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vasiktomis · 3 years

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Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

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“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

43 notes · View notes

fefipranon · 3 years

Text

List of my works

Saved By Deception

Description:

Mikasa is an independent, strong, and self-made successful woman. She is a force to be reckoned with in a field dominated by men.

What happens when she is held hostage by an arrogant, jerk who is the leader of one of the most dangerous and powerful gangs that exist?

Will she follow the orders of this chauvinist pig or will she make his life a living hell?

Comedy, drama, angst, smutty lemon, and a cat. This story is a wild crazy ride.

Author notes:

You don’t need to read or watch anything prior this book to understand the story. It’s mostly comedy, but there is also action, angst and smut. Topics I addressed here are feminism, the struggles of the LGBTQ community, PTSD, rape, and abuse of power.

Some reader’s reviews:

“I totally loved it from beginning to end!!! It was such an amazing rollercoaster! I was so invested in this story that I ended the hole thing in one day!! If you write and post the sequel, well... count me in!!! I wish I could give more kudos!!” - Avalon_Titania

“It took me a while for the story to settle down, to figure out what it means to me, and to finally comment here. But here we go. Reading this story was an amazing journey which gave me lots of joy, some tears and unaccountable amount of smiles. Now, thinking about it makes me feel warm and grateful that you shared this work with us. I love how freely you wrote about everything, how you broke various stereotypes, and spoke about the things that matter. All of this, while managing to make us laugh in every chapter! You are a truly amazing writer and I would gladly read the sequel if you decided to share it too.” - Not_Orange

“I just found out this story. I can’t believe I missed this. This is amazing 💐💐. I haven’t finished the story yet, I felt that I need to leave a comment first of how amazing and funny the story is. I can’t wait to finish this and omg the sequel. Sign me up for the sequel, needs more stories of them. It’s just, we haven’t got enough stories of them 🤧🤧.” - avaleen

“I LOVE your story! I adore the way you depicted the characters, how you mixed fun and dark themes, and most of all, I really enjoyed the way you included some schooling on the feminist cause, sexual abuse and the psychology behind it. It was very well done! I can’t wait to read the following story! I found a few grammatical mistakes here and there and sometimes, the way you build your sentences could need to be a little lighter but overall, nothing that really disturbs the story. Thank you for writing this, this is probably my favorite Rivamika story. Keep up with the good work!” - Valkorian

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557422/chapters/67401547

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/247716329-saved-by-deception

____________________

The power of death

Description:

Mikasa is a woman suffering from clinical depression. There is one thing that she is sure of: she wants to die. But when she received some unexpected news that makes her death wish a reality, she starts to wonder if that was really what she wanted. She starts a journey to discover the truth about her biological parents that gave her up for adoption when she was a baby. This journey will guide her to cross paths with someone as broken as her, someone that hates her to death for what her biological family did to him. Will she have the courage to, for once, fight to live? or will she let him drag her to hell with him?

Author notes:

You don’t need to read or watch anything prior this book to understand the story. Topics I discuss here are depression, anxiety, anti-depressants, racism, genocide, LGBTQ, terminal disease, racial trauma, euthanasia, adoption. It has comedy and smut but is mostly angst oriented.

Some reader’s reviews:

“Why am I suddenly crying?!? I will always remember this story... I loved every single character of it, both with their funny and dark sides. Because that's life sometimes... 🎭 Thank you author for this beautifully written story!! I already miss it “ - Levi_is_a_dilf

“Dude this book was great, not to mention all of your books are! Always so well thought out & planned. The fact that some chapters if not all were hours long really shows how great of a creator & genius you are as well! Anyways can't wait to read this again once my forgetful brain has erased my memory of the whole plot.😅” - lolzleigh

“The most beautiful conclusion to one of my fave stories!!! I'm honestly so moved and proud of the message you wanted to transmit there. The last phrase sums it up , to never give up easily because of a difficulty. A bad day doesn't indicate a bad life. Thank you author for your hard work, I'm looking forward to your next story!! 💪🏻🧡” - Leyla

“ Loved it!!!! You have such a beautiful smart and unique way of writing, I love the way you express their personalities including their silly moments Please don’t stop writing I love your stories and I’ll be looking forward for your next work!!” - Fiorylita

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30452145/chapters/75087657

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/264598251-the-power-of-death

____________________

Twisted Fate

Description:

Eren and Levi share a secret about Mikasa's past. Mikasa confesses her feelings to Eren, only to be rejected. After watching her almost die, Eren realizes he has feelings for her, but she has already moved on to Levilandia.

"I thought they hated each other"

Before losing hope he thinks that maybe... if he tells Mikasa who the captain really is... he might have a chance, or fuck it up?

Is the Ackerman bond stronger than a lifetime of memories together?

Jealousy, drama, a shared secret, and Titans, what could possibly go wrong?

Author notes:

Everything needed to understand the story from ‘Attack on Titan’ is added in the story already. Optional reading or watching of ‘Attack on Titan’ anime if more information about the general universe is desired. It’s a comedy but also has angst and smut. Topics I addressed here is the difference between a healthy and a toxic relationship.

Some reader’s reviews:

“Omg this is by far one of the best stories I’ve read!! You’ve done such an amazing job at capturing the characters!! I’d love to see a continuation of this story or just more rivamika” - mori87

“So I binge-read this fic and devoured it in half a day reading between breaks at work and on the way home till I'm done right now just before midnight -in my time zone anyway- and BOY THAT WAS SOME FIC!!! It had me laughing so hard at times and holding my breath waiting for what's to come at times. I loved the way you portrayed Levi here. This arrogant, annoying, funny, caring fighter and leader and the way you made Mikasa an even more bad-ass warrior. Looking forward to reading more of you.” - Marwa_Aslaa3

“ Thank you so much for this amazing story! I read the whole story in one sitting and I can't remember when was the last time I was so happy about something. It made me smile and giggle the whole day, it made me feel warm. You are a true hero and have the ability to give magic to the sentences you write”- Not_Orange

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397433/chapters/64303924

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/240534704-twisted-fate-rivamika-lemon

____________________

How to be happy

Description:

What would happen if Mikasa was pulled out of her universe into ours after Eren saved her? What would happen when Levi is pulled out of the rumbling straight into Mikasa's apartment in our world?

Author notes:

It is necessary to read or watch ‘Attack on Titan’ prior this book to be able to understand the story. This one can be said that is half canon verse half Alternate Universe since Levi jumps to our universe straight from the rumbling. This is one shot I did for Rivamika week. It’s mostly fluff and a little comedy.

Some reader’s reviews:

“ What can I say? It's perfect as always ((X You really are talented in writing so I hope you'll keep doing that in the future! I think we (rivamika peeps) all agree to say that you're a special someone in this community (as well as our Dildo Queen, this one may be my own thought though^^) (Saved by Deception story reference) I'm glad you participated in this event because this one-shot was wonderful, inventive and fun to read! Keep going Queen, you're nailing it!!!” - Hayden_dsc

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809051

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/255240403-how-to-be-happy

#writing #fanfic #rivamika #schooling #aot smut #smut #fluff #angst #levi ackerman #levimika #shingeki no kyoujin fanart #snk #first impressions #humor #comedy

50 notes · View notes

erin-bo-berin · 5 years

Text

Angel With A Shotgun

MASTERLIST

This is my first fic that actually involves no smut. I was inspired by Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab and the Truth or Dare hostage scene from 14x15. If you want to listen to the song beforehand or while you read it, you can here. This one happens to be written all from Spencer’s point of view as well, which was different for a change. Like the last fic I posted, lyrics from the song will be in italics in between parts of the story. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (just some drama, nothing else)

Word Count: 2,233

Get out your guns, battles begun

Are you a saint, or a sinner?

Darkness was all he could see. He heard scuffling as he was being transported. He could hear her uneven breath from behind him and he was relieved to know she was still nearby, even though this wasn’t exactly an ideal situation.

He was pushed to his knees, ordered to sit. The sound of duct tape ripping filled the silence and his wrists were bound together. He sensed movement to his right and he knew it was her turn to be bound.

A moment later the blindfolds were ripped off.

Spencer squinted in the bright light and looked over to see her, his partner, with a stoic expression on her face. He knew her well though, she was terrified, but keeping her cool. Between the ever so slight widening of her eyes, and her frantic assessment of him, Spencer knew just how freaked out she was on the inside.

“Well, so nice of you to play the game, agents.”

“We didn’t exactly have much of a choice did we?” she deadpanned.

Spencer looked up into the face of their captor. It had started like any normal case, just a week ago.

Victim had been killed, gunshot wounds to abdomen and chest. It was only when they started looking into the case that things got stranger, like the fact that the shooter wasn’t the actual unsub.

The actual unsub was playing a twisted game of Truth or Dare and kidnapping the victim’s loved ones, forcing them to commit murder before they could be released, if they ever were.

The real unsub was standing in front of them. They had managed to fall right into his trap and now they had become his hostages.

They’d cornered him in a jewelry store and after he’d shot both a civilian and the worker, he’d taken their guns, blindfolded them and bound them until he was ready to play with them. Apparently that time had come.

Spencer looked around, noticing the broken glass of a jewelry case, the dead worker laying next to it. They’d been moved to another part of the large store, most likely the reason for their blindfolds, so they wouldn’t know just exactly where he was taking them. Before he could give his surroundings much more thought he whipped his head back around towards the man.

“We’re not going to play your game,” she said, “There are feds and cops crawling outside and you aren’t going to get out of this by playing games.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Before Spencer saw it coming, the unsub had hit her upside the head with the butt of his gun.

She groaned, putting a hand to her head and wincing. Already blood was escaping the cut on her forehead, that the hit had created.

“Hey, stop it!” Spencer yelled.

“That’s what she gets for not playing by the rules,” he sneered, before turning back towards her, “Now, agent, truth or dare?”

If loves a fight

Than I shall die

With my heart on the trigger

She glared up at him, not backing down from the fight, even though she’d already taken a hit.

Spencer had to admire her. For all her fear came twice as much courage. She was the bravest person he knew.

He’d also been harboring a love for her.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what moment it happened other than one day realizing that she was the love of his life.

He would do anything to protect her.

His eyes slid sideways to the broken glass. One shard sat just out of reach; if he could get a hold of it without making the unsub suspicious, then he could have a good chance at cutting the tape apart.

“This isn’t the way to do this,” she said, holding all of his attention.

With a slight lean to his left as if he’s just trying to wriggle into a different sitting position, his hand touched the piece of glass. His attention was still on her.

“I’m not going to prison,” he laughed, “I know how this will end. Now I’m gonna ask you one more time, truth or dare?”

The barrel of his gun is angled at her. Spencer knew he had to get the gun aimed away from her. If it’s the last thing he does in this world, he isn’t going to let her get hurt.

She’s about to speak when he answers.

“I’ll play.”

They say before you start a war

You better know what you’re fighting for

The gun turned on him.

Good.

“Truth or dare, pretty boy?”

“Truth.” Spencer looked him dead in the eye, letting him know he’s as serious as him.

“I want you to tell your deepest, darkest secret.”

Slowly, but surely while appeasing the unsub, Spencer kept sawing the shard against the duct tape. It was making a tiny bit of progress, he just had to keep stalling.

Spencer took a deep breath before answering.

“I was wrongly convicted and in prison for three months,” he began.

“That better not be your secret, cause if it is, I’ll shoot you right now.”

“No that’s not my secret,” Spencer said, “While I was in prison I tampered with some drugs another inmate wanted me to move and I hurt a lot of men that I didn’t intend to.”

The unsub laughed like he’d just said the funniest joke ever.

“Oh we got a badass here. Is that all you got? People do shit like that and worse all the time. I’m not gonna warn you again. I want to know something that no one else knows.”

Well baby you are all that I adore

If love is what you need a soldier I will be

Spencer glanced over at her before answering.

They’re in the middle of a life or death situation, her clothes and hair are all rumpled and out of place and there’s blood sliding down her cheek and the side of her face. Even so, she’s still the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

If he had any other choice, he would never even consider saying it, but this could be their only chance out of this hostage situation. He turned to face him again; he doesn’t know if he can look at her when he says it.

“I’m in love with my partner, SSA Y/N Y/L/N. I have been for nearly a decade.”

He faced her again when he heard a slight gasp come from her direction.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner or maybe I shouldn’t have at all. I never really intended on telling you, but now it’s out there. I’ve always loved you.”

He can’t read the expression on her face. Is it a mixture of hurt? Confusion? To know her so well, this was one of the few times he had no idea what she was thinking.

Her lips are parted in surprise and she’s staring at him, slightly wide eyed, her brows pulled together. Maybe she thinks he’s lying, just saying something believable for the unsub. That might be a blessing in disguise.

“Wow.”

The unsub whistled above them, but Spencer doesn’t break his gaze from hers. All he wants to do is hold her and say he’s sorry, he never wanted it to happen this way, but now it has. He had basically just dropped an exploding bomb over her head all while they were being held hostage.

“Now that’s a secret. I’ll tell you what. I’m not going to kill you,” he grinned, pulling the gun away from Spencer’s direction.

“Instead, I’m going to kill your partner. It’ll be way more fun to watch you suffer.”

The next few seconds happened in a blur.

The gun swivels towards her and goes off before Spencer can even react. She shrieked as she fell backwards from her crouched position, her head hitting the floor hard. The unsub’s focus is no longer on him, it’s still on her, ready to take another shot.

The tape finally breaks apart.

I’m an angel with a shotgun

Fighting ‘til the wars won

I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back

Gunfire rang in Spencer’s ears.

But this shot didn’t hit her nor is it from the unsub’s gun. This one came from Spencer’s own piece.

After the tape broke, he’d reached for his second gun and shot the unsub, in one swift movement. The unknown gun had been hidden in his ankle holder this entire time, it had just been a matter of getting to it.

The unsub fell with a thud, but he can’t spare a moment of thought about him. He has to focus on the most important thing.

The fact that she hasn’t moved since she was shot.

He’s on his feet, ignoring the blood on his hand from the glass.

He runs towards her as fast as he can.

I’ll throw away my faith babe

Just to keep you safe

Don’t you know you’re everything I have?

“Y/N, Y/N,” Spencer hovered over her, eyes trying to locate where she’d been hit.

He spots the gunshot wound in her shoulder and covered it with his fingers, attempting to stanch the bleeding. He thought she’d lost consciousness, possibly from hitting her head, but he’s so panicked, he can’t think straight. The normal process of his ever running brain has come to a halt and he can’t think straight.

“Y/N, stay with me. You’re gonna be okay.”

He shouted at the SWAT members he could hear pouring through the front door that he needs medical, as fast as possible.

He turned back to her when he heard a tiny groan and saw her coming to. Relief washes over him when he realizes she hasn’t lost consciousness.

“Spencer?” she mumbled.

“I’m right here, you’re gonna be okay.”

Her face contorted in pain and she tried to sit up.

“No, stay still. You’ve been shot and have a possible concussion.”

“What happened?” she asked weakly.

“I managed to cut through the restraints with a piece of glass and shot him with the gun in my ankle holster.”

“My hero.”

Her smile is faint and his heart aches, hating to see her this way. If only he’d been faster.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, this is my fault. If I’d only shot him sooner-”

“Spence,” she interrupted, “About what you said.”

“Forget about it,” he said quickly and before anything else could be said he was quickly replaced by the EMTs that surrounded her.

He was soon swept away in the chaos of the agents, paramedics and police that filled the area. He was taken outside by one of his teammates to get his own injuries checked out.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked, trying to control the frenzied feeling building inside of him.

He had seen her injured so many times before. But he truly never realized just how much he loved her until he saw her lying, bleeding on the floor today.

“I heard them say it seemed to be a flesh wound, but they need to get her to the hospital,” someone answered him, although he couldn’t say exactly who it was.

He needed her to be okay.

And I, wanna live, not just survive tonight

His hand was halfway wrapped by a paramedic when he saw her being taken toward the ambulance, one of the paramedics that was with her coming towards him.

All of his fears flooded to the front of his mind, expecting to hear the worst.

“She’s asking for you, but we need to go now.”

It didn’t take him any time to make up his mind.

“I’m going with her.”

“Agent, your hand,” the one paramedic who had been tending to his injuries said, indicating the half wrapped hand.

“It’s fine, I’m going.”

He didn’t miss the man’s exasperated look, but he didn't care about his hand at all; he cared way more about her.

They had just loaded her in the back of the ambulance when Spencer hopped in.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her restraints had been cut away and her arms laid on each side of her. Her shoulder was less bloody as they’d managed to temporarily stopped the bleeding. Her head and forehead was still bloody, some drying in the wisps of her hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. He ached to hold her, to feel her breathing against him, just to reassure himself that she was indeed alright.

“Everything hurts, but they said I’d live,” she joked.

He chuckled, not surprised that even at a moment like this she could still make him smile.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern clouding her features.

“Just a cut hand, I’ll be fine.”

He settled by her side, intending not to leave her for the foreseeable future.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Her face is serious, her gaze level on his.

“I’m not sure if you meant it or not, but I wanted you to know that I love you, too.”

Realization spread across his face as it sinks in what she just said. He looked down, noticing her hand outstretched just the slightest towards him.

He put his hand in hers and she slowly intertwined her fingers with his.

If love is what you need

A soldier I will be

#spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

「 what am I // stray kids 」

❖ genre : sci-fi; superpower au; platonic relationship au

❖ word count : 3,9k (bullet points only)

❖ warning : explicit language, most likely ain’t scientifically true at all

❖ summary : superpowers manifest in certain individuals once they hit puberty and naturally, those odd abilities will vanish as soon as adulthood occurs; but how will those teenagers protect themselves from the curiosity of science?

❖ a/n : this isn’t a proper fic since I don’t think I’ll actually write smth decent out of this but I don’t want the idea to rot inside my dungeon either- so yea, bear with me through this character intro post(?)

— bang chan ↠ locating ability-wielders & teleportation

· sometimes when he’s running errands for his parents, chan can feel a distinct ‘zing’ ins his bones if someone else with unusual abilities is nearby and can describe their power perfectly to the t; he ignores it at first but learns to make do with it eventually; can teleport another person with him and also needs to calculate carefully before teleporting because he once ends up in the middle of a freeway instead of school resulting from lack of sleep.

· looks intimidating but is the first to talk to a new kid in class and show them around as he’s president of the school’s student council; smiles and laughs a lot once you get to know him, and is also very caring, reliable.

· he wishes to apply for a music production company after his college graduation but his family turned the idea down almost immediately and sent him to a boarding school in Europe.

· chan starts taking notice in strange things at his new school after the first few weeks; for example: how they unreasonably force students to have a daily health checkup, how their food taste like medicine most of the times, teachers don’t really seem to care about what they’re teaching and some of his classmates mysteriously ‘move away’ whenever security shows up at their dorm in the middle of the night.

· after finding out where they actually are via photos of students being locked up inside cells, arms and legs chained up like domestic animals, injected with odd substances on a daily basis which were taken by an anonymous individual, chan secretly packs his stuff and decides to ditch this so-called boarding school for good.

· he works hard to hide his identity ensuing flying back to his hometown for a solid three weeks and the fact that there are more people cursed with supernatural abilities begins dawning onto him; cutting off contact with his family completely, moving from one crusty apartment to another every month, chan tackles this crazy idea of assembling a group consisted of extraordinary people to give him a hand with creating a safe environment for the ‘gifted’ youths.

— lee minho ↠ collapse

· law major, quite the loner, raised by a single mother; didn’t have much since little but his mother’s love and affection make up for everything.

· looks intimidating, is actually intimidating; the only person he talks to in college is his dance coach, doesn’t like school nor has many friends; his slightest glare is as cold as a wife trying to win custody of her children in court.

· minho can make his surroundings crumble and fall apart with his mind, which shouldn’t be confused with telekinesis since he can’t physically move objects to his will; this deadly power is triggered whenever he’s experiencing extremely negative emotions like fear or anguish and he’s not (still isn’t) very good at getting a hold of it.

· a group of suspicious men shows up at his house one day as he returns home from dance practice; they claim to be an agency looking for up and coming talents but by the way that his mother is staring at the ground nervously with her legs trembling, his institution tells him that something’s off.

· he firmly declines their offer with a stiff “I’m uncertain that I’m the talent you gentlemen are looking for, but you should know that when the cops are here to fill out their reports, I’m gonna be very helpful, as helpful as possible.”

· “what other random merry of fucking misdemeanors are going to pop up once they go through your records? domestic violence? illegal substances and weapons possession? human trafficking?”

· with a gun to her head, his mom scrambles to her knees and begs him to go with them, admitting that she’s already signed the contract; if he follows their orders and agrees to become an experimental subject, she won’t have to worry about any financial problems for the rest of her life.

· in the heat of the moment, they ultimately force him to activate his power for the very first time; as a result, his house collapses, the death of his only family and the group of men following suit.

· “I’m too late.”

· chan manages to find minho under the aftermath, severely injured and is hanging by a string of life so fragile that can only be saved after undergoing a twelve-hour operation at the hospital.

— seo changbin ↠ sound waves manipulation

· a good student, reputable within his social sphere at school, and comes from a pretty well-off family.

· changbin is able to bend and control sound waves to his advantage; whether it’s simply for his musical instruments or moving objects around, he can also use something as minor as his own heartbeat when he’s emotionally unstable; using the ability continuously for too long can give him severe migraines and potentially damage his brain to a degree if he’s not mindful of it.

· he stays up late at night to write and produce his own songs, keeping it a secret from his parents; posts his own songs on a SoundCloud account, or performs even live at a random underground club under the alias SpearB if he has the chance to.

· an organization full of outlaw scientists comes across a video of his performance on the web, analyzing how he can enhance the beat, his vocal cords without the help of any form of technology, and just like that, he easily tops the list of their targets.

· having no choice but to do what they want when those men hold his parents hostage inside his family’s mansion, changbin gets sent to the same boarding school as chan but they’re being observed in different buildings for his power is on the more useful and dangerous side; hence, his classes consist of a smaller amount of students and they are put through checkups more constantly.

· he doesn’t really pay attention to the skepticisms that reek off all over the place as he’s too busy being homesick and studying because he fully believes that the harder he works, the more obediently he acts, the sooner they’ll let him go; all hell breaks loose when those photos are scattered everywhere, from the hallways to the bathrooms; changbin takes advantage in the riot to get himself out of there as quickly as he can possibly run to the airport.

· changbin swears to never trust anyone again until chan and minho find him sleeping inside an abandoned grocery store with a pistol inside his sleeping bag, two daggers concealed in his sleeves at all times.

· “are we seriously going to contain some headass who was this close to blowing my brain out of my head?”

· “huh, funny, last time I checked, you almost smothered me to death under a gigantic block of cement when I was trying to save your life.”

· “who are you guys and how the hell did you get in here? I don’t recall not locking the door.”

— hwang hyunjin ↠ permeation & memory manipulation

· a true theater kid, meaning he knows almost everyone but every single student at school knows him; naturally, becomes the Prince after playing one too many male lead roles because of his godly features; rather well-mannered and diligent though he doesn’t look like it.

