A bit of recovery time was all he’d needed.

They tumbled out onto the motel balcony and down the stairs that shook with each footfall, leaping into the front seats of the SUV. As soon as Katsuki turned the key, he gunned it out of the parking space and headed in the direction Izuku pointed. He switched which hand was on the wheel as he slipped his gloves on.

“It’s a robbery,” Izuku detailed, scrolling between the report and the map. “A jewelry store.”

“Quirks?” Katsuki asked, skidding onto the main road. The weight of the vehicle swung to one side, and Katsuki had to remember how big the damn SUV was, and that one bad turn would have it rolling.

“Don’t know yet—the alarm came from a security system, not a witness,” Izuku said, swiping his hand down to refresh. “Damn, it’s so close, we should’ve just run.”

“No one knows our quirks here,” Katsuki pointed out. “What kind of idiot gives them away on arrival? ‘Sides, I can get us there faster than you can get a damn sentence out.”

Katsuki focused his mind on his quirk, opening his pores to put something, anything into his gloves. It wasn’t particularly hot out yet to get his sweat naturally going. The night’s dehydration made his whole body feel wrung out and hung up to dry in the parched desert air.

“Turn ahead! That’s the spot!”

Katsuki turned a hard right into the turn-off for the complex just before the store. They needed to leverage every bit of surprise they had.

“I hope the coward hasn’t bailed,” Katsuki said, sliding on one gauntlet as he hopped out of the car.

“It’d be hard to give chase here,” Izuku agreed, stepping out without any support item greater than his arm brace.

The land was flat and open, and no one was out on the main streets yet because none of these establishments were open except for one 24/7 fast food joint. So with the bird’s eye view that Float or Katsuki’s explosions afforded them, it could be easy to find someone on the run. But the moment they disappeared, there were no witnesses, no leads, and no security compared to what was set up in the city. The trail would go cold fast.

They stood out of view of the entrance to the jewelry shop. There were so few cars on the road that even theirs pulling in next door could have aroused suspicion. But Izuku’s Danger Sense hadn’t gone off—he would have said so—so they weren’t about to be ambushed. Still, Izuku crept with a level of stealth Katsuki wasn’t known for over to the side to get a sense of the situation.

“There’s one lookout,” Izuku whispered. “No lights on in the store, can’t tell the presence inside.”

“So we grab the lookout, get him to spill about the idiots inside, then restrain them with the intel,” Katsuki rumbled, his low voice never quite managing to fall into a whisper.

“I’ll use Blackwhip and you follow behind.”

“Next to you, not behind!”

Izuku was already moving. One For All didn’t so much as flicker over his skin, but his hands were loose, ready for Blackwhip to release from his wrists.

The land was so open there was no cover on their way to the shop. They couldn’t run and dart around corners, skulk through alleyways like in the city. So Izuku was walking, casually as he could manage—which meant quite stiffly, but no one else would know that his gait was any different—until Blackwhip would be in better range.

The lie would be better if they were side by side, maybe faking a conversation, playing dumb and not knowing that the shop wasn’t open yet. But then again, acting was no more Izuku’s strong suit than it was Katsuki’s. And it was already too late to do something more scripted.

It happened before Katsuki—or the poor sucker playing lookout—knew it. Blackwhip shot out of Izuku’s wrists and immediately one coil was around the guy’s legs, another around his arms, and another around his mouth. One strand was wrapped thinly around his neck, probably to encourage silence. Even with his mouth tied off, a muffled yell in this silent country would carry.

Izuku reeled the guy in like he was a gasping fish on the line. When he was close enough to whisper, Izuku began: “How many of you are there—hold up fingers, don’t speak.”

While Izuku’s voice wasn’t very intimidating in English—the language was all rough edges and harsh consonants, and that wasn’t Izuku—his glowering face as serpentine tendrils sparking with a mysterious energy surrounding him sure was. Or at least it was to this guy, whose eyes had gone wide, face pale as the gibbous moon that was still setting over the side of the mountain.

The lookout held up one trembling finger, and Izuku nodded towards Katsuki. This would be too easy.

Izuku held the lookout in place, keeping one eye on him and one on the shop as Katsuki ran in. Unless this thief had the quirk to end all quirks—which Izuku already had dibs on, to be honest—they’d be no match for Katsuki.

A jewelry shop, filled with tables at waist height did nothing to disguise the patrons who regularly came in, nor the villain who was standing frozen behind one of the displays. Unless he had friends who had immediately hit the deck, there wasn’t anywhere to hide but the locked employee-only offices. Katsuki grinned and put his hands together for an AP Shot.

“Gotcha, idiot.”

Katsuki fired off a mere whisper of an AP Shot towards the guy. A warning shot. Nothing that would injure the thief or the store. Katsuki wasn’t in America to make enemies, after all.

“Fuck!” the guy squeaked as he dodged just enough for the shot to still graze his shoulder, not doing much more besides smudging some soot on his baggy t-shirt.

“There’s more where that came from if you don’t surren—”

But the idiot was already on the move. With one leap, the guy was on the ceiling. Some kind of Spiderman quirk, or maybe a relative to the gecko fucker from the League, God forbid. He was scurrying along the ceiling, and Katsuki’s grin split further, dropping his second hand.

“I never like the easy way either,” Katsuki agreed, spreading his hands apart and pointing them at his moving target. “See how you like this one!”

Katsuki shot a Stun Grenade at the thief, light dancing behind his eyes for a few moments despite closing his eyes against the attack. There was a cry above his head, but before he was able to blink away the spots and gauge his opponent, he was touched on the arm, and everything changed.

The air conditioning of the shop was suddenly gone and he was back in the morning heat of the outdoors. It was obvious from the temperature to the smell to the soft earth beneath his feet that he’d been teleported, and Katsuki instantly thrashed his arm out, hoping to connect with whoever had touched him. He hated teleportation quirks. Who knew where he was now?

“Sir, stop, I’m a hero too—”

“Fuck off—!”

“Kacchan, it’s okay, it’s a hero!”

