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maguro13-2 · 5 months

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War of Shadow ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 4 Pt.13 (2/3) ~

Moirai Albarn : Phew! I think that's the last one of them.

Waddle Dee : No doubt about it! Hopefully we just destroyed every single one of them being kicked in the d*ck! Not surprising that an army of Inky people were trying to take us down! But it's a good thing that we managed to take the army. But they will rise up again and I bet it's no surprise!

Inky Albarn : (growls angrily) You! You'll regret this one day! You may have beaten my army of lost ones, they would handle the power of Inky Darkness that will make Soul World in Nevada of becoming the new world of Bendy! But I'll be back and there will be no victory for you, but a victory for your demise and despair. But in this case, I'll let you go this time for a while.

Moirai Albarn : You have my word, and for the reason? That'll be this cause of your actions!

Inky Albarn : Quite certainly! Cause I will be having the last laugh when I fix my love's mistake and see how will they like it!

Rosalina : (broadcasting) So you're the one responsible for all the outcomes on earth, huh?Shame on you, Inky Albarn!

Moirai Albarn : Rosalina!

[Scenario : Navigation - Fumie Kumatani]

Inky Albarn : Well, if it ain't the b*tch of the stars! I see that you knew about my movements that you monitored every situation on the planet, you knew this exactly from the beginning and I knew that I was going to overthrow the Kusakabe legacy! So what if I did, after all, both you and the stars will be falling down to Earth, along with that Obversatory of yours, it'll be the hands of me that are red with all of your blood!

Rosalina : (broadcasting) So what's you're deal of taking down the grandson of the Kusakabe? Why do you think that he is the one that brought outcomes on the the planet? Why do you want him to be destroyed with all that power he got? More importantly, What do you intended to do bringing your courage to Bendy?

Inky Albarn : It's simple for me to Ask, the answer is that is about bringing order and balance to the real world, and the insane world that Bendy has left for me! I could bring a major conquest on taking over America, Japan, and the rest of the planet itself! Inky Darkness will be the blood of everything!

Rosalina : (polishing her nails while broadcasting) Oh, really? Let me tell ya something, Inky. When it comes to the insanity of your mind, a demon psycho like you couldn't bring order or balance, but others will. They will succeed in achieving of protecting this planet they live on and I will not let you going to destroy it, by your hands!

Inky Albarn : (chuckles) Oh, the irony! You really are too kind that will be the last of your hero's world and every inhabitant will make me their's! So long as you have courage of watching over the planet to not let it be destroyed, I could savor you a fact that you wanted everyone to stop me. So how about I make those stars a little taste like starburst? (Hears a warping sound)

Maka Albarn : Hey, sister! Sorry for the delays!

(the group turns and sees Maka carrying the unconscious Spartoi counterpart of her)

[Jaden Yuuki's Theme by Yutaka Minobe plays]

Moirai Albarn : Sister! Right on time!

Inky Albarn : Maka?! You? It can't be you! I framed you for good, I put the blame on you, I even made you the traitor that world would made a good riddance to you! But I...

Maka Albarn : Let me go? The Mobian Death God knew it all along. I knew that you were responsible for outcome on earth by the likes of you! You have no rights to frame the hero you're looking at! That's right, I'm Maka Albarn, the "real" Maka Albarn!

Inky Albarn : I see. Both you and Moirai are the daughters of that alien race, the Phantonians! Hardly to keeping your secret identity as the sworn protectors of earth, the Phanto sisters! But I guranteed that you are willing to risks your lives, fighting for your ideals! Humph! Doesn't matter now. But this time, it will be something different. You'll be part of the extinction event when I plunge the planet into darkness. Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen! By the way, there's one more thing to tell you this. Demon Vibe got his eyes on you, Maka. (Teleports away)

Waddle Dee : Drats! She got away.

Meta Knignt : As long we keep this up, we might get her chance another day to rule the world for herself.

King Dedede : Hope the queen will might wait to acclaim her Victory when the Grandson of the Kusakabe will be destroyed. (hears Phone ringing)

Waddle Dee : Phone call, Mrs. Albarn.

Moirai Albarn : (answers the phone) Hello? Oh hello. Say aren't you the guy that is responsible for the creation of Soul World? Oh yeah, I see. Hey, sis. May I recognize the phone that I am currently talking to, I believe it's for you.

Maka Albarn : (talks into the phone) Hello?

Shinra Kusakabe (via phone) : So, I heard that the hero of Soul World has been an imposter and the real one I'm looking for is on the phone.

Maka Albarn : Is this the creator of Soul World?

Shinra Kusakabe (via phone) : Yes, you are correct. I am the one responsible for your world's creation, or perhaps is the same world that I once lived for about 1000 years before my death. I was the one who created my man-made son, Death. And took the profounding body that proclaims to be the kid named Shotaro, the dokeshi that is responsible for the demon weapons' creation.

Maka Albarn : So I finally recognized who you really are? You're the person who really created Soul World? So where are you at?

Shinra Kusakabe (via phone) : Oh yes, I know exactly where I am currently at, right now.

Maka Albarn : Really? like what?

Shinra Kusakabe (via phone) : Like I'm currently looking at you, straightly face to face! (Maka turns and sees the Devil Chaos Chao piloting the Dark Chao Walker)

Moirai Albarn : Oh no, it's him!

[Advice - Yutaka Minobe]

Maka Albarn : What!? A Chao in a machine?

Shinra (Devil Chaos Chao) : Maka Albarn! We finally meet at last after my 1000 years of death. So, what did you agree on saving Real World AU, after you were framed for your actions against humanity?

Maka Albarn : No way...You're Shinra Kusakabe?

~ Sixty-Fifth Scene : The Creator's Return ~

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2dplatformergameconceptwsc · 2 years

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Blog #3

Beginning of jump animation

Sword animation- yet to be coded into game to function.

Finished jump animation (in photoshop)

Final version (may be subject to change)

Modifications to tile map. Deathboxes added to cover spikes so that the player instantly dies. (may change later)

As of the 30.9.22 my job list now looks like this

This list may expand at any given time.

The jumping animation proved difficult to me as I hate animating legs. And pixel ones at that. Though my ability to animate and draw in pixel art has significantly increased since me joining this course.

Additional coding to add jump animation. The animation is heavily supported by booleans that tell the code whether the jump input is true or false. If true the animation plays, if false, nothing happens.

Action shot of jump animation (screenshot only includes one frame)

I arrived at college at 2:35 due to a work meeting. This would mean that I have missed out on possible advancements on my project. I will ensure that the lost progress will be redeemed.

I began the development of my death animation. I had already planned how this was going to work with the golden jewel that sits at the bottom of the hood cracking and bursting before the character dies. I haven't planned the character dying yet though I guess I can improvise.

I had to recreate the blueprint for a teleporter due to the blueprint not existing on my current project.

With my death animation i decided to scrap the process in which the yellow jewel shrinks as it takes up valuable time in which the character dies. I want there to be time in which the character dies after the jewel shatters meaning there are vital frames available.

Finished the development of the death animation. I had the idea that my charcater was just a shadow in a cloak that was being contained by the jewel, the jewel breaking would result in the character dying.

First attempt at trying to make camera follow and then stop once it reaches the edge of the tilemap.

Previous attempt (not finished) at trying to make the camera follow

Today might be the last day I get before playtesting so I set myself a list.

To-do list:

Fix walking bug, walks depending on how hard you press movement keys- keyboard problem

Fix no clipping on edges of platforms when next to another tile- not fixed just replace platform edge with a flat platform to prevent no clipping- now fixed had to change hitbox

Add sfx

Revamp bandage collectible into coin (change sprite not code)

Possibly finish camera actor coding with Jake (difficult, MUST BE WITH JAKE)

Possibly resize tile map and character so character is bigger-may not be possible, change camera settings

Fix character now sinking into the platforms after attempting to resize hit box-done

Adapt tilemap to include ramp transition into a pillar. smooth edge darkness so it looks smoother, Ramp that merges into ground

Add checkpoints

Add death animation

These are the objectives with all hopefully being accomplished at some point. Check one of my posts to see how I have accomplished these.

I completed my 2nd an 3rd levels on my tilemap. When creating the third I realised I would need to update my tilemap to make the design look more clean. The new teleporters I coded help massively by dropping the location you want it to teleport on another teleporter that is set to none meaning it is a one way teleporter.

Our group was given a task to rearrange a HUD in a way we thought it would work. Here's mine.

To begin turning my health collectible into a coin I had to design the coin in photoshop. I decided to scrap the health bar and HUD as of now I do not intend of changing damage with everything being an instant kill. Here's the coin.

Before we begin playtesting I had to set up a google form with 10 questions.

To avoid the camera drifting off the map I made another tilemap that was one solid colour. This makes the first level look tidy when you first spawn in.

This is the code used to delay the reload level time. This allows the death animation flipbook to complete.

Additional code that allows a boolean to let the code know whether death is true or not which bars any movement input. Without this code you would be able to move left and right whilst the animation is playing out which is the opposite of what I want to do.

I had to resize and rotate my coin collectible so I didn't need to each time I imported it. This will help all the coins staying the same rotation and size.

I deleted the camera actor 2 and changed it so the default character's camera was activated automatically. This meant that the custom camera actor code became irrelevant

The game now looks like this:

The camera boom still needs to be added. Camera boom has been added and applies lag. This is a satisfying fix to my camera problem as I have to accept the camera lag to work as how I wanted the camera to function as it was too difficult and took too much time.

Teleporter now has a beta design for playtesting. The teleporter may not become animated due to the limited time left on this project.

I decided to use an image and drag it into photo shop to pixelise it for a background due to the limited time I had left.

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fandom-puff · 4 years

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Mistake

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x ShelbySister!Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: Alfie knew he made a mistake when he pushed you away, and when you show up in the middle of a meeting with Tommy, it all comes flooding back to him

AN: sorry writing has been few and far between this past week. I’m honestly not feeling much inspiration to write the requests in my inbox (don’t worry- if I’m not writing yours I’ll say- plz don’t bombard me asking if I’m doing this that abd the other!). Also, tomorrow, I’m gonna make a start on the kinktober stuff, so I can get it all queued up for the relevant days. Anyways, enjoy.

Gif creds to owner

Warnings: swearing

He remembered it, plain as day.

The way your smile faded into a deep frown; the way your bright eyes dulled, before filling up with tears; the movement of your lips, despite no words coming out; the cream cake you had left on his desk as you fled the bakery before the tears could fall.

He couldn’t bring himself to eat the pretty cake, slightly squashed from being in your bag, the icing a little lopsided...

He let ollie have it when he told him to cancel they table at the restaurant he was meant to be taking you to that very night. “Shame, that, Boss. She seemed to really like you,” ollie said, leaving the room before he could get a clip round the ear.

“Yeah... yeah it is,” Alfie had mumbled into nothingness, staring at the door rattling in its frame. He brooded for weeks, hardly seeing anyone, snapping at those he did. But it was more than his life’s worth to even think about seeing the Shelby girl as much as he had been. If word of your illicit relationship reached Birmingham, all deals with the brothers would be off- as well as, most likely, his head.

Or cock, he thought shrewdly, sighing as a telegram from Birmingham came through. It had been three months since he last saw hide nor hair of a Shelby, and he could only imagine what Tommy wanted with him now.

***

Life in small heath was, admittedly, not as glamorous as it was in London, and no where near as exciting as the bakery in Camden Town. Still, it was your home, and you adored every inch of it. On your first night back- the train had been delayed- you went to your aunt Pol’s not wanting to deal with Tommy’s bombardment of questions at that hour. Once Polly had lowered the gun she held to your forehead as you came into the house unannounced, she pulled you into a tight hug and fixed you some whiskey, sensing that tea probably wasn’t strong enough.

“I’ll talk to tommy,” she said gently. “Tell him the deals off. He shouldn’t have sent you in the first place, not to London. Not on your own,” she said, before tucking you up in bed. You were glad no one had told her that her niece had been to barter with Solomons all those months ago (she would never have allowed it in the first place). Even if she sensed your heart shattering into a million pieces, she was none the wiser to who caused your heartache. You were fine with that.

***

That was until three months since your return- and not a word said to tommy about the issue with Solomons- you barged into Tommy’s office.

“Cakes and pies for you, boys! Can go running a business on empty bellies- shit. Sorry Tom. No one told me you had a meeting. Wasn’t in the diary,” you said bashfully as John grinned at you.

“Not to worry, YN. Mr Solomons dropped by,” tommy said cooly as John took the cakes off you and put them on the counter with the whiskey. “Polly seems to think that all business deals with Mr Solomons here have been rejected. Deal’s off, she told me,” you gulped under the gaze of your older brothers, biting you lip slightly as Alfie turned slowly to you, the wide brim of his hat casting shadows over your face.

“Why don’t you come and sit down, Miss YN?” He said. You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them. It had been so long since you’d heard him speak.

“Don’t you bloody tell our sister what to do,” Arthur growled from the side of Tommy’s desk.

“Shut up Arthur,” you and tommy said at the same time as Tom directed you to sit down next to Alfie anc across from him. “Now, YN, I sent you to London last year for a very simple purpose. To get Mr Solomons on our side. Now, you come back to small heath eight months later, telling me that there’s no deal. That mr Solomons got cold feet. Now that, YN, is bullshit. Because we all know what a negotiatior you are. Lord knows, it’s a wonder we got anything done while you were little, forever insisting we teach you things you had no need to know,”

You looked to your knees, before looking back up at tommy, decided to fix him with a matching icy stare. You would not be lectured by your brother, not now that you were a woman yourself.

“And then, three months after her return,” he continued. “It comes to light, Solomons, that there was a deal. But you sent my sister away with no real explanation,” he turned to Alfie. “And I’d like to... put that to rights, if you will. Your lot need us, Alfie, as much as we need you. Now. Explain. Why’s my sister sent away despite her very reasonable deal, Hm?”

It was quiet for a moment, and you hoped to any god who was listening that Alfie would bluff his way out with one of his meandering speeches.

“Right, well, you see right,” a promising start... “you send your little sister, who’s a proper little woman, right, down into my bakery, with her pretty eyes and her flirty laughing, yeah? You send your little sister down to Camden Town to seduce me,”

Shut the fuck up, Alfie, you thought.

“And yeah, I admit it worked for a bit, yeah, took her out a few times an’ all,” Tommy’s eyes hardened, and Arthur and John had murderous expressions on their faces. “We was getting along alright, wasn’t we, YN, love?” You nodded, your jaw tense. You would certainly be in trouble with your brothers after this. “But then I sent her away. Told her ‘nah, YN, pet, we can’t keep this up, right? Too fuckin’ dangerous for you down here, yeah. And what would your brothers think, eh? What if you end up pregnant or summin’” I said to her, right, and sent her back up to this shithole to keep her out of trouble,” he leaned back in his chair, as if his explanation had solved everything.

It most certainly had not.

If looks could kill, Alfie Solomons would definitely be six feet under, under the harsh glare of the Shelby brothers. You snapped.

“For fucks sake!” You cried. “So I’m seeing Alfie fucking Solomons! So what?” You demanded. “What’re your going to do about it, eh? Cut him a new smile and have half of London after us, eh? You said it yourself, Tommy, we need Solomons as much as his lot need the Shelby’s!”

Your chest rose and fell with fury, and Alfie couldn’t help the gaze of adoration that he bestowed upon you.

“YN,” Arthur said, his measured voice forced, as if he was trying very hard not to shout. “If this man... this-this bastard has hurt you or threatened you-”

“Oh shut up, Arthur. Not every man is a threat to me,”

“But YN, you’re-”

“I’m what, John, eh? Delicate? Stupid? Too young? Fuck off. How many times have aunt Pol, Ada and I fixed your messes, eh? I think I know what I’m doing!”

You rounded on tommy, who was suspiciously quiet. “Alfie Solomons is a very dangerous man, YN,” he said steadily.

“Oi, Tommy, mate, I am right here. I let Arthur slide, yeah, Cos he’s off his rocker,”

“Shut it, Alfie,” you hissed, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Tom. I’ve grown up around dangerous men. All my life, I’ve had dangerous men around me. Dangerous men walked me to school. Dangerous men helped with my homework. Dangerous men took me for my first proper drink. Dangerous men have and always will be my family,” you spoke with such passion, your eyebrows firmly knitted together as you spoke, jaw set the way it always did when you refused to back down. “I am not a child anymore, boys. I can’t be tucked away nice and quiet in Small Heath all my life. Just be glad that you’re aware of this now and not when I’m four months pregnant with a baby I’ve no intention of getting rid of!” You swiped angrily at the tears that had trickled down your cheeks as you glared tommy down.

Sighing, he stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, straightening his jacket. “That’s that then,” he said, beckoning an unwilling Arthur and John to follow him (both murmuring angrily and confused).

“Oh and Solomons? I expect to see a ring on my sister’s finger by Sunday,” he said, before slamming the door shut.

Tags: @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @peakyswritings @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff

@raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal @anyataylcrjoys @hiddensapphic @rabeccablake @halepea @eleven-times-lively

#alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #request #imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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pandoraimperatrix · 3 years

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hey Pandoraimperatix, my friend I would like to request sunflower Behave Yourself Make Me for Batcat and Violet Stop staring at me to distract me!" "Oh , I'm not staring to distract you ." for Dickkory.

Sorry for the huge delay, it has been busy lately.

We go back to the Titans AU that only exists in my heart in a time between season one and two in which Trigon is gone, but the core four + Jason are living together as a family and the rest of the adults Titans are... Dunno.

Beware, this is so sugary I’m now dependent of insulin.

--------

It started as a regular game night, and for the first two hours or so it really happened as it should.

Gar was in charge of food, so even though everything in the menu was vegetarian he managed to serve a delicious feast with plenty decadent deep fried snacks that Dick would never approve, there was no cauliflower pizza nonsense and frizzy drinks with real sugar in their composition among the diet options.

Rachel fixed the games, Gar offered, but she dismissed him saying that he had too much a niche taste and Jason would only pick the boring battle ones. Besides, she was better at guessing which kind of game would entertain their family without causing a horrible fight over whom was owing whom rent at monopoly or something.

Jason was in charge of music, because he was the only one of the whole team with a decent taste. Or that's what he claimed.

Dick and Kory were not allowed to have any say in the game night activities, the kids said they were merely invited to join. Dick, being true to his namesake wanted to forbid the whole thing, already thinking of all the many ways a night of fun and games could turn into chaos and disgrace. But when Rachel proposed it, she already expected that from him, and that’s why she asked him right after Kory’s morning flight, so when she entered the room, skin glowing fresh from a sunbath, he seemed to had lost the train of his thoughts, mumbling something incoherent, Rachel took that as a yes and ran with it.

But after all the food was gone the strangest thing started to happen. Stranger than Jason going to bed early instead of throwing a fit after losing three rounds or darts in a row. Dick was worried and even tried to talk to him, worried he was just self-isolating out of frustration, but when he went to the boy's room found him actually reading, that gave him a weird mix of surprise and bittersweet joy over his little brother's evolution. He was better now, and didn't need him as much.

