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spilledkauffie · 3 years

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Shopping Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female!Reader Word count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Sherlock realises he may have met his match. . . . in Christmas shopping by his fiancé until he finds the perfect gift. (featuring John!) I know this one isn't my best, but hopefully it makes someone smile

The apartment was quiet, as it usually was when Sherlock was working, unless of course experiments were required, then everything was off the table. But for now, John sat in his usual chair as Sherlock stared at a wall filled with images, codes, scrambled words, and other miscellaneous items taped, strung, and hung together. There was only one disturbance: you.

Entering the apartment, there were several shopping bags, neatly stacked up your forearms, as you simply refused second trips, especially to a cab. There were small jingles and jangles coming from the bags as you turned to shut the door as quietly as possible, remembering he was working. Sherlock looked over his shoulder subtly, seeing you give a wince that said ‘sorry for the noise,’ a smile pulled at his lips, but the quiet didn’t last long, when you saw John.

“John!” You exclaimed brightly, while catching your breath from lugging everything upstairs, “I didn’t know you were going to be here, I thought you’d be out for the holidays?”

“No, he’s of absolute necessity here,” Sherlock answered for him.

John got up from his chair to take a few bags off your tired arms, “he forgot I was here, twice,” he whispered, making you giggle, “you should have texted, I would have helped you carry these up.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Wait- you can’t see that one,” you held one bag away from his helping hand with a soft smile.

John smiled back at you; “you didn’t,” he tilted his head.

“John, you're practically family, of course I’m getting you a Christmas present,” you kissed his cheek.

“Well, thank you. I can’t wait to see what it is,” John set down the rest of the bags by Sherlock’s chair where you were putting the rest in a small circle, “I truly have no idea what it could be, how did you pick?”

“I’m a bit of a skilled shopper, if I don’t say so myself,” you squeezed your shoulders up, and spoke with a humble tone. Seeing John’s interest you continued, “I seriously don’t know what it is, I just have an instinct on what people want for Christmas.”

“Really-” John began, fascinated.

“You’ve learned from the best, that’s how,” Sherlock added, looking over his shoulder again.

“What?” you blankly stared at him.

“Christmas shopping, and shopping for another person in general, is really just reasoning,” he explained joining the conversation by your side, “therefore you determine what they like, you narrow down to what they have and don’t have, and make a selection from missing items. You build your own list and pick from there.”

“That is not the same as really Christmas shopping,” you objected, crossing your arms, “it’s about what makes you think of that person, what you think will make that person happy, or maybe what they need, but it’s mostly what you feel will bring a smile. That’s why I don’t even need a list, it’s from the heart. Sometimes it doesn’t even have to be a physical gift, how about that, figure that one out.”

Sherlock smiled in disbelief at you, causing you to drop your jaw and furrow your brows at his lack of faith.

“It’s true,” John spoke up, “I didn’t even make a list, and she got me something, I have no idea what,” he looked to you with an amazed smile, “I mean, really!”

“Oh please, it's those shoes you circled in the paper three weeks ago,” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Sherlock,” you dropped your arms, scolding him in disappointment, John brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples as he shook his head.

“Oh good, that says I’m right,” Sherlock straightened up proudly, before looking down to you.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for him,” you groaned, looking over to John apologetically.

“Really, it’s okay,” John tried to mend the situation, “after all, there’s still stuff I don’t know. Like I don’t know what colour they are-”

“Brown with buckles, obviously,” Sherlock answered, realising quickly with your glare and John’s that it was not something he should have shared; the room was quiet again, “well, I can’t help you were ogling them and she wrote it down in her phone and I happened to connect the two obvious facts.”

Now John’s jaw dropped, “I don’t ogle shoes,” he stated, offended.

“You are the worst,” you said slowly and clearly, with a frustrated expression, turning to Sherlock.

“Actually papers say I’m the best,” Sherlock tilted his head with a smile.

Smirking yourself, you took one step closer, staring up at him, “have you ever considered that you’re the best because you’re the only one?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answered quickly, “wait- what?”

“Yeah,” you nod, tongue in cheek, “if you’re the only one of course you’re the best, but if there’s a best category there has to be a worst category and with only one subject, it, in this case you, holds both titles equally. You are simultaneously the best and the worst.”

You proudly smile at Sherlock’s following quietness while he stared down at you.

“Now I remember why you two are getting married,” John chuckled, picking up the newspaper before sitting back down.

“Allegedly, we don’t even have a date yet, “ you rolled your eyes.

“Well, miss best at Christmas shopping because it’s all in the heart,” Sherlock says with a tone of sass, “maybe I will just have to knock you off your throne.”

“It’s not about competition,” you said, disheartened that he just didn’t see the holiday spirit the same, “it’s about what comes from feelings and care and LOVE.”

“She’s right, and really, Christmas shopping? You?” John laughed again, bringing the attention to him; you gave a look of agreement and Sherlock glared, “well, I just mean- honesty, like you’re going to know what to get people for Christmas? I have never seen you Christmas shopping for someone.”

With John's statement you thought back to the years you’d been dating Sherlock, and John was right, there’d never been Christmas presents from him.

Sherlock groaned, “did I not just explain how it is a process that happens to be similar to one I employ myself? I can easily find the most perfect Christmas present, better than yours, without a list, but based on my own reasoning, not emotions. Is that a deal?” He turned to you, “I find you a Christmas present, I get to be labelled the best Christmas gifter?”

“You- you don’t want to give any emotional thought to it?”you asked.

“Who needs it?” Sherlock shrugged, “so?”

You shook your head, sitting down in Sherlock’s chair, avoiding his eyes, “fine, but in the meantime try not telling everyone what I got them, and that includes Mycroft.”

Sherlock jolted, “you got Mycroft a Christmas present?”

“Yes,” you answered shortly.

“Don’t invite him to the-”

“I already did.”

“And he’s too busy?” Sherlock squinted hopefully.

“And he’s happy to attend!” you snapped around looking at Sherlock with teary eyes. John saw and felt a bit of heartbreak, when you noticed, you sniffled and reached into a bag, “here, John, have them now, I’ll find something else special, I promise.” You tried your best to put on a genuinely happy smile when you handed him the box.

“No, it’s okay, it is,” he tried to urge you, but you shook your head with a smile and a tear rolling down your cheek, before you began taking out wrapping paper.

John held the box and stared at Sherlock with more frustrated passion than before.