Katsuki blinked Izuku into view. His hair, bright green in the morning sun, appearing to him first. Okay, so he hadn’t been brought far. Then his vision cleared enough to see the Blackwhip coils that were still wrapped around the lookout. At that, Katsuki whipped back towards the storefront just to see a woman leading the wall crawler out with nothing more than a hand pressed between his shoulder blades.

“Sorry to surprise you,” a woman—presumably a hero, though there was no telling since she didn’t seem to be in any particular costume—said as she came in front of Katsuki. “Your power was just more than what was needed.”

Ah, screw her. He’d been using hardly a pinky finger’s worth of power. Especially compared to the big blasts he’d been letting out since he got here.

“What’s the protocol?” Izuku asked. He’d released the strands of Blackwhip that had been around the lookout’s neck and mouth, and the other strands were considerably looser as well.

“The police are on their way and’ll handle it from there,” the woman with the teleportation quirk answered. She had long, hair pulled back with nothing more than a hippy headband—absolute amateur hour for combat. “It’s up to the shop owner if they wanna press charges.”

Despite the sprawl of land and the fact that Katsuki hadn’t seen a police station during any of their drives, the cops showed up in no time. They hadn’t even turned on their sirens for the lack of traffic. Or maybe it was a small-town courtesy to those who were still sleeping. They took the wannabe thieves and that was that. The morning was quiet once more.

“How did you know that they weren’t threats?” Izuku asked, always incapable of not asking questions when a new hero was around.

“We didn’t,” Headband answered. “We had the same information as you. But they weren’t fighting back offensively, and most of the calls we get aren’t especially violent these days.”

At that moment, Katsuki noticed the crow’s feet walking behind both women’s eyes. The streaks of gray in their hair. They weren’t in their twenties or even thirties. They were middle-aged.

“Sorry, what are your hero names?” Izuku asked, still on his roll. “I’m Deku, and this is Ka—Dynamight.”

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” Katsuki corrected.

“We know who you are.” The other woman smiled, deep laugh lines around her mouth. Katsuki might have expected more frown lines, like the ones he was already getting between his brows. But hers was a face that must have smiled ten times for every frown. “Top Japanese heroes, right? I’m hero Tap ‘n Go, and this is Water Foul.”

Water Foul demonstrated her quirk, spitting water out of one hand that disappeared upon hitting the other.

Katsuki frowned. “Those are the stupidest names I’ve ever heard.”

“Is that right, Great Explosion Murder God?” Water Foul asked.

“Yeah, you sound like a joke.”

“I think they make us approachable,” Tap ‘n Go replied. “Not too austere. Not too serious.”

It was hard for either of them to look too serious in their current getups. Aside from the turquoise bandana that Tap ‘n Go wore, both women were wearing ill-fitting boot-cut jeans probably with actual cowboy boots underneath, and Tap ‘n Go donned a blousy button-down while Water Foul had a lame bedazzled t-shirt. His parents would weep. At least Water Foul had shorter hair, but every part of Tap ‘n Go’s outfit was screaming to be grabbed with a fist to yank her and throw her off her feet. Approachable was one way to put it.

“I agree!” Deku exclaimed, and of course he would. “You’re very approachable!”

“Well, we didn’t mean to hijack your save,” Tap ‘n Go offered, and Katsuki tried to keep his temper tamped down. It wasn’t Japan, this wouldn’t affect ratings, and anyway, it had just been two youngsters pulling a lazy heist. “Folks around here aren’t used to heroes with as much firepower as Dynamight and Deku.”

“So what do you do then?” Katsuki challenged. “Didn’t think America would have wimpy heroes.”

“Oh, we’re not wimpy,” Water Foul shot back, smacking her fists together, not unlike Kirishima. “We could wipe the floor with you young’uns any day. We just do things different ‘round here is all.”

“Yeah, I imagine that being roaming heroes—”

“Hold it, Deku,” Katsuki interrupted, his focus intent on the two women. “You think you could beat us?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Those smile lines came again, deep crevices around the mouth as Water Foul smirked at Katsuki. It brought out the fine lines on her forehead, those eyebrows lifted in challenge. Still, her eyes sparkled with energy—maybe these heroes were bummed out that the bust hadn’t been bigger too.

“Where can we let loose?” Katsuki asked.

Water Foul and Tap ‘n Go looked at each other and laughed.

“Have you seen this place?” Tap ‘n Go asked. “Anywhere empty is fair enough. I’ll have us there in a second.”

She raised one hand, hinting toward her quirk. The name implied that all she had to do was touch someone and both of them would go wherever she wanted, just as had happened in the jewelry shop. Katsuki had no idea if it extended to just herself or objects as well, and now that the challenge had been extended, he wasn’t sure that she’d give up her advantage and just tell him. But he knew enough for the moment.

“Fuck that. Get in the car—I’m driving.”

Somewhere off of Route US-70, Otero County, New Mexico

“Just find a bit o’ shoulder that won’t puncture a tire,” Tap ‘n Go advised. “You wouldn’t believe how quick we go through tires in this country.”

Katsuki did believe it. Between the cacti and the bits of asphalt that had simply sloughed off the road to the broken glass that, as it turned out, wasn’t just for city streets, yeah there were a lot of hazards. And probably no regular road cleaners either.

“I got it,” Izuku said, leaning out the car window as Katsuki began to slow down with his hazards on. No one was behind him, nor would be for quite a while in all likelihood.

Izuku pointed one hand out the window, and circled the other hand around his thumb and forefinger, not so different from how Katsuki positioned his AP Shots. And then he used the barest bit of Air Force, just like he had in his earliest days at UA, but sparing the bones in his finger now. Dust puffed everywhere, and it was only thanks to the strength of Izuku’s move that they didn’t drive right into it.

“Park there!” Izuku exclaimed once he was back in the car, gesturing towards the land he’d just cleared.

“Don��t tell me what to do,” Katsuki muttered out of reflex as he slowed the car down and bumped it onto the shoulder, right up against the chain-link fence that they were all about to jump.

“Technically this land is privately owned,” Tap ‘n Go said as she stepped out of the car. “But I know the two of us can get this done without destroying so much as a single yucca. Can you?”

“Won’t destroy anything but the smug look on your face,” Katsuki declared as he leaped over the fence without so much as a pop from his quirk.