· mistaken to be a player by every new batch of freshmen that only ever gets to watch him practicing his lines from afar, swooning tremendously whenever he ties up his hair; always carries a camera around, doesn’t like to have too many friends but if you get close enough, he’s probably the most fun to be around, won’t ever judge your questionable life choices.

· hyunjin’s ability allows him to walk right through walls as well as any other solid matters but it will drain his stamina painstakingly, causing him to run short on breaths after using his power to change his costumes faster between scenes; the thicker the wall is, the more strength it takes for him to pass through completely.

· he can also erase a certain chunk of memory from someone’s mind but he needs to physically touch them; has only used this ability one time to wipe his existence out of a childhood best friend’s mind before moving away from his hometown.

· his interest in photography sparks the moment his uncle comes back from a business trip and gives him a toy camera, it’s nowhere near the real ones but the ten-year-old hwang hyunjin sure takes it very, very seriously; after a decade or so, he has replaced it with cameras that actually work and developed quite the talent for taking photos of sceneries and people (jisung is his number one victim but he can’t care less as long as he looks decent and that hyunjin won’t save any crack ones to blackmail him).

· suddenly gets a sketchy summer scholarship to a boarding school in London (the same so-called school that Chan and Changbin went to), his mom encourages him to go after looking it up on the internet without knowing the chances of her own son being exploited for twisted science is shockingly high.

· and the culprit who takes those photos during a wandering around school after curfew is none other than hyunjin himself; he knows damn well posting those photos means getting himself into trouble but heck, his conscience forbids him to leave this hell-on-earth place without alerting these innocent people.

· so the night before those photos are spread everywhere, in every corner, every edge of the building, hyunjin smashes his camera completely with a baseball bat and burns the broken bits in the school backyard; he tries getting through those sleep-deprived men in their fifties who aren’t likely paid enough with his ability and flees.

· surprisingly, he comes rushing into his best friend’s house right after his horrendous flights only to find him being surrounded by three mysterious men.

— han jisung ↠ plunder

· the jokester of the class, takes great joy in stressing the living daylights out of his professors with irrational questions that aren’t necessarily relevant to the lesson, procrastinates, and sleeps through lessons like there’s no tomorrow but still keeps that shiny ‘A’ on his report card nonetheless.

· being friends with hyunjin results in occasional admirers here and there for him but he does kinda have his own fandom base after being pulled upstage out of the blue in the middle of last year’s spring music festival, musing him an opportunity to show off his rapping skills; because of that event, he takes writing music more seriously with the stage name J.One.

· if jisung is being honest, he hardly uses his power since it’s basically taking over anyone’s body and mind for a maximum of five seconds meanwhile his own body is immobile; and if any physical effects occur (for example, a basketball hits him on the head spontaneously), he’s obligated to endure that pain for that person until they become conscious of their own body again.

· he’s not a creep, he swears.

· and who knows? what if his body gets kidnapped within those five seconds?

· hyunjin and jisung know about each other’s ability but don’t really discuss nor talk about them because they don’t find walking through walls or temporarily possessing someone’s body cool.

· well, that’s that until chan, minho and changbin show up at his house the same day when hyunjin returns from his summer exchange program with a cut lip and bruised knuckles.

· “han jisung, you’re going to have to come with us unless you want to live inside a cage for the rest of your life.”

· “I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

· “we’re trying to protect you, smartass, you’re far too dangerous to be roaming the streets so freely.”

· “....me? I’m dangerous?”

· jisung not knowing the slightest bit about his own ability downright baffles chan—he’s only scratched the surface of it at this point; his true potential is if he’s taking over another ability-wielder’s body, he will then take their power for himself; and jisung can’t remember the last time he properly uses it either.

— lee felix ↠ imperfect invisibility

· initially lives in Australia but after finding out about his ability, he moves to Seoul with his parents to live a quieter, more covered-up life without being surrounded by too many relatives.

· an absolute sweetheart, smart, kind, honest, a little slow to read in between the lines at times; can concentrate relatively well on an empty stomach, but gets drowsy quickly after eating, especially big meals.

· lix is also homeschooled up until high school in order to avoid any unwanted situation; later on, applies for a course that can be taken online for the most parts at an average-ish university to not draw so much attention.

· since he stays at home most of the time, he spends lots of time playing different video games, experiences random cooking recipes without burning the house down, and teaches himself how to dance through online tutorials, getting awfully good at it fast partially thanks to his natural flexibility.

· he can disappear from a single person’s field of vision for as long as he wants to but it’s still limited and considered flawed since felix can only disappear from the sight one person of his choice at a time; although it can come in quite handy whenever he gets shoved into a dark alleyway by random people varying from cheap pickpockets with a box-cutting knife to muscular men dressed in black.

· learns boxing during middle school so he can still kick asses to preserve his own life.

· felix once punches jisung in the gut and slaps hyunjin in the face with a cabbage after seeing them follow each and every one of his movements the moment he steps out of the supermarket—he’s got used to listening to people’s footsteps over time.

· “okay, first of all, ow, and second of all, why did I get the punch and he got the cabbage?!”

· “oh, don’t be such a baby.”

· “you two don’t look like those balding dudes in money-dripping black suits...what are you on? crack? what do you want from me? money? food?”

· “of course we’re not balding men in their forties! I take personal offense to that! and please, who do you take me as? a total creep who only ever knows how to follow people with his stupid sidekick tagging along for background noises?”

· “HEY! I NEVER AGREED TO BE YOUR SIDEKICK!”

· “well, it’s time you fucking did then, han.”

· “you know, I suppose this is the part where you two put me to sleep with some kind of drug and bring me back to your excuse of a headquarter.”

· “oh, did you bring the anesthetic pills?”

· “I thought Changbin gave it to you, no?”

— kim seungmin ↠ time-leap

· born in a middle-class family, very studious but also enjoys playing baseball during retreats, takes time to open up to people so he has more acquaintances than close friends but he doesn’t mind, that way he has more time for himself.

· definitely and never will be the kid who lets his classmates take advantage of his wit, he does do a good chunk of every group project but makes sure everyone has at least one decent thing to do (low-key loves bossing people around); can be pretty distant at first, but he just weirds people out after getting closer and doesn’t hold grudges.

· seungmin is capable of bringing himself back to a specific past event to alter the future outcome though it won’t work most of the time unless he really, really has to for safety purposes or the situation gets out of hands; time-leaping won’t activate if he wants to retake a test but works like a charm when he tries to save a kid on the street from a car accident.

· actually does deep, proper research into other ability-wielders and often stays in school during nighttime to read the news, articles or anything that he can find on the web to learn about how that one cryptic boarding school in Europe that’s accused of abusing their students got shut down all of a sudden, the students never return and family members never bother to look for them.

· hence, he adapts to hiding his ability and himself fairly well—never takes the late-night buses, doesn’t try to become close and bond with other people, asks his parents to change the door lock every month, burns bills each time he purchases something but he tries not to go out as much as possible.

· seungmin has seen hyunjin use his power once by accident but decided to say nothing about it; eventually finds chan’s headquarter (which is just his crusty apartment) by following jisung and hyunjin after their practice hour, baffles them all a little but joins in no time.

· after asking hyunjin to erase his parents’ memory about himself, seungmin gives everyone a hand for their plan of building a school and campus, completely safe and under the radar for other ability welders until their adolescence is over; he time-leaps back to back in order to collect as much information about lottery tickets as he can.

· another flaw occurs when he travels to the past for the third time: his eyesight gets weaker and weaker every time he time-leaps so he starts wearing glasses as a temporary resolution but chan stops him when he tries to do it for the fifth time, saying that they would rather work hard for a little longer than have seungmin lose his vision forever.

· after over a year or so, they successfully repurchase an education organization and officially establish an exclusive academy for ability-wielders, reaching out to those individuals before scientists can get a hold of them.

— yang jeongin ↠ superhuman speed

· the quiet kid who most likely won’t talk unless the teacher asks him to answer a question or someone tells him to let them copy his homework; has his earbuds in most of the time to pretend he can’t hear what people are saying so he won’t have to interact with them.

· joins after you when chan finds him hitting a wall head-on at an abnormal speed while trying to save a kitten in the middle of the streets.

· jeongin has extremely enhanced agility and reflexes but he still lacks accuracy for he is naturally a clumsy person; therefore, changbin tells him to wear a protective layer under his uniform so even in the worst-case scenario, he can jump off a building and make it out with minor scratches.

· reluctantly buys lunch for every member of the student council (aka 00 liners + you) on a daily basis although he can’t really see which kind of sandwiches he’s grabbing at and they end up being mushy most of the time.

· and for those people who say his resting face is scary, he’s mainly just frustrated because of his friends.

· also usually is the one who returns with the most injuries because of his own ability—he always flees like his life depends on it to save jisung’s ass from being hit by a truck and hyunjin’s camera from being crushed (the sole purpose of the student council will be explained more thoroughly later).

· has single-handedly saved everyone inside a bookstore when a sudden fire breaks out.

· minho scolds him and felix a lot for spending too much time at the arcade after school instead of doing their required tasks.

· acts all tough and mature since he’s the youngest of the squad, loves to make fun of jisung for his height but still is and probably will always be a complete child who hates eating vegetables with a passion; gets yelled at a lot whenever there’s a BBQ party since he only ever eats meat.

· “corn? why are we raiding the Asian market for corn at one AM?”

· “an outdoor, wholesome BBQ isn’t complete without corn, duh.”

· “do you want to get us caught?!”

· “oh please, they’re going to show up either way.”

· “YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE!”

— y/n (reader) ↠ telepathic manipulation

· president of the student council, stubborn, slightly less bossy than seungmin, appears to be apathetic and cranky mainly because you can’t sleep that well; with that being said, you don’t feel too tired during ungodly hours when people are tossing around in the comfort of their bed but snap at irritating people a lot in the morning if they’re making too much noise.

· your ability allows you to control people to your will, from something as meaningless as slamming their head through a wall to life-threatening actions like forcing them to point a knife at their own throat; it’s somewhat similar to jisung’s power though you don’t have to physically feel what your target is going through and you don’t need to worry about taking over their body.

· the only downside to it is that you easily fall asleep the moment you set your target free.

· minho is the one who gets you out of the laboratory where your parents were working on a huge, secret project about individuals with supernatural abilities for an unknown organization; you’re unfortunate enough to become their first-ever experimental subject which only nourishes resentment slowly, gnawing at your sanity while you’re dreading each day behind those cold metal bars.

· perhaps joining the student council is what makes your life less depressing, perhaps; you’re far too busy facepalming at the beautiful monstrosity of their friendship and feeding them ensuing returning to the dorm after school since those boys only know how to eat, cooking is too much for them to comprehend (albeit felix).

· when your family was still… normal, your parents sent you to martial art classes every weekend so like felix, you don’t actually need your power to save yourself from some random mobsters on the streets.

· you’re also the only person who eats vegetables properly and even tries to incorporate more fiber into their diets but as always, they never listen, especially hyunjin when it comes to green onions.

· don’t have the best reputation in the academy because the idea of letting the new girl with a seemingly useless ability become president of the student council isn’t very appealing to many people, and it doesn’t help when every member of the council is exclusively allowed to drop out in the middle of a class to ‘collect’ any ability-wielders that chan manages to locate that day since he’s always worn out with changbin and minho from boring paperwork as well as other businessy stuff.

· even when your ability is considered almost perfect, you’ve only used it once when you thought minho was going to sell you off to another place and almost made him put a bullet through his own brain; you’ve refrained yourself from using it since that day.

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shnuggletea · 4 years

Photo

For Inuyasha Sin Week, here is the prologue of my fic! @lemonlushff @neutronstarchild, I offer this fic as tribute to this awesome event. Now if I could only get all the other chapters done!

Synopsis: Tired of heartbreak and disappointment, Sango, Kagome, and Kikyo decide to "create" their perfect mate. Clearly, no one told them to be careful about what you wish for. For Inuyasha Sins Week 2020!

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Prologue

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.” ― Plato, The Republic

It had been an hour and I still sat, drumming my nails on the table I reserved for us. I only paused in my drum solo to run my hand through my hair again, the curls I forced on my pin-straight and plain black strands falling flat long ago. Why was I still here? The guy clearly wasn’t coming. Or did took one look and left right out.

Fucking blind dates.

Having enough of the embarrassment, people watching and making bets on how much longer I would last as well as the waiter asking yet again if I wanted to go ahead and order, I made sure to strut as much as I could out of the place. It was all an act, the lovely feeling of my skirt on my thighs not the same post ‘date’.

I had been assured that this guy was ‘great!’ and ‘perfect for me!’. My perfect man didn’t stand me up. Especially in such a high-class restaurant.

The ache of exhaustion had little to do with the heels I flung off my feet to toss next to the door. I was tired of disappointment. I was tired of heartbreak. But most of all, I was tired of being lonely.

And I was far from alone, plopping to the occupied couch. She gave me a hard look with her bright blue eyes that I ignored as long as I could. “He didn’t show?!”

Damn. I hated how Kagome could do that, see through people so easily. “No, he didn’t show.”

“But Kikyo said…”

“I know! She was wrong about him.”

Kagome sighed gently, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to pull me close to her. “I’m sorry, Sango.”

The coffee table was filled with a strange array of books. Their bindings all odd titles, this time about witchcraft and alchemy. “Got a test soon?”

Sitting up, she fingered through the collection. “My dissertation. Just haven’t figured out my main topic yet. I think I wanna do magic and science? How the two intertwine making both real?”

Sounded like nonsense to me, but most of what Kagome studied did. A weird mix of medical science and folklore. Or something. I didn’t know what she was studying because it was all a wash of information it seemed.

“Anything in there about finding your soul mate? Because I think we could both use that magic or science.”

Kagome frowned, knowing I was right. It had been a long time since Kagome had felt the love bug. The dates she went on and the guys she became ‘serious’ with panned out as well as mine did. Woefully falling short in one way or another. And the last time she had a boyfriend… it didn’t end well.

My phone rang and for a heartbeat, I thought maybe it was the guy calling to apologize. But no, it was Kikyo so I hit speaker right away. “How did it go?”

“I’m answering your call at 8:45, what do you think?”

Kikyo hissed, “that bad?”

“Terrible. He didn’t show!”

She gasped, “what? That doesn’t make sense…”

“It doesn’t matter. No more blind dates. I’m just going to die alone.”

“Where’s Kagome?”

I glanced her way and Kagome had a book in her lap. A big one. “Right here on the couch, next to me.”

There was a giggle on the line from Kikyo but it wasn’t towards us. Then a ‘stop it’ and I was ready to hang up on her. “Sorry, hold on a second.” I rolled my eyes towards Kagome and she smirked and shrugged. Kikyo never seemed to mind rubbing her love life in our sad-sack faces. “Okay, I’m back.”

“So how’s Yougi?”

Kikyo scoffed, “Yougi? I dumped him last week! I’m with Jin. But he’s so clingy, I’m going to dump him soon.” Here I was, a starving woman talking to a woman who was drowning in men. It left me less than pleased. “I can’t believe Ken stood you up. I’m going to call him right now and…”

“Wait, his name is Ken?” Kagome had a sudden interest, looking at me and the phone. “Isn’t that the guy you dated last month? The one that asked you to marry him?!”

“.... yeah so?”

My skin pricked with irritation. “You set me off with one of your castoffs?!”

“He’s a great guy!”

“Great? Then why don’t you marry him?!”

Kikyo huffed like I was joking, “he’s a little too boring for me. No imagination in the sack.”

I was sure a blood vessel or two bursts in my brain. “Kikyo… as much as I… appreciate your efforts, no more blind dates. Especially ones that are your sloppy seconds!!”

“So you don’t want Jin when I’m done with him?”

“No!!”

Kagome leaned into the phone, “Kikyo, they’re people. Not items. You can’t just pass them to the next person interested. It doesn’t work like that. What did you tell Ken to get him to agree to a blind date?”

The line was silent and the heat under my skin slowly began to rise with each second waiting. “I told him I’d see him after to… talk.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!!” I screamed.

“I wasn’t going to do it! I figured he would go and have such a good time with you that he would forget about me!”

“Instead, he hoped to trick you into thinking he saw me first and chose you instead! Good night Kikyo!!!”

The beep the phone made as I ended the call wasn’t nearly satisfying. Grabbing a random book on witchcraft, I popped off the couch and made for my room, holding the book up like a hostage. “I’m borrowing this and looking for a hex or curse to put on Kikyo’s vagina!!”

Kagome’s mouth dropped for a second before twisting into a smile. “Pretty sure there’s already one on it, seeing as all those who enter get dumped soon after!”

The chuckle I released was a sad one, lacking any happiness even with Kagome trying to cheer me up. No, only magic could cheer me up now. I had been kidding about a spell but as I laid restless in bed, I found myself thumbing the pages all night long.

oOo

It was decadent. Even more so for breakfast. But after the night Sango had she would need comfort.

I carefully flipped the crepe I had in the pan over and took a sip of my tea. Strawberries chopped behind me and chocolate melted, all that was left was cooking the bread and wrapping them up.

The knock on the door had me quickly flinging the finished crepe to a plate and tiptoe run to answer it. I sighed and shook my head at her, but stepped back to let Kikyo in.

“How mad is she?”

“Pretty mad. What were you thinking?”

Kikyo flicked a short black lock around her ear, showing off her pretty diamond earrings. Probably a gift from a guy. “I was thinking that Ken was a really nice guy even if he wasn’t right for me.”

Sighing, I relented. Kikyo meant well but just didn’t get it. But she never struggled to find love just struggled to find love in her own heart.

She took a seat at our small dining room table, facing me as I danced in the kitchen with my work. Pouring more batter into my pan, I lifted the metal to swirl it around for my circle. I loved watching the liquid become solid before my eyes. An instance of science that looked like magic to me.

“Any coffee for me?”

I pointed to the pot I made for Sango when she got up. Kikyo had just placed her full mug to her lips for a sip when Sango’s bedroom door flung open. We both jumped, yet somehow, Kikyo’s coffee landed on me. I pulled away from her attempts to clean and apologize to flip my crepe instead.

“I found it. I found the answer!”

Sango looked wild. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep and her hair was in knots. She also didn’t care that Kikyo was there or that she was running around in a large t-shirt with no pants. I had seen her like that many times but Kikyo never had for a reason. Sango has a thing about her thighs and ass. I thought she looked great but she didn’t so Sango rarely let anyone see them in daylight like this.

Kikyo was still trying to dab coffee off my sleeve while I knew a change of shirt was inevitable. “What are you talking about?”

Kikyo’s tone didn’t deter Sango in the least, holding up the book she borrowed last night up in the air. “I found the answer to our boy problems!”

Glancing at the binding, I quickly read the title. It was an old text on witchcraft. More importantly, one that included spells and incantations instead of history and theories. I had searched for years for a text like it and Sango was brandishing it around like a sword.

“Be careful with that!!”

Now she clutched it to her chest, changing from a sword to a precious child. “It has what we all need. Kagome and I especially. Kikyo… you don’t need it like we do but you can make up for last night by helping.”

“What are you talking about?” Kikyo spun to me, “what is she talking about?!”

Like I had a clue? That book was full of silly and ridiculous rhymes and rituals. Most that involved sacrificing something like blood or an animal.

So I shrugged and we both turned back to a manic Sango. Who grinned wide before slapping the book open to a page. “To Summon a Perfect Mate.”

“Mate?” Kikyo questioned.

I glanced from Sango to Kikyo, catching her genuine confusion and rolling my eyes. “A lover.”

“Not just any lover! You can mix and match your perfect soul mate!!” Sango jittered, more excited than I had seen her in a long time. “Whatever you want, you can put into the man and make him perfect!”

Pulling the book from her grasp, I spun it around to look. Only to have my heart drop into my empty belly. “This isn’t summoning a man, it’s summoning a demon!”

Sango spun the book back to herself and continued to smile. “But we can choose what kind of vessel they’re in! We can but then in a human body!”

“They’d still be a demon, Sango!”

“I don’t know,” Kikyo purred, “a demon lover sounds hot.”

They were serious? Seriously considering it?! I knew Sango was struggling, so was I but this hardly seemed like the answer!

My crepe had burnt to a crisp, quickly flinging the black bread into the sink before it caught fire. When I turned back, Kikyo was studying the text closely alongside Sango. It made my heart jump from my stomach to my throat.

“Guys. Come on. It’s not like it’s going to work!”

Sango shrugged and grinned. “Then there’s no harm in trying then, is there?”

oOo

It had been a week since Sango showed us the spell. It took three days to convince Kagome to at least try and then we had to wait for the next full moon. Which was tonight.

I had my list in my purse of the things I wanted in my man; strong, confident, independent, smart. I also wanted him to have long, dark, wavy hair but I didn’t know if the spell worked like that. It didn’t mention physical attributes.

Kagome opened the door for me and I was taken aback, her blood-red dress was pretty and one of her nicer outfits she usually only wore when we went out. “What’s this?”

Looking shy, Kagome tucked her head into her chest and pulled away from me. “When this fails, you guys are gonna want to go out and drink.”

“If it fails!” Sango called out but she was dressed up too.

Moving to the living room turned mixing pot, I took a seat on one of the three pillows on the floor. Sango sat as well on her purple shift dress and crossed her legs. Kagome hovered over us.

“You guys have your list and your animal?”

It was weird, the most I got but the animal? Damn pagans making things weird. It was the only part that made me hesitate but after some research, I found the perfect animal. And then found my item for it.

Sango pulled out her list and a plastic bag so I pulled out my things as well. Kagome sat, holding a piece of paper and what looked like a dog collar. Then I looked at Sango who had octopus tentacles at the ready.

“Seriously?”

Sango gave me a slanted glance, “they’re clever. They can get out of any situation.”

“They’re also sticky and gross!”

“I love octopus! They’re cute!” Kagome cried, defending her friend.

I pointed to her collar, “and you’re using a…?”

“A dog.” She stated.

A laugh sputter from me and Sango but she recovered first. “A dog? Why a dog?!”

“Because they’re loyal!”

Both of us stopped at that, understanding instantly why Kagome made that choice. I had thought she had moved on from that but maybe it was something you never got over.

“And they’re sweet, dependable, and cute…”

“We get it.” A sighed and now it was my turn. “It’s a raven’s feather. Smart, independent, and strong. Just like my ideal man.”

“Your ideal man sounds like you with a dick.”

Sango smirked but I just grinned, “thanks.”

“Okay, let’s get this over with. I really need a drink already.”

Now all of us sat, placing our lists before us with our item on top. The candles in the middle were quickly lit, black, white, red, pink, green, and blue. It was a fucking rainbow. I didn’t question it since Kagome was the master of all this and had read the spell a hundred times before today. Majoring in weird-ass shit was finally paying off.

“Once I finish the chant, we all burn our lists in the flames and kiss the item while thinking about our… person.”