“Alright, I need some air. We’re going out tonight,” Sherlock announced.

“I don’t want to go out,” you replied.

“Not you. John,” Sherlock stated, headed to his bedroom. You paused your unboxing and closed your eyes for a moment.

“I am really so sorry,” John took the opportunity to crouch beside you, rubbing your back.

“It’s not your fault, and I know it’s just the way he is,” you wiped away the stray tears, “I just- what you said made me realise he’d never gotten Christmas presents before, and now that he is I wanted it to be special, and I thought, maybe he’d think of something just because,” your lip quivered and you looked to John, “just because he loved me, not out of logic. He knows I love Christmas, he knows I love him, I just want to be reminded that it goes the other way too,” you shrugged and turned back to the pretty paper tubes.

John nodded, hearing Sherlock call for him to get ready, they were leaving. With a very brief goodbye to you, they were off. Sherlock breathed in the cold air of London and made his way down the street, John, as ever, trailing beside him. The first stop was the bookstore, but then Sherlock realised you had most of the books you liked. Second up was a clothing store, nothing. Third was makeup, fourth was a tea house, fifth was a home goods store, six was a film store, and the search continued for hours.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sherlock stated, mind racing, “if I’m about to marry her, why can’t I find a single gift for her?”

John was rubbing his hands together to keep them warm, “well, that’s probably why, she’s a complete mystery, to you at least,” Sherlock gave a questioning look, “that’s why you like her, she’s not an open book, yet she’s open. It confuses you and you like the mystery.”

John chuckled to himself.

“Well, it’s a simple Christmas present, what does she like, what does she want most of all?” Sherlock went through his head, “if I find something that even she hasn’t thought of we’ll see who’s the best then,” Sherlock announced.

“No, no, no,” John stopped in his tracks, making Sherlock have to stop and walk back to him. With hands in his pockets John raised his hands, “that’s not what it's about, she doesn’t want a title, or to be better than you. She was just saying she’s good with gifts, and then she only wanted you to actually get something from your heart not your head now that you’ve finally decided to do something.”

Sherlock paused, looking down for a good while, “you got all that from what she said?”

“Yes,” John nodded, “and, well, I asked so she told me.”

“Why wouldn’t she just tell me?” Sherlock inquired.

“She did, actually, care and love were both mentioned, but didn’t you hear her? It’s supposed to be a surprise, it’s supposed to be genuine,” John explained, “if someone tells you exactly what they want then you’re just being the middleman, if you think of them and know them enough, it shows you care and love them.”

“You should be a poet,” Sherlock sighed thoughtfully.

“Look I know you’re not good with this-” John began, receiving an offended glare, “but hear me out, she wants something special and important, that means something more because it came from you, even if you think it’s simple. Like she said, it doesn’t even have to be a physical item, just something with a little heart in it. Maybe something she won’t expect from you? So let’s see, you know she loves Christmas, you know she loves you, obviously, and-”

Suddenly it clicked, “Christmas, me, something she wouldn’t expect,” Sherlock said, and headed back to 22lB in a run.

“Right, I’ll catch a cab then,” John said, really to himself.

You had made yourself cosy at Baker Street, hot chocolate in a mug, fireplace aglow with a crackling fire, and soft Christmas soundtracks playing in the background. A chunky sweater and leggings were the outfit as you spent the day wrapping presents and writing Christmas cards you’d ask Sherlock to sign later.

It nearly made you spill your hot chocolate when Sherlock burst through the door out of breath. The rolls had swapped since this morning. Setting the mug down and standing up, you were about to address the situation that occurred in the morning, but Sherlock had something else in mind. Taking only a few steps to reach you, Sherlock took your face in his hands and dipped to kiss you. You squeaked at the sudden action and placed your hands on Sherlock’s wrists. When he pulled back you perked your eyebrows as if asking for an explanation, knowing that there had to be one.

Still holding your face in his hands, he spoke, quickly and slightly out of breath, “I was wrong,” he began, “I can’t think of a Christmas present for you, because you are a complete mystery to me, and I love that. You embody the Christmas spirit and I can’t beat or even match that,” you were about to speak, shaking your head, but he continued, “all I can ask is that this Christmas you give me the gift of getting to call you my wife sooner.”

You froze, stuttering, “w-what?”

“Marry me? Christmas Eve?” Sherlock asked.

“But- but what about the plans, and the invitations. You’re never this spontaneous-“

“With you I want to be, I'm sorry I tried to logically think of something for you,” he smiled, almost whispering as he pressed his forehead down to yours, “I know that's not what you want. Truthfully, the only thing I can give you is my heart, and you already have it, so please? Let's make it official?”

You shook your head against his, this time a wide smile across your lips, “okay,” you shrugged, “yeah, okay, Christmas Eve it is! Are- are you sure though?”

“Never been more sure,” Sherlock stated.

“And that is really saying something,” John interjected, finally coming through the door.

#spilledkauffie #sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock fanfic #johnlock #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fandom #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch

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oh-holy-slut · 3 years

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Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her. On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips. "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them. It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible.

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..."

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin.

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip.

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body.

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath.

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

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lonslibrary · 3 years

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3 moments between the crow couples during their time at hogwarts

1. an unknown part of wylan and jesper’s somewhat disastrous amortentia story comes moments after jesper pulled wylan in for a kiss by his tie, causing the rest of their classmates to erupt in cheers and applause so loud that professor snape’s “boys! in the hall, now!” went unheard. minutes later, when they had actually been led out of the classroom to wait for their punishment, wylan finally worked up the courage to meet jesper’s eyes, his face almost as red as his hair. jesper’s grin was radiant. “so. butterbeer and my cologne, huh?”

it took all of wylan’s nerve to not sink into the ground where he stood. “i didn’t know today’s lesson was on amortentia,” he muttered, feeling himself flush again.

it took all of jesper’s will not to kiss the younger again right there where he stood with the way the redhead was looking up at him from beneath his long lashes.

“well, what about you?” wylan demanded, rolling his eyes. “let me guess. cards, pumpkin juice, and galleons?”

“no, actually.” jesper replied, spinning his wand in his hand. “i smell grass. gunpowder. and...”

he took a step closer to wylan who stood still, holding his breath. “...and?” the third year asked quietly.

“exploding elixir.”

wylan’s mind shut down.