“Hoo hoo, big talk!” Water Foul exclaimed. “I’ll promise the same.”

“Okay, let’s talk rules,” Tap ‘n Go said, clapping her hands as they hiked further from the road. “Yes, quirks, one round, a hero’s down when they’re pinned for five seconds. Two on two, obviously. When one hero’s down, that team loses.”

Katsuki looked over to Izuku for confirmation. Izuku liked to spar as much as the next guy—perhaps even more than most other heroes, just because he was totally batshit about anything to do with heroics—but he hadn’t agreed to this pissing match Katsuki had gotten them into. However, one look at Izuku’s expression of steely focus, the kind he’d always worn before coming up with a kickass plan in battle class or even that Katsuki had caught a couple times these last few days in the desert. That told Katsuki all he needed to know.

“No accessories,” Katsuki said, taking off his gloves. He’d already removed the one gauntlet, as it was hard to drive with it on, and he emptied all other grenades from his pockets. It was just him and his hands.

“Fair’s fair,” Tap ‘n Go agreed, gesturing at her clearly accessory-less body.

Even though there probably weren’t any accessories that would advantage her quirk, any hero could make use of general support equipment. Aizawa’s capture weapon, for instance, or even Izuku’s thick-ass shoes. Any hero could wear stuff to make their hits harder or their body go further. But, likely since these heroes never knew when they’d be called into battle, they didn’t seem to wear anything to their advantage. They’d learned how to fight without, but hey, Katsuki knew how to do that too.

“One minute to strategize,” Izuku haggled.

“Done,” Water Foul agreed. The two women kept walking deeper into no-man’s land while Izuku and Katsuki planted themselves.

“You know who they are?” Katsuki asked. Izuku had notebook pages covering nearly every Japanese hero, but Katsuki wasn’t sure if that insanity had gone global yet.

“No more than you do,” Izuku shook his head. “It’s gonna be hard to pin Tap ‘n Go. No matter how good a hold is, presumably she can just teleport away. Blackwhip isn’t even any good.”

“So we go for Bird Bath as our target for victory and keep Metro Pass at bay,” Katsuki surmised. “We’ll figure it out on our feet as we unpack her quirk.”

“We might have to,” Izuku agreed. “I don’t think we should play to knock out, but it might be the only way to pin her if it comes to it.”

“If you don’t wanna do it, I will, chicken,” Katsuki said, letting off one pop in his hand. He had to get her back for how she’d teleported him earlier, after all.

“How are your hands?” Izuku asked.

They were actually feeling alright. The massages had helped, but the time off had done wonders. Right now, and even back at the jewelry store, he’d felt like one-hundred percent. He wasn’t totally sure if that would continue once he was attacking in earnest, but he certainly wasn’t concerned. So there was no reason for Izuku to be either.

“That doesn’t sound like strategy to me, idiot,” Katsuki snarked, but their time was already up. The other heroes were done talking and facing them down for battle.

“Let’s do this,” Izuku said, powering up One For All. The energy caused his t-shirt to sway in its wind, reminding Katsuki of his power. It was easy to see when he was dressed as Hero Deku, saving civilians with a smile, but this Izuku, with One For All snaking between the tiny holes at the seams of his cotton shirt, was the Izuku he’d always known. Reminding him of the power and muscle and experience that lay just underneath that cotton impression. He was an Izuku who could do it.

Katsuki fired off with a blast, marking the top of the battle. He took off skyward towards Water Foul while Izuku ran across the unsteady terrain. Despite how dead the region seemed, every few centimeters of red dirt held another little patch of grass, embarrassing itself with its want for survival. They made hills in the earth that were just begging for an ankle roll or a full-out, face-planting trip. All the more reason to be in the air.

But Tap ‘n Go was quick, anticipating Izuku’s speed and appearing right in front of him, only to disappear with him a moment later. And Katsuki couldn’t waste time whipping his head around looking for him, so he continued with his target. At least now they knew for sure that Tap ‘n Go could teleport just herself as well. But maybe she couldn’t teleport into midair.

Another good reason to be airborne. Katsuki could almost swear he was going faster in the dry air than the thick, humid soup of Japan. He was descending towards Water Foul when she blasted both hands down at the ground and rose above him, landing a kick square on his back.

Katsuki fell to the ground with a thud, hopefully avoiding any cactuses, but he didn’t have the time to make a needle-related inventory while Water Foul was right above him. She threw both hands behind her back and fired two handfuls of water, accelerating her back towards the ground.

Her arms, her body, her technique looked just like his.

Katsuki rolled away and sprang back up, as Water Foul directed a spray of water where he’d just been. The water sprayed from her hands but disappeared the moment it touched the ground. It didn’t soak in or splash or evaporate. It just vanished.

Water Foul came at Katsuki as he analyzed her quirk, suddenly in close enough range to try a quirkless punch. But Katsuki was faster, and blocked her arm, unleashing a close-ranged explosion when he made contact. That threw her off balance and she tumbled sideways but didn’t fall. Despite her age, she was strong and quick and her quirk was solid. She’d taken his focus well and truly enough that he had absolutely no clue where Izuku and Tap ‘n Go were. They hadn’t drawn boundaries for the match, so that could be a problem. There was no out-of-bounds disqualification.

Katsuki’s next explosion was larger, bursting over the short distance that now stood between him and Water Foul. She was facing him, though, and pointing both hands at him to release a torrent of water at the blast. Her move wasn’t as broad as Katsuki’s—either the water couldn’t spread far, or it just wasn’t concentrated enough when it did so, like a thumb on the mouth of a hose turning a powerful spray into a sprinkle.

Just then, Izuku was racing across Katsuki’s vision, green sparks drawing his eye immediately as he tried to out-speed a teleporter. He made attempts to lash Tap ‘n Go with Blackwhip, and even connected a few times, but they weren’t building up a lot of damage.

Suddenly, Izuku lunged, almost too fast for Katsuki to see. He must have had Fa Jin stored up in his legs, because he was on Tap ‘n Go before even she could react. They tumbled to the ground, a plume of dust rising around them. Before Katsuki could begin counting off, he was tackled too, getting a mouthful of that same smokey topsoil that he’d just seen rise like steam from boiling-hot land.