But when he went back to the living room there was only Kory.

“Where are Gar and Rachel?”

Kory took a while to answer because she had just stuffed her mouth with a particular big deep fried veggie dumpling, Dick tried to not fixate too much on how plump and kissable her lips were, but he probably didn’t make a very good job. All those long acting classes with Alfred growing up and now, twenty years and an alien princess after, he suddenly couldn’t hide his feelings. Dishonour on him, dishonour on his bats.

“Could have asked you the same,” she said finally swallowing down, and now it was her elegant neck and the dark path to her cleavage that was catching his eyes. Damn, it should be worrisome how much pull she had over him. It was true that he had a past o falling in love with his female teammates and it usually ended badly, but there was something different about him and Kory. While with Dawn and Babs there was always the shadow of this other man he supposed to be, a better man, and the weight of the expectations he put on himself and that he felt at the time that his exes added to, crushed their relationship.

Kory… Well, even after meeting Bruce last time they went to Gotham to officialise Jason’s situation – and also a move orchestrated by Alfred to meet his new grandchildren – she didn’t change with him. Of course, she didn’t have years of indoctrinating to find Batman the most amazing man in existence, but even after learning his status, and listening to stories about him, she didn’t look as impressed as people usually did. And for some crazy miracle, she was still very much interested in him, Dick, whom she already knew better than most people, maybe even better than Donna, and enough to know all his worst faults, enough to tell him he was being stupid when he let all his paranoia and inferiority complex make him act out. And she was still there, in love with him.

“Are they coming back? There’s still food.”

“Who’s to say?” she said in a nonchalant tone, as she picked the fallen darts from the floor.

He crossed his arms, eying her with amused suspicion.

“Miss Anders, what are you planning?”

“Me?” she asked over her shoulder. “Nothing at all,” and he didn’t believe a bit, but waited and she straighten up, turning back to face him. “But we don’t need the kids to have fun, do we?”

And he could have died right there, the last thing he’d see was the smile she was giving to him, his favourite, that was in equal measures playful, promising, innocent and very dirty. That picture alone with be worthier than any paradise.

Dick walked towards her, and positioned his body behind hers, framing her hips with his hands. “Depending of the type of fun you have in mind…” he said against her ear after pulling her hair aside.

Kory clicked her tongue in disapproval, but leaned back into him slightly, “Grayson, Grayson, what a naughty mind you have.” She prepared to throw a dart and recoiled when he kissed her neck. “I was merely trying to challenge you for a darts’ competition.”

“Yeah?”

She turned her face to look at him, her eyes glowing so green in the way he learned it meant she was getting aroused.

“Yes.”

Dick let her go and didn’t comment when she let out a disappointed sigh.

“I accept,” he took a sip of his own sugar free pop and regretted immediately because it became flat after being forgotten for so long, “what do I get when I win?”

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

“In time.”

She bended in half unable to hide her giggles.

“You are ridiculous.”

He just pouted.

Kory rolled her eyes in amusement, took a deep breath to calm herself and prepared to throw her first dart.

"Stop staring at me to distract me!" She complained.

"Oh, I'm not staring to distract you."

She threw it and it missed, badly. Dick pressed his lips but wasn’t able to hold his own laughter.

“That’s your fault!” her face was glowing golden, and Dick resented the fact they didn’t get to meet earlier, how had been Kory as a teenager? Was she easier to rile up back then? Nowadays, she was the coolest person he ever met, cooler than Bruce, than his uncle Clark. It was the rarest thing to see Kory act in a self-conscious way, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this newfound power he had. The power to make Princess Koriand’r blush.

“I’ll be more careful now when you start throwing starbolts around from now on,” he teased.

“I’ll use you as my training target, then” was her comeback.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

She sighed and turned back to him, her hands on her hips.

“Why are you torturing me?”

He gave her his best kicked puppy look.

“We are here, all alone, and all you care about is some dumb game…”

Kory’s face broke in one of her full smiles and she threw the darts without even looking, all of them bull’s eye, and walked towards him, hugging him by the neck.

“Awnnnn, is that it? Why didn’t you say earlier?”

He let go of his demure stance and in a display of his true intentions hoisted her up by her backside, Kory let out an elated exclamation and adjusted her arms grabbing his face and bringing their lips together.

“Hmm,” he made as she parted from his lips to let him breathe and spread kisses down his neck, “can we really? Won’t they come back?”

“Nah,” she said licking his ear, “I gave them money.”

“Not only she has a very good aim, but she’s also so smart,” he mumbled as he walked them to the sofa.

“Aren’t I a catch?” she said opening her legs to accommodate him after he lied her body on the cushions, and pushed his floppy hair back behind his ear, “aren’t you lucky?”

“The luckiest,” and he kissed her.

#dickkory #dickkori #starfire #nightwing #robstar #koriand'r #dick grayson #kory anders #kori anders #teen titans #titans #hbo titans #dcu titans #netflix titans #ntt #new teen titans

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kaiowut99 · 3 years

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Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 65 and 66 Subbed (Finalized)

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

Hell Kaiser Ryou! Chimeratech Overdragon

Since his defeat to Ed in the Pro Leagues, the life in Kaiser Ryou has faded. But at the invitation of a suspicious promoter, he participates in an underground duel--duels in which, crucially, one risks their life to treat their savage audience to a show. As Acidic Last Machine Virus causes his Machine-Types like Cyber Dragon to rust, the Kaiser is not only cut off from summoning any Monsters, but it causes him to take damage. With each drop in his LP, an electric current flows through his body, exciting the spectators...

Judai’s First Dream Duel!

Lost in the forest, Judai’s consciousness starts to fade from hunger, causing him to reminisce about his duels thus far--taking down Instructor Chronos’s Ancient Gear Golem with Flame Wingman during his Entrance Exam, battling the then-Blue elite Manjoume and his V-to-Z Dragon Catapult Cannon shortly after his enrollment, battling Misawa’s seventh deck with the right to represent the Academia on the line, and his first loss in the face of Kaiser Ryou’s Cyber End Dragon...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*crashes onto your TL months late with non-corporate coffee*

And these two are finally up and finalized! Sorry for the wait, if you were looking forward to ‘em--as I mentioned in my post on Sunday, they were pushed back a bit while I did one final lookover on 1-64′s scripts and hardsubs so I could actually call them “finalized.” I’d started to get them out of the way while waiting for some potential editing help, then just decided to finish it after scrapping the last little thing I hoped to work on (I planned to break briefly after 66 to do these re-finalizations anyway, but the timing happened to work out). More details there.

But leaving that aside, here we have a pretty popular episode in Hell Kaiser Ryou’s debut, as he’s pushed to the brink by Mad Dog Inukai after Monkey Monkey Mountain Saruyama invites him to his first underground duel. They do a really good job of portraying Ryou as having lost his mojo post-Ed, showing a realistic view of what the big leagues in sports are like when that happens to you and you lose out on sponsorships/etc, and so when he gets cornered and Saruyama drills into him how he never once thought of winning since that duel, wanting to just stick with his respectful dueling, a spark lights up in him and... well, RIP Mad Dog. (Also, s/o to Takeshi Maeda for really selling Ryou’s shift in mindset by the end, and to his dub VA for sounding similarly good, imo.)

66 is probably less popular in comparison, treating us to our first clipshow of the series, though 66 episodes in isn’t a bad time (could be worse, VRAINS jk). It’s endearing enough, though--kinda nice seeing SAL again; Judai’s hunger-induced visions give us Chronos, Misawa, and Manjoume making monkey noises; and the duels featured were important for Judai early on. I also like the bit of new animation as vision!Ryou follows up with Judai about respecting his opponents; goes with what I’d noticed before about Judai adding his Fusion Undone/De-Fusion strategy to his own dueling after losing to him. (also Judai making a signpost sweatdrop from his aloofness pls)

Part of the initial delay with these were the footage fixes I wanted to work on, as well as a couple visual translations here/there which were fun to work on. Really want to thank @paradoxi-kay for their great work as always in helping to translate the cover of the copy of Duel Magazine that Judai comes across early in 65, and starting the one on Shou’s copy that I finished up. List of everything worked on below the cut, as usual, if you’re curious.

Enjoy, folks! I’ve gotten some work started on 67 already, and my plan is to try and work on some double releases to make up a bit of time, lol. I’ll be posting these two on NAC in the next couple of days along with the re-finalized hardsubs and scripts/DVDRips; while I work on getting 67 and 68 done, I’ll also start some work on prepping softsub MKVs (also to go up on NAC) for everything I’ve fully finalized, since it’s been a while on that front.

Fixes/Edits! (65)

As Judai wanders in the forest early in the episode, he comes across a stack of old Duel Magazines; the front cover shows Ryou and is an issue from his winning streak days before his more recent loss to Ed. Thanks to @paradoxi-kay‘s great work in typesetting my translation onto the cover I blanked (which I detailed here), you’ll see it in English in the hardsub above. The translation was first applied to the close-up of the cover that comes after #2 below, and then I took the translated cover and made it its own image that I put into the earlier shot as Judai approaches it while they’re all still tied up (detailed here). The text reads, “Exclusive!! Kaiser Ryou Marufuji / Breaking down his Cyber Dragon deck!!! / In this issue: / -Duelists Du Jour / -Pro League Battle Data! / -Reader-Submitted Best Duels! / -Strategic Attack Decks by Type!” (Really appreciated Kay’s input on “Du Jour” because my original translation for that, “Duelists Who Are All the Rage,” wasn’t as catchy, lol.)

As Judai picks up one of the older Duel Magazines and flips it open, we see on the back cover an ad featuring the three Phantasms--it’s actually an in-show ad for Shadows of Infinity (since the episode aired around the time the pack came out in Japan); I detailed the process in blanking and translating it here (shared above). The ad reads, "The Three Phantasms Descend!" featuring Uria and Raviel’s names on their images.

As we go to the Red dorm as Shou narrates about the Kaiser’s slump, we see a magazine page describing what happened to him since his loss to Ed; I covered my blanking/translating this in the link shared in #2.

We then see that it’s Shou reading the page from his own copy of Duel Magazine, this one more recent than Judai’s featuring Ed on the cover, though it features the same SOI/Phantasms ad on its back cover (now showing Hamon and its name as well). Like with Judai’s issue, I used the Japanese cover and the dub’s edit as reference to just redraw Ed and Diamondguy enough to remove Ed’s name; Kay had started the translation placement and I finished it up. For the SOI ad, like with #2, I added in the dub’s edit in pieces, tweaking it to match the original image more (since they again oddly edited the text out or redrew Uria/et al weirdly to do so). We do now see more of the ad which shows that the trio’s names are on each of them, the English of which I added.

As Asuka snatches the magazine from Shou to work on cheering him up, to be consistent, I also worked in these cover translations to the magazine as she lifts then curls it up, using the dub’s blanked Phantasms edit as a base that I touched up a bit while adding back the Japanese cards. Detailed more in #2′s link. (We now also see that the ad reads on, “New! Shadow of Infinity - On Sale November 11th [2005]!”; the IRL booster pack came out in Japan on Nov. 17th, 2005, a few weeks before 65 aired.)

Asuka then lifts the curled-up magazine into view in a close-up, with the SOI/Phantasms ad visible which I also applied my translations above to as needed, using the dub’s blank edit as a base that I redrew parts of to touch up and match the Japanese image more. Detailed more in #2′s link.

As Ryou meets Monkey Saruyama, he introduces himself by handing out his business card reading, "Saruyama Promotion - Representative Monkey Saruyama;" as detailed in #2′s link, I cleaned it up using Photoshop’s Clone Tool, then slapped the translation on using Calibri as the font.

As Ryou contemplates attacking Acid Slime with his Cyber Dragon and Mad Dog Inukai taunts him, as Mad Dog then slides in on a split-screen to “clear his doubts,” there’s a quick frame as Inukai takes over the screen where there’s a gap between his pecs and the split-screen edge. I fixed it by just drawing in the rest of his chest in Photoshop to fill his side of the split-screen.

As Inukai starts his turn and activates his Contingency Fee Magic Card, there’s a frame where, as he’s sliding his hand with the card into the shot, the card itself slides ahead in his hand before his hand does; as a result, you can see a bit of the background just under the card before his hand catches up to the card in the next frame. I fixed this by just duplicating the first frame here over it in Vegas.

Two here--first, after Ryou has his Proto Cyber Dragon attack Clone Slime, as Inukai begins to explain its effect, there’s a quick frame before the shot goes from a close-up to a slow zoom as he moves where his neck vanishes (new meme format go); I fixed this by just duplicating the previous frame in Vegas, while also correcting one of his looping lip-flap frames so that the scar on his chin is above the shading under his lip. Then, as Inukai goes into Clone Slime’s effect and the shot slowly zooms out, we see Clone Slime on his Disk in Attack Mode when it’s in Defense Mode right now; fixed it by placing a proxy in Defense in AfterEffects for a frame, then re-keyframing that frame to the zoom-out in Vegas to put it in place.

After Acid Slime slips out of Inukai’s Cemetery as Clone Slime’s effect activates, Inukai moves to grab it before the two Slimes switch out, but Clone Slime’s still in Attack Mode on his Disk; fixed by placing the Defense-Mode proxy over it in AE, then moving it as he moves his Disk and applying a brief brightness increase as the light from Clone Slime being replaced with Acid Slime grazes it.

As Proto Cyber Dragon’s attack approaches Acid Slime in a quick shot, the card under it in Defense Mode is reversed (the name box should face to the left to match how it’s placed on his Disk); fixed by first applying the correctly-facing proxy in AfterEffects and moving it as the shot moves, then masking Acid Slime back in over it, along with the light coming from the attack as it starts to shine over its card.

As Ryou explains Overload Fusion’s effect, just before it starts to zoom out as he then chooses the six Monsters he’ll fuse, there are a few frames I noticed where Ryou’s whooshing hair throughout this shot suddenly stops whooshing; I fixed it by just masking in his whooshing hair from the previous frames for a few.

As Ryou taunts Inukai about how his Acidic Last Machine Virus will bother him no more, Inukai starts to slide in on a split-screen, but until his split-screen has fully slid in, there’s no border on its edge; I fixed it in Vegas by first masking out the border once it’s fully slid in, then moving it in another video layer with his split-screen for those nine frames.

As Ryou explains Chimeratech Overdragon’s multiple attacks, we see it reversed on his Disk; fixed by slapping on the correctly-facing proxy in AfterEffects, then re-keyframing it to the slow zoom in Vegas for the 94 frames it zooms out in (phew).

One error that I hoped to fix but scrapped happens as Chimeratech Overdragon’s first attack closes in on Inukai’s Multiple Slime, where we see a Defense-Mode card under it despite it being in Attack Mode the way Inukai summoned it (and since he then takes damage from the attack); couldn’t quite figure out how to light up the floor I’d redrawn under it with the ensuing explosion, and had sought a bit of help to get it right but ultimately that fell through. (Incidentally, not only did the dub not catch this as they dubified its card, but they reversed the card, at that, lol.)

Fixes/Edits! (66)

(Note: These are all flashback-related, and I detailed most of them [including a few new ones] in my post from Sunday that I linked just under the summaries; I went on to apply the fixes I’d applied in 66 to the respective episodes, so I’ll be brief here. Reinserted fixes from a while back are in italics.)

(Episode 1 Flashback) I reinserted the fix I did to replace the blank Normal Monster on Judai’s Disk in Flame Wingman’s spot with its card as Antique Gear Golem crashes onto Chronos. [Ep. 1 Flashback End]

(Episode 22 Flashback) As Misawa attacks with Litmus Death Swordsman to start his flashback, I reinserted the fix I did to detail the blank cards on his Disk with Diamond Dragon and Litmus Death.

As Misawa finishes explaining Wingbeat of Giant Dragon’s effect and it zooms out to Litmus Death, I reinserted my fix to his reversed card on Misawa’s Disk to flip it right-side-up.

Reinserted my fix to the repeat of #3 as Skyscraper fades.

Reinserted my fix to another repeat as Misawa explains Spirit Barrier’s effect.

R-R-Reinserted my fix to the r-r-repeat again as we see Misawa’s Disk while Judai explains Cyclone Boomerang’s effect (gotta love reused animation!) [Ep. 22 Flashback End]

(Episode 4 Flashback) As Judai prods Manjoume into choosing a card from his hand for A Hero Appears’s effect, I fixed Manjoume’s blazer looking semi-faded for a frame on his split-screen.

As Judai’s LP take a hit from V-to-Z destroying Burstlady, I fixed the four frames where the upper part of his Disk is missing the little bottom part that extends out a bit and Judai’s vanishing Disk wrist grip.

A bit complex, but I fixed Judai’s briefly-still-missing-then-vanishing-again wrist grip, the shading near his Cemetery slot, Judai’s arm becoming part of his Disk, and his wrist grip suddenly consuming his whole wrist. (Detailed in that Sunday post)

Reinserted my fix to the Attack-Mode Winged Kuriboh on Judai’s Disk to put it in Defense Mode as he discards two to activate Evolutionary/Transcendent Wings.

As Judai swings his arm around telling Winged Kuriboh LV10 to “send [V-to-Z’s] energy right back” at Manjoume, I reinserted my fix to put its Defense-Mode card in the spot on his Disk colored like the Monster Zone it’s on for a few frames.

A bit complex again recycling the Judai shot in #9, but I fixed his again-vanishing Disk wrist grip and half-Disk arm, his wrist grip suddenly consuming his whole wrist again, and his yet-again-vanished wrist grip, miscolored undershirt, and his half-Disk elbow while restoring some previous detail to his Disk. (Detailed in that Sunday post)

As Judai summons Featherman–to Shou and Chronos’s surprise–and has him lunge at Manjoume for the finisher, I reinserted my fix to keep the black faraway box that is Featherman on his Disk both as those two slide in on split-screens and as they slide back out. [Ep. 4 Flashback End]

(Episode 8 Flashback) I reinserted my fix to remove Featherman from Judai’s Disk as his LP drop from Cyber Dragon destroying it.

Reinserted my fix to a repeat of #14 as Judai’s excited about Ryou’s Time Capsule.

As Judai draws for his turn, I added a Fusion card over the dark-orange rectangle briefly in his hand as he draws it.

After Judai’s first hit on him, I fixed the error as Ryou Special-Summons another Cyber Dragon as a Monster in face-down Defense Mode on his second Monster Zone (detailed in that Sunday post).

Reinserted my fix adding Cyber Twin Dragon to Ryou’s Disk over a yellow rectangle.

As the screen zooms in on Judai after Ryou declares Cyber Twin’s attack, I added Thunder Giant to Judai’s third Monster Zone, then reinserted my previous fix adding it as it zooms back out while Judai uses A Hero Appears.

Reinserted my fix adding a few quick lip flaps to Judai as he says, “Partner,” out loud.