“the entire room was filled with the same smell from that day we singed snape’s hair,” jesper snorted. “of all things, we had to mess up the potion that smelled like burnt-”

it was wylan who pulled jesper down this time, reaching up on his tippy toes to meet jesper’s soft lips, the ones that had captivated him from the moment he had walked into the potions classroom and saw his new lab partner for the first time.

“fahey, van eck!” snape burst into the hallway. “does it seem possible to keep your hands off of each other?”

“sorry, prof.” jesper winked, eyes still trained on wylan’s mouth. “guess you can say we’ve got...chemistry.”

wylan couldn’t even bring himself to care about detention.

2. nina stifled a laugh, trying to keep a straight face as she watched matthias scan the inside of zonko’s joke shop. she had just gotten matthias to admit that he enjoyed a drink as sweet as butterbeer, hours earlier at the three broomsticks. “you look like you’re inside the shrieking shack, not a joke shop.” nina snickered at the way matthias perked up.

“whatever the shrieking shack is, i think that there’d be more dignity in such a place than...this.” matthias dropped a dungbomb he had picked up like it had personally offended his grandmother.

“why?” nina giggled. she shook the box in her hand. “not a fan of ton-tongue toffees?”

matthias made a face that looked like he was more than just not a fan. “if it’s anything like those jelly beans you fed me on the train, then no.”

that only made nina laugh harder. “i swear you picked the worst ones! you should’ve seen your face when you tried the rotten egg flavor.”

matthias cracked a smile, relaxing a little amongst the colorful store and his girlfriend’s laughter. he picked up another product, a pink bottle corked at the top. “what does this one do?”

nina lowered her voice, gesturing for matthias to come closer, as if letting him in on a secret. “that one’s a love potion. one drop of it in someone’s drink and they’re yours,” she whispered. “they’ll think about you all day.”

matthias jerked away, putting the bottle back on the shelf. “you can’t be serious. love can’t be made like that!” he sputtered.

“i don’t know, durmstrang,” nina teased. “what if i bought one and slipped some in your pumpkin juice tomorrow at breakfast?”

matthias only crossed his arms, continuing to grimace. “well, that wouldn’t work at all.”

“why not? zonko’s is pretty reliable when it comes to their products.” she said pointedly, looking at the extendable ears on sale.

“because i’m already in love with you.” matthias stated simply.

nina froze, turning to her boyfriend. during her time dating matthias, the hufflepuff had proven to be narrow minded and straightforward as a broom doing any and every thing. it was moments like these she was reminded that this included during his expressions of affection, and nina couldn’t love him more for it.

“i’m in love with you, too.” she declared, slipping her hand into her boyfriend’s. she had always liked...brooms. “now, come on. i want to see if we can get kaz to fall for a trick wand.”

3. all inej had wanted was a quiet place to study that wasn’t the library. she liked to practice with her wand for transfiguration, and magic wasn’t allowed in the library. she had been wandering the school for an empty classroom or quiet corner when the room of requirement had appeared at the end of a hallway, exactly moments before she was about to give up and return to the gryffindor common room. she was only half surprised when she opened the door and saw kaz, but like always, kaz hadn’t seemed surprised at all when she entered. he sat on top of a desk with his cane leaned against it, wand out, in the middle of a silent spell. inej let her eyes trail over his robe perched on a chair, his gloves off and set aside in a rare moment, and his uniform sleeves pulled up to his elbows.

“first time here?” kaz asked, not looking up from the book in his lap. his rough voice echoed slightly in the large room as inej scanned her surroundings. the room was empty besides a couple of desks and chairs in one corner, a cluttered pile of objects in another, and a big wardrobe that looked ages old. a fireplace on the wall kept the room warm, and a small chandelier hung above inej’s head.

“guess i didn’t require much until now.” inej shrugged, pulling a desk and chair of her own towards the center of the room. “you?”

kaz closed his book, finally looking up at inej. “i come and go when i want.”

inej wanted to know more about what had revealed the room to kaz in the first place, but she redirected the question away from kaz himself, knowing it was unlikely he would answer. “get anything out of it?” with kaz, it was all about gain.

kaz drummed his fingers on his desk. inej tried not to stare. “some crying first years with who miss their mums. i think i’ve witnessed a bit of every couple in the school’s snogging.” he pulled out a handful of extendable ears from his robe pocket. “snape’s planning something. don’t know the details yet, but something big.”

inej nodded. part of her expected kaz to leave, speak with his silence as he tended to do, but he continued to sit and look at inej, book in lap. inej knew him well enough to recognize that while it wasn’t exactly an invitation, kaz wasn’t saying no to a conversation. she could’ve started with a less risky question about snape’s plans, or asked for the names of the couples in their year, just to know, but inej was curious about other things.

“and how did you find this place, kaz?”

“the de kappel painting.” he said casually. “i needed a place to hide it.”

inej froze, taken aback by kaz’s answer. or more accurately, his willingness to answer. “so it’s true?” she questioned, hoping her voice didn’t give away her surprise. “the gringotts vault rumor.” she had half believed them to begin with, knowing kaz’s abilities but never his motives. still, kaz had never confirmed it with anyone as far as she had known.

“true enough.” kaz reopened his book, attention back on the page. inej inwardly sighed. the satisfaction of knowing kaz trusted her enough to confirm the gringotts rumor didn’t last long. figures kaz wouldn’t want to talk much about himself.

“but that’s a story for next time.” kaz flipped a page, the slightest start of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

next time, inej turned over in her head. she tried not to smile as she opened her own book. she could work with next time.

author’s note (pls read!) this is my first time on tumblr so idk how to use it too well but i’m overwhelmed by all the nice responses so thank you all so, so much. i see everything!! idk if there’s like poll mechanisms and stuff on tumblr (argh help) but i wanted to gauge what everyone would like next—im deciding between six of crows x pjo or shadow and bone x harry potter, so comment below what you’d like to see first (: i’d also love to hear abt any personal requests so my dms (is that what they’re called here?) are open for suggestions. no promises, but lmk if there’s something you want to read. feel free to get as niche as you want, respectfully! ok ik this is super long god bless your soul if u actually read the entire thing but finally, i just wanted to introduce myself—i’m lynn, this is my library and i dabble in most fandoms! my goal is to get at least one piece of writing out every month, so if you’d like to read what i write, follow along! OK im finally done, i swear. thank you again for the tremendous support. unbelievable. happy reading!

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dreaming-of-brawlstars · 3 years

Text

Finally finished Princess Shelly’s Grand Escape. I’m actually thinking of continuing this?