But he wasn’t going down like that.

Katsuki rolled, this time definitely passing over rough desert flora, his bare arms stinging at the scrapes and punctures. But he wasn’t held, not even for one second, as he rebounded onto his feet and shot a blast right to Water Foul’s face. She coughed reflexively, and that gave Katsuki enough time to land a punch to her stomach. But, now at close range, she was able to grab both his hands, and wash his sweat right off. His hands were dry—the way her quirk worked, not even a drop of water lingered. His fuel was gone.

He opened his pores, his control and the heat enough for a little to trickle back rapidly, but they’d already been fighting for a little while, and he hadn’t drunk any water since last night. He was on low.

The next thing he knew, he’d been tackled again, but it wasn’t Water Foul. Tap ‘n Go’s long hair dangled over him as she held his arms and dug a knee into his thigh. His hands were facing up, so he was about to blast her to kingdom come when Water Foul came in again and let loose a continuous torrent on his hands. She was grinning as she nodded her head to a beat. Five. Four. Three.

Katsuki strained against the hold. Even if these two women were strong for their ages, he was in his goddamn prime. He should be able to overpower just about anyone, even with one hand tied behind his back. Even with both. But as his upper body lifted off the ground, nearly toppling Tap ‘n Go, Water Foul stepped both feet on his forearms, tendons twinging and protesting against the full weight as the timer counted down.

Two.

One.

Fuck.

Katsuki groaned as his head thumped to the ground and he gave up the struggle. Blood rushed back into his hands as Water Foul stepped off and Tap ‘n Go followed.

“Kacchan!”

Izuku’s voice was like an incoming train, tooting increasingly loudly as he ran at top speed to skid to a stop in front of Katsuki. Tap ‘n Go must have teleported him far enough away that he couldn’t interfere. The run and the fight itself had left him covered in sweat. It made his perpetually too large shirt cling to his body like a muscle tee, and a drip fell from the tip of his nose to land on the scorched earth below.

“Shit,” Izuku said, echoing Katsuki’s thoughts. Putting two and two together was easy when the two older heroes were standing tall like saguaro cactuses owning the flatlands and Katsuki their meager shadow on the ground.

“Damn, I wish we’d bet something,” Water Foul crowed, reaching a hand down to help Katsuki up. Katsuki ignored her and pushed himself upright. He tried to brush some of the dirt off of himself, but when he reached his arms, a sting followed in the wake of his hands. There were probably some cactus needles making a home in his sunburnt skin.

“Just an ole fashioned spar is enough fun for us, Water Foul,” Tap ‘n Go said. “Right boys?”

“Yes!” Izuku agreed, the defeat not seeming to bother him. Perhaps because he hadn’t been the one pinned like a fragile butterfly to a corkboard. “I have so many questions about your quirk!”

“That’s nice, why don’t we get coffee?” Tap ‘n Go suggested. “It’s still early morning.”

“Aren’t you on duty?” Katsuki asked.

Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul exchanged a glance and laughed. Katsuki prickled, and not just because of the flora in his skin.

“So much you don’t know,” Water Foul said.

Maybe he’d need something stronger than coffee.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

There were only two coffee shops in town. A Starbucks and a Starbucks drive-through.

The matcha in America was criminal. Whatever had happened to those wannabe jewelry thieves couldn’t be nearly as bad as what the sugar-coated, diabetes-inducing, sugar high-sugar crash one-two punch this beacon of capitalism was hawking. Katsuki pushed it across the table as the middle-aged heroes talked. Izuku stared at them with wide eyes, fists clenched under his chin as he nodded with every quirk nuance divulged. He was probably dying for a notebook.

Katsuki got up, tossed his full drink in the trash and grabbed a blue waiter’s notepad from the cashier. The pages were small enough that Izuku would probably fill the whole thing in just a few minutes, but it was something. Katsuki didn’t quite know why he’d grabbed it for Izuku, but he’d already dropped the thing by Izuku’s drink with a stolen pen before he could interrogate himself about it.

“Howddya keep up when you’re so old?” Katsuki butted in as he sat back down. Izuku might have given a disapproving frown, but he was already busy scribbling on the notepad, having burst out a Kacchan, sugoi! as thanks.

Meanwhile, Tap ‘n Go was surprised with comically wide eyes, and Water Foul was choking on her beverage. Whether because of laughter or a gasp of shock, Katsuki didn’t care—he was happy either way.

They all recovered quickly as Izuku paved the comment over, saying, “Yeah, how have you managed to have such staying power? Or have you not been heroes for very long?”

“Did it taste like we haven't been heroes for a long time?” Water Foul asked, directing a smirk at Katsuki. Katsuki scraped his teeth with his tongue, trying to get the last of that horrid beverage’s taste out of his mouth.

“So how have you done it?” Izuku asked. “We don’t have many heroes beyond their thirties except for All Might and Endeavor.”

Water Foul gestured to the window. “Look around. There aren’t too many big bad wolves here. We don’t get overworked. We get to do other things besides stress all the time. We just had to luck out and not get injured.”

“Be skilled enough, and lucky enough, to avoid injury,” Tap n’ Go amended.

“But aren’t you…” Izuku shrunk a little. His shoulders, so much bigger than they were even just a couple years ago, were hunched over, as if hiding from the words he was trying to say. “…Aren’t you…bored?”

“What’s there to be bored with?” Tap ‘n Go asked. She began ticking off her fingers. “Got an exciting job. Friends. Family. I travel a lot. Obviously. Hobbies. Community.”

“Between those and the daily doctor’s visits for how horribly old we are,” Water Foul continued, “there’s no time to be bored.”

“That’s being a hero too, though,” Tap ‘n Go insisted. “Knowing your neighbors, having community, being an active person in society. All of that contributes to society’s health in a way that being a hero doesn’t.”

“Seeing a hero implies that you’re safe,” Water Foul added. “But it also implies that there’s something to be safe from. It doesn’t necessarily increase citizens’ trust in each other or their feeling that society is healthy.”