As Judai thinks about how Evolutionary Wings would evolve his Winged Kuriboh and we then see Bubbleman on his field, I added a missing Bubbleman card to his Disk.

Right after #21, I revised my previous fix to replace the Defense-Mode Mudballman on his Disk with an Attack-Mode Bubbleman, after I accidentally put it in Defense Mode before.

As Ryou grabs Power Bond from his hand before activating it, I reinserted my fix adding Ryou’s two missing Cyber Dragons to his Disk and then one over the blank Normal Monster card in his left hand.

As Ryou slips Power Bond into his Disk, I reinserted my fix adding those two missing Cyber Dragons onto his Disk. [Ep. 8 Flashback End]

For the Ep. 67 preview, I added my translation of the notice left on the Red dorm by Napoleon which I’ll be using in the episode proper.

#GX #yugioh #yugioh gx #ygo #ygo gx #Judai Yuki #Ryou Marufuji #Chronos de Medici #Jun Manjoume #Daichi Misawa #my subs #i do have to wonder if the staff had a dartboard of ideas of who would spur the flashbacks in 66 #and they somehow landed on bringing back SAL for a bit lol #he's nice enough to snap Judai out of his hunger visions #also s/o to that one dub voice for... somehow surviving that dartboard decision

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random-ass-fanboy · 4 years

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My Snape playlist:

Here are 40 songs that remind me of Snape, if anyone is interested :)

Feel free to leave song recommendations for this playlist in the comments!

TW/ depressing lyrics and mentions of suicidal ideation.

Paralyzed- NF

"Where are my feelings? I no longer feel things, I know I should. I'm paralyzed. Where is the real me? I'm lost and it kills me inside, I'm paralyzed."

My Immortal- Evanescence

"You used to captivate me, by your resonating light. Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face it haunts, my once pleasant dreams. Your voice it chased away, all the sanity in me."

Horrible Kids- Set It Off

"Picture this he was just a kid, not knowing where to begin. He wore all the wrong clothes, followed all the wrong trends, persecuted for the things he did."

Lifeboat- Heathers the Musical

"Everyone's pushing! Everyone's fighting Storms are approaching, there's nowhere to hide! If I say the wrong thing, or I wear the wrong outfit, they'll throw me right over the side!"

Panic Room- Au/Ra

"The silence is so loud. The lights spark and flicker, with monsters much bigger, than I can control now. Welcome to the panic room, where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you."

Michael in the Bathroom- Be More Chill

"I am hiding, but he's out there, just ignoring all our history. Memories get erased, and I'll get replaced, with a newer cooler version of me."

Worthless- eli.

"I'm always so alone, even when surrounded, by people that I know. I'm always so astounded, by my ability to ruin everything. Losing friends and starting fires, everyone thinks I'm a liar"

Let Me Down Slowly- Alec Benjamin

"Don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste. I once was a man with dignity and grace. Now, I'm slipping through the cracks of your cold embrace. So please, please.."

Waving Through a Window- Dear Evan Hansen

"We start with stars in our eyes. We start believing that we belong. But every sun doesn't rise. And no one tells you where you went wrong"

Broken Again- eli.

"No one knows what it's like putting up a fight, for your life every time, now I'm losing sight. Wish that I had a way to make me feel alive. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

Match in the Rain- Alec Benjamin

"Yeah, I can taste it, it's the end, this love's impossible to save. Though you embrace it, I can't face it, so I look the other way. There's trouble in your eyes, but I pretend that we're okay. I wish that we could compromise, but there's just nothin' left to say."

Snail- Cavetown

"I was just born like this. Wish that I could change it. Four peculiar limbs and a head that doesn't fit. Wish that I was still a kid."

Dissappear- eli.

"Carrying the burdens of the world up on my shoulders. Looking for the answers, maybe I'll know once I'm older. Need some time to recollect myself, please don't forget me. When I disappear next week, I hope you can forgive me."

Teenagers- My Chemial Romance

"The boys and girls in the clique, the awful names that they stick. You're never gonna fit in much, kid. But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt, will make them pay for the things that they did."

Words Fail- Dear Evan Hansen

"No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts. Pretend I'm something other than this mess that I am! 'Cause then I don't have to look at it, and no one gets to look at it! No, no one can really see!"

Untitled- Mxmtoon

"I tend to forget, that I shouldn't fret. People come and then they go. At this point I should know."

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead- Set it Off

"I'm stuck self-torturing, my meds are failing me, internal clock in smithereens. Can't fix this. I'm hopeless. My eyes are stapled open wide, as I lay down on my side. I am bouncing off these walls."

Outrunning Karma- Alec Benjamin

"He's never gonna make it, all the poor people he's forsaken, karma, is always gonna chase him for his lies. It's just a game of waiting from the church steeple down to Satan karma. There's really no escape until he dies."

One Song Glory- RENT

"Find, one song, one last refrain. Glory. From the pretty boy front man, who wasted opportunity. One song, he had the world at his feet. Glory. In the eyes of a young girl, a young girl."

Good For You- Dear Evan Hansen

"All I need is some time to think! But the boat is about to sink. Can't erase what I wrote in ink. Tell me how could you change the story?

All the words that I can't take back, like a train coming off the track. 'Cause the rails and my bones all crack. I've got to find a way to stop it, stop it! Just let me off!"

Teen Idle- MARINA

"Adolescence didn't make sense. A little loss of innocence. The ugliness of being a fool. Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

Dark Paradise- Lana Del Rey

"And there's no remedy for memory. Your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me, that everything is fine. But I wish I was dead!"

Trying- Cavetown

"I'm trying to tear the wool from your eyes. But a part of me wants to let you be. 'Cause then you wouldn't see what I've become. I'm trying to shout, but no sound comes out. It's like we're in a dream state. But I should've woken up, woken up by now."

Wake Me Up When September Ends- Green Day

"Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are."

21 Guns- Green Day

"When you're at the end of the road, and you lost all sense of control. And your thoughts have taken their toll. When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul."

Give Me Novacaine- Green Day

"Take away the sensation inside. Bitter sweet migraine in my head. It's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind. I can't take this feeling anymore."

iRobot- Jon Bellion

"I am a robot, thoughtless and empty. Don't know who sent me, don't know who made me. Electric robot, everything's gray now. Numb to the pain now, I knew what love was."

Another One Of Those Days- Cavetown

"Passed that kid from chemistry, who made fun of my name. He didn't look very happy. I guess we all turn out the same."

Boulevard of Broken Dreams- Green Day

"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. 'Til then I walk alone."

We Don't Have To Dance- Andy Black

"You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy, this is hell, this is hell! You're looking and whispering, you think I'm someone else! This is hell, yes, I am in hell!

Ribcage- Andy Black

"Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Got no heart to break, like it that way. Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

The Run and Go- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't take them on my own, my own. Oh, I'm not the one you know, you know. I have killed a man and all I know, is I am on the run and go."

Fall Away- Twenty One Pilots

"I disguise, and I will lie, and I will take my precious time. As the days spent away, as I stand in line, and I die as I wait, as I wait on my crime. And I'll try to delay what you make of my life, but I don't want your way, I want mine. I'm dying and trying, but believe me I'm fine. But I'm lying, I'm so very far from fine!

Trapdoor- Twenty One Pilots

"He wakes up early today, throws on a mask that will alter his face. Nobody knows his real name, but now he just uses one he saw on a grave. And he pretends he's okay, but you should see, oh. Him in bed late at night, he's petrified."

Sad Song- Christina Perri

"I wish I wasn’t always wrong, I wish it wasn’t always my fault. The finger that you’re pointing has knocked me on my knees. And all you need to know is… I'm so sorry, It’s not like me. It’s maturity that I’m lacking."

Escapism- Steven Universe

"I guess I have to face, that in this awful place, I shouldn't show a trace of doubt. But pulled against the grain. I feel a little pain, that I would rather do without."

Semi-Automatic- Twenty One Pilots

"Night falls with gravity, the earth turns from sanity, taking my only friend I know, he leaves a lot, his name is "Hope". I'm never what I like, I'm double-sided, and I just can't hide, I kind of like it when I make you cry, 'cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside."

Screen- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't see past my own nose, I'm seeing everything in slo-mo. Look out below crashing down to the ground just like a vertical locomotive. That's a train, am I painting the picture that's in my brain? A train from the sky, locomotive, my motives are insane!"

March To The Sea- Twenty One Pilots

"Then the wages of war will start, inside my head with my counterpart. And the emotionless marchers will chant the phrase, 'This line's the only way.' Then I start down the sand, my eyes are focused on the end of land. But again the voice inside my head, says, 'follow me instead.'"

Migraine- Twenty One Pilots

"Freeze frame, please let me paint a mental picture portrait. Something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead, and how it is a door that hold's back contents, that makes Pandora's box contents look non-violent!"

#pro snape #snape fandom #severus snape #pro severus snape

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ficsnroses · 4 years

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Prompt Fic #3

❧ Summary : Keanu has been working all day, so you try to gain his attention through showing him your boobies :)))

☒ Pairing : Keanu Reeves x Reader.

☒ Word Count : 1.1K

☒ Prompt : “Time to give me attention.” Requested by anon.

“Alright.” You affirm, fingernails drumming lightly on Keanu’s t shirt clothed back. “Time to give me attention.”

Bellowing out a smooth chuckle, his hand moves up to hold your forearm as you’ve snaked them around his neck, leaning lightly into his back as he sits at the office chair, a never ending chain of emails propped open on his laptop. With a gentle kiss to your wrist, his gaze stays fixed on the blue screen, fingers mindlessly scrolling through the plethora of messages.

“Attention?” His deep voice breathes lowly, questioning. A small grin twists the corner of his lips, perceptible slyly in the scarce reflection of the laptop screen.

“Yes!” You whine, fingers gently massaging into the blades of his shoulders, a hint of frustration definite in your tone. “You’ve been working for hours, and I’m bored.” Lamenting, your face travels into the crook of his neck, softly nipping at the sensitive skin with your fingers soothing up and down his sides. “Please?”

Richly chuckling, Keanu turns in his chair, a knowing grin coating his features. His tired eyes hold a familiar warmth, small laugh lines and gentle creases painted across his beautiful face. His beard carries a small scruff, salt and pepper highlighted, adding definition to the aged fine wine silhouette of his entirety.

You’d often find yourself lost in his soft features, admiring, flattering at his grandeur.

“Just a little longer, sweetheart.” He assures, bulky arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you proximate; his skin radiates warmth as those rosy lips plant a delicate kiss to your stomach, your body towering over his sat position.

“Nooo.” You whine, eyes rolling to his fifth delay of time thus far in the day. He’d been away for work recently, leaving you in dear need of some one on one with him. After all, he was your favourite presence by far. “You said that an hour ago.” Grimacing, you almost push his arms away from you in attempts to establish irritation, knowing well that eventually,

he’d cave. Keanu would just about do anything to keep you happy, and you knew with just a few more complaints and groans, he’d waver.

Yet, much your dismay, he opts for a gentle kiss to your palm, hushed voice assuring you yet again. “Soon. Promise.” And with a final squeeze to your hip, his figure turns promptly, resuming his drudgery sift through emails, and with an almost rehearsed groan, you plop onto his wooden oak desk right beside the screen, a disrupting hand waving infront his whiskey stare.

“Hey.” You offer, lips thinning a tight line, delicate fingers shadowing the done up buttons of your blouse with the crown of your cleavage peering out. “What if I take my top off?” Blinking inquisitively, your breasts purse closer together, seductive grin piercing daggers of want his way.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Keanu chimes, deep voice low and sultry with heavy hand resting on your thigh. Yet his darn eyes never leave the screen. He was proving hard to crack, and it didn’t sit well with you one bit. Through swift motion, you pull your top off, unhooking the clasp of your dainty bra as it glides off your shoulder, modesty completely exposed for him, alluring, tantalizing.

His breath hitches in his throat, not expecting you to actually strip for him, and he feels blood rush down to his member at the sight of you; the most tempting, enthralling siren he’d had the pleasure of calling his own. “Come on,” You whisper. “Don’t you want to take this to our bedroom?” Voice low and stifling rung in his ear as you take place in his lap, softly nipping at the sensitive skin of his ear. Pursing your chest tighter, the delicate skin of your breasts ghost his cheek, arms wrapped securely around your frame, holding you. Reached behind slow, you grab his hands, guiding them to your breasts so he can cup them, cold skin colliding with your sensitive swell of tissues firming up in his grasp.

“Mmmmmm,” His rugged voice is silky rich, piercing your ears to the feel of his warm hands exploring your bare back, rough skin delectably enticing. “I’d love to, baby.” Warm and velvety, his mouth slips over the silken skin of your breasts, leaving small, mindful kisses speckled; tongue circling your hardening nipples. His breath is warm, wet, inviting; a delicious contrast to the brittle air of the office room. Finally- you’ve got him locked.

Within seconds you’ll have him trailing behind you, lust thick on his hazy mind.

“But,” He declares, a final and succulent kiss to the valley of your cleavage. “I’m not free just yet, honey.” Shocked and disheartened, you feel him gently divert his gaze, figure moving to get better view of the screen again, attention to your body completely reverted.

“Wow.” You whispered weakly, shooting an irritated look his way when you heard him titter. “Rude.” With another roll of your orbs, you drape your top back to your skin, shielding your humility from him.

“Almost done, baby. Promise.” A small squeeze reassured to your hand. “Then I’m all yours.” Diverting again, his stocky fingers pad away at the keyboard, lips taut in a straight line as he works.

“I don’t care.” You defend. “Work all you want, I’m leaving.” Proclaimed, you cut him off with your arms crossed, deadpan stare shot his way. “You know; I find it reall-”

“...Annnnd, done.” He chimes, pushing away the computer piece. “That was the last email- and now, I’m officially,” his deep voice is sincere, heartfelt. “All yours.” Hold tightened, he pulls you flush against his chest, urging your body down on his lap again. “For a month.”

“A month? I thought you were booked for the next four weeks?” You inquire, brows furrowed with your gaze intent. His hands knead your hips, snaking under the fabric of your shirt in search for more skin to admire, smile plastered to the sight of your confused stare.

“Well, I thought we could use a vacation. Just us for three weeks.” He kisses your jaw, before diving back to your lips. “So I can give you my full and undivided attention.” To the sound of his words strung together, you beam, fingers looming his neck in a close embrace, tucking his lengthy hair behind his ear.

“Baby…” Gushing, your smile barely contains, sunny and bright.

“I was missing you,” He replies. “I’m sorry I’ve been working so much lately.” And with a subtle gasp of your hand in his, he embellishes another kiss to your now clothed chest, snuggling his cheek into the soft skin. “But before any of that…” Stocky fingers lingering into your shirt, soothing the satin soft skin of the side of your chest. “You were saying something about our bedroom?” He smirks.

With a devious grin, you stare him flustered as you rise off his lap, taking gentle hold of his finger when you tug him forward through a wily laugh- outline of bulge in his pants greatly growing as you discard your shirt to the wooden floor, sauntering, yet again.

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves fic

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kat-hawke · 3 years

Text

Kul Tiran Backing

A puddle broke beneath the soles of the Director's boots as she journeyed through the rain across the city of Boralus. Eyes swept across open streets from beneath the hood of the long coat, drops of water cascading off to the sides. The amount of rainfall here stirred up memories of her Gilnean childhood for only a minute before she shifted focus to the upcoming meeting.

"I don't think I've ever seen you nervous," Alyssa chimed across the telepathic link. "Anxious, sure. But nervous—"

"Are you making a point here, or?" Kat interrupted.

"No. Just curious. Why does she make you nervous and not anyone else?"

"It's not her. It's the topic at hand. Doing this puts an unnecessary risk on other financial ventures and our relation, should she decline. Yet, I'm left with little other options to seek funding." Kat admitted as the office came into view across the plaza.

"There's also the matter of what I plan to do. Pad her funding line with my own coin to avoid potential investigations into my financials. She won't like it, I know. To keep that behind her back creates more risk while revealing the matter could turn her away."

"Well, if she doesn't need to know, then why risk it? What she doesn't know won't hurt her." The dagger-bound woman practically shrugged in her tone.

"It could hurt us both. I'll consider your point," Kat sneered.

Drowning out the warlocks reply, she swung the office door open, the bell above the frame emitting the soft chime throughout the space, announcing Kat's arrival to the noblewoman seated at the desk. Pulling back the soaked hood with a smile, the pair commenced with the standard pleasantries. An informal greeting, inquiring on one another's state of wellbeing, and a brief catch-up of the recent Scourge invasion.

"My family is all well and safe, and Stormhollow did not suffer the Scourge. I would consider things well and good." Lady Stalsworth answered as she eased back into the seat, following their courteous handshake.

"Glad t'hear," Kat nodded, swinging one knee over the other as she dropped into the adjacent chair. "Gransonee was spared from the dead risin' again as well. So, no effect on our current arrangements as it stands." She paused for a moment. "Unless, of course, ya' wish fer changes?"

"Unless there are reasons why I should wish for changes, I see no need. Do you?"

The Director shook her head slowly. "None wot-so-eva. Th' profit flows, th' people are happy, and the hamlet has been able t'repair and expand some infrastructure. Most importantly, it keeps Jasper out of m'ear."

Elaianna chuckled in a breath, a faint smile touching the corner of her lips. "You did not write to me about our current business affairs, but rather, a new one if I am to understand your letter correctly?"

The pleasantries were dismissed. Both women preferred to discuss business over the former at every meeting.

"That is correct, yes. While this proposal is of another nature, it bears no effect on the current trade agreemen'." Kat cleared her throat, ignoring a comment from Alyssa as she pulled a ledger from the coat. "I'm sure yer aware of th' current state of the Kingdom, yes?"

"Presuming you mean things such as the King's absence and an ill-chosen replacement on the throne in the meantime? Yes. I cannot say things are any better here, as the Lord Admiral has also gone missing."

"I was referin' more t'the current economic situations." The Director clarified, collecting her hands upon the leather cover of the ledger.

"Aye," the Lady dipped her head in a shallow nod. "Such things come with recent events."

"More-so when on th' tailwinds of a long and costly war," Kat added. "Stormwind is, well t'be blunt, fractured. Th' military cutbacks, coffers empty...surely ya' know wot follows there. Taxes and overexertion. Th' nobles houses are all in a tiff, vyin' fer favors and agreements in exchange fer gold. Sharks, th' lot of 'em."

"I am an affluent woman, but I cannot cease an entire kingdom from going into taxation," Elaianna remarked, weaving her fingers together and studying the Director. "So what favor and agreement are you looking for?"

Kat quickly wet her lips, knowing her discomfort in this proposal was visible to a small degree, and while the dagger-bound woman was silent, Kat knew she was listening. Without further delay, she promptly opened the ledger to her Unit's budget and slid it across to Elaianna.

"I do no' have th' time or patience t'lobby the houses while they are in congress fer fundin', nor would I likely care for th' things they ask in exchange. My Unit is internal affairs, we are no' combat facin', but many believe wot we do is of little value."