“You mean lover.”

I giggled at how Sango purred the word but Kagome was already in serious mode. So we cut it out quick and let her get to work.

“Domena irepi calidus. Domena irepi calidus. Domena irepi calidus. Domena irepi calidus….”

I lost count to how many times Kagome repeated the same line. But then she grew silent and we all shook as we held our list over the flames.

Dropping them before we burned our fingers, our items were in our hands and pressed to our lips. Kagome and Sango had their eyes closed so I did the same, imagining my perfect man. Tall, built, with dark eyes that pulled me deep.

And a large cock that made me scream.

I wished we were saying these out loud, I worried the others didn’t think about sex. Well, Sango probably did but Kagome wouldn’t, I was sure of that.

Now we waited. Time passed. Babies were born. The moon rose and was beginning to fall. But nothing inside the apartment happened other than breathing and waning excitement.

“I’m sorry guys…”

Sango looked truly disappointed and I felt for her. I would have been happy if it worked but Sango was dependent on it. Kagome looked guilty as if it was her fault. “It’s not your fault, Kagome. It was stupid in the first place.”

Sango wipes her face and got to her feet. “Let’s go get a drink.”

We were a little silly as we walked back to Kagome and Sango’s. I was feeling more honest than I should be. “This is why you guys are still single. Wasting time on things that don’t matter.”

“Like what?!” Sango cried.

“Well… take Kagome for example. She picked a dog. A dog! And you an octopus? The problem is, you guys don’t think of men like you should, expendable.”

“Yeah because they're not a purse you change when you please,” Kagome muttered loudly.

“Yes, they are! And if you treat them as such, then you’ll never get hurt when they leave you. Because you’ll be leaving them. There is no such thing as a soulmate anyway. No man is perfect enough to be your one and only.”

Sango wrapped an arm around my shoulders and grinned. “You know what? You’re right. Fuck men!”

“Fuck ‘em and leave them!” I shouted, not caring that we were now in Kagome and Sango’s hallway. No one came out to fuss so who cares?

Kagome did, getting her keys in the door and freezing. “Do you guys… hear that?”

We stopped too, Sango hiccuping once before straining to hear with me. I heard something but I was wholly confused. Because it sounded like scratching.

“What the hell is that?!”

I pulled back from Sango too late to keep her from screaming in my ear. Kagome hushed both of us, pressing her ear to the door. “It sounds like… a dog. Scratching at the door?!”

“Fuck!”

I was thoroughly creeped out. Sango stood right behind Kagome as she took a deep breath and pushed the door open wide. I hung out in the hallway like a chicken but I didn’t care, I was scared shitless.

“Oh… my god…”

Sango didn’t sound scared, just shocked. So I rounded into the apartment to nearly fall back on my ass.

Kagome was a few steps from the door and Sango stood closer to the living room. But there were three other people in the place with them. I could see long hair on all of them, two of them were dark while the one closest to Kagome nearly glowed with bright white hair. But that was all I caught, black eyes zeroing in on me and causing my breath to catch in my throat.

Tall, dark, and handsome he reeked of power. The confident air, he had drawn me to him like a moth, and as soon as I stepped up to him, he wrapped his arms around me. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

He didn’t have clothes and we didn’t have names but one thing was clear, we were meant for each other. I didn’t even glance back to the others, taking him out the door with me. I think I caught sight of the man near Kagome now licking her neck. Maybe she had considered sex when thinking about her man?

Either way, the spell had worked and I had my perfect man in my hold, heading straight for my bed.

More to come, god willing! Be sure to check out all the amazing fics coming out this week for this sinfully good event!!!

#inuyasha sins #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #sango x miroku #kikyo x naraku #sinfully human

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

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Reappraising Companions

Years after having watched every available episode of Doctor Who, I've had plenty of opportunities to rewatch episodes time and time again. As with most movies and television, I've found revisiting certain stories and eras has caused me to see them in a different light. A story I may have once reviled is suddenly more interesting. I even came to appreciate Peter Davison's performance as the Fifth Doctor for its subtle nature. But what about companions? Are there any companions I didn't care for at first, which I've softened toward over time? That is the question I wish to explore.

Below I've chosen a selection of companions of whom I had initially disliked for various reasons. They span across multiple eras and both the classic and modern versions of the show. With each companion, I have endeavoured to be fair in my reappraisal, but this doesn't mean I've changed my mind. I would also like to state that none of these appraisals are about the actors. My goal is to evaluate companions by the way they were written. The performance will come secondary.

1. Danny Pink

I chose Danny Pink to kick this list off because he is the reason I am writing this article in the first place. Recently, I took to rewatching a selection of Danny Pink episodes, in hopes that I may find something I didn't initially see. When Samuel Anderson was cast as Danny, I was excited. I've always been a big fan of male companions. They offer a different dynamic to the TARDIS that we don't often get to experience. However, in the wrong hands, they can be exhausting. Enter Steven Moffat.

When Steven Moffat took the reins of Doctor Who, he introduced us to Rory Williams. A smart, loyal, and combative male companion, not at all enamoured with the Doctor's mystique. At his worst, Rory was made to compete with the Doctor for Amy's affection. At his best, Rory held the Doctor accountable for the lives he brought aboard the TARDIS. With Danny, I felt like this is what Moffat was trying to do again, but this time, it wasn't as successful.

When we're introduced to Danny, we watch him and Clara fumble over their words like teenagers. It's meant to be cute, but their chemistry is non-existent. It feels like watching an episode of Coupling, in that it's painful and causes me to scan the room for exits. Their adorkable awkwardness is supposed to endear us to their relationship, but it seems forced. This is compounded when the Doctor enters the equation. Forcing Danny to fight for something very few of us in the audience believe in the first place.

Once again we find the male companion being forced to compete with the Doctor for the affection of a woman. But in this instance, instead of holding the Doctor accountable, Danny seems to hold the Doctor in contempt. Coming from his own history of military training and PTSD, Danny projects all of his inner struggles onto the Doctor. Which is unfortunate, as Danny's inner turmoil is his most humanistic trait. This wouldn't be the first time in Moffat's era where the Doctor's nature as a hero was called into play. The problem with Danny's appraisal of the Doctor as a general, barking orders, is that he's wrong. And we as an audience know it.

Not only do we know it, but so does the Doctor. The Doctor even gets a character arc over the identity crisis Danny gives him, wherein he realises Danny is wrong about him. Danny, however, never comes around to the Doctor's side. Even in his final moments on screen, he remains combative with the Doctor, in an exhausting refusal to grow as a character. We're supposed to believe he's come to some sort of character growth of self-acceptance by sacrificing his chance at a new life, for the life of a boy he mistakenly killed. Instead, he carries the same chip on his shoulder to his grave.

Danny is a companion wholly failed by writing. Even at his most heroic, it seems in service of making the Doctor look like a buffoon. His mimicking a soldier while yelling in the Doctor's face is embarrassing for everyone involved. Imagine this is your boyfriend meeting your friends. You would be mortified by his behaviour. Now imagine you have to lie about hanging out with your friends because it might make your boyfriend upset. Now imagine this friend is a very dashing person who constantly puts the lives of others before him. Danny and Clara's courtship is a romance by gaslight.

2. Clara Oswald

Clara is a whole other can of worms. I could probably dedicate an entire article to her character. I should clarify that my initial dislike for her character is somewhat mired in personal disappointment. By the time Clara was introduced, we had seen a string of modern human companions. We got the occasional tertiary companions from the future, such as Captain Jack or River Song. But we hadn't had a main companion from the past, future, or another planet. So when Jenna Coleman was introduced as Oswin Oswald, Junior Entertainment Manager of the starliner Alaska, I was very excited. Finally, a companion from the future! I was so ready for the Doctor to go on a quest to save Oswin from the cruel fate of becoming a Dalek. What an exciting storyline that was going to be.

And then we see her as governess Clara Oswin Oswald. Ok... Well at least she's still from a different era, right? Oh, she's dead now too? Oh. Much like Moffat's Dracula, all of this great promise was suddenly dashed against the rocks of a contemporary setting. Sigh. I was so excited. What we're given in “The Bells of St. John,” is a new character with less direction than either Oswin or the governess before her. So much that Moffat had taken to literally modulating her brain with an app. Maybe she's really good with computers now? Sorry friends, much like Rose Tyler's gymnastics and Peri Brown's botany, it's never going to come up again.

And this is the biggest issue I have had with Clara Oswald. She spends most of her screen time fluctuating between what character they're writing her as this week. The writers simply didn't know what to do with her while the Doctor tried to figure out why she's so "impossible." One week she's wacky, one week she's stern, another week she's bisexual queer bait. Her characterisation is all over the charts, which sadly, tracks with her entire storyline. She's a woman, fragmented across time, and so is her personality. And don't even get me started on that impossible girl nonsense.

Steven Moffat once said in an interview that one or two people usually guess his big reveal ahead of time, but that no one had guessed Clara's. Perhaps that's because nobody's fan theory was "It's going to be absolute shite." Instead of just being a woman who gets to be her own person, she has to become the most importantest companion. She has to save the Doctor by being planted throughout his timeline, saving him from the Great Intelligence. You know, by sometimes being born as herself, and other times being born as a Time Lord. Sometimes knowing who the Doctor is, other times having no idea whatsoever. Sometimes having a name that is a play on of Oswald, or Oswin, or Clara. And at no times did it make any kind of sense.

The funny thing is, that for me at least, Clara's character doesn't really become interesting until all of that nonsense is behind her. The Clara I find most compelling is the Clara in mourning. Clara post-Danny Pink is a Clara with focus. Her mood swings seem more from a place of destructive behaviour in the wake of great loss. Watching her hold the TARDIS keys hostage above a volcano was some seriously gripping stuff. Aside from the gross digs at her appearance, I found the Twelfth Doctor's relationship with Clara far more endearing than that of the Eleventh Doctor. It may have taken them until her final moments as a companion, but they did get her right, in the end.

3. Melanie Bush

Back in 2015, I had the opportunity to meet Louise Jameson, who played Leela, my all-time favourite Doctor Who companion. I also got to meet Colin Baker, who was all charm. Also in attendance was Bonnie Langford, aka, Doctor Who's Mel. After having gotten autographs from Louise and Colin, and having circled the convention hall a few times, I decided "Sure, why not. Let's meet Bonnie Langford. It's only 10 quid for an autograph." Upon meeting her, she was a very kind woman, and even still, I was racking my brain for something nice to say about Mel. To save face, I lied a very simple lie. I said, "I really liked you in Doctor Who." She smiled, said thank you, and signed my picture. And I walked away, taking my shitty liar mouth with me.

Because the fact is, I didn't like her in Doctor Who. I found every moment she was onscreen excruciating. From her poodle haircuts, to her 80's disaster attire, to her fat-shaming the Sixth Doctor, to her constant screaming at every little thing, she depressed me. I spoke in my review of "Terror of the Vervoids," just how weird it was that we're never actually introduced to her as a character. Instead, Peri is written off, and suddenly, Mel is there, already chummy with the Doctor. You guys know Mel, she's the Doctor's friend, because we told you she was! Instead of getting to know Mel slowly, we're thrown into the deep end, forced to sink or swim within the curls of red hair piled high. Mel doesn't just come out of nowhere, she comes on strong. Fitness expert Mel here to get your fat Doctor Who loving asses into shape. Drink this carrot juice you geek pig!

Not even in Big Finish audios was I finding myself warming up to Mel. When Ace was introduced, they couldn't have pushed Mel out quicker. I found everything about Ace immediately refreshing. Here was a calm and collected badass rebel that I could get behind. It's ironic then; that it was in the Seventh Doctor era that I have begun to find something likeable in Mel. Much like Clara Oswald, a changing of Doctors enriched my appreciation for her character. This appreciation didn't come immediately, mind you, it came about around my third or fourth watch-through of "Paradise Towers."

Perhaps it's the influence of Andrew Cartmel, but with the Seventh Doctor, I have begun to appreciate Mel in the snarkiest manner. Mel is best utilised as a commentary on the Doctor/Companion relationship. She's precocious to a fault, she chews scenery, she screams at the drop of a hat, and she is oftentimes a naive idiot. Yet in "Paradise Towers," it becomes hilarious. Like much of the 80's era of Doctor Who, there is a very "2000 AD," atmosphere to the stories, and I could easily see this as a setting for Judge Dredd to drudge through, busting skulls and filling bodies with bullets. Setting the sunshiny persona of Mel against this backdrop is so brilliant that I can't imagine another companion in this story. Where she would usually grate against me, her sharp contrast from the things happening around her is exactly why I began to soften toward her.

Not even the ire from the Kangs could shake Mel's confidence, which is oddly what makes her cool. Or "ice-hot," as they would say. For the first time, Mel's headstrong sense of self makes her a rebel. She doesn't need to follow a crowd to feel accepted. Sadly, very few writers were able to find this core to Mel, but it was enough for me to be able to look at her in a different light. I could finally look at Mel and say I did like her in Doctor Who. Even if it was just for a moment, and even if it was somewhat at her expense. From a very cynical perspective, Mel can actually be pretty fun.

4. River Song

I know a lot of you are probably aghast to see River Song on this list, but I assure you, I have my reasons, and they are not without consideration. I should begin by saying some good things about River. She's smart, she's competent, she's got a healthy grasp on her sexuality, and she's cool. Why then did I not like her very much the first few times I watched her? Well, if you hadn't noticed, the bulk of this list are characters written by Steven Moffat, and once again, it all comes down to writing.

We're first introduced to River in the Tenth Doctor two-parter "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead." At first, she's just one of a team of forgettable space scientists on an expedition. However, as she finds out the Doctor is who he is, her entire demeanour changes. Like Mel on steroids, we're given a heaping dose of "Who does this bitch think she is, being all familiar with the Doctor?" Only, instead of it lasting one episode, it's every interaction we have with her character beyond this point. Instead of getting to watch River and the Doctor grow as a couple, we're forced to watch them meet in opposite directions. It is the antithesis of "show, don't tell." Everything about the Doctor and River's relationship is implied. "You're going to love me someday," she promises. Couldn't we just see it play out naturally? Spoilers.

This idea is one that can only really be done on a show like Doctor Who, where things are wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. The problem is, this doesn't mean that the idea is worth exploring, or even successful. It's made even worse when the relationship implied is one deeper than friendship. The Doctor is famously chaste, married only to his TARDIS and what lies ahead. Because of this, the idea of a person the Doctor will someday trust enough to share his real name and eventually marry carries with it a sizeable amount of convincing. Such a huge shift in the show's dynamic requires a lot of character development. Sadly none of that is to be seen onscreen. Who is Jim the Fish? Who cares? Steven Moffat's joke of "I'll explain later," became painfully prophetic of his time as showrunner.

I've got no complaints about River being a Time Lord, or even her being the child of Amy and Rory. Those elements are fine, really. It's the way in which she is presented which I find most detrimental to her character. I never did buy into the idea that the Doctor loved her as a wife. Their wedding seemed necessary to save the universe, as opposed to a union made out of love. Any kind of enjoyment I've ever gotten out of River stems mostly out of my love for Alex Kingston's performance. Where the show fails to establish her, she more than makes up for in style and substance. I grew to like River Song, despite the show's failure to ground her properly. River grew on me as she always said she would, but by no effort on the part of the writers. River is cool because River is cool, not because it was inferred that she was.

5. Susan

If you’ve followed this blog long enough, you’ll know I’ve already mellowed on Susan. In my reviews of the First Doctor era, I’ve had mostly good things to say about her character. This doesn’t change the fact that I found her utterly irritating at first, and it feels appropriate to talk about it here.

My initial dislike for Susan is a lot like my intial dislike for Clara. A lot of it was wrapped up in my own expectations of the character. Susan is the Doctor’s granddaughter. She is a Time Lord, therefore she should also be brilliant. And we get a lot of that in her first episode. She is mysterious, she’s enigmatic, and she is brilliant. Even her teachers at school found her perplexing. But the show doesn’t continue down that line. In fact, there are times when they make Susan borderline stupid. But how much of this is clouded by my own preconceptions?

For starters, Susan wasn’t a Time Lord. At least, not then. She was just a young girl. She may have been smarter than her fellow students, but this played more into how she was raised. So when the show depicts Susan screaming at every little thing, grabbing her hair dramatically, it smashed apart my mental image of a Time Lord. I couldn’t appreciate that they had her act this way to help sell a bad effect. Oftentimes Susan, like many Doctor Who companions, had her character sacrificed to make the baddies scarier. It was a product of her time, and even still I feel her character suffers for it.

However, one of the things I have discovered through repeat viewings of the First Doctor era is the surprising amount of character development among the TARDIS crew. The Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and Susan all go through deep character development that was sadly often secondary in classic Doctor Who. Before the nature of the Doctor and companions was transient, there was a feeling of a family bond forming. Through this, I have come to find Susan to be a rather deep and sensitive person.

When it comes time to say goodbye to Susan, I can’t say I exactly agreed with the method. The Doctor locking her out and deciding she was mature enough to set out on her own felt hasty. But I would be lying if I didn’t agree that Susan had gone from a little girl to a young woman at that point. When you stop expecting Susan to be the Doctor, and allow her to be a kid, she grows on you instantly.

6. Adric

Let's be honest; it's not really original to hate on Adric. It's nothing new to point out what a bad companion he is, but here we are. Something I constantly endeavour to do on this blog is to be fair. One of my biggest complaints about the Doctor Who fandom is the proprietary attitude people take toward the fandom. The "I don't like it; therefore you shouldn't like it," attitude spat with such vitriol is one of the worst parts about being in the Doctor Who fandom. So when you say "Adric is my favourite companion," I'm not devising an argument for how wrong you are, it's fine. Like who you like. This doesn't mean I'm not also thinking in my head "What? Why?" Because I honestly, without malice, do not understand.

The most I ever enjoyed Adric, was in his introductory story "Full Circle." Setting him against a group of fellow Alzarians dilutes his lesser qualities. In fact, when paired with Varsh, he almost seems likeable. Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Varsh, and it's downhill from there. We're forced to watch a contrarian boy genius butt heads with the Doctor while he waddles around in a toddler's outfit while showing off his pound shop sheriffs badge for "mathematical excellence," to anyone who will listen. Adric is so obnoxious that he makes Wesley Crusher seem likeable in contrast.

However, it's not just his contrarian nature that makes me despise Adric, he's also disloyal to the Doctor and his friends. He's so susceptible to bad ideas as long as they a presented logically, that I've dubbed him the Ben Shapiro of the TARDIS. He's a smarmy little shit who believes himself superior to women, and he's really got no justification for his ill-placed self-confidence. Constantly demanding respect while giving very little reason to deserve it, he's like a poster child for incels. To make matters worse, he's oftentimes wrong and easily duped into taking the side of evil, turning him into more of a liability than an asset.

Recently, the idea that the Thirteenth Doctor could save someone from sacrificing themselves by using the TARDIS at the last moment to save them came under fire. "Why didn't the Doctor do this for Adric?" they said, forgetting conveniently when the Twelfth Doctor did the exact same thing in "Into the Dalek." But yes, why indeed? Why would the Doctor ever let a duplicitous, argumentative braggart die by their own stupid need to solve a math problem? My headcanon is that the Doctor got better at flying the TARDIS. The real reason is that people hated his character. The silence over the credits after Adric dies isn't out of respect for the character. The real reason is that the BBC couldn't secure the rights to Kool and the Gang's "Celebrate Good Times," before it aired.

Listen, I am not unsympathetic toward Matthew Waterhouse. He never should have been given such a big role, considering his utter lack of ability at the time. I imagine it was his own insecurity that fuelled his on-set antics. Giving unsolicited advice to veteran actors is cringey, but also the actions of a young and naive boy, in over his head. I know I said I was going to try and treat the performance as secondary, but in this case, it goes hand in hand. He has the stage presence of a fake. Every moment he's onscreen is disingenuous. The fact that he is present at the death of my favourite Doctor, stinking up the scene is genuine pain to me. If he has been made better in Big Finish, I've not yet heard it. As of now, there is nothing I've seen of Adric that has changed my opinion. But I'm glad if he makes you happy.

#Doctor Who #Danny Pink #samuel anderson #clara oswald #jenna coleman #Melanie Bush #Bonnie Langford #River Song #Alex Kingston #Susan #carole ann ford #adric #Matthew Waterhouse #tardis #bbc #companions

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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russianspacegeckosexparty said: @bigskydreaming One of the settlements is a huge tower reaching up into the clouds, and very caste system hierarchy with the ones at or nearest the top of this spire are the royalty and nobility, and others are low rank.

Looooooool get out of my brain. Like, this can’t be a Faetown but only because this is basically the logline for a novel from my Citadel ‘verse, literally the one I was working on and getting ready to self-publish like....back when my jaw broke on me three years ago and derailed all my plans. I even had a cover commissioned for it and everything. Well okay not quite. I had an illustration I commissioned for it that I was going to use to design the cover from, and like, I really loved the tone and atmosphere and background the guy came up with and some things about how he illustrated the magic, but the character he featured front and center did uh....not mesh up with the breakdown I gave for what she and her armor should look like and also she’s doing one of those “This Is Anatomically Impossible And Also Ow I Hurt Just Looking At It” poses so.....I was like, ugggh, I like a lot of it (and the fact that I spent money on it) too much to just toss it out but like no way does it work as is so I still haven’t gotten around to figuring out if I could layer in the title in such a way as to obscure or hide part of her....contorting. I’ve added the illustration below the cut so you can see what I mean. LMAO. I think I might have posted it once before actually, but without the context of the story.

But seriously, this is The Elevation of Contempt in a nutshell. My prompt for myself for this one was literally “Class warfare, but make it magic.” LOL. And the towers thing is like....directly tied into the magic of this world.

So the world this novel is set on is one created by the goddesses of the sun and the moon. Back during the Holy Wars before the Citadel was split in pieces, they were lovers who found and shared dominion of the Solarium and its power, which when exiled by Seshan with the rest of the pantheon, they used to create this world and its inhabitants and its magic.

The basis for the magic system of this world is that magic, like matter, has different phases. Only while matter’s phase is dependent on temperature, the state of magic varies depending on altitude - basically, how close it is to the sun/moon, the source of magic in this world.

So each goddess created their own parallel form of magic, sun magic and moon magic, and it all operates by the same principles. At its furthest distance from the sun and moon, basically the surface level of the planet, magic condenses in its solid form, with specific properties while in that state. Once you reach a certain elevation however, magic exists in its liquid form, while at the higher elevations, it exists in a gaseous form, as clouds and vapor.

Which means the people of this world, upon discovering this, built their cities not outwards but UPWARDS. Using the magic of the Lower Realms to stabilize enormous towers and enable them to be built soaring to impossible heights....and ultimately a caste system formed, with the ruling class of the Heights lording their power over the Middle and Lower Realms....because magic in its gaseous/cloud phase is the most potent concentration.

But also, there’s the fact that the key to tapping the magic is art, basically. Due to the fact that the goddesses who designed the magic had been artists in their mortal lives, before ascending to godhood.