“Society is healthy if people aren’t living in fear of each other,” Tap ‘n Go continued, taking the baton back. Clearly this was a conversation the two women had gone over before, if not to an audience than at least with each other. “If the people feel like they can trust each other and rely on each other. And those bonds are created by everyday actions. Not heroic rescues.”

“It’s enough to just be a person sometimes,” Water Foul concluded. “And to be safe doing just that.”

Even though Katsuki had only been Dynamight for a few years, it felt like ages since he’d been just Katsuki without Dynamight imprinted on the backside of his coin. Maybe since his quirk had manifested. That’s the last time he’d been just a person. Just anything.

He looked at Izuku. Those had been the best times between them up until recently. Maybe he’d had some things figured out back when he was a just that he didn’t have now. Besides the entitlement and the assholery.

Izuku, of course, had only gotten his world-changing quirk a few years ago, yet it was hard to say that he’d ever been a just. To Katsuki, he never had been.

“How do you do that?” Izuku asked the women. “Even if we’re out of uniform, we still walk around as heroes and people know us. How do we be neutral?”

“People will recognize you, it’s true,” Tap ‘n Go said. “So you’ll have to figure out what being just a person is for you, regardless of what other people think. And you’ll be a better hero when you do.”

A better hero.

Well, that’d always been a good motivator.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

They were still in the parking lot thirty minutes later.

Tap ‘n Go and Water Foul had disappeared back to wherever they’d come from with a hand on a shoulder and a flicker of light. Or perhaps they’d gotten another alert that was out of bounds of what Izuku and Katsuki could see, somewhere where only a person with a teleportation quirk could go. And despite still having half the day in front of them, Izuku and Katsuki had set up shop in the rental car.

The first aid kit—also from Walmart—that Katsuki had stocked in the car was splayed over the center console and the wrapped set of tweezers had been ripped open. In Katsuki’s periphery, Izuku had one eye shut as he focused on Katsuki’s arm, plucking yet another needle out of his bicep.

“Sorry,” Izuku said reflexively, as he had for each pull, as though he wasn’t the one doing Katsuki a favor. “I’m almost done.”

Katsuki wasn’t sure which curdled the sweet matcha in his stomach more: the pity in the apologies or the act of committing a favor itself. Either way, having Izuku so close, so focused on him made him squirm internally in a way that required deep breaths to maintain his stoicism.

It was strange, being touched by someone else. It wasn’t something Katsuki often allowed outside of a clinical setting, and he was hyper-aware of the fact that Izuku didn’t fall under that umbrella, even if that was more or less the service he was providing in this moment. But the sustained balancing touch of Izuku’s wrist against the warmth of Katsuki’s inner elbow, the puffs of breath as he looked close—it burned more than the stings from the cactuses.

“Last one, I think,” Izuku said, plucking one from up near Katsuki’s shoulder, moving toward the tender skin of his underarm. His breath moved up towards Katsuki’s neck, blistering hot against the air conditioning blasting through the car. “That’s it. I’m just gonna wipe everything down with an alcohol wipe, but if it feels like anything’s still sticking out, let me know.”

Katsuki said nothing as Izuku tore open a pouch with alcohol soaked wipes. He didn’t say that he could do the wipes himself, since he didn’t have to see in order to wipe himself down. He didn’t say that there were any remaining pricks, because there were none. Izuku had gotten them all. And he didn’t say to stop because of the pain, not just because it was manageable, but because it was barely on his mind. And he wasn’t sure what the noise in his mind was.

When Izuku started down the second arm, the rain began. And when it started, it came down hard.

“Wow,” Izuku said, squishing the wipes in his fist as he looked at the clear sheets dripping down the windows. The outside world that had been so vast and clear a moment ago was smeared flat.

“The fuck is this?” Katsuki asked as Izuku pulled away.

“It probably comes in short, heavy bursts,” Izuku offered. “We should wait it out.”

The car chilled significantly as the minutes passed. The sun was completely cloaked, and Izuku clicked the high AC down to medium, then down to low. Their breath fogged the windows, obscuring the world even more to them. The isolation, the silence, the lingering smell of antiseptic in the car—it was strange. Off. Katsuki didn’t like it. So he flicked on the window wipers, the recirc for the fog, and wrenched the car into reverse.

“Kacchan?”

“It’s spitting distance away,” he said. “We’re Japanese. Rain won’t stop us.”

“But driving will!” Izuku squeaked.

Pulling out, the rain hadn’t yet made the road too different. No tires squealing, no wild turns. It was just impossible to see, even with his headlights on. It was luckier than ever that there were hardly any other cars around. The hardest part might just be seeing the hotel sign for the turn instead of blowing past it.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain here,” Katsuki grumbled, trying to keep the hold of his fingers loose on the wheel. Echoes of the past days’ pain had returned after the battle, but it wasn’t much worse than a usual day. He could go back to the range tomorrow no problem.

“I suppose it’s good luck when it does,” Izuku said, looking out at the downpour like it was some kind of miracle, and not the nemesis of Katsuki’s quirk every rainy season.

“Don’t look so damn flabbergasted,” Katsuki griped as he pulled the car into the parking spot. Easy. Spitting distance. “It’s gonna rain more than half the days this month back home.”

“It’s different here, Kacchan,” Izuku insisted, stepping out and taking a deep breath. “Smell that.”

Katsuki did, and was hit with a chest full of dirt. Dry, craggy dirt that after a long drought, was finally having a drink. Surprisingly, it smelled…

“Amazing,” Izuku decided as he let out the breath and drank it in again.

In the distance, lightning struck, but it was impossible to tell if it was one kilometer away or twenty. The whole world was gray, with thicker sheets in the distance being proof of real downpours and doing absolutely nothing for Katsuki’s depth perception. It must have been pretty far, though, because it was a few seconds before thunder rumbled through the valley, knocking against the mountains and booming back down like the gods stomping their feet.

“The atmosphere is so thick,” Izuku murmured as Katsuki nearly choked on the petrichor. “There’s so much energy.”