Desc: Once Upon A Brawl, a Princess wakes up in a tower. She’s not happy about it, not knowing how she got there, but despite the fact that she was kidnapped in the first place, she can handle this on her own.

Shelly woke up in… a bed. A bed she didn’t recognize. It was too soft, too warm, and everything seemed a little fuzzy. She rose a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes, yawning, and felt something off. When she paused to see if something was on her hands, she notices that she was wearing gloves.

“What the…?” She blinked, clearing her vision to examine it closer. A white glove with makeup and glitter smudged onto it from her wiping her face. “Huh?”

She didn’t wear makeup. Or gloves. Part of her brain tried to tell that this was normal, to go back to sleep, but she shoved it aside. She looked down at herself, noticing that she was wearing a frilly blue dress. It felt more like a costume than clothing.

“I am definitely not dreaming anymore.” She mumbled as she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand up. She heard clinking as her feet hit the ground. “Okay what is this-“

She pulled the shirt of her dress up to look at her feet, seeing that she was wearing glass slippers. Her mind raced, trying to figure out how in the world she ended up in this unfamiliar bedroom in a frilly blue dress.

“This is getting ridiculous-“ She attempted to stand up, only to wobble a bit. She took a breath and steadied herself before standing up straight in the heels. “How can anyone stand these?”

She attempted to walk across the room, cursing whenever she stumbled in the slippers. Finally she gave up, pulling them off and storming to the window to see where she was. The sky above her was dark, the sun long gone, and there were stars scattered throughout it.

“Wherever I am I clearly am going crazy.” She shook her head. “No, no. Not crazy, this is crazy but I’m not. Where’s my-“

She looked around, noticing a strange looking green object on the floor by her bed. She picked it up by the handle, trying to make out any details. It was designed to look like a frog. By why a-

The ‘frog’ started snapping at her, and on reflex she punched it, still holding onto the handle. She hollered out curses as she held it away from her face, not interested in getting bitten, and warily watched it snap at her again.

“The heck are you!?” She had half a mind to throw the thing, but something in its mouth caught her eye. Squinting, she could see the gleam of a shotgun barrel in its jaws. “…huh.”

‘There it is.’ She thought, and as she aimed the gun’s barrel - and face - away from her, holding it at the same level as her chest. ‘That’s my gun.’

This felt way, way too weird to be real. She didn’t need to be a doctor to know she couldn’t possibly be asleep and in some kind of strange dream, and the fact that she was holding a gun that was apparently a frog made everything feel even weirder.

“Whoa, okay, firstly. Don’t shoot me. Okay? Second: What the heck? Who the heck are you? And why do you have my gun - why are you my gun? Third: If you want to bite, do so now because I really don��t want to hurt you or anything. Like ever again. Just-“ The frog-gun-thing bit her arm. “OW!! What was that for!?”

It hissed, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ay, ay, ay! Are you done? Stop biting me!” The frog let out another hiss, and she swore it laughed at her. She groaned in annoyance. “If you behave, I won’t throw you out the window. Deal?” The frog clicked, letting out an affirmative noise, which Shelly assumed meant yes, so she sighed and relaxed for a moment.

“This is insane. My frog is a gun, I’m in some weird tower, and-“ She started pacing, waving her hands around as she noticed a lock of her hair fall her face. “And my hair is pink!?” She stopped, staring at the lock before throwing the pink hair off her face. “This has got to be a trick! This isn’t real!”

She kept screaming and ranting about how much she was hallucinating while she stared at herself. At last she stopped and slumped against the wall, her breathing heavy. She was still panicking and she didn't seem capable of calming down. She glanced over at the door, and she couldn’t if it was even locked. With a deep sigh she walked over to it, slowly sliding her hand over the doorknob, and attempted to yank it open.

Nothing. Locked. She cursed to herself.

Sighing once more Shelly slid back to the wall and sank into it, leaning forward so that her forehead rested on the cool surface. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths.

"Calm down." She told herself. "You're fine. There's no reason to freak out right now, okay?"

She looked at the frog-gun she held, trying to smile at it reassuringly. Then an idea dawned upon her, and her smile widened. She stood up, holding the frog-gun ready as she faced the door, aiming it.

"One shot..." She muttered. "One shot..."

She heard something ont the other side, and she froze. She saw light from something very bright, and she squinted, shielding her eyes.

She had no idea if this guy was a friend or foe, but for her own sake, she was going to guess the latter. But she was also eager to get out. So maybe… Okay, she wasn’t going to kill the guy, but she would have the frog ready.

She looked around the room for anything else. She noticed the slippers, and as much as she didn’t want to wear them, the felt important. She she grabbed them, deciding to carry them instead. She held the frog-gun at her side and turned to the door again, ready to knock it down.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself, and kicked the door down with surprisingly no effort. As soon as she did, she raised her gun quickly, pointing it at whoever was behind the door.

She must’ve knocked him down when she knocked down the door. He was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head as a mask covered his face. A cutout mask with a cartoony face she vaguely recognized, but she didn’t care. She aimed the frog at him, just in time for him to move the mask to stare down the barrel as it opened its jaws

He didn’t try to make any sudden movements, but he was clearly nervous.

“What?” She asked. “Not gonna make a move? Too scared?”

She waited, expecting him to say something, to attack. To fight or run. Anything. But he stayed quiet. She took a step towards him, raising the gun as she walked closer.

“Are you my rescuer?” She asked, her voice lowering. “Or are you my kidnapper?” She stopped near him, watching closely as he looked at her, fear and confusion apparent on his face. It made sense; they never met before, of course he wouldn’t know her and she didn’t recognize him.

But he did.

“Sh-Shelly, it’s me, Colt?” He spoke up, reaching his hand out toward her. “Please put the gun down, please-.”

She paused in disbelief, staring wide eyed at him, and lowering the gun slowly in response. She blinked a few times but refused to lower the weapon, instead holding it tighter.

“The wizard sent me - Byron - it’s a long story…” Colt tried to explain, still looking at the shotgun in his face. “Please lower the frog…”

“The Wizard sent you? Why the hell are you here and what do you mean, long story?” She snapped. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because it’s the truth.” Colt replied, “And I’ll explain everything, we just need to-“

“Kiss me.” Her voice went low, almost threatening.