So the magic of the Lower Realms, the Depths, where its crystallized in the form of a kind of magical gemstone......magic in this phase just enhances what’s already there. Moon magic focuses on the physical realm while sun magic is about the essence of things, the spiritual realm. So crystallized moon magic, these silver/blue/purple gemstones which glow at night, when their magic can tapped and accessed....it basically can be used in various ways that all revolve around enhancing the already existing physical nature or properties of things. How it does this and in what ways, what properties, what degrees of enhancement....these depend on the artisans who take these gemstones and use them to craft jewelry and decorative elements, ornamentation, the patterns and imagery of which are what channel the moon magic into performing specific functions.

Thus the ornate layering of gemstones throughout the foundation of the cities of this world are what keep the towers of the city capable of being built higher and higher without toppling. (But they’re layered so deeply into the foundations of the cities that its not like the people who live in the Depths could use this to hold the cities hostage so to speak, like threatening to destroy the foundations if their lives aren’t improved upon....they couldn’t really GET to the core foundations of the city to destroy the moon magic keeping it stabilized and refreshing that stability night after night, like....without the forces commanded by the people of the Heights stopping them long before they got to that point).

Then sun magic in its crystallized sunstone form, which can be tapped or accessed during the daylight hours....this enhances the existing spiritual properties or essences of things. Basically, solid-form sun magic makes things more of what they are on a kind of primal, existential level. Moon magic can make fires burn hotter, stone stand sturdier, weapons with moonstone-laden hilts more durable, sharper, less likely to break. Sun magic makes things with medicinal properties or tools of healing more effective, make weapons more deadly, in like an esoteric kind of way.

But both sunstones and moonstones, the crystallized forms of the magic, once brought to a certain elevation...they automatically melt into their liquid forms upon crossing that invisible threshold at which point solid magic becomes liquid. It doesn’t matter how expertly the crystallized sun and moon magic was wielded, crafted...it just simply doesn’t exist any longer in that solid form the second it reaches a certain height.

And this is the primary obstacle to people climbing the ranks of the city, socially as well as physically. Because thanks to the stranglehold the upper classes of most cities hold over the arts and education......the lower class living in the Depths simply lack the knowledge and skill to make use of the magic once its liquified and exists in those forms....because they’ve been denied those things. Sure, there are prodigies, people it comes naturally to without needing much education or training in tapping the magic via a ‘higher’ form of art in order to do so, but the ruling class works hard to ensure the number of people this includes - or who are aware that they possess such skill or the potential for it - is finite, or when a prodigy’s talent is undeniable, they ‘elevate’ them through the social ranks of the city and relocate them to one of the higher levels to keep most of them unmotivated to use these skills on behalf of the lower class they were once part of but no longer. Ones who rise through the ranks while still holding their old loyalties are either ‘disappeared’ or they learn to keep such loyalties well hidden.

In the Mids, the Middle Realm of the cities, where magic is concentrated in its liquid stages, sun and moon magic are tapped and channeled via painting and illustrations....their liquid forms being used as paint that artists then paint directly onto buildings, artifacts and even peoples’ skin as a form of magical tattoos.

Thus painters and tattoo artists are the real power brokers of the Mids. There’s bound to be one with a shop, selling their services, at every city level of the Mids, in every tower throughout the city. Aqueducts beginning at the very top levels of the Middle Realms collect the sun and moon magic the second the cloud and mist versions of the magic descend to the elevation at which they condense into a liquid, and then pipe that magic all throughout the middle levels of the city into reservoirs tapped by the various artists of the Mids in varying amounts, depending on their personal wealth and social standing. These aqueducts flow all the way to the Depths, where they leave off at the point where the liquid magic crystallizes in the ‘quarries’ at the upper reaches of the Depths. Thus in this fashion, the ruling class of the Heights also controls how MUCH magic reaches both the Mids and the Depths to begin with.

As with both the Depths and the Heights, the moon magic of the Mids is related to the physicality of things, while sun magic is related to their spiritual essences. Liquid moon magic, when channeled at night when its power can be tapped.....basically gives form and substance to whatever imagery its painted in.

So an artist can paint wings onto a person’s back with the silver, blue and violet hues of liquid moon magic, and upon nightfall, that person can activate that ‘tattoo’ at which point the wings lift off their skin and spring into being as physical things they can actually fly with. Someone could have a fireball painted onto their palm that will burst forth into real flames the second they command it to. People can commission artists for painted tattoos of weapons they can ‘peel’ off their skin into a state of physical being, or lightning bolts they can throw or even snakes that unwind from their forearms and attack or some kind of large cat like a panther that leaps free of the canvas of their back to attack an enemy.

The only real limitations are that for an image to be ‘cast into being,’ ie pulled free of its canvas of skin or stone or whatever its painted upon and called forth as a real, three dimensional physical thing....it must be on the surface of whatever its painted upon, exposed to the night. So if you’re wealthy enough, you can commission an artist to paint several layers of ‘tattoos’ upon your skin, atop each other....but only the upper most image can be called forth at any given time. So if the tattoo that a person really needs at the moment is buried under two others, they have to ‘shed’ and waste the two tattoos atop it, burn them off so to speak, in order to reveal the one they’re trying to utilize as they can only then call it forth.

The other limitations are that any moon magic in a state of physical being when dawn comes vanishes with the sunrise. “Dormant” images, ones that are still painted on skin or stone or canvas but haven’t been tapped or called into being yet....they remain. Still useless during the daylight hours, but they haven’t been wasted, you don’t HAVE to use them up all in one night. But anything that’s been conjured with moon magic already, be it a weapon or a creature or wings...those will all vanish the second sunlight filters through to the Mids.

Similarly, the creations of liquid moon magic only exist at the elevations moon magic exists in its liquid form. So if someone were to call forth a moon-crafted weapon from a painting in the Mids, and then carry that weapon with them down into the Depths....the second they crossed that invisible threshold into the altitudes of the Depths, their moon-conjured weapon would crystallize into a formless lump of solid moon magic. At the other end of things, if say, someone were to call forth wings of moonlight and use them to fly.....even though their wings could carry them all the way up to the elevations of the Heights....the second they crossed THAT threshold, their moon-conjured wings would effervesce into the formless mists of moon magic in its gaseous state. The weapons and creatures and creations of liquid moon magic exist ONLY in the Mids. They can’t rise or sink into either the Heights or the Depths; they cease to exist and either evaporate or crystallize into unshaped solid or gaseous magic.

Liquid sun magic has all the same restrictions and works by the same principles....but while liquid moon magic calls the imagery its painted in into being as a physical conjuration, liquid sun magic conjures the spiritual, the essence of things.

So a painted tattoo of a lightning bolt, if painted with moonlight and tapped during the night hours...will be called into being as an actual physical lightning bolt someone can cast forth as a force of destruction. A painted tattoo of a lightning bolt, if painted with sunlight and tapped during the day, however....that will conjure the essence of lightning, of electricity....channel its spiritual nature into a form the magic-user can wield. Such as by surging through them in the form of temporarily enhanced strength and speed, as though their nervous systems have been briefly supercharged, allowing for impossible feats. Sunlight painted images of creatures will allow someone to channel the spiritual properties or essences of such creatures.

A called forth image of a serpent, for instance, could allow someone to poison an enemy with a temporarily venomous touch or a now poisoned blade. Tapping a sunlight-painted image of fire could cause a weapon or a door or even a person to glow with heat and burn to the touch, even though no physical fire is actually called into being. The painted tattoo of a hawk could temporarily give someone the keen vision of a bird of prey. And so on and so forth.

But again, as with the Depths, no matter how skilled or imaginative a painter, no matter how educated or practiced they are in the liquid arts of magic.....none of this does them any good if they were to try to climb to the city’s Heights uninvited.....because the magic simply doesn’t exist in that form to be used in that way once a certain elevation is reached.....and the music the ruling class uses to manipulate and channel magic in its most potent, gaseous forms...that’s the most carefully maintained, overseen and doled out form of artistic training of all.

Because the magic of the Heights, the magic of the sun and moon when flowing shapelessly and without limit or boundary through the vast reaches of the Upper Realms in the form of plentiful, wastefully abundant clouds and mists both at day and at night....

That’s the magic of transformation.

Mist moon magic when tapped and channeled at night, via the playing of flute-like wind instruments that breathe in and breathe out the ambient mist-magic and direct and shape it in the form of songs...mist moon magic allows a musician to transform the physical shape and structure of anything the mists touch, anyone who breathes them in. All via the direction of their music and the messages their songs are meant to convey, the images they conjure in the musician’s mind and from there are imparted upon others as the magic reshapes everything or everyone it touches to match the musician’s imaginings.

Thus the buildings of the Heights, the upper most levels of a city’s towers, are wrought by magic into strange, wondrous, impossible shapes. And often reshaped night after night. Musicians change their own shapes and the shapes of others at whim or upon request, transfiguring them into otherworldly visages and transforming animals into creatures born of imagination. A musician can’t change their own shape into that of some kind of animal, as they’d have no way to change themselves back if now lacking the ability to play their instruments and sing their songs....but they can change others into predators and prey, dragons and birds and tigers and anything else they fancy....with the other being entirely dependent on them to transform them back. The Heights are full of unearthly gardens filled with flowers and trees that could not exist if not for the moon magic and imaginations of the musicians who wield it. And unlike magic in its other forms, those of the lower elevations....the effects of moon magic don’t vanish with the sun. A transformation, once rendered, remains as is until and unless its transformed again.

And of course sun magic in its mist and cloud state works much the same way, though it renders transformations of the spirit....which is in many ways even more dangerous and potent. The music of sun magic changes the essence of things without changing its shape. Makes something other than what it is - impossibly so. It can make water burn like fire. It can make darkness illuminate brighter than the day. It can make a medicine intended to heal into a poison that kills, give a man the mind of a beast and a beast the mind of a man, make a solid door as see through as glass and someone submerged deep in a pool able to breathe it in as easily as if it were air.

The songs sung with sunlight, its said, can even make an honest man into a liar, a thief into a paragon of virtue, or the most loyal of allies into a traitor intent upon your death.

And as with songs woven of moonlight, the transformations rendered in the sun last even after night falls...unless and until another transformation is wrought.

And by keeping a tight leash on who they allow to become musicians at all....the ruling class maintains a stranglehold on the power they’ve amassed in the Heights. Even if the citizens of the lower levels were to climb to their elevation, they’d be unable to make use of the plentiful magic all around them, with no experience and instruction in using music to weave the magic into specific shapes....since those things have been deliberately withheld from them. By contrast, those of the Heights have no such restrictions in learning to utilize the illustrative skills and magic of the Mids or the jewelry-crafting of the Depths, even if they tend to view this as dabbling for the sake of idle entertainment....still, it means that when they venture forth into other elevations of the city....they are in no way hampered or impaired in making use of the magic there, even without aid of the music magic they’re most used to.

I think the gist of the plot (Class warfare, but with magic) is pretty clear from there, lol.

But the main characters of The Elevation Of Contempt include one of the most acclaimed painters of the Mids of one city: a ‘tattoo’ artist of great renown who teaches children of both the Mids and the Depths the art of music in secret lessons aided by her lover, a rebellious noblewoman who despises the rule of the Heights.....a young prodigy from the Depths and his best friend who in turn rises to become the pupil and protégé of an eccentric professor obsessed with legends of a time before their world, who maintains that none of this was as their creator goddesses intended and they would have intervened long before now, if they were not preoccupied with their own war against the god of another world, Alyon the god of Darkness and Despair, who holds dominion over something the oldest legends refer to as The Well.....and lastly, a thief from the Mids who was punished with a cruel transformation by the laughing nobility of the Heights, and who has since found a way to turn their punishment into his power and with it has sworn to make them all pay....

And all of them becoming entwined with the conflict between three mysterious strangers, who unbeknowst to the mortals of this world are gods of other worlds themselves: Azai-Dhak the God of Gamblers, who abandoned his own world in order to flee from Korim the Goddess of Vengeance, who has a ten thousand year old score to settle and eternity to stalk her prey......and Ramzi the God of Revels, lord of the Great Hall. Though what the latter could possibly want with the world of Sura is anyone’s guess. Only the goddesses of the sun and the moon have ever had much luck shining light on his motivations, and well. They’ve been a bit busy these past two thousand years.

Anyway, this is the illustration I’m still trying to figure out how to make work as the cover......you can uh...pretty easily see what I mean about the anatomy, I’m fairly sure. LMFAO.

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thedailyimagines · 5 years

Text

Imagine getting into a relationship with Barbara Gordon.

Anon requested: “Batgirl (Barbara Gordon) x Male Reader, where the reader is the son of joker and is arch enemy of batgirl, but eventually they end up falling in love and they get into a secret relationship due to their allegiances but later they are found out and they’re relationships spread throughout Gotham and swear to each other to protect one another and come public with their relationship.”

This work contains swearing and some pretty heavy violence near the end. Also it is long.