Aside from the smell—which here was so earthy and rich, while in Japan it smelled mostly of steam evaporating from concrete sidewalks and roads—the storm did have a different feeling too. Perhaps it was because Katsuki could see the whole thing for as far as the storm stretched, or maybe because it changed the atmosphere of the desert more than it ever would a humid island. But Izuku was right. The only thing that had ever felt similar was being close to Izuku while One For All charged across his skin, thickening the air with something potent, something powerful.

“It feels like…” Izuku started, looking up the way they’d come, the tip of the mountain they’d just been climbing now having been consumed by clouds, “It feels like something could happen. Anything could happen.”

The storm cleared off before there were even puddles on the ground. The rain on the sidewalk was already evaporating, making the world smell even more like ozone and opportunity.

And it didn’t go away, even when the sidewalk was dry again and they’d gone inside to get changed. The feeling still lingered.

Anything could happen.

#anjum writes #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #dekubaku #ktdk #katsudeku #bkdkbk #bakudekubaku #dkbkdk #dekubakudeku

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aerodaltonimperial · 11 months

Note

More please?

(have some emotional support horror blorbos)

He catches sight of her out of the corner of his eye, during a practiced fast-walk in the airport terminal en route to baggage claim. The sight trips him up, knees knocking together; one ankle slips behind his other leg and he almost tumbles forward. He stops, because he can’t figure out why she’d be sitting like she is when they’re at their final destination. She’s hunched over, arms around her torso and waist bent, hair falling over her knees in little waves.

Jack turns around, backtracks, and sits down in the seat next to her. “Hey,” he tries. It sounds about as pathetic out loud as it had in his head.

Anna doesn’t answer, but her arms tremble more, so he knows she heard him.

“Do you have checked luggage?” When she nods, he continues, “Do you want to go and get it together?”

Maybe he shouldn’t offer. Is that something exes should do? Is that something appropriate when you come out of the bitter post-break-up phase only under extreme duress, after trauma has wrapped its icy fingers around both your wrists to keep you joined, after you’ve both moved on a little, in the butterflies-in-your-stomach, gentle kisses sort of way? Fuck, Jack doesn’t know. He wishes he had a manual for this.

“Those people died,” Anna whispers, muffled a bit against her hands.

Jack doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just gums out a simple, “Yeah,” for lack of anything better.

“They died, but we got out,” she says.

“Don’t feel bad about that,” Jack tells her, with more sharpness than he intends. “Don’t feel bad for surviving; never that.”

Anna lifts her head. Her eyes are rimmed with purple bruises and a few black streaks where her mascara has been dragged across her skin. “Why did we get to live when they didn’t?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“We shouldn’t have—”

“Anna, don’t,” he interrupts. He’s pretty sure he knows what this is; isn’t there some kind of official term for this? Don’t soldiers get this sometimes? “We just did. We’re still alive. You can’t go down that road, you can’t start doubting everything.”

“How can I not?” she asks, finally bristling, a stroke of anger in her system. “We came out of an impossible situation alive and there’s no explanation as to why.”

“Sometimes there isn’t an explanation. Sometimes things just happen.”

She goes quiet, contemplative. Jack doesn’t really know if anything he’s said can possibly help. She’s so deep in her own doubts at this point, he’s probably not the right person to pull her out. Maybe Julia can talk to her, rationalize some things. It helps to know Anna’s got someone, actually—a tiny bridge over the river of their decidedly un-amicable split. The rage he’d felt for months is gone now, glossed over by everything that put his world in a harsh perspective.

Jack stands up and holds his hand out for her. “Let’s go.”

It doesn’t feel strange when she takes it. It doesn’t even feel strange when she keeps her fingers curled in his as they make their way down to baggage claim. Maybe, they can make their own rules on this. Maybe they can be friends now, now that life’s pulled the rug out from under their feet.

He gives Anna’s hand a little squeeze, hoping he can pass a little of whatever she needs on, and is relieved when she squeezes back.

“Let’s get dinner soon,” he says.

“Together?” she asks, and he understands what she means even if the word rings deceptively simple.

“Yeah. All of us.”

He used to find solace in the quiet, dark corners of the backstage corridors, back before…well, before. He used to like how calm things would feel without the fluorescent overhead lights beating down on him, and now—now it’s the shadows he fears, the unknown. Hook still wants a quiet place to unwind, though, so he moves slowly through the halls that are brightly lit and ignores the tiny off-shoots he would once have crept down. The end of this hallway sports one of the industrial stairwells: good lighting, few dark patches, and easy viewing both above and below.

It’s pretty fucked up how those are the sorts of things that Hook looks for now. He pushes the door open, though, and realizes he’s not the only one. He pauses for only a split-second before moving in and settling on the top step next to Darby’s seated form.

They make it for five minutes or so before Darby sighs, stretching one leg out in front of him so his combat boot scrapes against the cement. “It’s the dark, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t even make sense, really; they’d been in the woods, not the shadows, but it’s the unknown that lives in the lack of light that feels the most dangerous. It’s the possibility that escape isn’t an option any more.

And here they are, the two people from their sorry little rag-tag band that, for whatever reason, had always been the primary targets.

“You sleep?” Hook asks.

“Like shit,” Darby replies.

Misery shared, it seems. Hook loops his arms over his knees, drawing them closer. A bit of dirt has smudged across the top of his sneaker, so he wipes it clean with his thumb. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Better.”

Hook thinks it’s a lie, but he isn’t going to push it. This is weird, and it isn’t. He doesn’t really like Darby. And the problem is, he’s pretty sure Jack does.

“If you hurt him,” Hook starts, slowly, rolling each word carefully over his tongue, “they’ll never find your body.”

Darby stares at him. “Are you giving me a shovel talk?”

“I’ll hurt you way worse than those things will.”

Another lie. Darby huffs out a little laugh, toeing at the ground. “Yeah. Alright.”

“He’s a good person,” Hook says.

Darby takes a long time to respond to that. “Yeah.”

“Good talk,” Hook says. At least thinking about that weirdness helped him forget, for a few moments, about the constant need to look over his shoulder at all times he carries around now. He sighs, dragging his hands down his face. What a clusterfuck. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was just…well. You know. Trying to find a place. Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Darby replies. There’s no hesitation there. He stares at his boots and draws his tongue across his lip. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

Hook stays. They sit in almost companionable silence until they can’t put off the return any longer, and then they head back to medical together. Hook wouldn’t call them friends, but he’s pretty sure they at least aren’t enemies any longer.