"What -do- you do? Especially in times post-war?" Lady Stalsworth inquired, glancing over the ledger.

"Th' same as we would durin' war. We handle issues that extend beyond th' capabilities of the guards; serial killin's, drug cartels, slave rings, th' occasional cults." Kat picked at her nails in her lap, out of the other's view.

"Our latest project has no' been well received by m'peers, and I narrowly dodged havin' the Unit axed with my proposal. With the right resources and time, we could document and categorize these dangerous people's thought processes and mental states. Study them, if you will, and create a possible method t'detect these behaviors before they manifest into somethin' larger. However, with no fundin' or resources, I canno' produce the results needed to keep my Unit from disbandment."

"And you're looking for..." Elaianna asked as she found no estimated total within the ledger.

"Wot eva yer willin' t'give." Kat answered plainly. "I hate t'even ask at all, given our current professional relationship. And I certainly do no' expect charity either."

The Lady nodded again, motioning toward the Director. "Would monthly increments be of use, or were you hoping for a singular lump sum?

"Monthly would be ideal, luv'. A lump sum may create too much of a surplus that others may try to pillage."

"I can commit to supporting your Unit on a monthly basis." Elaianna pushed the ledger back across the desk with her answer.

Inquisitively, Kat stared and collected the ledger, returning the book to her coat as she hesitantly asked, "And in return?"

With a simple shrug, the Lady answered, "I would ask what I would hope you would already do. If you happen upon any knowledge of a threat to Stormhollow or my family, you will let me know so that we might protect our people and ourselves."

A soft hum rattled with Kat's throat. This was something she would have done already, yes. But while Elaianna had never given her a reason to be mistrusted, Kat struggled to believe one would ask only this in return for funding. A thought that Alyssa did little to dismiss.

"That I would already do, yes. Though I will add that if ya' have an issue within Stormhollow that falls within wot m' Unit handles, I would be more than happy t'direct focus there until the matter is resolved."

"Thank you."

Kat lifted her hand, "it is I who owes ya' thanks, twice over."

"Then let us call it a deal." Elaianna smiled, extending her hand over the desk to cement the agreement.

Now at the crossroad of revealing or secreting her intend, Kat's conflicting thoughts churned again as she eyed the offered hand. Forcing her way through, she began to reach but recoiled at the last second.

"Don't do it," Alyssa argued to no avail.

"There is one more thing," Kat muttered, clearing her throat.

"I will pull funds from my personal accounts, those undocumented linked to Gransonee. Doin' so on m'own would draw attention and force m'hand into revealin' th' island and hamlet publicly, which would then force a pledge to the Alliance or vassalage t' a noble house. Against the wishes of its people. I will hide th' funds I sent in the same ledger line as yer own." The Director admitted, letting out a heavy breath as if a weight had been lifted.

"I wanted ya' t'know, rather than keep it hidden from ya' and risk an auditory blowback."

Immediately, Elaianna's lips pursed, and a low hum vibrated behind the displeased expression as the offered hand was withdrawn. The silence which followed lingered uncomfortably between them for a solid minute as Kat held her breath and avoided the Lady's gaze.

"I suspect such will not pose a problem," Elaianna finally spoke, "as it is assisting the Kingdom."

Kat's shoulders dropped as she relaxed and let out her breath.

"I wanted t'be honest and transparent in m'intentions than lead ya' blind and risk everythin'."

"I appreciate that," The Lady smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Th' consequences will be mine, and only mine t'bear should anythin' happen." Kat offered her hand to complete the transaction with a nod, relieved when Elaianna nodded and took the hand in a firm shake.

"Let us hope such things do not come to be."

Standing to exit, Kat fixed the position of her coat, which had shifted slightly while seated. The hood remained down, as the sound of rainfall beyond the door had ceased during their exchange.

"Light and Shadow keep ya' and yer family, Lady Stalsworth."

"Tides guide you and yours, Lady Hawke."

Resisting the urge to correct and discourage using such a title, Kat resigned to dipping her head and turning towards the door. Quickly leaving the office and taking in the scent of the city after the rain. She knew Alyssa overheard every word and would likely inquire on details but cut the inquisitive warlock off before she had a chance.

"Another time," Kat implored, "I promise. Just give me time."

[ @elaianna, @alyssa-ward ]

[ Relevant: @tristanasneak, @jocelyn-wellson, @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @quinn-varden ]

#ic #rp #Trades & Blades #AlyKat #Unit Eight

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biwenqing · 4 years

Note

Congrats on the milestone 🎉🎉🎉 if you're talking prompts, could you write either 6 or 27 as a post sunshot fic jc wants wwx safe so he arranges a political marriage, for him and whoever it is (lwj) would have to marry into the jiang sect.

Thank you so so much for sending this! I really adore this idea for an AU and I hope I did it justice. Sorry for the delay in getting it up, I hope you enjoy it! Prompt: “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Jiang Cheng kept his eyes focused on Lan Xichen. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle Lan Wangji's reaction to what he had to say. "He'll agree to the match because he believes he is taking our sister's place."

"He is very selfless." Lan Wangji was the one who spoke, and Jiang Cheng had to look at him. He liked to think they are friends, of a sort, having spent those three months together searching for Wei Wuxian together. "But you want this for his safety?"

"Yes," Jiang Cheng said. "I don't like what I have heard the other sect leaders say about him. Besides you, of course." And here he nodded to Lan Xichen, who gave him a pleasant smile. "I believe if he is married to someone well thought of, it will not only bring our sects closer but bring to ease some of the other's minds."

"I know many songs that may help him, and I can learn additional ones." Lan Wangji leaned forward a bit, almost seeming eager to prove himself. To prove that he could keep Wei Wuxian safe.

Lan Xichen lifted his hand to signal they both should stop for a moment. "You’re asking my brother to move to Lotus Pier, are you not?"

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to say, yes of course but saw something in Lan Xichen's eyes that caused him to pause. He swallowed some shame for not thinking of it sooner. Here Jiang Cheng was trying to save his brother and rebuild while asking Lan Xichen to give up his brother when the Cloud Recesses were in just as much need as Lotus Pier.

He took a deep breath, and straightened, giving his words the proper attention they were due. "Yes, I am."

Lan Xichen nodded, eyes already strangely sad, before looking towards Lan Wangji. "Lan Zhan, would this be acceptable to you?"

"Yes." Lan Wangji didn't take the same time to think this over.

Ah. Lan Xichen knew that his brother would agree, no matter what was asked of him. "Would it be acceptable for Lan Wangji to travel to Lotus Pier in three months' time?" Lan Xichen asked next.

Jiang Cheng nodded. "More time can be taken, if needed for both sects to rebuild and prepare."

"Three months," Lan Wangji said, rather forcefully.

"I will need to talk to Wei Wuxian as well," Jiang Cheng said.

Lan Wangji frowned ever so slightly, "You had not already?"

"In a general concept, yes," Jiang Cheng sighed. It had been an easy conversation when he had framed it as either Jiang Yanli would need to marry or Wei Wuxian would.

Lan Wangji was always hard to read, and now it seemed he had purposefully closed himself off. He cleared his throat though, and Lan Xichen was watching his brother in a way to signal Lan Wangji wanted to speak. Jiang Cheng wouldn't interrupt him.

"May I be the one to tell Wei Ying?"

Jiang Cheng blinked. He was personally not looking forward to that conversation, not with how distant and strange his brother had been since his return. "Yes, that is fine with me."

Lan Wangji nodded and stood, bowed to Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng, before slipping out of the rooms.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Lan Xichen said softly once his brother was gone.

"He's in love with Wei Wuxian," Jiang Cheng stated, fiddling with his teacup.

"Yes." Lan Xichen brushed his hand against the table, just as absent. "I don't want to see my brother hurt any more than you do yours."

Jiang Cheng sighed. "I believe his feelings are returned. Or at least they were. Wei Wuxian wouldn't shut up when we were studying in Gusu. Everything was "Lan Zhan this, Lan Zhan that"." Jiang Cheng had a small laugh at a memory.

Lan Xichen gave a laugh as well. "It was the same from this side. Maybe they are rather well matched. I guess now only time will tell."

(...)

Since Wei Wuxian had woken up, he had a lot to deal with. There was a darkness lurking in this victory that it didn't have anything to do with his cultivation. He watched as the Jin seemed to pick up from where the Wen left off, stepping in like cruelly was a set of robes that fit them nicely.

He had no interest in pandering to them the way that Jiang Cheng was. Removing himself from affairs was probably the best course of action. Wei Wuxian would need to find an excuse to do the same once they returned to Lotus Pier.

There was no room for him to be the first disciple. His family was safe for now. Wei Wuxian had done what he needed to do, best to fade into the background. Too bad his mouth hadn't seemed to catch on to this logic. He couldn’t stand by what was wrong.

And then Jiang Cheng had come and presented Wei Wuxian with an issue. In their weakened state, the Jiang sect needed allies. The best way to achieve this was to marry off one of his siblings. What that now meant for Wei Wuxian, it seemed best not to think about it until he had to.

Lurking in the shadows outside of the main paths, trying to mind his own business, Wei Wuxian was surprised when he heard his name being called.

"Lan Zhan, how'd you find me?" Wei Wuxian offered the smile that felt like a mask at this point. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled for real.

"Wei Ying is predictable." The answer was flat, but Wei Wuxian thought he might still know Lan Wangji enough to say he was joking with him.

"Ha, so mean to me, Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian rested his hands casually on chenqing. Lan Wangji didn't seem to fear it, or him, the ways the other did.

"I come with information," Lan Wangji said instead of acknowledging Wei Wuxian's teasing.

Wei Wuxian straightened. "What is it?"

Lan Wangji seemed to weigh his next words with extra caution. "Your brother approached mine to discuss building stronger alliances."

Wei Wuxian felt as if those words didn't make sense, even if the meaning was perfectly clear. But that would mean...

Lan Wangji shifted nervously, a tick he would normally be able to hide. "You and I are to be betrothed," he clarified to Wei Wuxian’s silence

"Oh," Wei Wuxian managed. He had thought he had forgotten what it was to feel, but suddenly he had a lot of emotions to shift through. "Oh." He took a step towards Lan Wangji, taking his wrist. Lan Wangji was watching him closely, almost leaning into his space. "Lan Zhan, they can't force you to do that."

Lan Wangji showed more expression in the next moment than Wei Wuxian had ever been able to get out of him before, even in their student days. "Want to."

Wei Wuxian let out a breath. "What?"

"Not forcing me, I want to," Lan Wangji’s stare was so heavy, Wei Wuxian thought he could feel it brushing against him.

"W-what?" Wei Wuxian couldn't have heard him right. Maybe once it could have been possible, but now...

Lan Wangji turned the arm that Wei Wuxian was holding onto his wrist loosely, turning it until his hand was holding Wei Wuxian. "Want to."

"Once I thought of you as my soulmate in this life..." Wei Wuxian admitted, knowing his cheeks were hot but feeling he had to say something into the silence that followed. Even if he was a coward and couldn't meet Lan Wangji's eyes.

Lan Wangji reached out, resting a hand on Wei Wuxian's chin to tilt it back up. "I still am," Lan Wangji said the words so surely that Wei Wuxian almost believed him. But Lan Wangji didn't know what Wei Wuxian now was...

"When are we to be married?" Wei Wuxian asked as Lan Wangji took his hand away. He wouldn’t hold Wei Wuxian in place even as Wei Wuxian longed for that warmth but didn't chase it. He kept his eyes on Lan Wangji's now.

"Unsure, but I will move to Lotus Pier in three months' time."

"Aiyah.” Too soon. “We can extend that if you want."

Lan Wangji's frown grew deeper. "No. Three months. Wei Ying... Does this make you unhappy?"

"Lan Zhan, I'm not good enough for you," Wei Wuxian stepped away. "I don't want you to make this mistake."

"It is not a mistake unless it will not make Wei Ying happy."

"Lan Zhan, you are too good," Wei Wuxian turned back for a moment.

"It is Wei Ying who is this," Lan Wangji said, before bowing slightly. "I will leave you to talk to your brother. But I hope you will decide..."

The words ‘to be with me’ hung in the air between them as they parted.

[...]

It was Jiang Yanli who Wei Wuxian sought first. He didn't know what he would do if he tried to talk to Jiang Cheng right now. She listened to him as he explained all that had just happened, nodding here and there. There was a little smile that came to her face towards the end as Wei Wuxian found he had run out of words. He didn't know what else to say and didn't like the feeling.

Jiang Yanli reached out and patted his head as if he were still little. "A-Xien, how long have you been in love with Lan Wangji?" she said, her tone almost teasing.

Wei Wuxian felt his eyes go wide.

"I know you," Jiang Yanli murmured. "Why are you so scared, a-Xien?"

"I don't want to hurt him," Wei Wuxian admitted. "Or you. Or Jiang Cheng."

"We don't want you to be hurt." Jiang Yanli took his hands in her own. She always looked so small compared to him now, and it was jarring from when they were kids. He felt like he would always be looking up to his shijie. "I believe Lan Wangji wants to help you."

"He wants to fix me," Wei Wuxian huffed. That hurt more than he wanted to say.

"No, I think he wants to help you," Jiang Yanli said as if she were coaxing him to eat the food he didn't want to as a kid. "He just doesn't have a very obvious way of showing it."

"Like Jiang Cheng."

Jiang Yanli laughed at that. "Yes, though a-Cheng likes to... express his feelings loudly."

Wei Wuxian managed a single laugh at that. “He does. I think he’s doing what’s best.”

“I think he’s certainly trying,” Jiang Yanli said. “Let people help you, a-Xien.”

[...]

Rebuilding was hard work that ate up day after day.

Before Wei Wuxian knew it, the time came to expect Lan Wangji at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian had spent his days doing what he could to help, often going in the fields where no one would ask him to cultivate. He spent a lot less of his free time drinking than he had originally planned.

He needed to make sure everything was set up for Lan Wangji. The private rooms he had been granted were bigger than the ones he used to have. Jiang Cheng was insistent of Wei Wuxian's place on Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian should be made happy by this, but all he could feel was a hole and the ache of inadequacy.

And yet Lan Wangji wanted to marry him anyway. He had received several letters from his betrothed. The most recent one he carried with him since it had arrived:

[Wei Ying,

In five days I will follow this message to you. I bring with me some of my possessions but also a gladness in my heart to see you once again. I know you still might not believe it or even feel the same way, but I do wish to remind you.

I look forward to observing the lotuses and to spending more time with you and your family. But mostly I look forward to seeing you and I hold hope you feel the same.

Your soulmate,

Lan Zhan]

That was how he always signed.

Wei Wuxian read the words in spare moments, trying to believe them. Because there was a part of him that was excited to see Lan Wangji, that longed to see him. But the other part, the one that never wanted others to be hurt, told him to hide.

To which Jiang Yanli had told him, "You'll hurt him for sure if you hide your feelings." She was his true conscience, the only person he still felt he knew where he stood.

Wei Wuxian knew there wasn't much else he could do. If Lan Wangji was going to be taken from his home, to be stuck here with Wei Wuxian, then he needed to make sure everything was as perfect as possible. He made sure the rooms they were to share were well organized, a mix of pale purples and whites. There was a nice writing desk, open windows onto the lotuses. He wanted it to feel enough like home that Lan Wangji wouldn't resent it.

Wouldn’t grow to resent him.

[...]

"It is beautiful, Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, as they sat across from each other. "Thank you for showing me around."

Wei Wuxian offered a smile that was almost real. It hadn't taken long for him to relax around Lan Wangji, to fall into familiar patterns of teasing and talking. "I'm glad you like it."

"Mn," Lan Wangji looked out the window. The sun was setting, making the water around the lotuses look the color of fire.

"It's my favorite time of day," Wei Wuxian murmured, looking at the way Lan Wangji's face glowed with warmth in the light.

"Maybe there is a song to be written," Lan Wangji mused.

"I’ve never thought of that," Wei Wuxian glanced over at where chenqing rested. He knew it was more than just a weapon, but he wasn't sure anyone else did.

He was startled from his thoughts by Lan Wangji's hand on his own. It brushed against his skin, not just the clothing around his wrist. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Wei Wuxian knew there was a change here, a change in who they were to each other. So much had changed already that it was frightening, even if it was something he expected. Yet he had always expected it would be a fracturing, going down two different paths. As he looked from their hands to Lan Wangji's eyes, he knew that he felt that change too.

He didn't pull away, didn’t listen to the part of him that begged him to. It knew that if he let Lan Wangji in, being rejected by him for the cultivation Wei Wuxian had to use, for his coreless body, would hurt that much more. But maybe... maybe...

If Lan Wangji said he wasn't going to hurt him, he was telling the truth.

"I trust you," Wei Wuxian whispered. "But I need you to trust me."

Lan Wangji's hand tightened slightly. "I trust and will help Wei Ying."

"But I get to say when I need help," Wei Wuxian said, holding up a finger.

"Indeed," and then Lan Wangji smiled ever so slightly, and Wei Wuxian knew he had never seen anything more beautiful. "Unless your sister tells me otherwise."

"Ah!" Wei Wuxian pointed with his free hand. "Lan Zhan! You’re laughing at me!"

"No," Lan Wangji said, his eyes twinkling way too much for that to be the case. "Just finding the logical conclusion."

Wei Wuxian huffed but nodded. "Fine. But only shijie gets to overrule me! Don't listen to a thing Jiang Cheng says."

"Mn. Never have."

Wei Wuxian found himself doubling over with laughter. It was the kind of laughter that filled him where he had only felt empty for so long. A warmth pushing back the cold.

#wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #lan xichen #the untamed #this too so much longer than expected because i wanted to do it justice AND life happened to explode #there are so many ways this AU could go but I thought exploring the beginning would be interesting #Longer fic would have lwj and jyl becoming close friends #also some how they still take yuan in #my fic #a talks #a answers #yunmeng-shuangjie #lwj on lotus pier

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bold-writing · 3 years

Text

The One With Silver Scars || 7|| Sheepskin

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of abuse, violence, BPD.

Words: 2500+

Previous || Next

~7~

Without a way to tell time, her attempts at knowing how long she lingered there were futile. Eventually, he had started to gently card his fingers through her hair, relieving any tangles he encountered with the same gentleness he had used to draw her in against him. When he had shifted to stroke her hair, he had also freed up on of her arms—now she considered returning his embrace. It was easy to see his need for control; imposing her touch on him might be taken as her trying to force some of that control away.

Her silent debates were cast aside when the hand stroking her hair stopped and abandoned the soft strands. Momentary worry seized her, wondering if this was when he left her and ordered her back into the room with the other girls.

I don’t want to go back!

Instead, he only shifted his touch down to grab her wrist for a second time—much gentler than before. Using that hold to guide her, he shifted her arm forward and around his side. She took the hint and moved on her own, wrapping her arm around him in return until her hand rested in the small of his back. Once there, she made sure to hold it in place.

He was so warm beneath her hand, pressed in against her front. It chased any cold from her limbs at the loss of her sweater.