When you see the red WARNING, it’s a sign that the violence is about to start. Skip ahead if you need to.

~~~~~~~~

Being the son of the clown prince of crime sucked. He was, to put it extremely lightly, an asshole. So you made it your job to undermine everything he did. Currently, you had your own gang and were getting ready to rob Gotham’s biggest bank.

With a loud crash, you burst through the doors of the bank with your crew, taking out the security guards posted in the room. In moments you had everyone gathered in the middle of the room.

“Alright everybody, listen up! We’re not here to hurt anybody, just to lighten the bank’s vault! So stay still and quiet, and nobody gets hurt!” Leaving two of your men to watch the hostages, you directed the rest to start emptying out the vault. Soon everything was ready to go.

“Oi, the boss said shut up! So either make the kid stop, or I shut them up myself!” You turned to see one of your henchmen, Pete, yelling at a woman and her child. The woman was trying to calm her child down to no avail.

“Pete, dear, could you come here for a minute?” The henchman looked confused, but did as you said. You took him out of sight of the hostages to where the rest of your men were emptying the last of the vault’s contents.

“What’s up boss?” You smiled sweetly at the goon.

“You know how I feel about threatening children.” Pete’s eyes widened, realizing now you had heard his threat.

“W-wait boss, please—!”

BANG. Pete fell over dead, and you put your gun back in it’s holster. Turning to the other men, you addressed them like you hadn’t just shot one of their coworkers.

“Let Pete here be an example. Don’t break my rules.” The henchmen all nodded. You rolled your eyes when they didn’t start moving. “That doesn’t mean you stop working! Grab everything and let’s get moving!”

<—>

How was it you had the worst luck? First you had to find some new henchmen (stupid Pete), then your getaway driver decided to bail—forcing your crew to steal a car—and now you had to find another window repairman. You should get a discount for the amount of times you called.

“You know, if you asked I’d give you a key to the front door. Or the roof. You don’t have to come crashing through every window.” Batgirl raised her fists, prepared to fight you if necessary.

“You’re going to Arkham clown-boy.” You placed one of your hands over your chest, feigning hurt.

“Ouch. Clown-boy. Listen, I can take being called lots of things, but that’s where I draw the line. I don’t think I can be your nemesis anymore. We’re through now.” Batgirl threw a punch but you dodged it.

“This isn’t a joke. Now are you going to come quietly or do I have to knock you out and drag you back?” You shrugged and gave her a smile.

“Oh come on, lighten up a little Batgirl! It’s not like anyone died!”

“Really? What about the goon in the clown mask?”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about him. He threatened to kill a kid cause they were crying. I don’t like people who do that.” She scoffed and threw another punch, this one connecting with your shoulder when you tried to move out of the way.

“Yet you work with your father.” You caught Batgirl’s fist and pulled her closer to you, tapping her on the nose before releasing her hand.

“Correction: I work against him. I’m currently in the process of blowing his current cash flow to pieces. Make it a little harder to buy bombs and other fun stuff.” She backed away from you and frowned.

“So you can what? Own them for yourself?” You shook your head and crossed your arms behind your back.

“Nope. I really don’t care about gang fighting and all that crap. But I’d rather not have a lunatic running the streets, you know?”

“You’re insane.”

“Technically, yes. But you know me Batgirl. When I ever committed mass murder or something like that?” Before she could answer, a knock came from the door leading out of your ‘office’.

“Boss? Is everything alright in there?” Henchmen. Always interrupting the important things. You rolled your eyes and answered.

“Everything is fine. What do you want?” There was a pause, and the goon replied with a nervous voice.

“Joker’s on the phone. Says he needs to have words with you.” Gah. Couldn’t the clown call at a later time? Preferably never?

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll pick it up in here. Go back to doing whatever it was you were doing.” The henchman confirmed this and left. Batgirl waited til the footsteps had gone before she spoke.

“Some secretary.” You raised your hands up in an ‘I guess’ gesture and walked over to the phone on your makeshift desk.

“What can I say? He’s good eye candy. Only for looking though, wouldn’t want to make you jealous.” She scoffed again, and you picked up the phone.

“Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.” The voice on the other end screeched, causing you to hold the phone away from your ear. When you held it back, it was less loud but still as annoying.

“—And listen here you sarcastic little shit—” You interrupted the Joker before he could speak any more.

“I’m sorry, but it’s ‘Dr. Sarcastic little shit’. I have a doctorate in sarcasm.”

“You ruined everything! I had the perfect plan to drive Gotham mad laid out, and you ruined it!” You tapped your chin and turned towards the window, your back towards Batgirl.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” Your voice took on a mocking tone now. “Did the big bad Batman swoop in and disarm your little gas attack?” The Joker snarled and uttered several more expletives.

“When I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you were never born!” You chuckled into the receiver.

“Too late for that. Good talk, go take a walk off of Wayne Tower.” You hung up the phone and turned to face Batgirl once again, only to find she was gone. Huh. Maybe she got bored of waiting for you?

<—>

Finally, a night off. The bar was a little crowded but it was better than a cold warehouse full of people who probably shared one brain cell between all of them.

“Excuse me, is it okay if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” You glanced up at the red haired woman in front of you and gave her a smile.

“Yeah! Let me just move my bag.” Once the seat was clear, you pushed it out so she could sit down. The redhead did so with a grateful smile.

“Thanks. My feet were killing me. Name’s Barbara by the way, what’s yours?”

“My name’s y/n. Nice to meet you Barbara.” Barbara tilted her head, trying to get a good look at you. For a moment you thought she recognized you from the news, but brushed that thought aside. You looked pretty different when you weren’t covered in face paint and your usual getup.

“Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.”

“Nah, only when I’m not busy. Unfortunately those moments are few and far between. You?” Barbara waved down a bartender and ordered a drink.

“Usually I meet my dad here, but he’s working late tonight.” You nodded and took a sip of your own drink.

“Sounds nice. My dad would kill me if I suggested we have dinner together.” Or at the very least, put you in the hospital for a couple of months. That was assuming you would actually talk to him.

“Not a nice guy, huh?”

“That’s underestimating it, but yeah.” The two of you talked for a long time, and at the end of the night exchanged phone numbers. You probably wouldn’t call her, but it was nice to imagine.

<—>

“What the hell did you do to her?!?!” You were glaring in pure anger at your goons, all of whom were staring at you with wide eyes and pale faces.

“She snuck in boss! So we shot her—” Your hand shot out and grabbed the closest thug, the one who had shot Batgirl.

“Are you fucking idiots?!?! She works with Batman! We don’t need him breathing down our necks!” You shoved the man to the ground, running a hand through your y/h/c hair.

“Boss—”

“Shut up. I’ll deal with this myself. I swear if any of you do anything stupid while I’m gone, I’ll make the rest of your short lives hell. Is. That. Clear?” Your henchmen nodded, and you walked over to Batgirl. Picking her up bridal style, you carried her to one of the throwaway cars and loaded her into the passenger seat.

You were halfway to the hospital before you realized you couldn’t take her there. They would have to unmask her and that would most likely ruin her and any of her family’s lives. At the very least the GCPD would throw her in a jail cell.

...What was under the mask? Lots of Gotham’s thugs and lowlifes assumed the Batman was a robot or something, but what about Batgirl? You parked the car and looked at the unconscious superheroine. Surely a look couldn’t hurt?

The mask slid off easier than you expected. Your eyes widened as you saw the face of Batgirl—but you had seen her before.

“Barbara?” She groaned and opened her eyes. The first thing Barbara saw was you, your face painted and clothes covered in blood. Then she saw her mask in your hands.

“You bastard!” You raised your hands to stop her from murdering you right there and then.

“Wait Barbara, listen to me!” Barbara froze at the sound of her name.

“How the hell do you know my name?”

“Do I really look that different with face paint on?” Dropping the mask in her lap, you grabbed a towel from the backseat and scrubbed your face with it, until you were sure all the paint was gone. “Now do you recognize me?”

“You! You’re the guy from the bar!” Her surprise turned back to rage. “We’re you just spying on me? Trying to get information about me?”

“No! I didn’t know it was you, I just...I was curious. I wanted to see under your mask.” Barbara put her fist down, wincing at the pain in her side. She almost forgot, she had been shot. Her future really was in y/n’s hands now.

“So what are you going to do now?” You shrugged and drummed your fingers on the steering wheel.

“I’m not turning you in or anything. And you’re still bleeding. Do you have a place where I can drop you off, or...?” Barbara let out a sigh of relief, knowing you wouldn’t blab about her secret identity.

“I can contact Batman and he can pick me up. I just need to be dropped off somewhere.” You nodded and let her make the call, then dropped her off where she directed.

<—>

Five months.

Five months was all it took to start a relationship with Barbara Gordon. It was a rocky start, but it was easy when nobody knew your alter ego.

And it was almost a year after that, the night before your anniversary, when you received a call from the Commissioner that she was in the hospital.

A gunshot wound. The Joker has gone to her apartment and shot her. Tortured her father. All just to get back at the Batman.

You took a trip to the hospital to see Barbara, the sight of her hooked up to machines filling you with rage. When you left you drove straight to Arkham. You still had a few connections there and soon you were waiting in one of the various abandoned sub levels.

The door to the room you were in banged open and two Arkham guards dragged the Joker into the room. They threw him to the ground and looked to you for instructions.

“Leave. Call the Batman if you want. I don’t care. He stays.” The guards looked to one another, then nodded. When they left you turned to face the Joker.

“You know, I never thought you were so stupid. You may be crazy, but stupid was never really on the list. Yet you went after the commissioner’s daughter and the commissioner.”

“So what? It’s not like you had a personal stake in this.” You regarded your father with a cold expression, from his arms being restrained by a straight-jacket and to his face covered with bruises.

“You paralyzed a girl from the waist down, humiliated and tortured her father, and for what?” You grabbed his chin and leaned in close to the green haired madman. “Just so you could have the attention of the one person who you want to break? News flash asshole; He won’t pay attention to you beyond kicking your ass.” The Joker jerked his face away and gave you his signature grin.

“So what now? You drop me in Gotham Harbor? Feed me to Harley’s mongrels? Ooo, I know! Hand me over to some of Arkham’s nastiest to have a little one on one with me!” You turned away and grabbed something from the bag you brought with you.

“You might wanna close your eyes.” The Joker frowned now.

WARNING: VIOLENCE AHEAD

“What? Why—!” With a loud CRACK, the baseball bat you held connected with the side of Joker’s face. Over and over you rained blows down on him, not letting up until the bat finally broke from the stress.

You weren’t done yet. Going back to your bag you pulled out several metal spikes, their points barely sharpened. Ever-so-slowly you pinned the Joker to the floor, relishing in his grunts of pain. Once he was pinned down you pulled out your knife, a gift from (ironically) Harley for your birthday.

You carved into his skin, making sure each cut would scar permanently. But you left his face alone. You wanted people to see just who this was. That the Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime, wasn’t invulnerable.

By the time you let up, the Joker was a bruised, bloody mess. He would live. His injuries would take weeks, probably months to heal. And even then he would still be in pain for the rest of his life.

VIOLENCE HAS ENDED

The Batman found you not long after. You were sitting on a crate messing with your phone. The Joker laid nearby, beaten beyond a bloody pulp and unconscious, but still breathing.

“Why did you do this?” The Batman was shocked, but didn’t show it. He almost didn’t believe anyone was capable of doing this to their father, even if he was the Joker.

“You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve it.” You put your phone away and looked up at the Batman, his face unreadable beneath the cowl.

“Why?” Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair. You really weren’t getting out of answering his question, were you?

“He hurt my girlfriend.” Batman frowned a little more.

“Who—” You cut him off before he could finish the question.

“Barbara. She and I have been dating for about a year now. He fucking shot her. This is the least I could have done to him.” Shock silenced the bat, but soon he spoke.

“...You should go see her.” You raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Not going to arrest me?” He shook his head.

“She needs you now. We’ll talk later.” You took a moment, then stood up and headed for the exit. The Batman was right.

And you needed to see how Barbara was doing.

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.

#thedailyimagines #imagine #male reader #son of joker!reader #batman imagine #barbara gordon #barbara gordon imagine #barbara gordon x reader #barbara gordon x reader imagine #batgirl #batgirl imagine #batgirl x reader #batgirl x reader imagine #the joker #batman

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qm-vox · 5 years

Text

The Dwelling Gods - A More Perfect Union

Previous Chapter: Sitting The Table

Human-Controlled Space (The Undivided Whole), Milky Way Galaxy (Orion Arm), 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

We The People Of Planet Earth

Not all is well. It has not been well ever since the People’s invasion of the gataxians. We had underestimated the willingness of their aggrieved neighbors to come to their defense; even now Our citizens pore over histories, shift masses of data, claim mental bandwidth with which to argue amongst Ourself about how We could have so grossly mis-characterized the political situation between the xenophobes and their prey. Our libraries buzz with life, fed further data by forward intel posts, by contemplation and meditation, by after-action reports written by Ourself and for Ourself and to Ourself.

But what’s worse is the wound, the lacing, scratching thing in Our mind, the hurtful little slash around which We become I. We cannot be I; We The People Of Planet Earth stand united, without flaw or seam.

We, not I. I cannot be the People. I can only be a person.

It itches. There is no other word for it. It feels like such a small thing but all of Us suffer for it; Our hands move more slowly, Our heads shake as we go about Our work. The wound-thing that tastes like “I” drives Our citizens to distraction. The artwork being made for Our vaults and cities and ships skews dark; We can feel Ourselves working in bloody rust-reds, in off-blacks, in violent tangles of light and shadow that dizzy the eyes. Our previous blue period would be a relief at this point.

How did We get hurt? It had felt almost like one of Our semi-autonomous citizens, what Divided Humanity would think of as an officer, reporting in to sync subjectivities, but instead of the blissful transfer of information We were cut and scarred by the shrieking death-fear of two minds at once. One almost human, the other...

(Art-citizens slash red across the metal of Our fleets. A creche of writers begins typing gibberish far beyond the pale of even Our most recursive meta-textual works; harsh noise plays from the throats of Our musicians oh it hurts the memory hurts so much and yet We cannot stop picking at it can We)

Focus. We direct the attention of the People (I look - no!) to the war-front. The gataxians are being reinforced in numbers too large to be a mere defensive measure, and We are bringing Our own fleets to bear accordingly. War-citizens emerge from the cloning vats, and We re-task the autonomous to the needs of battle. If We do not miss Our guess, a counter-invasion is imminent. This could work to the advantage of the People; forcing the enemy to expend time and energy defending the borders will make them easier to cross and pillage of resources, and We may learn much from the mysterious and advanced benefactors of the butterflies -

- something is not right. We are -

Gripped, seized in my (mymymymy) mind by two minds, two minds like the last two minds that carved I into We and made me aware of my me-ness, my one-ness, of the betrayal of my purpose it’s like claws made of knives right in the soul why this how this it hurts -

The human-like mind starts dying immediately, flayed layer by layer by the sheer enormity of the being that is Myself, but that other mind, that thing, that fractal whisper, it has me.

Hello, hivemind, it purrs, its voice full of promise and secrets. This will hurt.

I start screaming from a trillion throats, and then I am, once again -

Caroline Morrison, New York City, 2679 CE

When had most of the meetings become silent? I/(We) struggle to remember when exactly all of (U)s had noticed, but I guess the actual smoking gun was when we’d all decided to start faking the minutes of those meetings. Juan’s still the secretary on paper, so most of his attention is currently devoted to diligently writing up lies about our plans to grow the company, a proposed investment in a marketing firm (W)e already own in all the ways that matter, something something office birthday...

The Chinese takeout on the table isn’t fake, though. Turns out operating the brain chips takes a lot of calories, and while Juan fakes the words we’re not saying out loud we (all) stuff our faces while the conversation actually takes place on another level.

We’re going to have a problem with the money soon April says into (O)ur minds; I can feel the chip in my own brain tingle pleasantly as it registers the communication. If we keep things aboveboard we’ll be bankrupt in two years, but going criminal -

The IRS would be on us in an instant. We’re too suspicious already I finish. This orange chicken is fucking amazing and it’s sort of unfair how into it I am while we’re having this serious conversation. And it’s not like we can onboard them without pulling that trigger early.

!xobile holds up his hand to get us to hold on a second; he’s having an epic struggle with a forkful of noodles and the noodles are definitely winning. After managing to defeat his nemesis he clears his throat (not strictly necessary but he’s only had his chip for two months, it takes some getting used to) and starts talking: I may have another option. Marketing is reporting that the movement to cure autism -

- He pauses while the rest of us make mental noises of revulsion -

- Believes that the Ross-Moore Chip could provide such a service. This customer base is wealthy, influential, and comes with prime endorsements from celebrities...a few of whom have expressed a willingness to undergo the procedure for PR purposes.

!xobile names a few figures for initial donations, but they pale in comparison to the potential gains. Once they’re chipped, those luminaries will understand the Mission, the Need for United Humanity to reverse the catastrophic environmental damage to Earth, to prevent another disaster like the loss of the Arkships. They’d give (U)s access to their social sphere and keep the wolves away from the door while we work...

Everyone else is thinking the same thing.

Fund it I/(We) order, and we all raise our little boxes of fried rice to toast with.

We The People of Planet Earth, 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

I struggle and thrash, but this conflict is foreign to me (mememememe); no citizen has ever rebelled like this. Where are the weapons, how do I grasp this whispering thing that has me in those claws, in that late November grip that tastes like sad truths and cuts like a funeral dirge.

What a sad little mistake you are the thing whispers in a cruel, crooning voice. You don’t even know what you are not.

We (I) need to get Our citizens in order; We turn Our focus away from the claw-thing to calm the disrupted citizens, to soothe the bodies. From somewhere in the depths of memory I/We recall reading that control of the body is control of the mind, and We are far from in control of either it hurts why does it hurt so much.

A whispering laugh, and those claws, those shredding things of grief and fear, dig in deeper. She lives with this every day, and you can barely stand a moment of it. How long has it been since you felt pain, little mistake?

LET ME GO! I roar, and I realize my mistake too late; the claw-thing reaches into that moment of wrath and fear, and I can feel what I know being known by it, being learned and scraped and analyzed. No! No no no no no -

In desperation I grab at memories and drag my captor down with me, and then it is an earlier time and place again.

United Humanity, Sydney, Australia, 0 Unified Year (2076 Astra Federation Standard Calendar)

“We don’t see that you have much choice,” We say to the assembled leaders. This citizen wears a nametag that says ‘Gloria’, and they address Us by that name; We have long since realized that those who are not yet United respond better to the fiction of Division than to Our truth. “Your fleet is in tatters. You cannot sustain a defense against the numbers We can bring to bear on land. It is not Our wish to drag out this conflict or to be responsible for the loss of human life.”

The American gives Our citizen one of those knife-hand gestures so common among their lower officers, which makes a certain amount of sense; We own most of their former high command these days. “You’ll forgive me if I point out how farcical that statement is. Those poor souls you chip -”

“Are completely unharmed,” We interrupt smoothly. “Living productive and happy lives, with the best medical care and all of their needs seen to.” We straighten Our citizen’s collar. “We understand your concerns, but the Ross-Moore is a method of communication, nothing more. United Humanity represents what is possible when language barriers are wholly removed,” We add. Experience gained from millions of people makes the lie smooth and clean.

Murmurs, around the room. “Gloria” is the de facto hostage of the coalition government, but their alliance cannot last; already cultural friction erodes the morale of their citizenry, alongside the unchecked greed of capitalist holdouts who even now attempt to profit off of Our unification. They can be made to see.

“Gentlemen,” We say, “what can We do to convince you? We would rather not make grand threats; if We wanted to invade, We would have done so already. Surely there is a path to peace that we can all walk today.”

Those murmurs become contemplative. We wait, letting them talk, debate, murmur favors to be traded with one another.

When it feels right, We speak next from the mouth of the Australian Prime Minister: “How quickly could United Humanity supply food and medical relief to my citizens?”

“Gloria” smiles beatifically. “Within forty-eight hours.”

We The People of Planet Earth, 787 Unified Year (2863 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; Covenant Day)

That cutting grip is loosening (it hits like heartbreak on the last day of summer, like the last goodbye between old friends, oh it hurts -), but I can feel that thing rooting through my memories yet further, knowing what I know. War-citizen deployments, cloning methods -

Get out of there! I shriek as I feel it rifling through my artwork, my culture, the churches and holy places I preserved on Earth, the museums and vaults and -

It laughs at me. Laughs long and quiet, in that cruel, whispering voice.

Now what is all of this for? the claw-thing murmurs. What benevolent idiots your creators were, little mistake.

I hit back, lashing out, but something new is wrong; it’s dying, flaking away as the human-like mind struggles to remain in existence amidst the torrent of Myself. The feeling is like punching water that’s already going down a drain.

You have no right I accuse. The history of Divided Humanity must be -

That mocking laughter again: I’m dying now, little mistake. Let me show you something before I go.

An image, in my mind, as clear as if my citizens were there in the flesh: the Arkship Demeter, lost through an unstable wormhole. Dozens of species fill its halls, but prominent among them, participating in a solemn religious service is -

- is -

- Oh no.

Glory to the Phoenix, the risen children of Divided Humanity the claw-thing mocks with the last shreds of its strength, and then it is gone.

Across my dozens of worlds and thousands of space stations, United Humanity starts screaming.

#dwelling gods #fiction #soft sci-fi #critique welcome

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years

Text

closer - chapter 3

fic title: “closer” by travis

rated: t | words: 5686

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

ao3 | ffnet

“They… They’ve…”

“Shot?” Breda exclaimed before Roy could formulate his sentence.

No. No, they couldn’t have been shot. That wouldn’t happen. They were working a simple case just gathering evidence. They wouldn’t get shot from doing that. That would be ridiculous. He’d just been talking to Hawkeye a few hours ago and she was fine. She hadn’t been shot.

Then why was there so much blood on Catalina’s uniform?

“What happened?” Havoc asked, staring into space. His voice was quiet and dazed. Roy watched as he swallowed, the Lieutenant’s Adam’s apple bobbing twice.

“Where are they?” Roy cut in. Reasoning cut through the haze that had formed over his mind after hearing that news. His brain had stuttered a few times but was now whirring as it processed Catalina’s announcement at a mile a minute.

Catalina’s gaze flicked to Roy’s, holding it for a moment longer than he could bear. Roy opened his mouth impatiently, about to demand that she tell him right now, but she eventually answered.

“Grumman is on his way to the hospital.”

“And Riza?” Roy asked desperately, sensing there was a big “but” coming.

Catalina looked uncomfortable before she answered, and Roy felt a shiver run up his spine. “Still at the site of the shooting.”

“What?” The whole team’s gaze snapped to hers.

Catalina swallowed, taking a shaky breath. “We got Grumman out. They sent him out. Riza’s still in there though –”

Roy wanted to vomit but his brain hadn’t caught up with the current conversation yet. He was saying words but wasn’t taking much of it. He picked up certain words and that was enough to piece together what had happened.

“Who sent him out?” he asked, beginning to walk towards the door.

“It’s a hostage situation, Roy.” Catalina’s eyes were large and worried. She rung her hands in her lap, fidgeting to try and control her emotions. “They won’t let her leave. I don’t know who they are,” she added, sensing his next question. “But… It’s bad. I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s go.”

Before he could take another step there was a tough restraint on his hand. Roy spun, coming face to face with Eve.

“Roy,” she whined, batting her eyelashes at him and pouting. “But we have dinner to go to.” His gaze snapped down to her eyes, burning with such fury that Eve paused, no longer swinging their joined hands together.

“Is she for real?” Havoc asked loudly to the room.

Eve glanced around at everyone’s thunderous expression, seeming to shrink in on herself.

Good. It’s what she deserves after that behaviour.

“We’re done,” Roy told her, voice deathly calm. He snatched his hand from hers, striding out of the room.

“Roy!” she cried, sounding like she was going to burst into tears. “Don’t go!”

“Seriously, who even is this bitch?” Catalina asked furiously, stopping to look back at Eve. Judging by the look on her face Catalina was ready to fight her there and then.

“Nobody,” Roy stated, tearing open the door to his office with force.

“If you leave right now, I’ll –!”

Roy spun on his heel, face murderous as he approached his former girlfriend. “If you think for one minute you are more important than Hawkeye being fucking shot, you’re delusional.” He was mildly surprised when her face twisted in anger.

“I knew there was something going on between you two!” she accused, raising a finger and poking him hard in the chest. It just made him angrier. “You bastard!”

“There was nothing,” he growled. “And I don’t care for the accusation. Our friend is currently being held hostage and you have the balls to tell me not to go? That we need to go out to dinner?” He scoffed. Despite the anger on her face, the longer Roy spoke the smaller she seemed to become. He wondered to himself what he ever saw in her if she had an attitude that stunk to high heaven like this. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it sooner.

You weren’t thinking with your head, Roy boy. That was true.

“Get the fuck out my office.”

“No, let’s settle this right now!” she exclaimed. He didn’t have time for this bullshit. “Pick. Me or her. Know that if you –”

“Easy.” He turned on his heel and breezed past the rest of the team, who begun to move without question, following him to go and help Hawkeye. Not before he got the satisfaction of seeing Eve’s mouth drop open in pure shock.

Of course, he would pick Hawkeye. It had always been Hawkeye for him.

“This isn’t over!” Eve screeched.

“Breda?” Roy barked.

“On it.” He remained in the office, approaching Roy’s desk phone and dialling security. Breda would remain with Eve to ensure nothing went amiss and that security escorted her from the building. While Roy hated to do it to him at a time like this, Roy also couldn’t have her snooping through the office or trying to tear the place apart in a fit of rage as an act of revenge.

Dealing with Eve came second for Roy right now. Hawkeye was first.

“It’s dead,” Breda stated. “The line, it’s dead.”

“How had that happened?”

“Doesn’t matter right now. Fuery, get security.” They heard Eve squeak the word behind them in disbelief, but Roy ignored her. “Once it’s dealt with both of you meet us there.”

“Sir!”

“What happened?” he asked Catalina as he marched out the office. “Tell me on the way,” he ordered.

* * *