And at this point, he’ll take any win he can find.

“I’ll just be five minutes,” Julia says, and Brody nods. He doesn’t look over again, because he’s always been good about respecting her space and wishes. Julia slips out the door, and heads down into the basement.

There’s nothing down here but the janitor’s closets and the electrical rooms. Any room will serve fine, but she’d rather be comfortable, so she picks out one of the small rooms that houses the larger floor cleaning machines. Someone has put a chair up against the wall—she sits in it, crossing her legs. The threads hum.

She leaves the lights off, so the room is black.

Then she waits.

It doesn’t take long; he’s predictable like that. The air beside her chair shimmers, the air sizzling with the energy he brings, the kind of change that most people are oblivious to.

“Have they found him?” Julia asks.

“No,” Danhausen replies. “Danhausen gave the doctor the coordinates, but they haven’t.”

It’s the answer Julia expected, but didn’t wish to receive. She sighs. “They won’t, then; not there anyway. He won’t stick around an area now crawling with personnel.”

“None of them will.”

Julia taps her fingers against her thighs. She is off-balance; she doesn’t <i>like</i> being off-balance. She has worked very hard to steady her footing, and seeing it slip away is like a punch to the gut. “That’s three, then.”

“Two out of containment, and one…that never was.”

“It wasn’t just us,” she says, quietly. Even in the dark, she fears that someone could be listening in. The walls have ears, after all. “They weren’t just after us.”

Danhausen is silent for awhile. She has pressed on a bruise, a sore spot, and he always needs time to readjust after that. “No,” he finally admits. “They weren’t.”

“This could get dangerous.”

“Isn’t it already?” he shoots back.

“We may not be able to protect them. If it comes down to it, can you do what needs to be done with 049?”

Danhausen doesn’t hesitate this time. “Danhausen will split him open from navel to nose.”

“Good.” Julia nods. “We will need everyone.”

“Can they help?” he asks.

She considers this. There is a different type of strength in the others, one that isn’t threaded as magic in their veins, but it’s strength all the same. “Yes. They may not think they can, but they will.”

A pause. And then: “Julia. How are you?”

Her arm aches. The web remains as a tattoo, left behind and slightly bumpy. In the mornings, her sight is cloudy and she cannot find the right cords. But she says, “Yes.”

“You’re not a very good liar,” he chides.

“Only around you,” she says, and smiles.

#tag so you don't lose this shit #here i am once again writing fanfic of my own fanfic lolol

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direwombat · 1 year

Note

That emotional moment that you can't find a plot for. + Sybille?

adlfkjadf here's the rest of that joseph + syb conversation post john's death :'(

confiteor, 2k | also on [ao3]

Sybille knew she would find Joseph in his chapel, despite the late hour. “Burning the midnight oil,” her mother used to say, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he actually worked by oil lamp. He’s got that old-time charm that goes hand in hand with the old-time religion he’s brought to the county. Light flickers in the back office, warm and inviting, like a beacon in the rain for the worn and weary. She’s both those things, but she also knows she’s undeserving of the kind of salvation such lights promise.

She’s an intruder here. Any comfort to be found within the chain link fences of the compound isn’t for her. Yet, like a goddamn fool, she seeks it anyway.

Because it wouldn’t mean anything coming from anywhere — anyone — else.

She skulks through the shadows, creeps past the armed guards, and slips her way into the church. Its heavy wooden door squeaks loudly on its hinges. The air is musty, motes of dust float lazily, catching in the moonlight filtering through grimy windows. The building itself creaks and groans with every step she takes further inside; a heathen virus upsetting the belly of a place most holy. The silence is so smothering she doesn’t dare call out to him. She just takes a seat on a pew, and even that complains at her very presence, a shrill screech telling her she doesn’t belong here.

She waits, and for the first time in a long time, she bows her head and prays.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, but Joseph emerges once her neck and tailbone both begin to ache. He pauses when he sees her, and she doesn’t blame him. Seeing her, the Deputy , in the bruised and bloody state she’s in must be bad enough. She can’t imagine what it’s like seeing her, his little brother’s murderer , as well.

It doesn’t matter that she’d tried to save him. It doesn’t matter that she’d screamed for help, for a medic, or that she tried to restart his heart and put her mouth on his to breathe life back into his lungs. John died at her hands, and that’s all anyone cares about.

Joseph stalks towards her, cautiously like she’s an animal free of its cage. Ironic, considering she feels more trapped here than she ever did inside John’s bunker or in Jacob’s cages. He stops over an arm’s length away, close but just out of reach — not that she feels worthy to do so. He stares at her, his eyes cold and strangely naked without the yellow aviators. Only instead of him being vulnerable, it’s her who’s left feeling stripped bare.

“Jacob warned me you had a habit of sneaking into places you weren’t invited,” he says quietly. Then, more sternly, “Why are you here, Deputy?”

“Am I wrong to think that a church would welcome a penitent sinner?” she asks. Her voice is rough, hoarse, still not recovered from screaming herself raw in the hours just prior.

He cocks his head to the side and moves closer. “My church is open to anyone who seeks penance. If it’s genuine.”

She blinks slowly, staring through him more than at him. She may not be in the booth, no screen to hide her guilt, but the words of her childhood tumble weakly from her mouth. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” Her Catholic words don’t belong to his pseudo-Baptist ideology, but she hopes he recognizes them for what they are. An appeal. A supplication. A confession.

He steps closer, lifting his hands, warm and rough, to gently cradle her face. “Are you asking forgiveness from God, my child?” he asks her, “Or are you asking forgiveness from me?”

She swallows thickly, her tongue like cotton in her mouth, clumsy and unwieldy. “Right now, I don’t think the difference matters, Father.”

He examines her carefully, looking for any signs of deceit. Finding none, that carefully crafted mask of neutrality breaks. Rage flashes across his features like a wildfire, lips curling into a snarl, eyes burning with wrath . His hands slip down to encircle her throat, fingers digging into the skin of her neck, but he doesn’t squeeze. Not yet.