“Wha-, uh,” he stuttered, paling as he swallowed a lump in his throat. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Since I’m stuck in some fantasy freakshow, I’m assuming you’re probably my ‘prince charming’ and our ‘true love’s kiss’ is probably going to break wherever curse I’m under, and I have every reason to believe I’m cursed!” With her waking up in a weird room, seeing a gun as a frog, and her magically being a Princess, she was getting somewhat desperate. “So, kiss me already, you dolt!”

“Haha,” he choked out, still pale. “N… not funny, Shelly. Look. It’s not funny, alright?!” She glared at him, raising the gun.

“I’m serious! Break this stupid curse or so help me-“

“Okay!” He threw his arms up, and he seemed to have enough courage then to yell in exasperation, as if he was just as stressed. “I got your message! I didn’t expect you to remember me, I didn’t expect you to even recognize me! But if you do remember, if you actually remember that we were friends, well, you should probably listen to whatever I have to say. You might want to take your finger off the trigger, too…” She hesitated, her grip on her gun loosening a little. “That’s the thing, Shelly. We’re friends? Yes. Sure, we were good friends, once,” he said softly, “You probably don’t remember that…”

She frowned. “You’d be correct.” He nodded, his brows furrowed together as he sighed.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not. Not exactly, anyways. But… I am here to rescue you from wherever it is you are. So…” Colt glanced at the door and the remains of it on the ground. “You - you probably have that handled. Right?” She scoffed.

“Of course I can handle myself. I’m a princess.” She reminded him, raising her eyebrows sarcastically. “Now, why don’t you tell me why this is happening?” She demanded.

“Oh, right, sorry. Yeah, uh, Byron - who’s a wizard now - sent me to save you.”

Something clicked, and Shelly turned to the frog in her hands. Things seemed to shift into place.

“Oh, he’s the one that gave me you.” She pat it’s head, a little roughly. But it seemed to like that. “I remember you~!” She continued, a bit quieter than before. “So… he must’ve been worried about you. And he sent you, but then he decided not to come himself. He’s really irresponsible.”

“Uh… Yeah, kinda. Listen…” Colt scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “He is sending help, but we need to get out of here first. They should be coming soon.”

“Well let’s go!” Shelly grabbed Colt’s wrist and started running, dragging him along. “So, who are they?”

“There’s Barley, he’s a unicorn knight now. Then Prince Emerald Sprout.” Shelly looked back incredulously, “You’ll recognize them when you see them. They live up to their descriptions.”

“What the heck are you?” Shelly questioned, raising the gun up once against a door. She noticed Colt rummaging through his bag, pulling out two golden pistols.

“I’m - uh - not quite sure. I think I’m just an ordinary man - er, hero – trying to find you. Get you out,” he answered sheepishly.

She scoffed. She knew it was bullshit.

“No. There’s more to it than that. I’m not an idiot, Colt, if that is your real name.” She rolled her eyes, shooting down the door and barreling through to the outside.

“Y’know, usually you’re not the one asking what’s going on.” Colt responded, firing at a small figure approaching them. He seemed to know how to use guns. Good for him.

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to be saving me, obviously.” She shot back, running and looking back briefly to make sure he was following. She slowed down slightly, hearing sirens and looking around.

Those sounded out of place, but she wasn’t sure. Her attention was snapped back to seeing robots around, one raising a gun. She stepped back slightly, backing into Colt.

“What’s going on here?” When she asked that, Shelly swore she heard him snort. “I’m being serious!”

“No time to explain!” Colt seemed to be holding back a laugh. That sounded like a punchline, like it was ironic. “If you stop to explain, you’re a goner! I’ve seen proof!” Colt insisted, aiming his gun at one of the robots while continuing to walk beside her.

“Proof of what?” She yelled back, shooting down another robot that tried to shoot him.

“Poco! Wherever he is, anyway…” Colt spoke quickly, picking off a sniper robot that was aiming for Shelly, then perking up at the sound of shattering glass. “There’s Barley!”

Shelly turned, then looked up to see a knight - a robot - clad in bright colors and sparkles leaping down to help. She closed her eyes as something it threw hit the robot in front of her, shattering and exploding into dust and rainbows. As she squinted open her eyes, she noticed an opening.

She lowered her head and charged through, holding her gun close. As soon as she was out of the dust, she scanned the area, seeing that a fire had started in the village she was in. She didn’t focus on that for long, seeing robots ahead. She leaped, aiming to land on it, and crushed it’s head with her foot before jumping off it’s inverted head to escape the group.

More shattering glass - that sounded like bottles. Looking back, she noticed to vaguely familiar silhouettes dashing through the dust, chasing her. Her eyes widened as two dragons emerged - one pink, one green - recognizing them. Shelly readied her shotgun, shooting at them to knock them back before running.

She dodged robots attempting to grab her, but her focus was on avoiding the dragons. Fortunately, someone had her back. She saw as a sword was flung into the chest of one robot, and then another thrown and slicing into the back of another. Glancing at the direction the swords came from, she noticed a little robot dressed in green wearing a cape with a sword sticking through it’s head.

“Thanks!” She hollered briefly before dodging a punch from one of the dragons, and it gave her small nod before reaching for the sword in it’s head to fling at another robot in her way.

Shelly took one final scan of the situation, thinking quickly. Since everyone else seemed to be focused on the robots, that seemed to leave just her with the dragons that were insistent on chasing her. It was a good thing the robots seemed to be focused on her allies instead of her as well, leaving her with just the dragons.

Either way, she was going to have to deal with them alone. But that wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. As she wove around robots being shredded into shrapnel by bullets, being cut in half by thrown swords, and disappearing into dust and glitter, she turned around with her gun aimed to her pursuers.

They were right in her face, she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, feeling the force before hearing the gun going off in her hands.

“BANG!” She shouted, hearing the blast echoing throughout the entire battlefield. She pulled the trigger again, hearing it’s shots ring in her ears. “Bang, bang, bang!!” She yelled, watching the bullets flying everywhere.

The shells hit their targets; each one hitting the same one in turn. Each time, she felt a sting of satisfaction as the shells went through a target and the force knocking them backward and away. Thrown back, they flew for a few feet before hitting the ground, hard.

She watched as the two dragons turned to smoke and disappeared. With the last one gone, the robots turned to nothing, turning to dust and scrap.

Finally, she stopped firing for a moment, watching the area. She could hear people talking somewhere nearby. She sighed.

“Great job, Shelly…” She muttered quietly under her breath.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?!” Colt called from behind her. She frowned, glancing around.