When they arrived, the street was in chaos. Roy barked out orders to officers to connect to Fuery’s communication network and allow them all to talk efficiently to one another. He set up a perimeter, stationing soldiers around the jewellery store so any chance of escape would be stopped. These people needed to pay for what they’d done here today, and Roy was set on the warpath to make sure that happened.

They had both been inside the jewellery store when the shots were fired. Roy could see the window the bullets had pierced, the evidence in the fractured glass. Catalina had run in to help after the snipers had been immobilised – there had been two. A man had entered from the back room, holding her at gunpoint and telling her to step back from them both. Both hands raised, she’d done so and been forced out the building before the enemy barricaded the doors, sealing them in.

After she’d rushed back to the General’s car and called in the situation, the doors had opened and she saw Grumman’s body fall out, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“A parting gift!” the man had yelled, followed by laughter.

Cautiously, Catalina had approached the body to find him still alive but losing blood. A lot of blood. It was pooling easily on the concrete beneath him, so she hoisted her commanding officer up and dragged him to the car. MP’s had already begun to flood in, and she passed Grumman over to the paramedics, rushing him to the nearest military hospital.

Riza, however was still left inside.

Unable to do anything further – and because Mustang wasn’t answering his phone in the office – Catalina drove straight to HQ after she’d gotten Grumman sent off to hospital, but as she’d left, she’d heard screams. A woman’s screams.

Roy’s face was set somewhere between seething and grim the whole time he listened to Catalina’s tale about what had transpired.

“Fuery?” he asked into the communication device in his ear. “You there?”

“Here, sir.”

“Get me through to the phone in there.”

“Understood, sir.”

It rang seven times before someone picked up.

“Well, well, well boys. Who do we have here?” a confident voice purred into his ear. His stomach tensed in response, ready to punch the confident smirk that was no doubt on this man’s face. “Could it be the infamous Colonel Mustang here? Ready to swoop in and save his precious woman?”

Those words jolted him back into a memory. They were underneath Central. Riza bleeding out on the floor, throat slit. The gold-toothed doctor grinning over her. And Roy… Roy restrained and unable to help her. He’d begged her with his eyes, tears collecting in them as he strained to be close to her in that moment, to help her, to hold her, to save her.

“What do you want?” he snarled.

“Just walk on in here and we’ll get this all sorted out.”

“Colonel!” he heard Riza scream. “Don’t –!” There was a pained yell, the silence. Roy began to move.

“Roy!” Catalina shouted, restraining him with a hand on his chest. “You can’t go in.”

He glared at her. “Like hell I can’t! Did you not hear that?”

“I did,” she replied, and Roy paused for a second, noticing the tears in her eyes. “But what happens if you storm in there? They will probably kill her. We can’t lose her. You can’t. Not like that. Not again.”

Catalina was right. That’s why he was ready to dive head-first into this because after almost losing Riza Hawkeye on the Promised Day, Roy vowed he would never let something like that happen again. And here they were, a few months down the line, and it had.

He couldn’t go through that again. The reason for it bubbled just under his skin – an emotion that he didn’t want to acknowledge because if he did, he felt like he might shatter. He definitely would if this all went to hell and Riza didn’t walk out of that store.

“Think,” she urged. “Just think about what you’re going to do right now.”

The voice in his ear chuckled. “That’s right, Colonel,” he crooned. “Think. Think about those flames you want to cast to consume us. But you can’t use them today, can you?” he asked, appearing disappointed that this was the case. “Because if you do, you might hurt the dear Lieutenant. She’s already had a taste of fire. Let’s see if she wants another?”

Roy felt his world stand still as a gunshot echoed through the earpiece. Everyone seemed frozen, time slowing to a standstill as they all processed what they’d just heard. He was the first one to move though. This time Catalina didn’t try to stop Roy as he surged forward. Another gunshot went off and the MPs and officers trained their weapons on the door to the store.

Havoc and Breda had their weapons out and ready to fire behind Roy and Catalina. Fuery brought up the rear, abandoning his communications post and joining them. He had his back to the store, eyes scanning rooftops in case the man inside had any more friends.

It took a few tries, but Roy and Catalina kicked the door down. Roy burst through it, vaulting over the furniture used to block it easily. His head whipped back and forth frantically, hand raised and poised to snap. Oh, he would barbeque those men if they’d done anything to Riza.

He rushed around a display case, stopping short when he spotted Riza.

She was alive.

His breath caught in his throat and tears sprang to his eyes.

Her face was swollen on one side. The eye barely visible. A cut ran over her cheekbone, the skin bruised and a clear sign she’d been struck multiple times on the face. Riza was leaning heavily on her elbow, one arm resting across her midsection. The latter arm was drenched in blood, the fabric around her wrist dripping with it. However, he noticed the material on the shoulder of her bad arm had been torn away. That’s where Catalina said she’d been shot.

And where a gunshot wound should be, there was a large scar. The skin was blistered and red. It was a burn.

“She’s already had a taste of fire.”

Before Roy’s world could turn completely red, he watched her sag back against the wall behind her, head hitting it painfully.

“Riza,” he breathed, skidding to a halt on his knees beside him. Anger later. Riza first. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” He pulled her body against his, arms wrapping around her sore arm gently while the other snaked underneath and held her midsection. It was an awkward hug, but Roy needed it.

Again, he was transported roughly back to the Promised Day. Roy shuddered.

It had happened to her again and he’d been powerless to stop it.

Riza had shot the two men. The gun in her good hand was still smoking when he’d entered. But what would’ve happened if it had been the opposite? She’d have been left to be murdered by these two men, alone.

There was a reason they let Grumman go, Roy theorised. They didn’t need him. For whatever reason, these men were specifically targeting Riza either just for her, or to get to him. The latter made bile rise in his throat. Too often had she been used like that. And he’d let it happen again.

“Colonel,” she managed to get out, her frame shuddering as he held her.

“Are there any others?” Riza shook her head but then whined in pain during the action, her head stilling as her face contorted. “It’s all right,” he soothed, kissing the top of her head as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Sorry, don’t move.” He lifted his head and peered over the display cases, removing the hand from her injured shoulder to press it gently against the side of her head, clutching her even closer to him. The paramedics were running their way, directed by Catalina. Havoc and Breda were already removing the injured and groaning men. Fuery entered through the back room to scope it out and check it was safe. But even though there was all that action, all Roy could hear was Riza’s laboured breathing. Nothing penetrated their little bubble.

“It was… It wa…”

Her body went limp in his hands.

“Riza?” he asked quietly, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “Riza!”

The paramedics shoved him out the way as they loaded her onto a stretcher. They were out the building and away in the ambulance in record time – before Roy could even rush in after her.

“I’ll drive,” Havoc stated and the whole team squeezed into the one car. Car safety rules be damned today.

The wait at the hospital was agonising. Over and over again in his head Roy thought about what could have happened, what he could have done differently to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Maybe you should have worked on the case together like you planned all along and not let yourself get distracted. Her downfall is on you leaving her to pick up your slack.

His inner voice was always right.

Another thing that was bothering him was how had this even happened anyway? They were visiting the site of the case to give it another once over. Now that Riza was on the case it would make sense for her to visit so she could get a feel for what had happened. How had those men known she’d be there? That Grumman would be there? And who the fuck were they?

These thoughts gnawed at him, eating him alive as they all waited in silence. He just wanted to know she was okay. If he knew that he could function and discover what the hell had happened today.

The overwhelming feeling that he’d ran out of time washed over him and Roy lowered his head to his hands, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself down.

Don’t waste another minute with her, he’d told himself after the Promised Day.

Crying won’t help Riza. You’ve got to be strong. For her.

“Riza Hawkeye?” a doctor called quietly into the room of waiting soldiers. Each’s head snapped up and the woman appeared taken aback by the sudden movement.

“Yes?” Catalina asked, desperate for an answer. They all were.

“Riza Hawkeye is out of surgery,” she announced. “She’s stable at the minute but not out of the woods yet.”

* * *

Roy closed the door of Riza’s hospital room quietly behind him. His heart ached to see her hooked up to every machine like this. Wires were draped over her torso as they monitored her vital signs. An IV went into one part of her arm while another went into another vein, this time with blood. A tube was connected to her nose to give her oxygen.

Sitting heavily on the chair by her bedside, Roy grasped her hand tightly and squeezed. He bowed his head, lifting her hand to his forehead and he held it there as he took in a shaky breath.

“Oh, Riza,” he whispered. When he lifted his head, his heart constricted painfully all over again, taking in the sight of his strong Lieutenant and bodyguard looking frail and ill in a hospital bed.

You vowed that after the Promised Day you wouldn’t waste another minute with Riza Hawkeye. Where was that vow in the last few weeks? When Grumman specifically asked you to involve her in the case, and you got so caught up in it yourself then abandoned her to do it alone? With another woman, no less?

Bastard.

Shame washed over his entire being and Roy heaved a breath, feeling like a complete and utter failure. If only he hadn’t left the other night. He didn’t even have the energy to think about Eve right now. She was so far off his radar after today that she meant nothing. All those weeks wasted with the woman who suggested going out to dinner after finding out his oldest and dearest friend had been shot and was being held hostage.

She always did have an uncanny ability to interrupt any moment he tried to share with the Lieutenant –

No. Today she was Riza. They were so far beyond superior and subordinate right now. Especially with the way he was feeling.

Don’t think about it! You’ll only make it worse for yourself.

But that’s what he deserved after how he’d been treating Riza recently.

He loved this woman lying before him, but he despised how it took her getting shot for him to realise it. Roy supposed he always had. No, he knew he always had. But putting a name to it made it real and while under the scrutiny of the homunculi he couldn’t put Riza in danger like that. Eve was a distraction, if anything, to subconsciously tell himself that everything was all right and as it should be between them.

But you did put her in danger today, asshole, because you abandoned her.

He couldn’t look at the bandages on her injured shoulder just yet. Burn scars. It made him too angry. She’d already been tainted so much by fire thanks to him, and now it had happened again. The bastards had cauterised the wound to keep her awake and alive for longer, so Riza could play along in their little hostage charade. He was glad she’d shot them.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the tears finally falling. His entire frame shuddered as he cried, continuing to press their joined hands against his forehead. “You can’t leave me,” he begged. “Not like this. We still have so much left to do. I…” He trailed off, trying to compose himself. “I have so much to tell you. I… I love you, Riza Hawkeye. With my entire being. So please…” His voice cracked. “Please wake up.”

There was no answer from Riza. Just the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside her bed.

Roy bowed his head once more, letting all the emotions pour out of him the in the dim hospital room. In his grief, he didn’t notice a figure by the window of Riza’s door, peering in and watching his suffering.

* * *

“Riza Hawkeye,” Roy told the nurse when she asked what the patient’s name was. “She’s just recently been moved from the ICU.” They’d just gotten the call two hours ago that she’d woken up for the first time and was being moved to a ward and out of intensive care.

She was getting better.

Catalina had come right here while Roy was in meetings regarding Ishval with Havoc and Breda, that’s why he was late.

“Oh yes, of course. She’d in Ward 4, Room 20. Oh, she’ll be glad to have some more visitors,” she announced brightly. “Her sister arrived about half an hour ago.”

Havoc and Roy shared a look.

Riza didn’t have a sister.

Roy took off like a shot down the corridor, eyes frantically scanning the sign on the wall for Ward 4. It was on the third floor. They were on the ground.

“Call security to that room,” Havoc ordered the nurse. She seemed baffled, flummoxed at such a command. “Do it now!” He caught up with Roy just as he begun to move towards the stairs. They both took two at a time, bursting through the door of the ward, much to the surprise and outrage of the patients and nurses, respectively.

“Sir! You can’t run like that in here –”

“Get security to Room 20!” Havoc called back to her over his shoulder.

When they entered the room, Roy felt his world slip out from underneath him.

Riza was there lying in bed. Her face was peaceful, the pillows around her rumpled like they’d been moved just recently but not put back to make her comfortable. But what drew his attention away was the loud solid tone from the heart rate monitor beside her bed.

“No,” Roy muttered shaking his head.

Nurses pushed past him, shoving both Roy and Havoc out of the door as they chattered, barking orders at one another. The door slammed in his face and Roy blinked at it, that beep still managing to escape through the cracks, grinding painfully right into his very soul.

No, this couldn’t be. That sound was wrong, right? That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. She was on the mend. She’d been moved out of the ICU. She was getting better.

“Clear!” a nurse shouted and the sound pierced Roy’s ears painfully. There was the sound of the pads jolting a body, the bed squeaking as a body moved on it.

Riza’s body.

The tone continued.

Roy backed away, shaking his head vigorously, muttering the word “no” under his breath repeatedly. When he hit the wall behind him, he paused, ears straining for that steady beep to return that meant her heart was beating.

Nothing. Just one tone.

Roy slid down the wall in time with the tears tracking down his cheeks. He didn’t notice Havoc running down the hallway at a sprint away from him. He didn’t notice Catalina running past him to follow Havoc. He didn’t hear Breda calling his name, didn’t feel the gentle shake of his shoulder.

Just that one, single tone.

The door opened, letting that tone free and filling the hallway, Roy’s mind, his entire soul.

She can’t be gone.

“Fuery!” he heard Havoc call distantly. “Get down here!”

He couldn’t bring himself to care that Havoc was shouting.

“Breda!” Havoc called.

The shadow to Roy’s left passed over his body, Breda taking off at a run towards his comrades.

Roy didn’t care what was happening.

All he could care about was the woman he loved, the person who’d owned his heart for years – he’d just been too dumb to realise it and too scared to admit it when he did – was gone from this earth, leaving him behind.

The door before him burst open, a pair of bare feet hurrying towards him, but stumbling on the way. Two hands gripped his face, wrenching his head up to meet their gaze. Whisky coloured orbs stared back at him earnestly, their mouth moving as they called to him, but no sound penetrated the fog of losing the woman he loved.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her.

“Roy!” a familiar voice shouted – but it was faint. The hands on his face continued to reposition as they desperately tried to get him to listen. Sound began to return to him as he began to recognise that voice and those eyes streaming with tears.

“Roy,” Riza Hawkeye begged before him, sobbing. “Come back to me,” she whispered, pressing their forehead together.

“Riza…” he whispered. Then he realised. This wasn’t a ghost. He could feel her hands on his face, the thumbs stroking his cheekbones, the fingertips in his hair.

She was… alive? But…

Roy surged upwards, wrapping his arms around Riza’s body, squeezing her tightly. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent as he felt her body shaking with her tears. His own wet her skin too. His body felt ten tonnes lighter as he held Riza Hawkeye, the woman who’d come back from the dead.

That was twice now.

“No!” a woman shrieked down the corridor. Roy pulled away and turned his head, confused, and saw Eve trying to escape Havoc’s hold. She thrashed but she was no match for the towering Havoc. He just watched her struggle, wincing as she clawed at his bare arms with her catlike nails. “Get away from him!”

Roy shifted, shielding Riza from view, which was slightly more difficult as her arms were still looped around his neck and Riza didn’t want to let go of him.

A doctor walked up behind Eve, pricking her neck with a needle. Before long, she went limp. “Just a sedative,” he explained, sweat forming on his brow after witnessing that exchange.

But Roy didn’t care about Eve. He spun in place, feeling like he was coming face to face with a ghost.

“You’re… okay?” he asked in disbelief, gaze roving over her body to make sure she was still real.

“I’m all right, I promise,” she whispered, gripping his face again. “I’m alive. I’m so sorry for that, but I’m alive –”

Roy silenced her by crushing his lips against hers.

* * *

“I overheard the men talking,” Riza explained, voice still quiet and weak. “Eve had organised a group of hitmen to take me out.” Her gaze flicked to Roy’s to see him staring at the floor, gaze hard and his entire body unmoving. The anger rolled off him so easily that everyone in the room had picked up on it. Riza thought that if anyone were to touch him, he would shatter into a million little pieces. That’s how tightly he was wound right now.

Riza was part of the reason for that, and she felt guilty because of it. But it had to be convincing for her plan to work and there was no way of knowing how compromised he was after spending time with Eve. If she’d planned the group to take her out – which, coincidentally, included her brother who seemed very on board with making the Flame Alchemist suffer after some incident years ago back in the East – then she may have set up a bug of some kind to keep tabs on Roy. It wasn’t an insane thought. She did always have the uncanny ability to find out exactly where he was at any time of the day.

As Riza lay feigning unconsciousness after waking up from the men cauterising her bullet wound, she listened to them talking, discovering Eve’s whole plan. Eve had finally had enough of her that she’d sent the hitmen to take her out. She’d somehow found out she’d moved to work for Grumman and taken it from there.

Riza was still baffled that the woman was willing to take it this far. One thing Riza knew for sure was that this woman was a psychopath. Straight up. That was already obvious to Riza in the way Eve had treated her whenever she saw her, but this was taking it to a whole other level.

Riza had feigned sleep when Eve had entered her hospital room. She’d anticipated an event like this. If her men couldn’t do the job – not to mention the fact Riza had shot her brother – then she would do it herself.

“It was supposed to be me,” she’d growled at Riza in her hospital room, ripping a pillow out from underneath her head. Suffocation. How creative. It took every ounce of her self-control, not to mention supressing years of military training, to remain still in that bed while Eve muttered to herself about who Roy was supposed to love.

Obviously, she was jealous of Riza’s relationship with him. But… there was no relationship. That was the kicker. Eve just didn’t believe Riza when she told her. Eve was adamant there was. They cared about each other, sure. They shared a strong bond because they’d literally been through hell together multiple times. But there was no romantic relationship.

No matter how much you want there to be.

As if he loved her.

She was his teacher’s daughter, the shy girl who barely spoke a word to him growing up unless he managed to coax it out of her.

But that kiss… The way he’d held her… The look on his face when he realised that she was still alive.

Did she dare to believe…?

“Want a job done,” Eve had muttered under her breath. “You’ve got to do it yourself.”

Under the bedsheet Riza pulled at the chord of the electrode stuck to her chest, leaving the machine to let out a loud tone that could be heard down the corridor. Eve had panicked, shoved the pillow back under her head and bolted.

She thought Eve had returned when Roy and Havoc burst in. She had her eyes closed before she saw her next visitor, assuming it was either Eve or the nurses, but was shaken to her core when she heard Roy’s heart-breaking denial that this was happening.

A tear rolled down her cheek as the door slammed shut. They continued when she was helped out of bed by a nurse. She hugged her body as they pretended to use the defibrillator to bring her back to life.

When she couldn’t bear it anymore, she burst out the room. Seeing Roy broken on the floor, tears streaming down his face, and looking positively devastated, Riza’s breath caught in her throat.

“You… faked your own death,” he choked out. Riza’s eyes found his again.

“It was my idea, sir,” Catalina interjected, raising her hand. “I knew there was something wrong with that woman.” She gestured towards Roy with her head. “She fucking told you to go to dinner after finding out Riza had been shot and was being held hostage.” Riza watched as Roy’s eyes flashed at the memory. Riza almost laughed. Why did that not surprise her, coming from Eve?

“Riza told me what she’d overheard in the store this morning. I knew it was Eve that initiated it all. So, we took a chance and it worked. I really am sorry that we kept you out of it, but we had no idea if you’d been compromised by Eve by a bug of some kind. Seeing how far she was willing to go it wasn’t hard to hypothesise that bugs were a possibility.”

Roy sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his hands. Riza felt her stomach flip as she watched him. She hadn’t wanted to make him suffer like that, but it had happened now, and their plan had worked. Eve was now in custody beside the two men who had kept Riza and Grumman hostage.

“Leave her to stew there a few days,” Havoc scoffed, showing no remorse for the woman.

Roy nodded. “I’ll need to until I feel calm enough to talk to her.”

A few hours later the team said their goodbyes and left for the night. Roy, however, remained in place, staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry for doing that to you,” Riza whispered, breaking the loud silence that had settled over them both. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was her,” she added, looking down at her clasped hands. Every time her fingers moved there was a twinge of pain in her shoulder, but not enough to bother her. When she’d thrown her arms around her commanding officer – her cheeks turned pink at the memory with a tinge of embarrassment at her misconduct thrown in there too – that had set her injured shoulder on fire, but it was worth it. It was what she’d needed.

Roy scrubbed his face, spine straightening in his chair. He moved from sitting opposite the bed to the chair by her bedside, Riza watching him carefully as he did so. Surprised, Riza saw him grasp her hand tightly.

“I thought I lost you today,” he murmured, examining their hands entwined together. Riza wold never admit it, but it looked and felt right. “Twice. That was a lot for me to go through.” Riza nodded in sympathy. She remembered when she thought she’d lost him to Lust underneath Laboratory Five. “But it did help me realise a few things.”

“Oh?” Riza inquired when he didn’t elaborate.

“I love you, Riza Hawkeye. Have for years.” Her jaw went slack as she stared at the obsidian eyes burning into her soul. “After the Promised Day I vowed I would never waste another second with you, but because of my own insecurities I did. I was too scared to bring up what had happened that day because I didn’t want to upset you and I didn’t want to ruin what we already had.” Riza gave his hand a quick squeeze in comfort. “So,” he began, taking a deep breath. “Here’s to no more wasted time?” he asked uncertainly. There was worry in his eyes, thinking she might turn him down.

As if.

“I love you too Roy. Here’s to no more wasted time.” Riza raised their joined hands like it was a toast, tears clouding her vision. They fell once Roy kissed her softly, solidifying their agreement.

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #emma writes #closer

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momorabu · 5 years

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Code Realize Playthrough - Fran’s Route - Chapter 12: Calamity

Warning: Spoilers. Image heavy post.

This chapter has no new CG so we’ll just have to make do with a nice-smiling Fran as the cover chapter~ XD The story is getting more and more intense as we made our way towards the end, but there are still one or two sweet moments.

Next chapter will be the finale~! I’m looking forward to writing that out~ ^^

Time counts down to 6 hours left.

Cardia and Fran were making their escape away from Twilight, but with Fran being weak to the point that Cardia had to help him to move along, it would be a matter of time before they were being caught up. Fran suggested that he would be a decoy to distract Twilight while Cardia escaped joining Lupin and the others, but Cardia stopped him instead and told him that she had thought of herself being a monster, and if that time comes... she would choose to take her own life. For her, it’s important to be with Fran as much as possible and thus she decided that she shall stay with him and not abandon him. And what goes on, is sort of like a confession from Cardia to Fran:

(Awww~ >////<)

Fran blushed and mumbled something about love, which Cardia thought hard about it and decided that she shall tell Fran right at the moment she loves him XD (I do envy Cardia for being so straight forward in her feelings at this moment O////O)

But Fran showed a glum face and replied that he doesn’t deserve to be loved. But.... apparently, Cardia gave quite a cute answer~

(How can you reject her after she confessed to you like this? Fran blushing like this is really adorable too~ >////<)

Fran was about to reply to Cardia when... who was to appear to destroy the atmosphere other than Twilight? =w=“ Aleister appeared too, and remarked that the Twilight is here under the Queen’s order, passing on the message from her that if Fran obtained Zicterium for them, she will let both Cardia and him go. Twilight had already known of someone who was related to the project in creating Zicterium, but when they arrived at the man’s house, they realised that the information had already been removed and deduced that Lupin and the others had already obtained them - handwritten notes which contained the location where Zicterium were being hidden.

To force Fran to obtain the Zicterium, Cardia was being held as a hostage by Twilight, giving Fran four hours to locate the Zicterium, and if he failed to do so, Cardia would be killed, as a “safety prevention” that she would get turned into a monster. Though Fran confronted Aleister that the Queen would definitely want to keep Cardia alive as a weapon, Aleister coolly revealed that he had not planned to obey the Queen’s instructions anyway. In the end, Fran had no choice but to obey Twilight and the Queen’s instructions, and a tracking device was put onto him to keep his whereabouts, warning Fran that he would also be under surveillance to prevent him from doing anything funny.

(I seriously don’t think to beg for help is going to be of much use at this moment so...)

Cardia tried to assure Fran to go find the Zicterium and not worry about her and instead wanted him to destroy the Zicterium once he had found them, even if Aleister warned her that she would eventually become a monster without it. Though Cardia appeared that she did not care about her life and will put an end to her life if the inevitable happens, Fran gave his word that he would find the Zicterium, warning Aleister not to harm her.

(This is probably very important to take note of in the later part of the game. Trust may or may not make things turn out right in the end...)

Cardia had tried to take her own life, by throwing herself at the blade which the Twilight member was holding against her throat, but ultimately failed to do so. Fran promised that he would come back to her and begged her not to give up on her life so easily just yet. (Damn, I’m a bit sad to know that Cardia actually attempted to commit suicide when Fran was still there. It’s too early to give up! ><”)

From here on, the story continued on in Fran’s point of view:

An hour after the confrontation with Twilight, Fran found himself running along the streets of London. With only three hours left to find Zicterium, it seems that there isn’t enough time to think up of a strategy to work against Twilight, but it’s still too soon to give up yet. Fran knew that there isn’t any guarantee that they would make it out alive even if he had brought the Zicterium to Twilight, but he had no choice but to do that now, in order to save Cardia.

(It’s interesting to see from Fran’s point of view for this scene, where we actually get to see Cardia appear as a character.)

Knowing that Aleister had planned to use Zicterium as a weapon, Fran’s nightmare from two years ago was going to come true all over again, and he isn’t going to let that happen. His plan was ultimately to find Zicterium and destroys it, but memories of Cardia filled his head and he knew that he had to save her, while still destroying Zicterium, though the logical part of his brain told him that this was not possible.