Her breath doesn’t even hitch; her eyes fall shut and she nods. “If this is my penance, then I accept.”

Death would find her early, she always knew this. Made peace with it during Katrina, then again in Afghanistan, and once more when the county erupted into civil war. She always assumed it would be a bullet or some sort of heavy artillery. Something that rips her apart, relatively quick and painless. But if God decides that the more poetic end for her is slow and intimate, then who is she to question Him?

Who is she to question the will of the Father?

Joseph’s hands are a heavy presence around her neck, steady as his thumbs press against her windpipe. He chokes a strangled sound from her, but as soon as the noise escapes her lips, his hands are gone, her skin quickly cooling in the night air. Slowly, her eyes open, brow pinching in confusion, only to find her expression mirrored on Joseph’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, a question perched at the tip of his tongue, yet unable to escape the cage of his mouth.

His hands fall limply to his side, and a vein in his jaw throbs as he grinds his teeth. The silence between them swells, heavy and pregnant, undercut only by the quiet chorus of crickets singing their hymns and the wind buffeting the steeple. The building groans around them, low, almost accepting, and something in Joseph’s face softens. He heaves a weary sigh, tension replaced by an exhaustion that physically weighs him down. “‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,’” he says quietly, less to her and more to himself.

“First epistle of John,” she says roughly, and she’s not sure how she remembers that. “Verse 1:9.”

He stares at her, and where those eyes once burned with rage, they now swim with curiosity. Carefully, he takes a seat beside her on the pew. It creaks beneath his weight and he leans forward, nearly folding himself in half. His elbows rest on his knees, and he clasps his hands in front of him, prayer beads dangling from where they’re wrapped around his palm. “Your display of piety is admirable,” he says. “But the comfort you seek is not something I can give you.”

“Nor are the acts of judgment,” she says evenly, but there’s something empty and hollow to her voice. It echoes throughout her like she herself is filled with nothing but a profound emptiness.

“It’s not my place to decide,” he answers, and she wonders if he feels just as hollow as she does. Cored out like a bullet and now all that’s left is a gaping wound exposed to the air, waiting to be sewn shut.

Sybille sighs and leans forward as well, clasping her own hands between her knees. She bows her head again, letting the weight of God’s Judgment guide it down. “I tried to save him,” she says, not so much to make him change his mind, but to remind herself that she isn’t entirely without mercy. “It was his femoral. I put pressure on it, but — I couldn’t — no one…” she trails off. She tries to assign blame. To the resistance. To John. To herself. But no one presents themselves for ready acceptance. There, on the side of the road, there wasn’t anything anyone could have done.

John met his end, and nothing short of a miracle could have saved him from succumbing to his injuries. Yet, she can’t escape the feeling that it’s her fault he died. If she hadn’t pushed. If she hadn’t prodded. If she hadn’t provoked , Joseph might still have his baby brother.

Her mind wanders to her own little brother, lost, somewhere in the county. Whether he still lives is a mystery to her, and at this point, she questions which outcome would bring her more relief. Will she find him alive, but having suffered through only God knows what kind of torture to survive? Or will she find him dead, gone from this world and her life, but spared from pain and welcomed into God’s embrace.

Mercy is a double edged sword, it seems.

A warm hand comes to rest on top of her own, and she can’t help but move so that her own frigid fingers are entwined with his. He squeezes her hand gently, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles, stinging the still bleeding wounds there. When she lifts her head once more, the pain she sees on his face is the old, ancient kind that never quite healed. This isn’t the first time John’s been taken from him. But it is the last.

She’s only now beginning to comprehend what that kind of pain feels like.

“Why come to me and not Pastor Jerome?” he asks. “I have no doubt he’d have happily cleansed you of your sin.”

Her free hand presses against the scars on her chest, fingers tracing lightly over the red and raw scars inked into her skin. “Any penance he prescribed would have been meaningless.” He isn’t the one who’s suffering because of her actions. Forgiveness isn’t his to give.

“You are a compassionate woman, Deputy La Roux,” Joseph says.

“Sybille,” she interjects. “You can call me Sybille. I think by now we ought to be on a first name basis.” She is with his still surviving brother, and she hadn’t bore her soul to him quite like this — she had bore him other things, but there wasn’t this kind of emotional intimacy. Not yet anyways, and it’s strange that she hopes someday there might be.

She’s showing Joseph a part of herself she’s never shown anyone outside her blood kin.

The smile he gives her is warm. “You are a compassionate woman, Sybille,” he repeats. “I first thought you brutal, guided by fury and violence. But I see now that you love just as brutally. To feel things so intensely must be painful.” He trails off thoughtfully, speaking with a kind of familiar fondness that comes with experience. “The people you care about don’t realize how fortunate they are to have you looking after them.”

He rolls his thumb over the back of her hand, and he lifts it to brush his lips over her bruised and scabbing knuckles. “I pray there comes a day where you realize those you believe to be your enemy are just as worthy of that compassion, as well.”

But they both know that day has already come. She wouldn’t be here, submitting herself to his mercy or sitting beside him if it hadn’t. Jacob sees her for who — for what — she is, and she sees him just the same. Humanize one enemy, see yourself reflected back at you, and it’s a damn slippery slope.

“You may stay here as long as you like,” Joseph says, giving her hand one last squeeze before standing. “Light a candle. Read. Pray. Contemplate. Do what you must to ask for God’s forgiveness. None shall bother you so long as you remain under this roof.” He pauses for a moment, and then he adds, “Although, I would advise you to leave before sunrise. I do not think the Faithful would look kindly on you being present for morning service.”

She huffs a laugh and nods. No, she supposes they wouldn’t. Not any more than the people of Fall’s End would like to see Joseph standing in their church.

He returns to his study, the floorboards singing his departure as he moves back down the aisle. But before he disappears, she calls out to him.

“Thank you, Joseph.”

He pauses in the doorway and looks back at her. “You’re welcome, my child.”

And then he’s gone, leaving her by herself, lonely and as quiet as a church mouse, in the heart of his chapel, with nothing but her guilt and the grace of God to keep her company.

#my fic #oc: deputy sybille la roux #work was slow today so uh....i finished the fic....

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