“Yeah, did you see what I just did?” She pointed to where the two dragons were with her gun, then gestured over to the robots she destroyed. “That was so awesome!” She cheered, throwing her arms in the air victoriously.

She heard slow clapping, and blinked, noticing it was from behind her. She noticed Colt nervously wave at someone she didn’t see, she couldn’t see clearly, because of the dust. She rubbed her eyes before turning around to face them.

As she turned to look, a tall figure appeared.

“Wow. That was amazing. You did incredible.” The figure said as they walked closer to her. “But I think that’s enough excitement for today, don’t you?” They continued, still smiling.

“Who… Are you? What are you?” Shelly narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “And why did you say those things? Are you making fun of me?”

“No, no! Not at all!” The person laughed as he reached her. “Why would I ever do such thing?” He held out his hand towards her. “I mean… I knew you were capable of destruction and handling yourself, even if you did get caught-“

“I broke out on my own.” Shelly retorted, crossing her arms. “I kicked down the door, nearly shot the guy that was sent to save me.” She threw a thumb back at Colt. “I got rid of most of those. I didn’t need rescuing, I was doing fine on my own.” She explained, glaring at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “How many of the robots did you destroy?” Shelly opened her mouth, but he rose his hand. “Aht, look around first.”

Shelly raised a brow before doing so, noticing that while several of the robots had clear indications of being destroyed by a shotgun like hers, several also were melted, had been stabbed or sliced by swords, or had holes through their chest from more precise bullets.

“While handling the dragons on your own was very impressive and no small feat,” He started, first looking at Shelly, “I’m sure not having robots distract you helped a lot. After all, it’s dangerous to go alone-“

“Well I wouldn’t have been alone, I have this thing.” She held up her shotgun, which snapped at the stranger. “It’s a weapon,” She shrugged.

“Yes, I figured.” He nodded, putting up his hands in defence when she swung it towards him. “Okay, okay… You don’t seem to need it now. Lower the frog, please.” When she hesitated, he sighed, lowering his hands. “Lower the frog, please. Or do you want me to take it back?”

“Um…” She stared at the thing. “What’s this about the frog? Do you know how I got it?” She asked cautiously.

“Well of course! I gave it to you! And I am quite sure I would remember giving it to you.” He smiled.

“You… You gave me the… Frog?” She repeated, her voice sounding almost confused, even to her. She looked at it, lowering it, then it dawned on her. “OH. You’re the wizard!”

“Did you just now recognize that I was a wizard?”

“YEAH!” She nodded, laughing a bit. “I mean, I noticed you dressed weird and essentic but I didn’t - it fits you?”

The wizard groaned, his face turning red as he dragged a hand down his face.

“Oh geez, how embarrassing,” He muttered. “Anyway, I should probably start heading towards the town, make sure everything is okay there. So, bye!” He waved his hand, starting to walk away.

Before he got far, Shelly reached out a hand, grabbing his sleeve.

“Wait, I have a feeling you were trying to give me some ‘moral of the story’ or something like that. Y’know, fairytales.” She shrugged, frowning. “And I didn’t get your name. And I want revenge.”

The wizard paused in surprise. “Hmm..” His eyes narrowed slightly, a grin forming on his lips. “Maybe I was…?” He hummed lightly to himself, rubbing his chin. “You know what, I’ll be blunt. I am Byron, the Wizard.” He shrugged. “Moral of the story: I don’t doubt you, nobody should, but it’s dangerous to go alone.”

“But I’m not-“

“Princess, I’m not finished.” He gently cut her off, then called for the attention of the group, gesturing for them to come over. “Everyone, everyone, this story isn’t over just yet. I can show you all the way for your quest.”

“We’ll need higher ground to see our next destination.” Byron rose his staff, pointing at an odd metal frame tower that was bent out of shape by the fight. “Little Prince, come over.”

Shelly watched as the little robot with the sword wheeled over to him, grabbing Byron’s robe. Byron gave Sprout a brief pat on it’s done. With that, Byron slammed his staff on the ground and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Shelly blinked away the dust, noticing her footing was different. She looked down, seeing that she was on the bent metal tower, overlooking the town and horizon. She noticed Barley, who stood securely on it, and Colt, who hung onto a stay metal bar for deal life.

“Ahead,” Byron spoke, and when Shelly saw him he was levitating in the air with Sprout hanging from his robe. He pointed to the castle in the distance. “Is the residence of Evil Dragon Queen Pam, she is the one who captured you.”

“LET’S KICK HER-“ Shelly attempted to jump down, only for Byron to put his staff in front of her to prevent her. “What!?”

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” He repeated firmly. She looked down at the ground, scowling. “You may be able to handle Queen Pam by yourself, but will you be able to handle her forces, her armies, and whatever army of robots they could possibly have?” Shelly pursed her lips and sighed.

“Fine.” She huffed.

“Thank you, Princess.” Byron grinned before disappearing into a puff of smoke. Everyone else followed suit, everyone being back on the ground. “You’ll need people, allies, friends… All I ask of you is help us with the mission.” He added.

“Right.” She mumbled, sighing again. “But I get Pam all to myself, got it?”

“I have no doubts.” Byron chuckled, “Barley, do you have the map?”

“Yep! Here it is!” He said cheerfully, holding it up triumphantly.

“Good job, knight.” He said, patting the robot on the shoulder. “With that map, a good sense of direction, and each other, I have no doubts that you all have everything you need for your quest.”

The group began to talk among themselves excitedly, talking about their tasks and the possible future that awaited the group.

Shelly stared at the map for awhile before she shook herself, smiling. Then she noticed Byron walking off, waiting an arm for an owl to land on as he left.

“Hey, Byron!” She yelled out before she followed after him, waving her free hand over her head. “Aren’t you going to be one of us? You seem so insistent on not going alone.”

He turned his head, raising his hand to wave back. “Well, you can consider me a member of your group, that’s for sure. I’ll help any way I can-”

“Are you coming with us?” Shelly interrupted him.

Barley stopped, turning his head. Byron stared at her for a moment before sighing, closing his eyes. “No. I will not be part of this group.”

“Why?”

“Look, princess, I have my own things to tend to.” Byron crossed his arms. “And I have already given you allies, possible friends, with Barley - a wonderful magical knight, Sprout - a blooming prince, and…” Byron raised an eyebrow at Colt, “…a new companion, yes, the new guy. So, my answer is still no.”