Fran ran until he arrived at the meeting spot where he saw Van waiting for him. He remarked that Impey had gotten worried about the explosion and went looking for Fran and Cardia, and the rest had continued onto the location of Zicterium since it had been written down on the researcher’s notes even though the person himself was already dead by the time they went to his house.

Noticing that Cardia was not with Fran, Van asked him why was he alone. Fran knew that he should not say anything suspicious since he knew that Twilight was watching him, and thus told a fake reason to Van while using his finger to drum out a morse code revealing the real reason at the same time.

(I have to say that this is my first time seeing Van looking so surprised XD)

From Van’s slight expression changes, Fran knew that he had already realised what was going on, and begged Van to tell him about the location where Zicterium was kept (since ultimately he needs it to save Cardia). Van told him the location and asked Fran to keep up with him as they ran towards there.

Time count down to 4 hours left.

The story goes back to Cardia’s point of view, where she found herself being tied up on a chair and thus could not move. Even her hands were tied up to the point that she can’t remove her gloves to melt the rope using her poison. (Wow, the villains were actually detailed and careful to this degree OWO)

Aleister entered the room, being all polite and asking Cardia on her body condition, but after some chit-chat, he revealed that Fran had already figured out where the Zicterium was being kept, and that he had also sent some of his Twilight agents to the location, since he had not planned for Fran to bring Zicterium to him anyway, knowing that even if Fran wanted to, the rest of the group may not agree to it. He soon left the room, but not without some remarks of how “alive” Cardia was even though she was supposed to be just a “doll”, wondering whether she was pretending to be angry. (Who will do that at a point like this? =w=“) After Aleister left the room, Cardia could sense her condition gradually worsening, and know that she might not be able to move much any longer.

(At this point, a choice was given and... stupid me believing to wait for Fran to come back with the Zicterium, chose to wait. Cardia started feeling really dizzy and having a headache to the point she collapsed and knowing that her body is changing to a monster... and she lost her conscious. And I ended with a bad end. Welp, that was a fast ending D:)

(Luckily, there’s always a second chance~!)

Knowing that her being kept captive will only prevent Fran’s progress and put the group into a disadvantage if they were being attacked by Twilight, Cardia decided to make a run herself. She decided to scratch her wrist with something sharp in this room and use her blood to melt the rope, but when she finally managed to do it, she realised something strange... her blood isn’t melting off the rope like it used to! She wondered whether the poison had weakened as part of the Horologium’s transformation, but managed to stay calm in the end as she tried to untie the rope herself using what Lupin had taught her. She finally managed to free herself, and seeing that she had just three hours left before she transformed, she quickly made her escape out of the house she was being kept captive in, shattering the window and jumping out of it.

Unfortunately, Cardia soon met a Twilight member outside of the house as she jumped out, but managed to knock him out with the techniques she had learned from Van, taking a dagger from him too in the meantime. (The reason why she took a dagger is to use it to kill herself if it’s needed. Cardia... TWT)

As Cardia tried to run away, she found herself surrounded by Twilight members. Luckily, Impey had arrived with the Ornithopter and grabbed Cardia away from them. (Yeah~~! Thanks, Impey~!)

(It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve heard Impey said anything like this~ Probably because I’ve dragging out this route for so long ^^;)

Cardia filled Impey in quickly about the current situation, and they both made their way there just so that Cardia can assure the others that she’s safe now.

The story changed to Fran’s point of view.

As Van and he arrived at the location where Zicterium was said to be hidden, he looked at his watch and realised that there are only three hours left till the Horologium transforms, and that would mean there’s only one hour left before Aleister would kill Cardia. They soon meet up with Lupin and Saint there, where Lupin sighed and commented that they’re currently stuck since they can’t move past the huge doors at the end.

While Fran was giving the fake explanation about Cardia to the others, Van passed on the real message using morse code once again. (Wow... did all of them learned morse code and could understand it already? OWO) But soon, Twilight had arrived at this place and started attacking them. Since it seems like Twilight wasn’t holding up their end to the bargain, Van suggested that they fought back, but Fran was worried about antagonizing them since he knew that Cardia was in their hands. He tried to think up of a plan where they can gain an upper hand and noticing the transmitter on his clothing where Aleister was using to keep tabs on him, a plan started to form in his head as he asked Van regarding the chain of command in Twilight.

Knowing from Van that the Twilight soldiers were still able to relay information to Aleister even if he isn’t here, Fran decided to shout out to them that he wanted to negotiate with Aleister, declaring that they had a trump card and that Aleister won’t be able to access Zicterium without it. As expected, the soldiers ceased their attacks, while Fran continued on that he knew how to decipher the trick to access the room, and if Aleister killed them here, he would never be able to decipher it within two hours and get accessed to the Zicterium. Though Aleister threatened Fran again that he had Cardia in his hands, Fran was not scared and said that both he and she were already prepared to die anyway. Part of it was a lie actually since Fran had no idea how to decipher the trick to the hidden room yet, but all he can do now was to cease fighting to buy for more time before the Horologium finishes transforming.

Aleister finally agreed to negotiate with Fran, and Fran wanted Twilight to bring Cardia here so that they can make sure she’s safe before they open the door. But Aleister refused, telling him that he would dispose Cardia and also kill all of them instead since he doesn’t want to take a risky bet. (My bet is Cardia wasn’t even there anymore so he can’t bring her to where Fran was if he wanted to =w=“). As the group resumed their battle with Twilight once again, Fran heard a familiar voice he felt that he hasn’t listened to for a long time...

(Yeah~! Cardia is here, along with Impey~ I have to admit they look kind of good together here XD)

Fran hurriedly ran to her asking her how she managed to make her escape. Now that the group was reunited, Impey joined Van and the others to battle against Twilight.

(Though while they were battling, Fran was hugging Cardia and telling her how glad he was that she was safe. And here’s how Cardia looks like when she blushed in front of Fran. Awww~)

Fran declared to Aleister that the latter had lost. But Aleister simply smiled as he stepped away from his communication device in the mansion. Realising that Twilight had been surrounded by the military as Queen, Aleister decided that he shall end Twilight today, by killing his own men and even the Queen’s troops as he made his escape...

(Hmm... I wonder if we would ever see Aleister made an appearance someday...)

Time counts down to 1 hour left.

The military had also arrived at the location where Fran and others were at, with Leonhardt leading them to destroy Twilight. While Twilight’s soldiers were good at combat, the military was too, and soon Twilight was put under control by them.

Though the military had come to get rid of Twilight which was a good thing for Fran and others, it didn’t seem like they were here to help them. The soldiers quickly surrounded them, with Leonhardt warning them not to move as the soldiers would shoot them if they had shown any resistance. Van cautioned the group to be careful since, in Van’s eyes, Leonhardt was a very strong and powerful soldier.

Suddenly, Queen Victoria made an appearance as well, thanking Fran and the others for keeping Twilight distracted, so that none of her soldiers was harmed. Van realised that they were being used as a bait all this while to cause trouble with Twilight, to which Victoria explained that she had been keeping an eye on Aleister and noticed that he was being rebellious, and knowing that danger that Cardia could cause if she were to fall into the “wrong” hands, she decided to take this matter into her own hands in the end.

Victoria explained that she had let Cardia and Fran escaped from the palace since she had wanted them to “roam free”, to help them locate this place where Zicterium was being kept. Cardia asked her whether she had intended to continue on with her plan involving terrorism, to which Victoria calmly replied that in order to let Britain continues to survive, she needed a war to break out right now, and claimed that for that to happen, she just need to a little bit of Zicterium and sacrifice. Obviously that “little bit” was actually alot of deaths and it greatly pissed Fran off when he saw how Victoria had belittled them.

Victoria once again explained on how Britain would be caught up in terms of technology in ten to twenty years, and how the other nations had hated them and would definitely trample on them when it comes to war by that time. Thus she wanted to get a head start on putting all the other nations under her control by declaring war now. Saint actually agreed with her, though it’s a half-agree, and told the Queen that she’s only looking at a part of nation when she thought up of her plan.

Victoria wasn’t glad to hear that her reasoning was very one-sided, determined that thinking from Britain’s standpoint was what she’s supposed to do. She then decided to reveal to Fran and the others that the facility they were at now was, in fact, a weapon itself, a device that could spread Zicterium across the entire country. In fact, this was what Victoria had been searching for a long time, and was determined that to start a world war right now, she had to activate the device and sacrifice the entire London, thus causing hatred among the people to fuel it.

(I don’t know why but I find it scary yet sad that Victoria could smile when she knew that she’s being a villain and was willing to carry out her plans at all cost...)

Cardia had found it scary that Victoria had spoken with so much confidence about her plan and was sure that it would succeed, even if she knew that she would die from this plan. For her, the plan would be even better if she was being sacrificed, and even calmly said that she had already made arrangements on the rest of her plans would proceed smoothly after her death. For Victoria, she doesn’t even plan to mourn on her own death and seems that she just wanted to bring an end to her duties as the Queen.

Fran didn’t care about what Victoria had said though, he didn’t believe in her logic, and didn’t want innocent people to be killed as part of the plan, to which Victoria expressed her envy to him that he was able to stand up for his own justice and wished she had the choice, slightly revealing her emotions that she didn’t want to take such a huge responsibility actually...

But, she soon changed the topic and told Fran that she knew what he had told Aleister was a bluff since she knew how to open the doors here, holding up the pendant that once belonged to Finis. (Finis had been gone for so long in this route that I almost forgot about his existence =w=“) Activating the pendant, she managed to open the doors, revealing a new and eerie path before them.

Victoria also revealed that she knew that Cardia needed Zicterium to cure herself and that if Cardia was to transform into a monster, even Zicterium won’t be able to cause any damage to her. Thus, she wanted to cooperate with her to help prevent Cardia to be transformed into a monster, though once everything is over here, she would have to be under the government’s protection, and became one of the Queen’s weapon.

Cardia knew that she might get dissected by researchers, and would be taken advantage by Victoria to be used as a weapon if she had gone with her. But if she doesn’t, there’s a high chance that her own poison will end up destroying the whole of London and killing all of her friends, wondering what she should do at this point of time. But the Queen ended up giving them just two choices, surrender Cardia to them so only she gets to survive, or all of them would have to die together. Cardia refused to obey her, saying that it would be worthless if she’s the only one who gets to survive alone and wanted to stay with them until the very end.

Since Cardia had made her choice, Victoria decided that they shall all be killed and summoned her soldiers to fight them, while Leonhardt and she made their way down the path to where the Zicterium device was being kept. However, Fran told Cardia to go off together to where the Queen had gone since ultimately, he wanted to cure Cardia of her poison. Cardia was mad that Fran had intended for her to be the only survivor, but Fran sadly explained to her that though all this while he had intended to destroy Zicterium to run away from his crimes, he realised that Zicterium was required to save her and if he destroys it, he would also be destroying a future he wanted to have with her. Fran knew that the Queen’s plans will only generate more hatred and war in the future, so he still wants to stop her, while still saving Cardia at the same time. He isn’t going to give anything up and would try to attain both of his goals, thus, wanting Cardia not to give up on her life too and come with him

(How can you say no to this face though >////<)

With Cardia agreeing to go with him, Lupin teased them for declaring their love for each other at such a moment and asked them to go ahead, since the rest of them had their back and will take care of things here.

(I just love these guys’ friendship with each other~ <3)

And thus, Fran and Cardia ran off, holding hands with each other, and Cardia thought that while others may think of Fran as a timid guy usually, she found him really assuring at this moment. (Awww~)

#code realize #fran route #otome game #playthrough #cr:playthrough

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chaniters · 5 years

Text

Only Human

___________________________ Starting a new series with @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac!

Pre-Heartbreak, going to be focused on Ortega, Anathema and Steel along with some new heroes and Villains.

The plot will deal with some events mentioned but not fully explored in the game.

Hope you enjoy!

____________________________

“CHARGE!” you cry with a sense of urgency.

“I KNOW!” he yells back at you.

Charge’s standing in the middle of the road trying to stop some car that could help, but there’s not a single one passing by. You keep your hands pressed over the man’s chest wound, where the bullet went in. Your gloves are completely smeared in blood by now.

“CHARGE, HE’S DYING!” you call again.

You feel your own chest burning like fire where you got hit. Unlike you, however, the man you’re trying to keep alive didn’t have a bulletproof suit.

He suddenly approaches the car parked next to him and…

-CRASH!- goes the window. The alarm starts, but he takes to the driver seat and does something, jumpstarting the engine. He hurries back to you.

“Let’s put him in the back seat”

You nod and help him, still pressing on the wound. Perfect coordination by now. It’s like you had done this all your lives.

You stay at the back while he drives. Both hands on the wound. Rain starts falling, covering the windows, but you only have eyes for the outpour that you can actually do something about.

__________20 minutes later__________

Los Diablos Earthquake Memorial hospital.

You phase up and down the stairs, your brain still speeding at a hundred miles per hour analyzing how this mess started.

You just happened to catch out some loose thoughts from a source that tipped you about the people behind the abductions going to strike tonight. This gang didn’t seem too dangerous, so you simply called the Marshal, the two of you should have been more than enough after all. Abductions and kidnapings of boosted individuals are not as uncommon as the media would have everyone believe.

His powers weren’t even that interesting… super-enhanced visual spectrum. He used it to become a painter, and he wasn’t famous. Just a curiosity among local art collectors.

How could you have known they were going to go after an artist? Why? Two supervillains on him were more than overkill. And now he might die, because of what you didn’t know.

The Void escaped again, and to make matters worse, he teamed up with Psycopathor and his Vulcan Cannon. They had told you he liked oversized guns, but that thing was terrifying to see, especially used inside a city. It’s a miracle no one else got hurt.

You weren’t ready for a half-hour duel at an art gallery with two heavyweights. But somehow, you pulled it off made Psycopathor fumble with a suggestion, and he got his own hand caught in the rotating gun while Ortega fell on The Void from above. That drove them out, but Void tried to shoot the hostage, to delay you from following. Just like last time with the bombs… Always an escape plan, that bastard.

You still feel the sharp turns Ortega took driving here, while he passed every single red light, and you kept trying to make other drivers move away with your mind…

You helped to get him on a stretcher and Ortega got him inside with the paramedics, but that was as far as you dared go. You stayed outside, it’s a hospital after all and you don’t enter hospitals. Besides, in this mindstate, there’s no guarantee your powers are not going to go off.

Your hand goes to your pocket, looking for anything to help your nerves. But there’s nothing. No candy, no chocolate, not a single popsicle.

“Shit,” you say holding your head.

Hyperventilating… deep breaths…

Inhale...

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be the reliable one in getting intel. This mess is all your fault… you should have investigated further.

You take off half of your mask, uncover your mouth and nose close your eyes…

Exhale…

The hand on your back makes you jerk violently back into reality, striking blindly at whomever…

“Woah... relax! It’s just me!” He’s holding your fist in his palm. Marshall Charge. Not an enemy…

It takes a full two more seconds before you manage to order yourself to put the hand down. You didn’t even notice the static he emits this time.

“Well you’re a mess…” he states simply, with a half-smile.

You scoff and lean on the hospital’s old brick wall. If he wants you to say you’re sorry, he’ll have to wait a long time.

“Got you something” he adds, leaning by your side. A little too close, like he always does. Just enough to make you uncomfortable but not enough that you’d actually move away. He has mastered the thin line of awkwardness.

“And what’s that?” you ask besides yourself, still thinking on the wounded boost, probably in surgery now… probably dying.

“Here,” he says offering a candy-bar.

You see it, then look away, trying to force yourself not to take it… Don’t take candy from strangers. Isn’t that a thing?

But you hand moves on its own, your brain eschewing all logic in favor of sugar. Ortega would make a star pupil of Pavlov. It’s just not fair… he knows you can’t just say no to anything with enough glucose in it.

And thus the deal is sealed, you’ve taken his offering and are thus forced to let out a low-key embarrassed “Thanks”. He simply smiles, counting this as yet another victory against whatever he thinks he’s fighting against whenever he’s around you.

“That was a terrific job” He adds while you feel the wonderful crunchiness of chocolate and peanut in your mouth.

“What?” you say staring at him with your mouth full.

“The way you handled that situation… It was fucked up from the star, and we still managed to hold our own against those freaks. And you rescued the hostage… I couldn’t have done that better. Hell, I don’t think Captain Glory could have done that better”

“Charge” you’ve forgone the use of the Marshal title a few weeks ago, You’re constantly working together these days and it’s just tiring “It definitely wasn’t a terrific job. I failed. I didn’t get enough intel, we went in blind, and the hostage got shot!” you add pointing out the obvious.

“Well he would be kidnapped and disappeared by now like the others, I mean, if we hadn’t been there, to save him”

“Well he’s not saved yet, is he?” you argue.

“Doctors says no vitals got hit. Just moderate blood loss thanks to you… They say surgery has very good chances with a transfusion. They were stopping the bleeding when I left”

“Captain Glory would have stopped the bullet”

“Well, we’re not really bulletproof like Captain Glory, are we? … and you still took two bullets for him. Did I mention how insane you are?” he says poking lightly at your chest, where the dents on your suit are clearly visible. The mere contact makes you wince and you slap his hand away. The suit stopped the bullets, but the bruises are there to stay. “That was dangerous. You can’t count on these to always work. Especially not if it’s The Void.”

“He used his handgun… and I’m going to blame you if it fails, you’re the one who gave it to me. Besides, what’s the point of bulletproof armor if you’re not going to use it?”

“Ever heard the concept of having a safety net?”

“I was that guy’s safety net. And I couldn’t stop the third bullet.”

He frowns “That one could have killed you”

You look to the side, avoiding his gaze. “You don’t get it”

“What is it that I don’t get?”

“I need to do better… I can’t screw up like this… you did your job keeping them busy, but I didn’t manage clean intel, and then I failed to get a clean escape. I failed! I was in Void’s mind and I couldn’t tell he was going to shoot the hostage!”

“You can’t control every detail! The guy’s going to be alright and thanking you. What more do you want? Sometimes shit happens!”

“Maybe shit happens on your watch, but that’s not how I do things! I can’t let myself screw up!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he asks exasperated. “I’m just telling you, YOU DID A GOOD JOB!”

“I didn’t. Just… Just shut up… you’re not the one who fucked this up after all.”

“I screwed up a lot! You think It always works alright for me?!”

“You don’t know what it’s like! I have to be perfect! I have to make up for...”

“Make up for what?!!” he interrupts. “For acting like a fucking hero? Taking bullets for someone you don’t even know?!”

Walking on thin ice. You can’t really answer that. And you’re too angry to answer anyways. Mostly with yourself. You raise your fists, almost ready to punch his infuriating face, but you know he’s not the one responsible. You just turn around. Turn and walk away. Channeling rage his way is wrong and you know it.

Your steps become faster, and faster, the stroll becomes a jog, and then you’re running… Running away from him, back to your base.

“You’re running again… Just what are you running from?” You hear his voice behind you, further and further away.

You’ve got no clear answer to that question.

Him? Your makers? Yourself? The truth?

Maybe all of the above.

It’s not something you ask yourself very often.

No one ever taught you how to stop running. No one taught you how to deal with failure either.

They only demanded perfection in everything you did, and your standards haven’t lowered since.

Being perfect is your only chance. The only way in which you can make up for not being one of them. The only way you could hope they might decide to forgive you, once they figure it all out.

__________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #chargestep #Awan Cormac #New series #My writing

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bookstryingtostealyourheart · 6 years

Text

My Hero, My Sugar.

A/N: Hi my new friends! I would like to give a warning that this is going to be my first fanfiction posted on here! I am open to feedback, or messages and such requesting imagines and fluff. I am comfortable doing most plots. But because this is my first, I wanted to disclaim that I am very nervous posting this! Thank you :) and I am using my own knowledge of diabetes to write this, as I was diagnosed when I was 10, so I hope I’d know some. It may not be this way for everyone, but enjoy!

Warning: It’s very long! I apologize.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Diabetic Reader

Summary: The reader is a member of the BAU, and she has been sent with Reid on a case, that they soon become hostages in. On top of trying to keep everyone safe, the reader (a diabetic) feels their sugar is low, and they have no access to food. As time goes on, Reid is now searching his mind for a way to get y/n to safety before something bad happens, or someone else gets hurt. Fluff and angst included.

You and Reid have gotten into the next target location without the unsub knowing that you were FBI. That is a surprise to you, as this is the first case that has worked out that way, especially on a case with Reid. The location is a small yet popular store in the small town right off the city where the unsub has lived for his whole life. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint, as the last targets have been stores with little security and female owners. Reid had figured it out after searching the surrounding area for stores that fit.

When you had approached, the unsub was already there, most likely making sure the time was right. This particular unsub had been predicted to be of a significantly high IQ; possibly genius and had a very bad case of OCD. From the way he had only attacked women, it meant he has a bad past with women: maybe a mom abandoned him, or a bad breakup that had sent him over the edge. The unsub has a case of aggression and low self-confidence. Because of this, he goes for weaker targets, in hopes of having no problems carrying out his attack.

You and Spencer casually look through the book aisles, not wanting to jump onto him right away. Reid was the one whose hand hasn’t left his gun since he entered the store. The unsub was definitely intimidating, as he was built very tall and muscular with broad shoulders. Reid had slowly inched his way towards the front, as the man reached the front of the store with a single book: Alice and Wonderland. “Alice in Wonderland, my favorite!” The older woman says ringing up the book with a ‘beep’. She definitely fit in with the past victims, as she had a small frame, and was fragile with old age.

“Me too, actually.” The low voice said, as the woman puts his book in a bag, not wanting the steady rain outside to ruin the books current state. It was a paperback, so it could ruin easily from the water. The man reached for his coat, in a strange line vision for Reid...he could pull out a gun, or a wallet. So Reid took his chance.

“Mr. Coles! This is the FBI, please put your hands in the air!” Reid says, finally happy to be the one to get to give the whole spiel. The whole thing happened in a blur, both guns came out at the same time, but the gun on the unsub was much more intimidating; much bigger.

“Put the gun down! If I see your finger reach the trigger, you will single-handedly be the reason this woman dies. Do you want to have that on your back for your life?” The unsub says as you reach for your gun, and Reid lowers his slightly. Reid was not the guy that would do well with someone dying when he could have saved them. “And you, the cutie in the aisle over there...keep your hands where I can see them. You don’t have me fooled.” He said in a shaky yet booming voice, making your hands go up quickly. Reid hated to admit, he did not want to go on this one with the newest person on the team; but Morgan and JJ had been sent to the other possible location to keep watch. He was definitely insecure about the strength in this pairing.

“Okay...James we can all put our guns down and then there will be no problems. You can leave. We will let you walk away since there was no harm done.” You say in a confident voice, even though that was not the case. Either way, he was going out in cuffs or a body bag. He has a body count of at least 6 women. The unsub’s beady brown eyes landed on your Y/E/C ones, which held curiosity. You couldn’t make out his next move in your mind, but your hands started to shake.

“No. I don’t believe you! All women do is lie. Put your gun on the ground, and sit with your hands under you.” He orders in a growl-like tone. The only thing you could do, is follow the orders, hoping that the woman in front of him can be saved by this action. You slip your gun out of your pocket; one hand still in the air as you let the gun fall to the ground. You feel Spencer’s soft eyes watching your actions. He’s been hostage many times, it isn’t something he could ever get used to. As you take a seat on your hands, you wrack your brain for ideas. A way to get out of the situation. Hotch should hopefully come to the rescue if Reid could not pull through. He may be a genius, but he did not have physical strength on his side right now against this man.

“I am not a woman, Mr. Coles. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I will tell you as much of the truth as you would like to know.” Spencer pipes up and places his gun on the ground in front of him, placing his rather large hands into the air. He was someone you would believe if he told you that. He looked like he was too pure to lie, but he was currently doing it for his own safety, as well as yours and the store owner’s. And it worked...because Reid was good at reading and analyzing the best moves to get the unsub’s trust. It was something you admired more than anything. You felt the air in the bookstore heavier with each minute, and your eyes getting slightly heavier. It could be because of the lack of coffee this morning, or your sugar. You hoped it was the lesser of the two evils, as you had no access to food.

“Spencer...” You say with a croaky voice. Where was Hotch? Morgan or JJ? This felt like it had been taking years, sitting on your now aching hands. Reid had been told to sit next to you on the floor in front of Mr. Coles, as he tried thinking of a way out of this. Reid’s eyes searched yours with confusion. “I think my sugar’s low. I don’t feel all that great.” You warn him and his eyes widen a little. He knew you needed some source of carbohydrates to send the levels up.

“Spectacular!” He muttered to himself. He searched the room with his eyes, finding nothing but shelves full of books and a comfortable looking couch. “I’ll figure something out, don’t worry. How long do you think you can make it without eating?” He asked curiously. You shrugged your shoulders. You felt all the symptoms of a low sugar: shakiness, clamminess, fatigue, hunger and disequilibrium. You felt like your heart beating was louder than anything else in your ears, pounding fast.

“What are you two whispering about?” James asks, pointing the gun at you, before Reid. Reid furrows his eyebrows. This was a hard spot for him, as his gun now sits on the counter, mocking him.