The steady strokes through her hair resumed.

Don’t let go. Please, don’t let me go.

His hold around her tightened so suddenly, it was as if he could hear her silent plea. Her arm constricted around him in response, pulling them in so close together she could feel the digging press of the keys in his front pocket. She almost wanted to clutch her fingers into his shirt but remembering the neat and pressed appearance halted her.

It has to be perfect; nothing out of place.

Breath hitching in her lungs, she was sure he could feel the abrupt jolt against his chest.

“You’re not cold?” he asked in his quiet baritone. The rumble could be felt through his chest into hers.

Inhaling deeply, the strong scent of laundry detergent and peppermint filled her senses. “No,” she breathed out. “I’m finally warm.”

It was true. No matter the layers she piled on, there was a chill in her bones that refused to warm. No number of hot showers or hours of manual labor relieved the painful cold at her core. Yet it took only this man’s embrace to, finally, reach deep—where nothing else could. Perhaps she had hardened herself against the hatred and abuse of her parents, unknowingly freezing against possible pain.

His gentle stroking stilled again at the base of her skull. A gentle tug against her hair had her head tipping back, lifting up from his shoulder as he did the same. The worry about his impending anger returned. However, the softness she had seen on his face before was back and gave him a younger, lonely appearance.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly, then almost choked on her own tongue. Why had she done that? Speaking out of turn was the reason she was still recovering from belt marks on her thighs and buttocks.

There must have been a visible change in her complexion as the blood fled from her face. His expression firmed again, but it wasn’t nearly as stiff as the rest of the times she had seen him. “Dennis.”

No punishment.

Having spoken so out of turn should have left her at the very least badly bruised, but he showed barely a reaction and answered her all the same. “Dennis,” she repeated quietly. He maintained a steadying grip on her hair, keeping her face turned up toward his. Some of her colour gradually returned, removing the sickly appearance that he knew well. The rush of fear that came upon someone with such force that it chased out every once of blood. It was half expected for her to sway in place.

Apart from when he had grabbed her wrist to stop her from taking the pail, she had not actually shown much in the way of fear. Instead, she was a carefully blank slate. Malleable and pliable like soft clay. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism; it’s difficult to bring someone’s anger down on you when you did everything asked.

He told her to be walk, she walked. He told her to come, she came. He told her-

“Close your eyes,” he ordered.

She closed her eyes.

Releasing her hair, he framed her face with his hands. So small, her thin cheeks and sharp jaw looked like they were being dwarfed between his palms. He himself was pale, but the stark white of her flesh made it seem as though she never saw of day throughout her entire life. The smallest collection of freckles painted across her nose and cheeks, but his attention was diverted in favour of the shadows beneath her eyes.

Warm breath fanned her face, shifting the strands of shorter, loose hair that naturally fell across her cheeks.

He remembered seeing her in the parking lot, straightening up as she turned to see where the man had fallen. The faintest hint of the shadows had been visible then, lurking beneath the pale makeup that she used to cover them. Even then, she had been carefully blank. What caused those shadows?

He hadn’t accounted for her. Or the other girl, wrapped in the layers of sweaters and curtains of brunette hair. But he could not delay or start his planning over from the beginning. Four was more of a risk, but it was one he had to take. However, at every turn the green eyed one—Adelais—had acted against his expectations. The screaming, crying, and fighting was something he had been ready for. Not so for her quiet, patient, submission.

It was beautiful.

But she was not for him. She was for the Beast.

Releasing her, Dennis stepped back. Her arm dropped to her side, limp, and she kept her eyes closed in wait. Rather than telling her to open them, he moved in behind her—just as he had when he hauled her, gasping, from the trunk—and crossed her arms across her chest with his hands shackling her wrists.

Turning together, he walked them toward the room where the other three remained. Even when he released her wrist, she kept it at her chest. So dutifully obedient. He almost wished to find some fight in her this time, a reason to hold her tighter. No, she was pliant and patient, waiting either for a command or a strike.

Unlocking the door, he let it swing open and nudged her forward with more force than necessary. Falling into the room at a stumble, she regained her footing quickly. Barely clear of the door and he had swung it shut behind her. The resounding click of the lock signified her return to imprisonment.

Opening her eyes, the girls were all standing several paces back with matching looks of unease and confusion. Glancing to the left, the pail and cleaning supplies were exactly as she had last seen them before following Dennis from the room.

They were watching.

The familiar seething anger started to heat under her skin again.

Ignoring them, she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Picking up the cloth and the pink bottle for the ceramics, Adelais allowed herself to fall into the familiar routine of cleaning. Cleaning was something she did well. It had been beaten into her since she was old enough to carry a rag. Colour coding was her mother’s specialty; there was no excuse for using the wrong cleaner when they were so easily marked. Even the sponges and rags had a specific colour for each purpose.

At least the other three were smart enough to leave her alone. No one tried to knock or talk through the door. She could hear them speaking amongst themselves, yes, but they left her out of it.

Since she finally had the necessary cleaning supplies, Adelais fixed up the bathroom from top to bottom. The shower and sink were back to pristine, the mirror was wiped down of fingerprints, the facet and taps shined, and the hair that had collected on the floor from so many girls tracking in and out was wiped up and flushed away. It gave her at least an hour of peace—much longer than she had ever taken before, but she doubted Dennis was outside the door with a stopwatch like her mother.

Time was even taken to straighten unused towels.

Everything was returned to the pail, draping the rags over the lip since she had nowhere else to put them to dry, then stashing the bucket under the sink. It would have worked better if the sink wasn’t a stand-alone so she could hide it behind cabinet doors, but the size of the room didn’t provide much option.

I want that room spotless by the time we get back. Am I clear?

Spotless. Spotless. Spotless.

Swallowing down the scream that wanted to break free from her chest, Adelais leaned her hands forward on the sink as she took several deep breaths. The scent of the cleaning products was still thick in the air, but that was nothing new for her.

Neatly folded towels. Not a speck in sight. No water droplets in the shower. Mirror perfectly clear.

“Adelais?” Marcia’s voice called through the door, breaking her from her moment so suddenly a shudder ran rampant up her spine. In case her voice was not heard, a soft knock followed. “I need to pee.”

So much for a clean bathroom.

Deliberately avoiding her reflection, the oldest of the group finally left the bathroom behind—as pristine as it had been when they arrived, aside from the used towels hanging on their hooks. Marcia gave her a hesitant nod as they passed one another but refused to meet her eyes. Casey was sitting on the same bed as before, Claire occupying her usual place.

Normally, Adelais would take her spot at the head of the bed she shared with Casey, but the thought of being so close to people made her skin itch under her covering clothes. Sitting down next to the door was her other option. Resting her forearms on her knees, she dropped her head until her face was obscured by her arms and her hair. She could feel Claire staring at her. What would her cousin have to say this time? Perhaps she could accuse her of working with Dennis—that’s why he kept taking her from the room.

“You let him hold you.”

Predicable.

“I can’t explain to you enough how stupid it is to anger the person with the metaphorical knife to your throat.”

Her voice sounded so rough, as though she had given into that earlier desire and screamed until her throat was raw.

“The other door is locked, he’s stronger than me. Would you have rather I tried to fight him, gotten myself hurt or killed when he retaliated? I wouldn’t even have gotten a hold of the key before he stopped me.”

“You didn’t even-”

Casey’s voice cut through Claire’s hiss of anger. “Shut up. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She was hugging him!”

“He made her.”

“That would’ve been a good time to knee him in the balls, but instead she’s cuddled up to the guy that’s probably going to kill us. Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Falling for your captor or some crap? Seriously?”

Marcia returned from the bathroom, frowning at the apparent argument that was going on inside the main room. “Claire?”

“She’s fucking crazy!” Claire exploded, standing up and motioning wildly in Adelais’s direction. She continued to shout, even as Casey and Marcia tried to quiet her down. The older blonde didn’t try to defend herself—she was not entirely wrong, anyway. There was something wrong with her. None of it was her own doing, though. Abusive parents, being abducted, whatever issues she had with her memory—she asked for none of it.

They were the unfortunate cards she had been dealt.

Unlike Claire’s perfect hand, a card for everything she could ever want for her in her grasp. Adelais’s fingernails bit into her palms as the rage steadily returned. The time she had spent in the bathroom was nor naught.

“Shut up!”

Casey watched from across the room, falling to sit on the cot as Adelais surged to her feet much faster than should have been possible for someone so long-limbed. Claire flinched back as her cousin rushed forward like an enraged bull, grabbing her upper arms with a strength that did not match the thinness of her hands. Marcia wisely stayed still and silent outside the bathroom door.

Claire was given a shake so rough that her head snapped back. “You can question me all you want. Call me crazy. Accuse me of whatever you think is going on between me and that man. I don’t care. No matter the blood we share, you are never going to be more important than my own safety.” Shoving Claire roughly, the younger blonde hit the cot with a surprised grunt. How was someone so thin able to toss her as though she weighed little more than a feather?

Shoulders shaking with her anger, Adelais looked like she was barely keeping herself from hauling off and physically maiming her. Even the anger and disgust on the man’s face as she threw Marcia back into the room hadn’t come close to the expression her cousin was now wearing.

Casey curled herself into her familiar ball on the opposite cot. The aggressive stance was so similar to the one that had manifested the last time she had lost her temper on the teen. She stayed close, leaning over Claire and dominating everything about her. Claire seemed to understand on some instinctual level, since she stayed reclined back on her elbows where she had been shoved.

“The time will come when it’s just you and him. Maybe you’ll have finally pissed him off, maybe he’ll come in here and cart you off next—but I can assure you right now, when that time comes you will do exactly what he tells you. The thought of attacking won’t even cross your mind. Until then, I don’t want to hear another word about me and how I chose to keep myself from dying in this goddamned basement.”

Adelais’s voice was almost a growl, gravel rolling in her chest, by the time she finished. Her cousin was too fearful to meet her gaze, otherwise she would have noticed the lightening of the green eyes to a sharp, chilling hazel.

Claire nodded her head in sharp, jerking movements.

She lingered a moment longer, pinning Claire with her stare, until she resumed her place on the floor beside their only exit.

Suddenly, the safety that came with it being only the four of them wasn’t as welcoming as before. It was beginning to feel like a wolf had hidden itself amidst the sheep.

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#James McAvoy #James McAvoy Split #fanfiction #Fanfic #Split #Split 2016 #Split movie #Dennis #Dennis Split #Dennis Split x oc #Dennis Split X original female character #Kevin Wendell Crumb #The One With Silver Scars

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

A Drop of Heaven: Prelude

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader, bts x reader

Summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst

Warnings in this chapter: violence, death

Word count: 1.3k

Disclaimer: This prologue depicts a scene of domestic violence and death. If that is disturbing to you, please refrain from reading and perhaps move on to the next chapter. But as a warning, this series contains dark themes that are not suited for everyone. Proceed only if you are comfortable with this.

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

You don’t feel anything at first.

There is a crescendo ringing in your left ear from the impact; all the other sounds in the background dull down into a low hum.

And then you feel it. The way his hard knuckles dig into the cushion of your cheek, sending an explosion of pain across the whole expanse of your face. Your head flies back from the force and hits the wall behind you with a loud bang, a sore bulge immediately forming at the site of contact.

This comes as no surprise; you had anticipated this as soon as his voice started raising and you saw his fist form, then when it came flying towards you, time began to slow and your senses went numb for a blessed few seconds. They always do nowadays. It’s almost as if your own body registers what’s coming at the same time as your mind and wishes to protect you from the pain, if only just for a short moment, by delaying the sensation of the blow.

Legs giving way, your body slumps against the wall and slides down. You taste blood, warm and metallic. Familiar. Though strangely there’s hardly any pain from the cut where you’ve bitten the inside of your mouth.

Maybe because you’re hurting too much everywhere else.

He’s yelling at you, spittle flying in your direction like bullets, yet you don’t hear what he’s saying. His words an unintelligible roar in your ears, though you’re not sure if it’s due to his drunken slur or the blankness of your mind.

You stare through the gap between his legs at the fallen chair. Waiting for it to be over.

The ache in your cheek, you can withstand. His violent outbursts, you can ignore. You can endure all this, you have endured all this for years.

For her.

But then he’s suddenly spinning around and storming in the direction to her room. True fear is an irreplaceable feeling. Nothing in this world can make your heart drop down an abyss the way this moment has, the dark chasm engulfing your sanity in a split second.

He knows he has ruined you after all these years, knows that you may bleed but you don’t hurt from his fist anymore. There’s one way to truly wreck you and it is through her. Always her.

You’re scrambling after him, hauling his shirt back with all your strength until you feel the seams rip in your grip. The back of his hand strikes your untouched cheek but the pain is nothing compared to the pure dread and panic lurching in your throat.

“Please! No!” Your plead falls unheard, his ears too shrouded by his rage.

Crawling after him, you use every cell in your body to stop him from getting to her, grabbing his ankles, letting him kick you away like a stray dog, but quickly getting back on your hands and knees again. The taste of saline infuses with the blood on your tongue - that’s when you notice the stream of tears rupturing from your eyes. Though vision blurred, you’ll never forget the heart-wrenching look of trauma on her small face when you finally arrive at her door.

Beautiful eyes wide in horror, round cheeks pink and wet, small hand clutching the worn down stuffed bear you got for her birthday three years ago to her chest. The sound of your name forming on her trembling lips. Which you don’t get to hear before she’s yanked up by her hair in his fist.

Her cry of pain is stifled by the scream of protest that erupts from you. ‘Leave her alone!’

“Shut up, bitch! This is your fault.” Then he’s slamming her head into the wall.

You launch yourself onto his large figure, strengthened by you hatred from him and love for her. You’re punching him, kneeing him, ripping his hair out. “Stop, you motherfucker! STOP!”

At first he laughs at your futile attempt to take her from him, her poor frail body dangling from his hold around her neck, kicking at him with her short weak legs. But then you begin to do damage. You feel the warmth of his blood under your nails. You savour in it. You grow bolder knowing that you’re hurting him. It’s sick, but his cry of pain when you bite down on his shoulder almost coaxes a smile from you.

So he drops her onto the ground as if she were some broken doll to turn his attack back to you. You barely feel the hard of his bones anymore as he swings at you; your only purpose is to clamber to her and protect her with your own body.

The small whimpers escaping her cracked lips spring fresh tears from you as you cradle her tiny frame under yours and shield her from his blows with your back. Her eyes are already swelling shut from his punches but she forces them open to look at you. To thank you. One last time because the end for you two is approaching.

You can feel it: the shadow of the reaper loitering over you, waiting to receive the gift that is your deaths.

At least you’ll be together. From beginning to end.

Pain is everywhere but nowhere. A kick to your head, another at your ribs. Your consciousness is waning, so you don’t notice that she is no longer breathing until your arms on either side of her head give way and you slump down onto her still body.

“Bitch, stay down.” He hisses, and you can imagine the triumphant look on his face at the sight of the artistic masterpiece he has created with your blood and her broken bones heaped onto the ground.

His foot is still hammering down onto your spine as you try to shake her awake, though you’re not sure why because death is a blessing for you two.

“Please.” Only a wisp of a breath is mustered from you raw throat.

She doesn’t stir, pretty flutter of eyelashes drooped low.

“Please…”

Then a weight is lifted from you.

There’s a commotion in the room but you barely hear it over your slowing heartbeat pumping it’s last efforts in your ear, closing eyes fixed on her lifeless face, once your only source of joy. Maybe he is screaming, you can’t tell. You hope he’s screaming.

The floor against your cheek feels ice cold.

You feel light.

Darkness is ebbing into your vision.

You’re still crying. Because you’ve waited for so long to be free and you finally will be.

You hear voices, deep and smooth. Voices of angels perhaps?

A hand, strong yet gentle, turns you over. And you see faces, beautiful awe-striking face. Yes, definitely angels.

But what is that dripping down their chins?

More divine faces hover over you, eyes glowing in an expression that can only be described as: Desire.

“Finally.” Two fingers caress your blood-crusted cheek as one speaks. They feel cold.

“You poor, poor thing.” Someone lifts your lolling head onto their lap and brushes the hair out of your face with a lover’s touch.

“Can’t tell if your life is about to get better or worse.” Why can you still hear? When is the finality of death going to grace you?

“But whose will she be? We all found her together.”

“We can decide that later. Feed her first.”

Nothing is making sense, though you suppose nothing should. You’re dying after all. That, at least, is one thing you know for sure.

Their faces are blurring, sweet voices muffling.

A warmth is pressed onto your mouth, and trickling onto your tongue is a wine-rich taste. You’d always thought death would taste more bitter. But then it’s running down your throat, and you’re suddenly aware of how real, how physical the sensation feels.

Is that liquid?

Your own blood?

You can’t help but swallow the taste.

And finally, you exhale, expelling your last breath as well as the tendrils of your finally-liberated broken soul.

❦

@serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere

❦

16/09/2019

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

It Was That Time of Year Again

Cold winter nights came early, even in the idyllic town of Greenwick. But unlike other, similar settlements throughout North America, this quaint little pocket of suburbia just shone all the brighter.

A picturesque coating of powdery snow reflected all the light, amplifying the glow of bright windows and Christmas lights and elaborate illuminated decorations, all gleaming from the perfect houses and their roofs and their lawns. The sun had barely set, leaving behind a sliver of bright orange glow on the horizon, complementing the kaleidoscope of warm and dazzling artificial lights.

It all brought a smile to Caroline’s face. She rode in her car down the wide and sleepy streets of her hometown. The comfort of her vehicle’s heating helped create a cozy cocoon of nostalgia. While the car rolled down the freshly-plowed road at a lazy pace, some friendly folks in the neighborhood who recognized her waved at her, replete with cheery smiles on their faces.

She basked in the glow of the serenity of this place where she had grown up, having returned here from the big city for the first time in a decade. Everything was perfect. More perfect than she ever remembered, or had envisioned when she packed her bags for the holiday season.

Too perfect.

Before Caroline reached the next turn to take, she spotted a familiar old face. Jacob Brooks—his face now a roadmap of wrinkles that portrayed the lines of a happy life lived, framed by a full head of salt and pepper hair—looked up just in time for their gazes to meet.

Both their faces lit up, beaming at each other in recognition and happy over the reunion. Caroline waved and stifled a giggle, then pulled her car over to stop at the curb by Jacob’s snow-covered lawn.

He ceased his toil of shoveling snow out of his driveway and sauntered over to her car, just in time for her to lower the passenger seat window and lean over.

“Now you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said with a chuckle, shooting her a wink. “Looks to me like someone got bored with the big important city life. What in good God’s name brought you back to our humble little town?”

Her smile widened and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to come up with an answer. Always that pressure for finding the proper amount of eloquence.

“The family keeps rotating where we meet up for the holiday season each year, and we finally agreed to come back here for one last time before talking about selling the old house.”

Jacob’s smile stayed on his face, but it twitched and masked the shadow of a frown.