She frowned at his words.

“So, we’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Byron walked away.

Shelly watched him go for a few seconds, before looking down at her map. The map showed where the castle of Evil Queen Pam was located in relation to where they were. That meant…

Shelly took a deep breath, shaking her head as she walked over to her group.

“Alright,” She sighed. “Let’s go. We need to get to the castle. It’s not far at all.”

#[free qwen’s dreams]#brawl stars #Shelly #princess shelly #colt #handsome colt #Byron #wizard Byron #barley #unicorn barley #sprout #prince sprout #writing

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Intro to Caitlyn 102 (Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone! E here with another chapter. been a busy week so this is a little late but with any luck I'll have the next underground chapter out this week or maybe another chapter for this story. dunno I'm just having fun in general. I hope you are all staying safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, get the vaccine if you can, keep each other safe! Feel free to tell your friends about this, reblog it or leave comments I'd greatly appreciate it. Trying promote myself is weird haha Stay safe and have a great week!

If you’d like an easier place to read the story, feel free to follow the link below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76796408

Summary: Caitlyn has her target thanks to one Finnrick Drift and now it's time to break in. After she takes care a few things at home.

-----

Caitlyn sighed as she was unable to keep her eyes off the slivered hue butterfly hair ornament in her palm, the multi-colored glass shards wings stretched wide like it was ready to take flight.

It was beautiful, it was the perfect and it was expensive.

The sliver was real, none of that cheap painted copper or tin or whatever hairclips were normally made of. The different shards of glass had been painstakingly put into place, each fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle which must’ve taken months to do by hand. And true to his word, she could feel the energy of this item, the magical thrum of its power. It no longer felt cold and distant but warm, light and carried a familiarity with it. It was strange to say but it was almost like the ornament was breathing in time with her. Like it was a part of her.

Of course it was, it’s freaking magic! Frankly magic could do whatever the hell it wanted apparently. The real question was what hidden power laid within.

Somehow in the back of her mind she knew how this thing was supposed to work: it granted her some kind of temporary movement. What that meant she hadn’t the slightest clue. She also knew it would only last an hour and would ‘refresh’ at every dawn. Because that’s a thing. And she knew the spoken word needed to activate it. Which of course meant the word was angel.

Caitlyn frowned, unsure what kind of joke this was. Finnrick had specifically called her angel twice: once when they first met and when asked what exactly the hairclip did. Clearly it was some inside joke he was in on. She just wished she was too.

“Hey Cat, you okay? You keep looking at the wall.”

Caitlyn shook herself out of her stupor and found herself staring at wide brown curious eyes that belonged her baby brother Lou.

Louis or Lou as he preferred to be called, was 7 years old (soon to be 8 next month). He had messy black hair with a cute button nose. He wore clothing typical of a child his age: A red shirt with a hero splashed across its front and baggy shorts. His sneakers were worn and frayed which reminded Caitlyn she really needed to get him a new pair. Between his chubby cheeks and the gap in his smile he was the cutest kid in the world. True he was a bit pudgy due to his lack of height though if he was anything like their father, he would grow to tower over her.

Caitlyn sighed sadly: two years and still no word of her parents. One day they just up and vanished. She used to think they had died through some cruel act of fate or misfortune. In her weaker moments, she briefly wondered if they just left Lou and her behind to start a new life.

But now, with the realization there was a whole magical world on top of her own, she couldn’t fathom what could’ve happened to them. Her thoughts were endlessly filled with possibility and none of them good. None of them made the pain hurt less.

She pinched herself as hard as she could. The sharp pain cut through her wandering mind and focused her back on the task at hand.

“I’m fine” She gave a sly smile “But have you finished your sandwich? A nice man bought it for you and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Lou bounced up and down excitedly, pudgy hands tucked into a fist “Yes, yes I did! It was yummy!”

“Awesome!”

“Who was the nice man?” Lou asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side.

“Umm….” Caitlyn was torn: One hand she wasn’t quite sure where her and Finnrick landed on the whole trustworthy scale. On the other hand she couldn’t just say a random name. Lou had an uncanny ability to know when she was lying. Bordering on supernatural sometimes.

She glanced carefully towards her baby brother, searching for any sign of magic or mysticism in his chubby cheeks.

He scrunched his eyes wide and inched closer to her. She blinked, stumbling backwards at his sudden movement.

“I win!” He cheered with a bright smile “You blinked first!”

It took a moment for Caitlyn to process what was going on.

She laughed softly “Yeah kiddo. You win.”

“So what’s the nice man’s name? It’s not Jonas, is it? He was a creep.”

“Yeah he was.” Caitlyn awkwardly agreed. Her stomach churned unhappily at the thought of her ex. “No, his name is Finn.”

“Finn” Lou paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in concentration “Fiiiiinn. Finn! I like it! Fiiiiiiiinn. Can you thank him for me next time you two go out?”

Caitlyn rose a hand up no protest “Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down kiddo. We’re not dating.”

“But why not? You said he was nice.”

“I…” she glanced about the apartment wearily: Peeling paint, barely held together furniture and rent past due. So much work and effort for this ramshackle home.

“I don’t have time kiddo. I got to keep working if we wanna keep this place.”

Lou frowned, his face confused as if he couldn’t understand the word work “But you’re always working Cat. When are you supposed to have fun?”

Caitlyn ruffled his already messy hair lovingly “I’ll worry about that and you worry about having fun...and keeping up your grades.”

Lou’s ears perked up “What? Sorry, I think I hear Hedge calling me.” and without further warning, he bolted into his room, picking up his beloved turtle plush Hedge and dove under the covers.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin at his brother’s antics.

Then reality set in again.

She rather not deal with this newly found, barely understood magical world but regular folks weren’t paying the bills like they used to. Her fence was giving her less and charging more. Some bulltshit about paying off crooked cops or whatever. Sounded like a half ass excuse to her but they both knew she didn’t have much options.

Real gold. Any loose change from magical folks could easily lighten her burden and the promise of more sat in some entitled prick’s safe.

She couldn’t resist even if she had tried and she hadn’t tried to stop herself in years.

-----

Caitlyn waited till midnight to make her move. It was easier to blend in with darker shades and regardless of who she was robbing, she wasn’t in the business to make enemies. Especially enemies with unknown powers.

Lou was tucked into bed, nice and cozy with Hedge locked in his arms. Mrs. Palmer, a kindly older woman next door, agreed to watch him. They shared a silent knowing look with one another.