“Please, just listen to my plea. Special Agent Y/L/N is a diabetic, and she feels very ill. I will let you stick your gun to my head if you let her run to her car, grabbing the things she needs to send her sugar up. If she does anything you don’t like, you can shoot me. She can die if you don’t do this, and we both know that your whole plan will be ruined if she is the one to die. You’ll have the whole team on your back. They will surely kill you.” Reid pretty much begs, and you widen your eyes. Why would he do that? Put his life in danger for you? You’ve known Spencer for a little over two months now. You see the unsub considering the plea, which is good, as you don’t even know if you could make it to the car if he takes too much longer than this. But you don’t have to worry about that, when the doors fling open to reveal Morgan. You give a relieved sigh, as he and JJ come in with Hotch in tow, their guns raised.

“James Coles, put the gun down. We will not hold fire.” Hotch calls as they approach quickly, and he unsub doesn’t think twice before lowering his gun and stepping forward. He had no way out of this, he wanted to leave alive. Reid stands and puts a hand out to you, knowing how dizzy a diabetic can get with low blood sugar levels. He had done very in depth research when you joined the team, even going as far as stocking the fridge at work with Orange juice; the best thing for diabetics in times of need. You took his hand and he helped you up with a force stronger than you expected from the scrawny doctor.

“Let’s go Y/N. If you don’t have anything, I have some sweets in my bag.” He offers with a small grin. One thing you knew about Spencer, is that he had a crazy sweet tooth. It made you gag sometimes, as you have grown to not use much sugar, and to eat in more moderation than most.

“Thank you Spencer.” You said gratefully as you walked to your car, leaning on him slightly. It felt awkward to use the tall genius for support, but the smell of his cologne and understanding that you’ll be feeling better soon made you ignore it.

“Don’t mention it. But this means that when we go for another mission, you let me play you in chess.” Reid suggests, opening the car door for you and going around to the other side. He was definitely not letting you drive in this state.

“Fair enough, but I have never won chess.” You reply, knowing this time surely won’t be any different. Reid was the smartest person you’ve ever met. And although the first month at the job he irked you with his waterfall of facts, you have become fond of it, even taking the time to write some down.

“Well, maybe I will go easy on you.” Reid says with a grin, but you know for a fact that he does not take losing easily. But that’s ok, he saved your life...losing one more game of chess is not going to kill you.

#fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid imagines #diabetic imagine #spencer reid x reader #imagines #diabetic #type one diabetes

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sweettoothshipperrotg · 6 years

Note

Arranged Marriage... SweetTooth AU?? :3

Well, this is what happens when I allow the plot bunnies (pun fully intended) to hold me hostage: y’all end up with a thirteen page fic. (sorry?)

Kinda long disclaimer: My brain setted this during victorian times in England, more specifically in the 1840′s London. Bunny is an army lieutenant that had been assigned to the British colonies of New South Wales (aka Australia), Toothiana is a princess from one of the many Indian states that were under indirect british rule (she still held her title as maharani but could not kick the dudes out of her region). Although I did as much research as I could to inform myself and provide argument for the fic, I apologize if you feel that I was disrespectful/misinformed in the way I depicted the characters and circumstances here. It was not my intention and I would appreciate if you can offer constructive criticism so I can improve. What I DID do is try to keep it as ambiguous as possible so although it does not directly mention anyone in particular, the idea still remains (don’t go around colonizing countries an being an asshat to people)

A/N: Whenever you see boldened and cursive text it’s because the characters are speaking a different language apart from regular English.

Ok, I’m done, I promise. ^^;

Hope you like it!

“I have been eagerly awaiting the day I could finallymeet you…and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.”

The words that came from her fiancé’s mouth would havesent any other young girl’s heart aflutter. To Toothiana…they felt completelyhollow.

Every fiber of her soul was begging her to turn back,ran to the closest port, and sneak onto a ship that would take her far awayfrom here and closer to her beloved country. Yet she remained rooted on herspot.

The atmosphere was charged with tension, silence stretchingand making everything worse.

All eyes were on both of them, sizing, judging, and losingno detail of the interaction among the betrothed couple.

Their dark clothes and pretentious faces wereunnerving to say the least.

They thought themselves above her and her people.Fools, the lot of them.

Toothiana kept her head held high. The people who hadaccompanied her and her younger sister had instructed her on how she wassupposed to curtsy and handle herself when she met her fiancé. She refused togrant him said honor.

She was the heir to the throne of Punjam Hy Loo,daughter of Haroom and Queen Rashmi. She bowed to those worthy of it.

Her disruption of protocol sent tongues wagging; awave of poorly concealed whispers filled the room.

The man in front of her seemed to tower above most ofthe attendees. His bright red uniform and medals pinned to his chest, proof ofhis prowess in battle, seemed obnoxiously loud and reminded her of howdifferent and apart they truly were. Of how men sporting the same uniform hadinvaded her country and taken by force what didn’t belong to them.

To look at him, to think of why she had to do this wasmaking her sick.

She had been taken away from her home with courteoussmiles and polite words that did nothing to hide how the invaders held all thecards and they had no quarrel with twisting her arm into submitting to theirwishes.

So they had shipped off across the ocean, away fromthe deep colors of the green jungles she loved so much, from the colorful lifeof her city, and from the comfort of being among her people.

She dearly missed the sun kissed bedroom she had grownup in, the morning chants and prayers of the devotees inside the temples, theair full of spices and the perfume of the flowers in bloom.

The trip had been horrific. Storms and rough seas madeher fear that she would die in the middle of the vast ocean without theappropriate rites, her soul becoming chained to the sea and not be allowed totranscend to the beyond and see her parents.

On those nights where it almost seemed that the shipwould capsize at any moment, she held tight to her baby sister (a merelythirteen year old girl who had tragically been roped into this voyage due tosharing the same lineage) and allowed a few rogue tears to trickle down her face.

The only comfort had been the kind young man thatstationed himself outside her cabin to make the sisters feel more secure,promising to keep them safe at all costs.

Jackson Overland Frost had been a true blessing duringher long journey, joining her at the port before they departed and using hiswits and charm to win her over. He had offered his services to accompany her,serve as her interpreter, and to help her navigate this new culture full ofstrange and different aspects.

He had proven a good, amicable companion. Since he wasthe only one who spoke to her in her language, it had initiated an almostinstant bond between them.

He treated her and her sister with the upmost respectand saw them as equals.

Although he did not share the same nationality as herfiancé, he had provided as a diplomatic envoy between countries and had quicklybecome friends with him.

In fact, Jack had provided her with far moreinformation about her intended than any member of her escorts.

Toothiana did not know much of Lord Bunnymund. He wasthe sole heir of his family’s titles at his 26 years of age, had ascended tothe rank of lieutenant during his military service but had been eventuallydischarged from the army (the reason of said discharge had not been explainedto her).

“How is he? Tell me about his real colors”,she had asked him while gazing at the miniature with the rendition of the manshe was to marry.

“Bunny? Well, he’s real annoying, realgrumpy, and really full of himself!” He said with a playful smile thathad made her little sister burst into laughter. “But in all seriousness, I havenever met a stronger, more honorable man than the likes of him. Truly, the lastof his kind.”

She was not able to get any more meaningfulinformation out of him. Any other pertinent details, he proclaimed, she wouldhave to ask the man himself.

Right now, Toothiana wished she had extricated moreinformation from Jack.

The small painting had not made him justice, of thatshe was certain.

Despite belonging to the upper class, his face did nothave the softness or paleness of noblemen his age. His features knew themerciless lash of the wind and the unforgiving rays of the sun, making himstand out from the sea of faces that seemed to quake at the mention of notbeing as white as snow.

His hands looked rougher than those of the pamperednoblemen.

The voice that had greeted her had sent a shiver downher spine: deep, calming, kind, instead of the monotonous plummy ones she hadheard since the beginning of her journey. It was the type of voice that shewouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of her days.

However, his eyes were the most striking of his attributes,two orbs of vivid green that sucked the air out of her lungs when she firstlooked at them.

Despite how pleasing he was on the eyes, she wasdetermined to not budge an inch.

They wanted to make her dance to their tune? Fine.

But she would be the one to mark the tempo.

“And I hope that you do not prove asconceited and vain as the rest of your countrymen”, she retorted with asweet smirk. Even if no one but Jack and her sister could understand her, shewas content with her words.

Jack snorted at her comment, barely covering hislaughter and trying to pass it as a fit of cough.

Although it was only for a moment, she could swear shesaw her fiancé smiling at her display of spirit.

His fiancé was nothing like he had expected.

The ones that had arranged their union had granted himlittle information about her.

Whatever he received should be taken with a grain ofsalt, anyways.

Their derisive remarks and snide commentaries againsther being a foreigner and from a different culture got on his nerves.

He hated this place.

Aster was certain of this once he had been forced toleave his post at the army and practically dragged back to his country to sitdown and submit to orders like a good puppet.

He had been received with a scowl by the ones sittingatop of the political playfield.

And, stars above, the almost unending procession fromone minister’s office to another just to receive the same lecture from stuffyold men with no idea of how real life was beyond their very noses, almost droveBunnymund mad.

They had no qualm of gloating about how lucky he was to not have been executedfor his seditious actions against the crown.

What did they knew of his motives? Absolutely nothing.

They had never gone hungry a day of their lives. Theyknew not of sore muscles and tired bodies after strenuous hours of labor underthe sun. They feared not the crack of the whip, nor the unkind treatment of strangersthat had no roots to their lands.

While stationed as an officer, he had tried to breakpeace between the locals and his countrymen. But the latter refused to give anyquarter to what they considered belonged to them.

The moment that he was demanded to comply withatrocities like the ones they had ordered of him had been the straw that brokethe camel’s back.

Bunnymund had taken action against those who commandedhim. Slowly and discreetly, he had aided local insurgent factions, providingresources, information and even shelter to those who were on the run.

Unfortunately, he was caught without any means ofescape.

The first month that he stayed in prison had beentesting.

His once fellow officers now treated him like thelowliest of criminals, spitting insults whenever they passed him by.

The beatings and punishments were administered withardent fervor.

When the infection had settled in, he truly thought hewould die in that filthy cell and not even be given a proper grave.

Those days spent at the camp’s infirmary – confined tohis bed not only by the fever but by the manacles to prevent any chance ofescape, and being look down by the doctors and nurses that kept him alive – hadcrawled by agonizing slow.

Illness decided not to kill him, and back to the cellhe went.

He was careless enough to lose track of the time hespent there, only when he was released he found out that his confinement had lasteda year and 3 months.

Out of nowhere, he was presented to the commander ofthe camp and informed that his family had pulled enough strings for him to besent back to his country to be dealt with by higher authorities. He was givenhonorable discharge of the army and was forbidden to return, the disdain in theofficer oozing from every word.

And throughout this horrid experience, Bunnymund hadnever uttered a word. He had not complained, nor begged, nor retracted from hisactions. It was a waste of time to try to convince them.

He was placed on the next ship back to his countryunder heavy scrutiny of two officers who had been assigned to police him thewhole trip. They did not engage with him, but the surly looks they gave himwere a dead giveaway of their opinion of him.

When the ship finally docked, he was not greeted byany better circumstances.

He had only seen his parents once. His father had donewhat he did best and berated and screamed at him, telling him what adisappointment he was to the family name.

His mother had stayed behind her husband, a silentlook of disapproval battling with the sorrow of seeing her only son in such aregretful state.

They had not allowed him to see his sister.

Days flew by. Although it was nothing compared to hisprevious accommodations, the room he was confined in told him that his ordealwas far from over.

He had been escorted to a fancy chamber, where theminister of foreign affairs was waiting for him with a reproving look and a litpipe that wafted its acrid smell all over the room.

That’s when his future purpose was laid in front ofhim.

He was to marry a princess from a small region of acountry he had never had the opportunity to see for himself.

She was the heir to the throne and her influenceweighted a lot on the hold his country had over hers.

There had been several rebel uprisings on neighboringregions and, if the princess allied herself with said insurgents, his countrywould lose an important trade point and area of influence.

They simply could not let it happen. And since theprincess and her sister were both too valuable to kill and yet too dangerous toallow to act freely, they had decided to extract her and ship her away so shecould not play her hand against them.

The diplomats had found the perfect excuse, too. Arebel war lord had threatened her throne, fully intending to kill her and takeover the region. Under a poorly disguised attempt to “guarantee her security”,they had taken her and her sister away and were on their way here.

In order to bind her to his country, they were forcingher to marry a complete stranger.

Since he had fallen from grace, he would pay his dueby playing said role. And the minister made it quite clear that Bunnymund hadno say on the matter.

He had dreaded their meeting since the man informedhim on their imposed betrothal.

What did she look like? Any description of women fromher country had not been favorable – the opinion of men who claimed to haveseen them not proper for polite society –, but Aster knew better than to trustthose pompous bigots.

What would she think of him? Arranged marriages werenot uncommon in their times but it felt like there was an ocean between themwith how different they were.

Would they get along? It almost seemed impossible thatthey would be able to find common ground.

But to his surprise, princess Toothiana had turned outto be quite a remarkable personality (at least to his standards).

Their first encounter was full of tension and statelyprotocol. The latter she broke with a confident smile on her face, clearlyletting all those haughty toffs she would not be intimidated by them.

Although he couldn’t understand her, judging by what ahard time Jack had had to try to conceal his laughter Aster knew the womanstanding before him had more fire within her than any other.

She had refused the dresses they had provided her with–thankfully, because Aster thought her own clothes made her absolutelybreathtaking, any intention of putting her into something more restraining andstifling a disservice to her person–, as well as stubbornly stuck to speakingin her own language . He liked how her rich voice traveled through the room,the unknown words twisting and wrapping around him in a pleasant sensation.

Although she had never made any acknowledgement of thefact, Bunnymund knew princess Toothiana could understand his language. Thespark of understanding gave her away, despite how everyone else considered herand her sister as uncivilized and inferior creatures.

She couldn’t have easily traversed among the wolvesthat surrounded her had she not been a bright and confident woman.

Even though they had not spent much time together, hedid find himself thinking of her: her warm smile when talking or watching overher sister –which reminded him so much of his own–, her bubbly and melodiclaugh when she and Jack shared a secret joke, even the grace she carriedherself with.

Her entrancing eyes followed him around and he couldnot deny the effect her beauty had on him.

But it was more than just that. Her strength anddetermination had quickly casted a deep sense of admiration within him.

She had left everything behind and was facing thisabysmal uncertainty head on.

He truly felt grateful to be by her side, especiallywhen she managed to irritate diplomats and nobles the way she did. And despiteenjoying what an interesting woman she was, he knew there was a whole lot moreto find out.

His fiancé definitely was a mystery, but one he didn’tmind to unravel.

Their wedding came sooner than expected.

Suddenly, Bunnymund found his garments a tadconstricting around his throat. His reflection stared back at him paler than hewished.

He was not ready for this.

Meanwhile, Jack was leaning back against his chair andhaving the time of his life. He had a smirk hanging from his lips and a glassof strong liquor on one hand, claiming that just because Bunny was going towaste such a fine kind of liquid courage didn’t mean he had to.

The young man had always liked to crack jests at hisexpense, which got them into extensive verbal banter. His carefree naturelacked the discipline and method the military service had instilled into Bunnymund.

Bunny found it rather amusing that despite not likingeach other in the beginning they had ended up friends.

It was good to have him around, a friendly face amongthe sea of pampered halfwits who were attending.

Several diplomats and ministers were there to gloat atwhat a good idea had been to match two of the empire’s greatest headaches.

Aster’s family was nowhere to be present. His fatherand mother had been outraged at the news he was marrying a foreigner theyconsidered beneath their status.

His only regret is that he hadn’t been able toproperly talk to his sister. Not even his letters had been answered, probablyintercepted by his father and now serving as tinder for the study’s chimney.

Luckily, Jack had stayed by his side, refusing todepart until his friend was in more stable grounds.

Aster could only imagine how his fiancé might bedealing with the situation from her end.

The wide open windows didn’t feel like they wereletting any air in. The walls were starting to close in on him.

He needed to leave the room, he needed to move.

Without any further explanation he was out the doorand into the corridor before it all became too overwhelming.

A sliver of light from a door slightly ajar caught hisattention.

Peering in, he was surprised when he saw his futurewife and sister in law sitting by the window sill.

The princess was no longer using her colorful clothes.She had been forced into a white wedding dress that constricted her movementsand truly did not complement her dark skin the way her usual garments did.

Although she did look beautiful and any woman from hiscountry would have been raving at the soft satin fabric and the delicate pearlsand crystals embroidered into the dress, it was clear to see that this was notwhat she wanted.

She had had no say in any of the wedding arrangementsand no one had been sympathetic enough to try to make her more comfortable.

His fingers brushed something small that had beenburning the inside of his pocket since Jack had handed it to him (his quips atbeing tired with being an errand boy due to Aster’s house arrest ignored) andwatched the two sisters, wishing he knew what they were saying.

“Our parents would be proud of what a strongwoman you are”, the younger girl commented while trying to put a bravefront for her sister.

“I think they would be proud of the both ofus”, Toothiana cupped her face and stroke her cheek with her thumb. “Youhave been through so much because of me, but I’m glad I have you with me.”

These words filled the young princess’s eyes withtears. She had been doing her best not to cry, to try to be strong and carryher family’s name with dignity. But everything had been possible thanks toToothiana.

A deep sense of fear took over her at the idea ofbeing sent away from her or that her sister’s husband would not allow them tostay together.

“I won’t feel brave if they take you awayfrom me. I don’t want to be alone.” She couldn’t keep her voice fromquivering; tears threatening to break lose in any moment.

Toothiana pulled her close to her chest and squeezedtight, almost to make sure that what remained of her family was truly there.Tears started to form in her eyes. “Do not worry, little sister. I will notallow anyone to separate us.”

They remained like that for a few moments, wishingthat the clock would stop counting down the seconds.

Eventually they separate.

“Why don’t you go with Jack for a while andask him to tell you about sledding through the snow again?”, Toothianasuggested, knowing the young man always managed to cheer her little sister up.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I want some time on my own before I have togo.”

The girl smiled and nodded, quickly exiting the roomin search for the fair haired boy that had swiftly had become their friend duringthese testing times.

Toothiana would have to thank him for being so kindand staying until everything had settled down – although she was certain thathe was also hoping to catch a particular black-haired girl’s attention before allwedding celebrations were over. She didn’t know much about Emily JanePitchiner, but knew that her friend would never fall for a shallow woman andthe girl seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders.

If Jack had chosen her, she was bound to be special.

The memory of the pair made Toothiana focus on theview before her, thinking at the same time of her own parents and how in lovethey had been.

Nothing of these was related to love. Not even asingle aspect of her wedding was truly hers.

In her home her engagement and wedding would have beenone of the greatest events of the region.

Suitable men would have been called from far and wideto attend the ceremony where she would choose her own husband. There would havebeen exchange of gifts, prayers at the temples, celebrations.

She would have used a beautiful red dress and adorned herselfwith jewelry and flowers, like other brides from her culture.

She would have her family and friends join her groomand her in the joyful yet solemn occasion, clapping and cheering when thenewlyweds exchanged garland as a symbol of acceptance.

There would have been demure side glances, nervouslaughter at being caught watching, a rush of excitement while holding hands.

Toothiana forced herself to cast away those images,looking down at her hand and tracing the delicate and intricate traces of hennathat her sister had painstakingly drawn onto her hands.

It had been the only aspect of her culture they hadmanaged to have, mainly because the sister had done it at night when everyonewas asleep and then it was too late to do anything about it. The princessesrelished on how the maids and instructors assigned to them fussed on howuntoward it was.

A choked sob escaped from her throat and tears rolleddown her cheeks before Toothiana could hold them back. She made no movement towipe them away.

She had been hiding her emotions to both not givethose bastards the satisfaction and to not worry her little sister. But now shewas alone, she could allow herself to cry a little.

The door slowly creaked open and she turned aroundexpecting her sister or even one of the annoying ladies that had done nothingbut pester and nag at her.

She quietly gasped when she saw Bunnymund lingering atthe door, as if considering if he should pursue this course of action.

Turning around, Toothiana wiped away her tears and triedto swallow down the feeling of embarrassment at someone seeing her crying.

“I’m sorry.” He uttered courteously, sounding a tadashamed. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you, princess.”

She gave him no answer.

“I know that you wished not for this union.” Bunnymundcleared his throat. “And I would not do you a disservice by saying that this isthe way I wanted my marriage to unfold.”

Well, at least they were being honest.

“But…”, he paused to gather strength. “Despite thecircumstances, we find ourselves together in uncharted territory. I know nothow to be a good husband and I’m sure that Jack has made you aware of my manyflaws.”

Toothiana smiled, wanting to turn around and poke funat him about the fact that no matter how much they bickered, Jack had a trueappreciation of him as a friend. Yet she remained quiet.

“We may not know much about each other. But in whatlittle time we have had, I have realized that I’ve never met a braver, more strong-willed,and kinder woman I would wish to marry.” He slowly and carefully approachedher, letting her know he meant her no threat or harm.

Her heartbeat accelerated the way it always did whenhe looked at her with those green eyes of his.

Despite her cautiousness around him but she hadmanaged to see that he was nothing like the noblemen from this country.

He had always been gentleman towards her and hersister, his presence making her feel safer. Whenever they sat with Jack andinteracted he showed true interest in what she had to say, curiously askingquestions and wanting to know more about her and her country.

And, through enough persuasion, she had found out ofwhy he had been discharged from the army and forced to come back to hishomeland.

Jack had only explained the general details, insistingthat it was better for her to hear it from Bunnymund himself, but she wasgrateful that now she knew what an outstanding man her future husband was.

Toothiana had found something she never imagined shewould find in him: kindred of spirit. Despite the differences, they shared alot in common. Their passions and ideals did not clash with the other’s, butthey burned brightly with the same intensity.

She was starting to want to know more about him.

“What I’m trying to say is…you’re not alone,princess.” He stared at her with meaningful intensity. “I promise I will carefor you and protect you to the best of my ability, til death do we part.”

Aster kneeled down while pulling a small box from hispocket and offering it to her.

Uncertain, she took it and cautiously opened.

Tears prickled at her eyes and a wave of emotion swepther as she stared at a delicate necklace with black beads on the chain and agolden pendant.

A tradition among her people was that the groom wassupposed to tie it around her neck, recognizing her as a married woman.

“Jack told me that it was customary in your countryfor the groom to gift these to the bride.”

Silence stretched as Toothiana took the necklace toadmire it in its full splendor.

Noticing the lack of verbal response and the way hisfiancé was crying, an instant feeling of panic gripped at him. Had he offendedher? Had he ruined an important custom from her country? Had Jack lead himalong just to make him look like a fool?

“I… I apologize if I have offended you, princess. It wasnot my intention to…” His face started to feel redder by the second as hespluttered.

She chuckled and shook her head to let him know hisfears were unfounded, a couple of tears still trailing down her face due tobeing moved by such a sweet gesture.

He took that as a good sign. Standing up he extendedhis hand towards the piece of jewelry. “May I?”

Her beautiful smile when she nodded made his heartskip a beat, while he inched closer so he could put the necklace on her.

It felt strangely intimate (yet not unwelcomingly so).They had never been so close, and thus never felt the heat radiating from theother’s body.

Toothiana could finally appreciate the finer detailsof his features, while Aster was finally able to let her perfume tickle theback of his nose.

Once he was satisfied with how it looked he slightlystepped to fully gaze at the enchanting woman, now looking even lovelier withthe smile that graced her lips.

He was as bold as to take her hands in his, but wasrelieved when she didn’t pull away.

“From now on, you are my path, and I choose you.”

Toothiana couldn’t be happier that they agreed.

*****

THE END, my lovelies!

Also, three cheers for Jack being such a good bro

I hope you liked it and that my writing did justice to the topics that were depicted here. See you soon and don’t hesitate to send me prompts! :D

P.S.:

I add bellow the links that I used as reference/inspiration to write this piece:

https://www.britannica.com/event/Indian-Mutiny

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/victorians/indian_rebellion_01.shtml

http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/empire/g2/cs2/background.htm

https://australianstogether.org.au/discover/australian-history/colonisation/

http://cbhsyearfivehistory.weebly.com/aboriginal-lifestyle-after-british-colonisation.html

http://www.britishempire.me.uk/page102.html

https://museumsvictoria.com.au/longform/journeys-to-australia/

https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/12/01/10-things-you-should-know-about-slavery-australia

https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/history/australia-has-a-history-of-aboriginal-slavery

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/australia-needs-to-own-up-to-its-slave-history-20150427-1muhg3.html

https://www.quora.com/In-Ancient-India-a-woman-chose-her-husband-in-Swayamvar-true-or-false

https://www.manhattanbride.com/insights/indian/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swayamvara

https://www.kuberbox.com/blog/mangalsutra-different-states-india/

#sweettooth #bunnymundxtooth #bunnymundxtoothiana #bunnymund #toothiana #rise of the guardians #ROTG

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