Caroline hated disappointing anybody, though, and almost squealed when she blurted out, “But I’m going to buy out and renovate the place.”

Jacob nodded and the earnest air returned to mingle with his smile, making it honest again.

“Now, you see, that’s somethin’ I love to hear,” he said. “Bright mind and beautiful smile like yours? Always welcome, here in Greenwick. Yoz'odrhaxz.”

A shiver ran down Caroline’s spine and she tasted something metallic in her mouth. Something that reminded her of copper. She blinked and took a moment to process what he had just said, which all sounded great except for the final and unintelligible syllables.

“Sorry,” she said, face twisting to underline her apology. “What did you just say?”

Jacob blinked and his brow furrowed in confusion before he replied, “I said you’re always welcome, here in Greenwick. Yoz'odrhaxz.”

There it was again. Tying her innards up in a knot, driving her pulse to speed up, ever so slightly. Making the warmth of her car’s heating clash with the cold wintry air pouring in from the open window where Jacob peered inside. The cocoon stopped feeling as safe as it had, and something dark and inky started blending in with the soup of nostalgia that her mind had been swimming in.

Yoz'odrhaxz. Those sounds were all wrong. She had never heard them before, but hearing them twice left her feeling deeply unsettled. For a split second, she wondered if she was having a stroke. She didn’t want to hear that ever again. Then she realized how long and awkward this silence must have been growing between them, accentuated only by the thrum and soft vibrations of her car’s running motor.

She forced a smile onto her face and hoped it reached her eyes. The mask she had learned to wear, growing in Greenwick—the mask that had gotten her so far in the big city.

“Well, I gotta get going, I’m already running a little bit late,” she told him.

He smiled again. At least it looked genuine—it helped take off some of her edge.

“You are the last one I expected,” he said, wagging a finger at her. Another warm and fuzzy chuckle erupted from his throat.

Just before the edge had bid its final farewells, it bubbled back up, returning in full force. From the corner of her eye, Caroline saw the blood draining from her face. Realized with delay how her brain parsed the words after her gut did. Her gut, that was now tied up in a thick, heavy knot.

You are the last one.

I expected.

You are the last one.

She gave him an awkward wave and pushed a button on her console. The window began rolling back up to close. The smile stayed on his face, like a frozen mask. It looked authentic enough, but offered no chance of dispelling the dread that now took root inside the dark recesses of her mind.

The same place where nebulous memories lurked. She struggled to recall how she had gotten here. The blur of slapping that alarm clock to make it cease its annoying beeping, early that morning. How she packed—

Jacob knocked on the window just after it had shut completely.

Caroline swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and pushed the button again. Lowered the window till it was open again, but just a crack.

“Hey, um, why don’t you stop by? Y'know, like, whenever. I’d love to catch up, talk about old times, and such,” he said. “W-we, uh—we c-could go grab a coffee at the diner—it’s still there, hasn’t changed one bit since you, uh, rode outta town.”

His smile had transformed into something fiercely nervous. So innocent, so downright adorable that Caroline could not help but find it sweet.

She nodded and told him she’d love that, then hastily rolled up the window and drove off.

Still, she smiled at Jacob through her rear view mirror as she drove off, accelerating to a speed just slightly over the limit. She still used her signal light as she took her left turn on the deserted roads. He raised a hand for a motionless wave in parting, picking up his snow shovel but not returning to work on his driveway.

She expected him to return to shoveling snow but he continued standing there, watching her drive away until her course had put other houses in between them. Smiling all the while. Two masked people. Pretending nothing was wrong.

Caroline found no way to shake that feeling, unable to forget those ghastly syllables that had escaped his throat. Like someone choking on broken glass and shattered dreams.

Yoz'odrhaxz.

She had in no way merely imagined him saying that. Not twice.

But she also felt with a sense of certainty: he either did not realize it himself, or he knew very well and kept up a perfect guise of feigned ignorance. Either way only made her insides knot up even tighter.

Focusing on the road helped, though. Those streaks of tire treads that ripped through the thin sheen of snow on the asphalt. The ostentatious displays of Santas and cartoonish reindeer and fake snowmen, all decked out in clusters of brightly glowing lights.

The sun died beyond the horizon. That last sliver of natural orange light vanished with it. The one solace the sky still gave Caroline? She could now clearly see the twinkling stars, littering the dark void of the heavens. Tiny beacons, lonesome on their own, varying in their intensity, but brilliant and pretty as a whole. And comforting.

Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the steering wheel with such force that she could practically hear the faux leather crack under the sheer pressure. Taking a deep breath and pushing it out in a calming sigh accompanied her releasing some of that tension, loosening her hold and trying to clear her mind.

But the horrid syllables refused to go away.

They summoned something else from the darkest corners of her recollections. She remembered every highlight of the day, every dreary stretch of monotony that had constituted the hours of driving all the way out here.

The uncomfortable thing that haunted her thoughts was a dream she had suffered through last night. In it, she had returned to Greenwick but was another person entirely, a woman named Rita. And waking up to the alarm clock’s beeping, it had taken so many moments of disoriented stumbling around to realize that she was, in fact, Caroline, and not Rita.

She was, in fact, driving home to Greenwick to see her family. She was going to break the news to them about paying off all the outstanding debts on the house and fixing it back up. Maybe even moving back out here. Unlike Rita, who thought she was being chased by vampires, eventually hiding out in her old home from former neighbors and family members turned monsters.

The vampires in that dream wore masks fashioned out of strips of human skin, stitched together. They did not drink blood, they did not have super-powers. They just made you wear one of their hideous masks when they caught you. She spent most of her dream running, attempting to evade and avoid the vampires.

The circle of thoughts—cycling back and forth between the bizarre dream of Rita’s night of terror, and the reality of herself, Caroline, returning to her hometown—it occupied her mind to the point of complete absorption. It helped keep those syllables at bay.

When Gina, one of her best friends from growing up, flagged her from her brightly lit porch, Rita finally snapped out of it. Or rather, Caroline snapped out of Rita, and snapped out of the haze of last night’s dream invading her consciousness.

She pulled up to the curb of the sidewalk in front of Gina’s home. Cut the engine and got out. Gina’s expression kept alternating between happiness and something scrunched up, like she was about to break out into tears. Caroline slammed the door shut, and the two of them walked towards each other, eventually falling into a warm and loving embrace, with the fabric of their thick jackets rustling in the process.

“Oh my God,” Gina breathed, pushing away from her but maintaining a hold on Caroline’s arms. “Oh my. I’m so happy to see you.”

Their breath condensed in front of their mouths in tiny little clouds. Caroline fought back some tears.

“It has been way too long,” she told Gina. “I’m so sorry about—”

“No, listen. Don’t you apologize about nothing. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard things must have been, but I totally get it. Wouldn’t have minded a line or two, though.”

Caroline slid out of Gina’s hold till she found her old friend’s gloved hands and could tenderly grab hold of them. The Christmas lights all around them began to blur in the haze of tears as they welled up in the corners of her eyes. The tiny little twinkling stars in the sky stretched into bright streaks and crosses.

“We’re gonna make it right this time, I promise,” Gina said with a trembling voice, choking on first waves of an urge to start sobbing. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Bhaor'mer.”

Chills ran down Caroline’s spine. She shivered, especially in reading something resembling fear in Gina’s face.

“Ovhaioct, Khithalak,” Gina said. “Bhaor'mer.”

She smiled through tearful eyes at Caroline. That smile carried not only elation over seeing her again after all these years—and all those circumstances behind them—but also a profound sense of sadness, twinkling in the reflection of the stars in the tears in her eyes.

Paralysis had seized Caroline, locked up her every limb. Those syllables, just as horrible as the ones that had come from Jacob’s mouth, though different one and all.

Sometimes, a vivid dream breaks just the right way with reality, allowing the dreamer to realize that the experience is but a fabrication of the sleeping mind.

This was not one of those times.

That taste of snow delivered by the fresh wintry air; that warm sweet breath of Gina’s, reaching and grazing over the exposed skin of Caroline’s face; those endearing displays of Christmas decorations surrounding them; everything imprinted her every waking second with so many vivid impressions that it could not be a mere dream.

Everything here in Greenwick was perfect. Too perfect, like it had been lifted right out of one of those sappy holiday movies. Everything except for those syllables, crunching through Caroline’s thoughts like heavy boots in snow, like tires on gravel. Grinding, and chewing, and chomping. Smacking. Something hungry.

Gina embraced her so quickly, so forcefully. It took Caroline by surprise. The embrace was still so warm—comforting, even. Still so loving. The fabric of their jackets rustled again as the embrace tightened. A gloved hand rested on the back of Caroline’s head.

A whisper in her ear, “Play along. Or else.”

Words nobody ever wants to hear. Especially not like this.

They boosted Caroline’s pulse to a racing thrum, the heartbeat pounding away in a crazed orchestration with the rushing of blood in her ears.

“Go,” Gina breathed, her lips brushing against Caroline’s ear, so close were they, sending a tingling sensation down her spine. This one pleasant. But not enough to override the growing horror of the words she spoke. “Pretend everything’s normal. Don’t say a thing.”

Gina pushed her away again, still smiling. Still teary-eyed. But it had all transformed into a mask. Hiding something else. Something that matched or even eclipsed the fear that Caroline now felt. In sync with her pounding heart, her fingers throbbed as Gina slipped completely from their embrace and backed away.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” Gina laughed. But the words and the laughter all felt forced. Staged. They were all theater kids back in the day, and none of them good. That much had not changed.

Gina silently mouthed a single word.

“Go.”

Caroline wanted to say something in return, but nothing fitting came to mind. And even if she could think of anything, fear had tightly gripped her throat.

All she managed to eke out, croaking it like a toad, was a feeble, “Bye.”

The moment she turned away and returned to her car with hasty steps, those syllables wanted to surface in her thoughts. She did not let them, pushed them down. Slamming the car door helped. The growl of the engine as she sped up while driving away also helped her stop thinking.

Right now, thinking was the enemy.

Caroline stepped on the gas, hoping to get back to the old family home as fast as possible without going over the speed limit. Snow be damned.

Even with nightfall, everything in town looked beautiful. A grotesque contrast to the nightmare she was living through now. The sea of artificial lights shed such perfect clarity on the shapes and outlines of all the perfect homes and yards and picket fences and mailboxes and gaudy Christmas ornaments.

And people stood outside. Caroline resolved to just wave and smile and pretend everything was normal and alright if they tried to flag her over like Jacob and Gina had. But none of them—neither familiar nor unfamiliar faces—none of them had eyes for her.

They were all looking at the sky. At some intangible spot.

That void between the stars.

The lights started going out. Streetlights went first, cascading from shedding bright light in her rear view mirror until they caught up and overtook her car, all switching off. Then all the decorative Christmas lights, house by house, street by street.

All the lights in the houses went out next. The whole town descended into darkness. The pit in Caroline’s stomach tightened.

What remained were the car’s headlights, casting blinding cones of wavering white onto the snowy road in front of her as she sped down it. Then even those lights went out. Then the tiny lights on her dashboard.

Caroline’s heart thundered, sounding like a whole horde of people pounding against the windows of her car. Drowned out every thought. Her palms grew slick with sweat, robbing her of her grip on the steering wheel.

Dread. That exploded into panic when finally, the stars winked out.

Caroline hit the brakes and almost threw up, feeling the force of inertia as the car skidded to a halt, combined with that very panic, that coppery taste in her mouth, now stronger than ever.

As she gazed into the darkness of the sky where stars once twinkled, daring not to breathe as if the sky itself might hear her, she thought of her dream. Thought she might be Rita, dreaming of being Caroline in this nightmare. Chased, hunted. Prey.

But this was no dream.

And that darkness, she began to understand, it grew. The stars did not just wink out all at once. They flickered—blinked. The sky parted, split in half somewhere. It opened to a void, darker than black. Hungry.

She got out of the car, thinking it would help wake her up. Instead, the chill of wintry air only made things more unpleasant.

People murmured those awful syllables. Or they spoke, or shouted them, and the distance reduced it to muttering in her ears.

The sky had stopped being a sky. It had texture. It moved. It yawned.

A breeze swept over her, but it had nothing in common with wintry air. It was warm and damp. Like breath. But like the breath of something huge, of something monolithic.

Like the sky exhaled upon her. A sigh of exhaustion.

Caroline laughed. Not the kind of laugh that explodes from one’s mouth as a consequence of amusement. The kind that clatters out like a bag of marbles clacking down, spilling out all over the floor. The kind that is shrill, like a knife being whisked over a whetstone.

The kind of laughter that people call crazy.

Though more than anything, Caroline understood now. She understood it all. The puzzle pieces had fallen neatly into place. The awful, unnatural words had wormed their way into her mind, setting root and seeding her thoughts with a clarity not meant for human brains.

Yoz'odhraxz awoke. It was time to feed.

It was that time of year again, and this year, Greenwick was on the menu. Nobody resisted because they had been groomed for this moment all their lives. Frozen behind their masks, nobody screamed.

Not even Caroline.

—Submitted by Wratts

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halfgclden · 3 years

Text

Reid and the Rook

Corvus found himself in the rafters of a room he didn’t recognize, crouched as though ready to spring. He couldn’t quite remember what had brought him here, and the haziness that seemed to curl around the edge of his vision indicated that he was asleep. He dropped down to the ground, gave a cursory glance around, and almost moved to the second floor when he heard a noise outside. He climbed out onto the balcony, assuming that his attention was meant to be there, and looked around at the street, lit up with pumpkins, candles, dotted with shadowy birds and cats.

Halloween. He didn’t know where, but he at least knew when. It was either the night that he was sleeping or when he was going to end up at this place, but the small vision into it meant that it held some significance. People moved about the streets, their faces obscured, either by costume or by shadow, but one face a few yards away caught his attention. Hers.

Will almost opened his mouth to call out to his sister, but he knew that it would be to no avail. Instead, he climbed down the fire escape, keeping his eyes on her so he could trail her movements, figure out what exactly he was supposed to do for her.

For a moment, Reid was looking at herself as if suspended from above: mismatched eyes bright behind an oversized pair of glasses, bowtie hanging untied around her neck, a lazy grin on her face. The vision of herself before her blinked at the same time she did and everything went dark. Shadows swirled through her vision, and when Reid opened her eyes again, she was the one standing on the decorated New Athens street. Shadows pooled at her feet as she glanced down at herself. She was still dressed in her costume, just as she had been earlier that night. Reid flexed her fingers, testing the limits of her dream-self; her shadow moved a few seconds later, as if there had been a delay. Strange. But not any stranger than her recent dreams of metallic birds, talking dogs, and the Underworld.

Shadowy creatures floated down the street around her as she walked through the dim light. A raven cawed somewhere overhead and Reid flinched violently, the memory of birds attacking still fresh in her mind from her earlier encounter with the daughter of Morpheus' mist creations. Her face grew hot with embarrassment at her reaction and she glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. Realizing her mistake in her own dream, she groaned and was about to turn a corner to avoid a group of masked townsfolk when she felt eyes on her. Reid raised her head and peered into the murky distance.

Will landed, the vision almost seeming to shake as his feet hit the ground. His eyes darted around as he focused on the girl he had seen before, and his cloak billowed around them as he charted a path, ducking around people. Though the last time he'd seen Reid in person was long enough for her to look different, definitely older, he recognized his sister in an instant. It wasn't at all like looking in a mirror, and entirely like looking on the other side of a coin. "Where are you going?" He muttered, then followed with, "Where are you?" in a sigh. He glanced around at the picturesque town around Reid, wondering why she wasn't being dragged around by the person who raised them.

Unable to see through the fog at the edges of the vision, Reid shrugged off the feeling of being watched and slowly wandered through the autumnal streets. There was a faint trail of light weaving its way through the stones at her feet and she stopped for a moment to inspect it. Immediately, there was a pull in her chest, as if whatever lay at the end of the path was beckoning her; Reid quickened her pace until she was lightly jogging, avoiding the shadowy forms of townsfolk and mist creatures alike. The sensation faded moments later and she found herself standing before one of the ornate fountains in town, silvery mist curling off the surface of the water. Reid raised a hand and waved some of it away, following a gut feeling and leaning closer to peer into the glassy surface of the water. At first, she could only make out her own reflection and none of her surroundings but slowly, the image shifted. Features became rougher, more angular, and the eyes looking back at her were an incorrectly mirrored version of her own. Reid froze, slack-jawed as she stared into the water.

Will was steps behind Reid as she walked, conscious enough of his own footfalls to make them more quiet than the heavy way he normally walked. She jogged away from him, but his longer stride meant that he didn't have to pick up his pace too much, and it gave him time to glance around at their surroundings rather than just his sister, trying to figure out where exactly she was. The area had European flair, but something about it felt distinctly North American; maybe how new and aesthetically pleasing everything seemed to be, even in the fog and shadow of the dream world. As they reached the fountain covered in gaudy painted statues, he squinted, something tugging at the edge of his brain, but he followed his sister's gaze downward rather than following that train of thought.

It was her that peered back at him, and suddenly his stomach twisted in a way that he didn't understand. He frowned and pulled back his hood. Was the dream telling him that they were mirrored in their situations? Was she in more danger that he had to help her out of? Perhaps it was a manifestation of the fact that he hadn't seen her in years, and that this holiday had been their favourite to celebrate together. In any case, thinking about it made his stomach turn more, and his face twisted into a scowl as he reached around her to touch the water, trying to make the image change.

Feebly, Reid's brain tried to come up with explanations for what she was seeing reflected in the water. She blinked several times, reaching up to scrub the vision from her eyes but froze, stiller than stone, as a real, tangible arm reached around her to disrupt the water's display. Her hair whipped in the air as she spun around to face whatever had invaded her dream and found herself face-to-face with a living ghost. Naturally, Reid screamed.

Obviously not expecting his dream sister-vision to spin around and scream at him, Will gave a start and instinctively pushed both of her shoulders. As he actually made contact with her, he did his best to grab her forearms to keep her from falling backwards into the fountain.

If Reid was ill-prepared to see Will in her dream, she was even less prepared when he shoved her. In her surprise, she lurched backward. Though he tried to steady her, it was too late and she fell into the fountain with a cold splash. "Fuck!" She yelped, tensing up as the bone-chilling water touched her skin.

Will turned out to have grabbed too late, and his sister fell before him. “Fuck,” he said at the same time as her, and bent over to grab her to help her up. “What’s happening?”

For a moment, Reid recoiled, but then the cold bit at her again and she accepted his help, climbing out of the fountain without ceremony. Sopping wet with a puddle forming around her on the ground, she stared at her brother, expression unreadable. “Fuck if I know. Are you real?”

Will frowned at Reid and shook out his hands, taking off his cloak to hold out for her in offering. “As thought. Where are you?” He looked around them. “I feel like I know this place.”

She accepted the cloak, expression wary as she wrapped it around her shivering frame. This was her dream, dammit. Why did it have to be so cold? "Where are you?" Reid countered, suspicion creeping in.

Will frowned at Reid, wishing there was some way to help her be less cold, but he wasn’t even sure if he could mess with his perception of the dream, let alone hers. He conjured forth a hairdryer, frowned, then set it aside on the fountain before conjuring forth some fingerless gloves to hold out for her as well. “Right now, I’m in a dream with you wherever you are,” he said stubbornly. After a moment, he huffed and looked away from her. “Sleeping in Nevada.”

The hairdryer appearing out of thin air assuaged Reid's feeling that this Will might be an imposter and she couldn't help but laugh dryly as she took the gloves he held out, quickly pulling them on and wrapping the cloak tighter. "Nice, I can use that if I need a good shock to my system," she tilted her heads towards the hairdryer before her ears perked up and she turned back to her brother. "Oh! Nevada! How nice. I heard the weather there is great this time of year."

Will could have smirked at the joke from his sister if the circumstances were different, but he lifted a leg up to kick the hairdryer into the fountain and didn't bother to watch it fall. He frowned as Reid continued but did not pull his hood up as the thought came to him. "Fuck off. Where are you?" He repeated himself, eyes fixed on her. "What's going on?"

"You tell me." Reid crossed her arms and stared at her brother, her tone incredulous. "Dude, you don't get to just demand where I am. You get that, right?"

Will pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I don't know what's going on, but it probably means that you need me." He hopped up onto the ledge of the fountain and looked for a landmark. "So I need to know where you are, and when this is." He looked down at her. "You alone?"

Reid moved her hand, about to pinch the bridge of her own nose, but stopped when she saw Will make the same gesture. She was quiet for a moment, her jaw set as she listened to her brother. A moment later, she burst into loud laughter, bending to rest her hands on her knees as she borderline cackled. "Wait, wait. Back up. Did you seriously just say that I need you?" Reid pretended to wipe a tear from her eye. "You can't be serious, Will. It is you right? I'm not just having a fucked up dream. You're here. But you're really in Nevada. And after...huh, almost six years, you tell me that I. Need. You. That's real funny."

Will continued to frown at Reid's reaction, and ran his tongue over his teeth as he let it sink in that six years had passed. Even he could tell that it had been a long time, but having a numerical value on it felt wrong. The distance between himself and Reid always felt more conceptual and fluid than something that could have something that concrete. He couldn't make out the place. "You needed me in Venice."

She flinched at the memory of Venice, her hand immediately moving to hover over her scarred shoulder in defense. Somewhere in the fog of her dream, another raven cawed. "I didn't need y-" Slowly, the flame of Reid's anger lessened to a simmer and she ran a tongue over her teeth, sucking in sharply. "Venice...that was you?"

Will looked back at his sister, watching as she touched an old wound. At the sound of the bird, Will casts a chastising glance in the direction it came from, but it didn’t sound out again. He fixed his eyes on Reid again, his stomach twisting inexplicably as it did earlier. “How else would I know about it?” He frowned and moved down from where he was perched, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain instead. “I’ve had dreams like this before. Or, kind of like this before. You haven’t seemed to notice me until now.”

Not trusting that she wouldn't somehow lose her balance and end up in the fountain again, Reid remained standing, dwarfed by Will's long cloak. "I don't know. How are here, talking to each other? Nothing makes sense," she huffed in exasperation, looking to the dark sky. She almost thanked him for helping her in Venice but pride won over and she scowled. "Yeah, I've had dreams like this too, sort of. And you never noticed me either."

“Hypnos could be fucking with us? Some fun Halloween trick. Or treat.” Will didn’t take his eyes off of Reid. He hadn’t spoken to her in years, but it felt as though they could speak to each other freely. He was only as guarded as he normally was, and even then, less so. “Had dreams about me?” He sounded interested, but his expression remained neutral. “What was I doing?”

"Wouldn't it be Morpheus?" She crossed her arms, unable to stop staring at Will, feeling as if he would disappear should she look away. "Oh yeah, what a treat. Surprise! Your brother that disappeared without a word is alive and well and just kickin' it in Nevada like some Assassin's Creed lookin' ass," Reid layered on the sarcasm, extra thick, like her words were pancakes and sarcasm was the syrup. She exhaled through her nose. "Yeah, a few. Once, you were at a river in darkness. Another time I saw you with a table of shit labeled Marcus' Magical...something, but it seemed too wild, I assumed it was a regular dream. Mostly...you were alone." She squinted at him, "What else did you see me doing?"

Will shrugged. The god of sleep and god of dreams were practically interchangeable in his head, and he wasn't sure he cared enough about that to argue with Reid. "Assassin's Creed." Will laughed at the reference. He hadn't played the game in years, but he know what she meant. He sighed, but still kept his face tilted up toward her, drinking in every word. She'd seen him as Marcus, which meant that she had some sort of connection to him... "What did you see with that river?" He inquired, tilting his head to one side. "Uh..." He shook his head. "With Vanessa." He almost spit as he said her name, but stopped himself. It had been years since his last encounter with his mother, six, apparently, but it still stung. "And, um, sometimes alone, wandering. I guess it was the birds that really made me... Hm. Realize? That I could do something? I guess I figured out before that they were showing me things that hadn't happened yet, and things that I could fix, or lend a hand in." He frowned, eyes darting to her shoulder. "How long ago was that?"

"Which river? The black one you looked like you were drowning in? Or the one you were crossing in the shadow of a temple?" Reid shrugged, unable to discern what was dream and had the potential to be reality. She nodded along as he spoke, absent-mindedly massaging the tension out of her shoulder. At the mention of their mother, Reid let out a dry, humorless laugh. "It was, huh, almost nine months ago? When Vanessa --" She repeated the name like it was poison. "-- dropped me at the border and left. Haven't heard from her since. Don't know why I'm surprised. She was always kind of a bitch. And I'm used to people leaving." With a wave of her hand, she moved on, zeroing in on Will's claim that he could do something with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean? That they're more than dreams? Is that something we can do? Am I psychic? Are you?"

Will was much more interested in the visions that Reid had had than she seemed to be. “Hm.” He wasn’t sure exactly where the temple would be, but the first river seemed to be more relevant anyway. “The... black one. I was drowning?” He squinted. “Do you remember anything else about it?” He scratched at his neck absentmindedly, pressing his fingers down into his collarbone. “Bitch,” he muttered in time with Reid, but at his sister’s next words, he frowned, knowing that he had no right to speak about the subject. He dropped his hand and shook his head. “I don’t know. Not exactly, but... Halfbloods have those dreams sometimes, I just happen to have them more frequently. Remember how many I used to have when we were kids?” He didn’t look away from her as he spoke, but he reached up to scratch at the back of his hand.

Reid shrugged, letting the moment stretch into silence as she stared at her brother. "Not really. You took a dive and the water was swirling like crazy, but then it just stopped. You didn't surface, so I yelled but, you know, dream." A small smile passed across her face when he made a comment about Vanessa but her expression quickly hardened and she met his eyes, giving him a look that said you're not off the hook yet. A moment later, he brought up their childhood and she frowned, her mood souring a bit further. "Yeah, I guess. The weird ones you always woke up and told me about? Huh, halfbloods. We get weirder by the day." She clicked her tongue, "You think my dreams are like yours?" followed a second later by, "And what's the deal with the river?"

Will nodded at the information, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he thought. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, with a nod. There was something so tantalizing about the idea that he could make it there, and yet he didn’t want to make too much of a big deal out of it; as though not to jinx it, or to not alert her of his plans. He sighed at her look, but gave another imperceptible nod. “Yeah, those.” He snorted at her comment. “That’s what we are, I don’t know what you mean.” He leaned back to dip his fingers into the fountain, then raised his hand to flick drops of water at her. “Probably like mine. We got the same powers, no?” At the next question, he tugged at the collar of his shirt, running the tip of his thumb against the grooves. “I’m figuring that out too.”

"For what?" She asked before she could help herself. "Yeah, I know what we are, genius. I'm just saying that being a halfblood is fucking weird." Still wet from her dip in the fountain, Reid was entirely unfazed by the water Will sent in her direction. She had the sudden urge to shove him in the fountain and clenched her hands at her sides. "Depends. Can you do more than walk through doors and have maybe-prophetic dreams?" As Will tugged on his collar, she scanned the hazy skies of their shared dream, directing her questions at the stars. "What's there to figure out? Why did you just jump into a-" A puzzle piece clicked into place and Reid's eyes met his. A sharp grin carved its way onto her face and she searched his face, looking for the truth. "Will. What was the name of that river?"

“For the information.” Will shrugged. “Can’t argue with that. I think we’re just as strange as always, maybe we just aren’t lying to ourselves anymore.” His lips twisted into an almost smile, settling into a sense of comfort at how familiar Reid’s annoyance sounded. “Ah, yeah, I’ve learned a few more tricks,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him. He spread his palms out wide and made small, illusory sparks shoot from them, then dropped them once more, looking away from his sister for the first time since he laid eyes on her. “I’m figuring it out,” he repeated.

Reid grunted in response, not bothering to comment on the sentiment. Her eyebrows shot up, obscured by her bangs as Will's hands began to spark. "Hm, cool party trick. Are you a traveling magician? Is that why you're in Nevada?" When he looked away, she felt a shred of discomfort; she used it as kindling to toss onto the lightly smoldering fire that was her anger. "Maybe I could help," she pushed, jutting a finger in his direction but not feeling bold enough to jab at his chest.. "Why do you get to demand things like my location but when I ask you if you jumped into a specific river, you clam up and act like it's none of my business? What is there to figure out?" She took a step closer, her voice rising slightly with a hint of challenge. "If my dream was true, you didn't just fall in. You went in with intention. What happened to you?"

Will dropped his hands at her comment and exhaled a small laugh at her unknown accuracy. “Traveling magician, sure. Not why I’m in Nevada.” He looked back at her when she pointed at him and reached up towards her, as if to take her hand, but he hesitated before they made contact. “You never did tell me where you were.” He frowned at her question, a wave of discomfort running through him. He didn’t know what she meant exactly, but he didn’t really want to ask. “Maybe I’m just figuring it all out. I... have plans.”

“That was intentional. Something doesn’t sit right with me. Something about you appearing in my head and suddenly caring where I am after dead silence for six. Fucking. Years. Yeah, shocker I didn’t immediately tell you, huh. Must be a real surprise.” Reid exhaled a measured breath through her nose, the urge to shove her brother in the fountain growing stronger. She looked away from him and scoffed, “Plans.” Her anger flared again, lighter mood from a moment ago gone. “Is that why you left? Because you had some grand ‘plans’?” She flexed her fingers, punctuating her question with air quotes.

Will found his patience growing thin. He knew that she was right, but the fact that he couldn’t recognize a place that felt like he should be able to recognize just made him more annoyed. He reached up to scratch at his jaw and exhaled a sigh. There was no defense, really, nothing he could say that would be a good enough reason for abandoning his sister. He watched her for a moment before he shook his head, frowning. “I left to get away, Reid.” Her name burned in his mouth. “And if I could’ve taken you with me, I would’ve.” He ran his hands through his hair and raked his nails down his neck. “Just, fuck. The plans came after. I overshot it. Where the fuck are you?”

Reid wasn't sure why she bothered asking; his reason wasn't good enough and she wasn't sure if one ever would be. For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what things would be like if Will had taken her with him, but before she could fall down that rabbit hole, she shrugged it of and rolled her neck to crack it. The crackle of her knuckles followed. Deciding that poking and prodding with her wound would only make them both feel worse, she let it drop. "New York. Not that far from home, surprisingly. What's it to you?"

Will, upon seeing and hearing Reid crack her knuckles, began to do the same. “New York,” he said after she did, and felt as though he could kick himself. “New York, of course,” he looked around and shook his head, standing suddenly. After a moment he looked back down at his sister. “Do you...” He wasn’t sure how to phrase his question, and scratched at the back of his hands as he thought of a new one entirely. “Are you staying there?”

She raised an eyebrow, watching as some sort of revelation dawned on Will's face. Belatedly, she remembered Reno mentioning that a few years ago, things would have been different, that the siblings would have been at camp together. "Yeah," Reid answered tersely. "I have an apartment. Why? You plan on visiting?"

At her reply, Will felt oddly insecure, something he was not used to feeling. He forced his hands apart. “Would you...” He took a moment to choose his words, “be adverse to that?”

"That depends..." Reid selected her words carefully, keeping her emotions off her face as she spoke. "Are you going to leave someone behind in Nevada like you did to us?" She realized her slip-up and corrected herself quickly, "To me?" She exhaled through her nose, letting her mask of indifference drop, before giving him a more direct answer. "But...no? I wouldn't be adverse to that. It would be...interesting, to say the least."

A variety of emotions crossed Will's expression at Reid's slip-up. Confused to speculation to... worry? All in a matter of seconds before his face went neutral once more. Her reply sent a creeping feeling up his spine, settling heavily in his chest. He glanced away from her. "I think so too." He said quietly, taking a seat once more, hands folded in his lap.

As Will sat down again, Reid took a seat next to him. "When?" was all she asked, unsure what else to say or how to steel herself for the reunion that now loomed, inevitable in their futures.

Will turned to her and, overcome with the urge to hug her, rested a hand on the edge of his cloak that was around her. "Soon." I miss you. He had no right to say it, and so he didn't, but suddenly he was overcome with the realization that he had, in fact, missed her. What he hadn't thought about hard enough to really process was something he was suddenly achingly aware of. He dipped his head in a nod. "Soon."

"Soon." Reid echoed, eyes wide. Will's hand on her shoulder marked the moment as real, memorable. "Will-" She almost told him that she missed him, the words caching on her insides as she tried to get them out. The scene rippled and shifted, melting into blackness before she could finish. The rosy hues of dawn peeked through her window as Reid found herself awake in her bed, hair still damp from her dip in the fountain. She stared at the ceiling, cursing loudly. "God dammit."

Will. He could feel her slipping away, like sand through his fingers. Was it because he made contact? Will pulled his hand away quickly, but it was too late. The edges of the dream were shifting, moving, and soon Corvus was awake in bed, watching his ceiling. With new vigor, he pushed himself up and scrubbed his face with his hands. He had to get to the dark river, and then he had to get to his sister. Soon.

#chatzy #c: will #c: willreid

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libermachinae · 4 years

Text

Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 6, Peace

Also available on AO3! Notes: @prowlweek Coming to the end here! Can’t wait for tomorrow’s prompt, which *checks watch* I haven’t started writing yet.

⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳

There was something different this time. The push of the timestream was still there, its resistance to invasion, but now it felt confused. Hook’s legs were being pulled backward while his chest was lifted, his left arm drawn to his side. None of it was wholly uncomfortable yet, but the variety of sensations made it harder than usual to keep track of which way was up. He knew there was no choice but to keep moving forward, even as the building pressure started to remind him of that last fight with Victorion, feeling on the edge of victory only to be torn away from Long Haul without warning.

“Prowl!” he yelled, and the sound made his spark stutter. He’d never tried to talk in the timestream before, and it sounded like Soundwave’s multi-layered vocalizations, his own voice piled on top of itself many times over and bellowed into an echoless void.

He needed to get out. The timestream, empty and endless as it was, felt like it was pressing in on him, and there was nowhere to go. At the place where there should have been an end to the tunnel, an opening into whatever time Prowl had ejected himself into, there was nothing but more fragmentary space. There no footsteps in the timestream.

Hook wondered if this might be the end. He would be part of a legacy, anyway: dying in a state of heightened confusion, far away from the team. There were real reasons to be scared and upset about that, but the only thing he could think was that, having gone from prison to battle to hospital, they hadn’t even had a chance for a good frag before all this went down. He was going to die, and the main things on his mind were Long Haul’s tires. Great.

“Prowl!” he yelled again, bearing the unease caused by the sound of his voice. “It doesn’t have to be like this!”

“It does, Hook.”

The voice was so close. Hook whipped around, trying to find its source, but the familiar Praxian frame did not reveal itself. Space twisted around, obfuscating the way he’d come, and Hook became dizzy. There was no up anymore, no forward. Just time, its crystalline branches weaving over each other, incredible patterns that Scavenger or Mixmaster might have called beautiful. He thought of the possibility that he take an exit, the first one he came across, and just live through whatever time he ended up in. He survived the war once; he could do it again.

He’d come to get Prowl, though. He couldn’t leave without him.

“Come on,” he said, optics searching as though Prowl might be behind a spiderwebbing fragment. “That’s slag. I fragged up, but we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Hook.”

He felt it like a blunt blow to his pride.

“What would you know?” he demanded.

Something shifted, its ripple out of time with the rest of movements of the timestream. Hook’s optics darted down to it, and he watched as the walls of time shivered and cracked, beams of darkness breaking through. Hook stumbled toward them, barely able to remember how his legs worked, his systems were to delirious with relief. Five windows opened, just the right size to peer into the times beyond.

“Enough,” Prowl said.

Hook couldn’t make sense of the scene at first. It was Cybertron, of course, but free of bullet hole pockmarks. Their missions had so attuned him to pre-war Cybertron that he didn’t immediately recognize the post-war (or at least the closest they’d come) landscape, though in time his processor did manage to make sense of it. It was somewhere in the depths of New Iacon, the sewer systems and maintenance lines that the Decepticons had made their base for a while.

Prowl stepped into view, still wearing his old frame. His optics were bright with stress and his doorwings arched high, but there was an air about him Hook wasn’t familiar with. The way he carried himself, dove so confidently around each corner, was removed from the mech he knew, who clunk through the shadows with the grace of a cybercat. Hook’s spark stirred again, though he brushed it off as the unnatural forces still toying with his frame.

He made to reach in, pry open the window a little wider so he could escape to freedom, but found that it would not allow entrance, an invisible force holding his hand back. He grunted in frustration.

“Prowl, what gives?”

“Just look,” the voice said, distant and yet chillingly, intimately close.

He shifted to the next window, wondering if maybe Prowl was waiting for him there. Instead, it was another scene, another Prowl. Above ground, under the Cybertornian sun, wielding a gun half his own height. So proud, so radiant, the sight drew an exvent out of Hook.

“Don’t get distracted, Hook,” Prowl said. “That’s not me.”

What? Of course it was. When Hook humored Prowl and looked closer, though, he thought he understood what was meant. The armor was different from the one shown in the last window, enhanced and bulked up to match the demands of his soon-to-be gestaltmates. His optics (two!) were as piercing as ever, but unlike the tactician Prowl, who took every opportunity to survey a situation and formulate evolving strategies, these were hard, intended solely to challenge anyone who returned their gaze. Hook remembered at last that Bombshell was the one behind them here, that It was his cruel smile twisting Prowl’s neutral features. The most uncanny part of it, though, were the rigid doorwings. Even as he spoke, inaudible through the peephole, and gesticulated to his onlookers, the doorwings were fixed, mute.

“Eugh,” Hook said.

“You understand?”

Hook glanced up, though there was still no one there.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“You don’t believe me, that this is beyond your ability to fix,” Prowl said. “I’m showing you proof.”

Prowl’s processor was big, beautifully complex, able to solve problems with such elegance the rest of the swooned. But he was being shortsighted when he claimed there was nothing they could do. They were a team of builders, able to fix pretty much anything, and they did it together. Though they might have been temporarily pulled apart, Prowl just needed to come out of hiding and they would prove it to him.

Instead, he just said, “Keep going,” and Hook was obliged to obey.

He knew the next window before the entire scene had come into view. It was one of his favorite memories, one of the few he’d kept locked up tight during Scoop’s brief stint with the team: Megatron gave the order to combine, and after months of laying low, Devastator’s components came together again. The feeling of reconnecting had been like a rush of sweet coolant through Hook’s lines, and then invigorating energon, as a new mind swept them up with its incredible power.

Except, here, that perfect moment of synchronicity was delayed, and instead the view swept down. It found Prowl, splayed on the ground, screaming. All the way through that first transformation, as the power of combination lifted him into his place as Devastator’s head, his expression was warped in agony. Hook stared the whole way through, until the silent screams were encased within Prowl’s own body, folded and reshaped into the head of their combined forms. When Devastator’s mouth opened, it was to bellow with rage.

It… unsettled him. Hook had always known that first combination had been without Prowl’s consent, but the bliss that followed, Devastator’s purpose reborn, swept over his limited misgivings. Now, Prowl’s expression permanently etched in his memory core and knowing that Prowl had intended it so, the misgiving crept back in.

“You didn’t want to be a part of us at first, I get it,” Hook said as he moved to the next window. “But that’s not really unusual. Long Haul didn’t want to combine either, when Megatron first told us about it. You learn to like it more as time goes on, though, right?”

The next scene, not far ahead at all: Cybertron under siege from Shockwave’s assault, Metroplex barely holding out and in need of backup. Prowl looked up, into the sky, and Hook swore he saw his optics flicker the moment he made his decision. A second later, he gave his first order to combine.

“After that first time combining, though, things change,” Hook said. “You see each other, and then you can never imagine yourselves apart again.”

He hovered by that window, watching as Devastator met Monstructor head on, his rage and brutality underscored by a long-term strategy the rest of the team hadn’t been prepared for. The first time they’d combined with Prowl had been good, but this was the moment that had made them realize that they needed to keep their new teammate, that he was going to be a part of them forever, the same way Scrapper still was. He missed it, he realized, that moment of epiphany. It had been less than a cycle before they disconnected again, but in his memory, it stretched out, a breathtaking expanse of violence he wanted so badly to reclaim.

Prowl sighed, though it was more like Hook felt it than an actual noise he heard. Before his optics, the window stitched itself closed again, empty space left where one the chaos of battle had waged. To either side of him, the others did the same, once more enclosing Hook in the timestream.

“I hoped I would be able to show you and you would understand, but I guess I forgot what you used to be like.”

There was direction to the voice now. Hook whipped around.

“Prow—you’re not Prowl.”

The mech, standing a dozen or so meters away, had an all-black paint sceme and stood at eye-level with Hook. He was a vehicle, likely a car of some sort, but it was a queer blend of Cybertronian and Earth design, rubberoid wheels embellished with thick treads. His posture could have been described as casual or confident, Hook couldn’t decide which, though his doorwings twitched faintly.

The luxurious black was was so silky that the mech’s features faded against the bright background, though the matte gray Autobrand centered stark on his chest. The other most visible features were his gray faceplate and purple optics, frame under a familiar red chevron.

“…are you?”

The doorwings fluttered up.

“That’s my name, yes,” he said, the grin he bore making Hook doubt himself again.

“But you’re not my Prowl.”

“I am who ‘your Prowl’ is going to become,” he said. “I’ve come from your future.”

“Neat,” Hook said, and immediately wanted to punch himself in the face. Prowl was here, dropping revelations like that, and the best he could come up with was ‘neat’?

The smile, though, did not fade, even as Prowl strode forward to collapse the distance between them. Hook startled when the hand came up, fingers resting against the side of his helm, tilting it like he was a fine weapon being observed.

“You’re nervous,” future Prowl said.

“Yeah.” Prowl’s fingertips were smooth on his plating, barely making a sound as they glided along the delicate seams. “You said you were going to kill me a few minutes ago. Uh, years? How far in the future you from?”

“Several centuries.”

“Ah.” They caressed his audial receptors, the curve of his jaw. Was Prowl looking for something, a stasis switch hidden in the nook between lower jaw and throat cables? He didn’t know of anything like that on his frame, but it seemed more likely than what his processor desperately wanted to believe this was.

“Is the team, you know, still together?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m here to address, actually,” Prowl said, his hand pulling back with a final brush along Hook’s cheek. He could not help that his optics trained to the hand as it returned to his side, though the steady purple glow of Prowl’s optics eventually regained his focus. “This moment is a turning point, Hook. The team is about to enter a new phase in its legacy, and it’s on you to determine how this transition resolves.”

“Me?” No, that couldn’t be right. That wasn’t how they did things; they were a team, they smashed through their problems together. Yes, he’d decided that retrieving Prowl would be his responsibility, but there should still have been time to go get the others before anything important happened. “Shouldn’t we all be here for that?”

“No. You were alone when you found me,” Prowl said.

“Yeah, but I can go grab them and—”

“I mean the first time,” Prowl interrupted. “My first time. Your second.” Hook’s (voluntary) lack of comprehension must have shown, because Prowl sighed and tilted his head. That smile was back, and it didn’t seem to be mocking. “You’re about to go find him. I know, because I remember it happening.” He said it like a conspiracy.

Something inside Hook was rattling. Not audibly, but he swore he could feel it, a deep feeling that was probably going to shake his frame until it fell apart, limbs and plating in an undignified heap in this nowhere place.

“So, I’m going to go get the real—present—my Prowl, and I’m going to do… something that causes him to become,” he waved his hands in front of the tall, black mech, “this.”

There was a glimmer in Prowl’s optics, a tremble in his doorwings, but his vocalizer stayed silent. Hook sagged.

“Come on, Prowl, what do I do?” he asked.

Nothing.

“I don’t want to mess up.” He hoped it didn’t sound like he was begging. “You’re from the future, you know everything.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Prowl asked with a shrug. “That you find me, make a few more empty promises, and that’s what convinces me to come back to the present? That we finish up the mission, lock up our culprit, and spend the rest of our lives as Windblade’s secret task force?”

He advanced a step closer.

“Or the one where we leave Earth entirely? Travel from planet to planet, mercenaries one day and construction crew the next. Cybertronians are still generally disliked by most of the galaxy, so we spend nights piled up in whatever seedy motel won’t rat us out to the local militia.”

Another step. The rattling grew more violent.

“Our relationship gets pushed back to square one. We learn from the mistakes of our past, make more in the future, and figure out how to put together something that works. We stop letting the trauma that first brought us together continue defining what we could be to each other.”

Hook’s vents caught when he heard that word, though Prowl’s voice was so hushed he almost missed it. They were so close; he would only have to lean forward to…

But he stopped himself. He needed to know, first, “Do we ever combine again?”

This close, Hook could see Prowl’s lenses as they contracted, narrowing as he straightened himself into the rigid, unreadable posture Hook was more familiar with. Not mission relevant, he guessed, but not irrelevant, either. The futures Prowl described sounded… weird, but good. The team stayed together, got work doing things they were good at. He didn’t know how he felt about their employers, Autobots or aliens, but he could handle anyone if it meant he was with the whole team.

Could if be whole, though, if they were missing their giant, invisible seventh? The thought stung, a sharp pinch he felt in his inactive combination ports. To never again feel Long Haul’s ambition, Mixmaster’s curiosity, Bonecrusher’s protectiveness, Scavenger’s blend of emotions they’d never been able to put words to… Prowl’s brilliance… When they combined, the best parts of his favorite mechs flowed into him, meshed with his own processor to produce something greater, a feeling that they would never have to worry about being alone. Combining had become the means by which they understood each other, and even if they stayed together for centuries, he couldn’t see how they would last through millennia without it.

This was fear, he realized, even as the rattling inside of him stilled.

“Hook.” Gentle hands on his frame again: one back to cradling his helm, the other squeezing his arm, rubbing glyph-like patterns along the plating. Unfamiliar though they were, Hook found himself leaning into the touches. “Remember, that was all hypothetical. I can’t tell you what happens in the future. But I can tell you this: it’s good. No, better than that. It’s peaceful.”

“What does that mean?” Hook asked, even as his optics threatened to power down. When was the last time they’d recharged?

“What do you think it means?”

Prowl didn’t want to kill them. They fragged a lot. All the pests left them alone. They made a living working hard, working for themselves, without Shockwave or Starscream or Autobots telling them what to do. They were together.

If he was being honest, though, then Prowl probably knew all of that, and there were more pressing matters.

“What am I supposed to do with all this?” Hook asked.

His gaze had shifted down. He realized this when gentle persuasion from Prowl’s hand had him look up again, and he was met with those unfamiliar purple optics.

“You were on the right track,” Prowl said. “You go find me, and you say what needs to be said. We go from there.”

“But what is it? What do I say?” He didn’t care anymore if it sounded like begging; this was too important. He couldn’t screw it up. For as weird as this Prowl was, the futures he described sounded worthwhile. Hook wanted it, he realized, regardless of whether they could combine. It would be more work, to learn how to know each other without a direct connection, but it would be worth it to keep Prowl in their lives. For a few centuries, forever, anywhere in between, would be worth it.

Prowl’s expression softened again, his doorwings giving little flutters, and Hook wondered if he’d somehow revealed what he was thinking anyway.

“You’re going to keep this secret for a long time,” Prowl said. “From the other Constructicons, and especially from me. Once we’re collectively in a steadier place, then you’ll tell me about it. You need to tell me about this conversation, and that I need to trace our steps back through the mission and doctor things, a bit.”

“You…”

“Just a few details, to make me notice you all more, question some conclusions I’d come to,” Prowl specified. “Trigger one of Mesothulas’ experiments to combust; make Bonecrusher think I’m about to walk into a firefight.”

“You were the one leading me around Cybertron!” Hook gasped. “When you—past you took off, you knew where to find him!”

“My directions were a little off, but I got you there in time,” Prowl agreed. He sighed, a pleasant sound, pulling back again as his expression turned serious. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Hook. All I have to offer is my trust that you will do this to the best of your abilities, and in return I’m asking you to trust me that, regardless of the details, it will be worth it. The conversation we’re about to have is…” But he stopped himself, started over. “I’m asking you to give me another chance. Can you do that?”

“Of course, Prowl,” Hook said. The answer was automatic. Regardless of the weird paint and far-fetched stories, he knew in his spark that this was still his teammate. “Always.”

Another smile. Hook realized that there were more to look forward to, in some hypothetical distant future, and a tentative excitement built in his spark. Yes, he could trust Prowl.

“I know,” Prowl said. He reached forward again, wrapping his fingers around Hook’s hand just long enough to squeeze, before letting go and stepping back as time started to stitch itself over and around him. “See you again soon.”

Then Prowl was gone, and Hook was alone. Something stirred within him, an old feeling, pointing off to the side. He turned toward it, letting it guide his steps until eventually he came upon the past.

He’d only heard rumors of the Arctic, a dreadful patch of Earth that was cold enough to freeze the fuel in your lines and with snow high enough to swallow a Cybertronian. Stumbling into the past, he was a little disappointed at what had turned out to be an exaggeration. Not a lot, just thinking it might have been cool. The snow barely covered his pedes, just enough to make driving a pain, though not impossible. He reasoned it wouldn’t be necessary, though, going by the deep tracks that led away from the portal and into a covering of dark trees. There wasn’t room for hesitation here: Hook stepped into the tracks and let them guide him forward. If Prowl had been lying, Hook would know soon enough.

He wasn’t surprised when the barrel of a gun appeared through the trees.

“I warned you, Hook,” Prowl said, stepping out. He didn’t have his finger on the trigger, but Hook raised his hands in surrender.

“We’re not great at the whole listening thing.”

“I’ve noticed.” Prowl’s optics, familiar blue, narrowed. He glanced to either side, not taking his sight off Hook for longer than a nanoklik. “Where are they?”

“The rest of the team?”

Cold silence.

“They stayed behind,” Hook said. “I told them to. I screwed up, so it’s on me to make things…” Well, not right. That had been future Prowl’s whole point, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity he’d been given. “We need one more chance,” he tried instead.

“This was your chance,” Prowl said, his hand tightening around the gun, “and you failed. I can’t trust you to follow orders or respect my decisions. How do I know you wouldn’t have killed Springer on sight?”

There was no victory in learning their target’s identity; what had once seemed so crucial, the in that would give them access to everything else Prowl was holding back, became insignificant when spat from a face glowing with hate.

“Do you want to know why I really chose you?” Prowl asked.

Hook did. He didn’t. It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t the one holding the gun.

“You aren’t the only bonded Cybertronians still alive. There are other active combiner teams, and even splitspark twins would have done the job. I picked you,” Prowl’s doorwings trembled, “because I knew I could live with it if the timestream killed you all.”

Hook’s internals shifted. He hadn’t thought he’d expected an explanation like that, but he found no trace of surprise in his systems, nothing to indicate that this was outside of Prowl’s usual behavior. He’d been more shocked to wake up to that message left over their comms, a cryptic command left while they recharged, and it was that realization that had his engine rumbling in arrhythmic pulses.

“The timestream?” he managed to ask. Any other part of the admission would have been impossible to address.

“We’re not built to exist in a place like that, let alone survive,” Prowl said. “Excess exposure gradually tears your spark across multiple dimensions, photon by photon. Agonizing, and once you’re sealed in, eternal.” His optic flared. “I was ready to see every one of you fall to it.”

He couldn’t help it, Prowl’s stare too intense, his tone too earnest: Hook thought of Scavenger. The wild, honest fear he would feel, to be trapped in a place like that, and it was all he could do to keep his systems running normally. He forced a memory in, played it back multiple times until it maxed out his processing power and the dreadful fantasy was pushed aside: gentle hands, a kind voice. A promise.

“What about you?” he asked. Another chance. “You’ve exposed yourself just as much. More, since you can’t even sit out. What’s going to happen to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Prowl snapped.

The deflection was exactly what Hook needed to banish the ugly thoughts from his mind entirely, because it did matter. The future he’d envisioned was staked on Prowl being alive, and he wasn’t about to let anyone risk that, least of all Prowl himself. Hook wanted to assure him of this, but his first instinct was to step forward and Prowl’s finger moved to the trigger.

“Don’t!” Prowl shouted.

Hook froze. His arms dropped to his sides and stayed there, where they wouldn’t be taken as a threat. He knew to be wary of a scared mech holding a gun, but for each moment that passed he became more aware of the fact that it hadn’t gone off.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Prowl,” Hook said. What were they supposed to do next? “We need to talk.”

“You’re a bunch of brutes who kill without remorse and decimate populations for fun,” Prowl said. “You forced yourselves into my mind and took whatever you wanted. What could you possibly want to talk about now?”

The same thing he’d been shown in the timestream, just phrased in a few more words. For as gorgeous as Prowl’s mind was, as endlessly fascinating and precise and meticulously designed, it wasn’t something Hook had been offered. He’d taken, grabbed for that beautiful thing, because that was how you got anywhere in the Decepticons: you grabbed the things you wanted and stepped on anyone who tried to keep you from them. The whole team had been operating on that hard-learned principle when they drew Prowl in that first time, not realizing that by doing so, they’d inadvertently been crushing the mech, too.

That had been the basis for their new team, and it was a structurally stable as a building without supports, a project with no plan. They’d jumped straight to the best parts and doomed the whole structure to fail.

“We won’t touch you again, if that’s what you want,” he said. He turned his palms toward Prowl, though kept them low. “We’ll give you space. We won’t get repaired. We—”

“Your combination ports?”

“Yeah.” Didn’t matter that he hadn’t gotten the rest of the team in on the idea, yet. He would find a way to keep that promise if it were what Prowl wanted.

“You would put Devastator to death,” Prowl said. The wording made Hook a bit queasy, too reminiscent of Scrapper, but he nodded. “How? What are you if you can’t combine?”

A team, Hook’s spark wanted to say, but he stopped himself. Something had been lost in translation when they’d tried that before, he was sure, and maybe specificity here would ease whatever steps lay ahead.

“You took my spot,” he said. “I used to be Devastator’s head. Mechs who never saw us combined assumed it had to be Scrapper, since he was the leader, but he was a leg. Bombshell had to reformat me, because it was easier than making you bulky enough to hold up everyone’s weight.”

Prowl’s optics narrowed, and even from this distance Hook swore he could hear his processor working, plugging in all the variables to try to figure out where this was headed. Hook sped up: he needed to be the one to say it out loud.

“We didn’t need Scrapper to be the head to be an effective leader, and we didn’t want you to take over from him because you became the new head. Where you fit in Devastator and your role on the team are two different things, and we want to keep you as the leader. Or whatever you want to call it. You don’t have to stay a part of Devastator to do that.”

Four million years ago, on a planet that existed permanently in the past, the Constructicons had been a nameless construction crew, its foreman an imperfect and brilliant mech. Scrapper had the gift of a clear vision and ability to maximize his crew’s innate abilities, and it was under his leadership that they found purpose among the lowest rungs of Cybertronian society. They’d become a team deep in the foundations of future skyscrapers and city blocks, and when the benefits of that spilled into their off hours, Hook had thought nothing would ever compare. Scrapper’s death should have signaled the end of a dream. Instead, it had opened a door to something strange and new, and though the other side was looking less and less like what they were leaving behind, Hook knew that they had to go ahead through.

Prowl’s optic was still narrowed, but his finger was back to the barrel of his gun.

“I said I would kill you if you came after me,” he said. “How do we trust each other if you can’t hold me to that?”

“We’re a team,” Hook answered. “I’m going to take back what I said earlier. We’re not going to ask for another chance to prove it, because we’d just screw it up again. This time, we don’t make it about proving anything. Megatron threw us all into this without a plan or nothing, because nobody thought we’d stick together this long. We need to sit down, figure out what we’re doing, and then go after Springer or whoever. Once we’ve got our schematics down.”

He thought about turning his back on Prowl, a show of trust, but decided against it. There was a difference between trust and stupidity, and he liked to avoid being accused of the latter when possible.

The gun stayed pointed at him several seconds longer before, slowly, it lowered, pointed to the halfway point between them. Prowl’s optic was still fixed, but his doorwings no longer trembled.

“I’ll come with you to the present,” he said. “That’s the only guarantee I’ll make. I’m not promising to talk, or even that I won’t shoot the rest of the team on sight. Just that I will accompany you back through the timestream. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Hook said, and now he did turn around, following the tracks back to the tear in time. His footsteps were the only sound for a moment, before he heard the gentle crunch of another following him, their strides matching the prints in the snow.

#maccadam #prowl week #prowlastator #prowl #constructicons #transformers #my writing #longfic #schematics #peace

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