Her apartment was on the less than well kept side of town and everyone had their hands in some sort of shady business here. They tried their best to keep their noses clean but sometimes there were dips into less savory methods of getting cash.

Caitlyn was prepped for the mission ahead: A black blouse with black leggings. Thick black hiking boots for gripping walls and a leather black jacket to keep the cold and sharp pointy objects away from her skin.

She took a sad glance at the jacket, remembering all the times her father joked about handing it down to her when she beat him at arm wrestling. She could still hear dad’s hearty laughter echoing down the hall.

Caitlyn’s eyes hardened as she forced herself to look away “They left. No point in letting good gear go to waste.”

She took a deep calming breath as she ripped the tape off the butterfly knife she hid underneath her bed. She hated unnecessary violence but sometimes it took more than a good right hook to get someone off your ass. Better to have it and not need it than wind up with a bruise of regret.

She slipped the knife into her jacket pocket, slung her bag over her shoulder, nodded thankfully towards Mrs. Palmer and made her way out the door.

------

Caitlyn decided to take the long way: True it was halfway across town and took an hour of traveling but she always enjoyed the quiet that came with waiting. It calmed her, allowed her time to double and triple check her plans with the added benefit of shaking out any loose thoughts rattling in her head with each bump of the bus.

She stared at the beautiful ornate butterfly clip currently holding her ponytail up in the window. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what exactly Finnrick had given her but she didn’t want to use it at the apartment in case it didn’t do what it was supposed to. After all, suddenly having the knowledge in her head on how to work the hairclip was a bit unsettling. Okay really unsettling. Better to use it far away from Lou in case it exploded or something else nasty.

She got off the bus at last and hurried her way over to Andor’s, careful to cover her face whenever she spotted the odd store or traffic camera. She didn’t know who actually controlled them and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Andor’s Antique Shoppe (really cute elf boy) was the tallest building on the street: three floors that towered over the single story shops nearby. The street itself was nearly pitch black with a street lamp on either end of the block being the only source of light. Not a soul in sight.

Now was a good time as any to try out the hairclip. Caitlyn closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she focused on the magical item. Goosebumps ran down her spine while the quiet, powerful thrum hummed softly in her ears. The word escaped her lips like it was second nature.

“Angel”

She nearly stumbled as a warm sensation filled her entire being. It covered her like a second skin and suddenly she was aware of the hairclip intimately: It’s weight, where it sat upon her head. She could feel the wings of the butterfly unfold, outstretched and ready to take flight. She heard the shimmering of magic forming into existence and she let out a surprised gasp when her feet lifted off the ground.

Caitlyn glanced in the nearby shop window, tears welling in her eyes:Beautiful translucent butterfly wings extended out from behind her. The outline of the wings were a deep rich purple with the multicolored glass stained shards gorgeously laid across its surface, each as elegant and refined as any art piece she’d ever seen. Each flutter and beat held her aloft, defying gravity’s hold on her. In the shadows of the night, the soft glow of the wings made her look like...

“An angel.” she whispered gently “I look like an angel.”

Caitlyn wiped the tears away. Technically she was a butterfly but this wasn’t the time for sentiment. She had a job to do and the longer she floated out here the more likely she’d get caught.

“Up” she murmured and the wings obliged: she rose silently skyward, each beating of the wings taking her higher and higher. The chill of the wind felt nice across her cheeks and she couldn’t help but relax in its presence.

Her original plan was to simply scale the side of the building and pick the window to gain entry but with her new found vertical movement, it was easier to just go up and over. She made sure she ascended from the end of the street and flew over to the third floor.

Caitlyn tilted her head quizzically as she found herself staring at a haphazardly open window.

“It can’t be this simple.” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously “It has to be a trap.”

-----

Caitlyn stood dumbfounded in the unguarded office of Andor.

She looked to her left then to her right, waiting for some sort of ambush to be sprung.

None came.

“Okay it is this simple.” Caitlyn whispered to herself, opting to just take this stroke of good fortune and run with it. She quietly willed the wings away and with a glitter of magic they vanished into thin air.

She crept over to the black safe tucked lazily in the corner, a stack of important looking documents just thrown on top without a care in the world. She quickly pocketed them and turned her attention to the roadblock in her way. True to Finnrick’s information, the safe itself was fairly simple and wouldn’t take much to break into. Either Andor was extremely confident in his security or really didn’t take being a crook seriously.

Not that it mattered to Caitlyn. It wasn’t her fault Andor hadn’t invested in a good safe.

She pressed her ear against the cool surface of the metal, trying to ignore the icy chill on her cheek as she strained to listen for the nearly inaudible click of the tumblers falling into place. It had taken two tries too many but she allowed herself a smug grin as the safe’s door swung open with a creak.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a funny symbol painted onto the back of the door. It gleamed with a strange unnatural light before disappearing all together. Before she could began to guess what bad news that meant, the shouts and thundering footsteps echoed from below answered her question.

“Shit.” She whispered as she began frantically grabbing everything she could: Folders, stacks of papers and clanging metal in heavy pouches. It all went into her bag with as much speed as she could muster.

The footsteps grew louder with a frantic pace. They were already on the second floor if she hazard a guess. Caitlyn made for the window and without a second thought, flung herself outside with all her might.

“Angel!” She hurried muttered but the wings were forming too slowly. She already crossed past the next floor down when they barely began to outstretch from her back. Caitlyn was no physics major but even she knew there was no way she’d be able to slow down in time to avoid breaking her neck. She shielded her face with her arms and tried not to flinch as she waited for the pain to set in.

It didn’t come.

Instead she felt herself slow to a stop midair and just stayed here. Caitlyn opened her eyes to find herself bobbing up and down inches away from the pavement. There were a pair of legs as well: Black slacks and well polished loafers with the bottom half of a black tattered trench coat.

“Falling for me angel? I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

She glanced up to found herself staring at the one and only Finnrick Drift before her, a cheeky smile on his lips and his hand held out.

Finnrick waved his fingers over her and she landed onto the sidewalk with a soft thud.

He offered her his hand but she preferred to scamper to her feet in the most ungraceful way possible. Her cheeks burned with a pinkish hue at the sight of the P.I.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the embarrassment out of her voice “I….thanks.”

Finnrick nodded “Anytime.”

“WHY IS THE DOOR LOCKED?!” A voice roared from overhead.

“CUZ IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOU IDIOT!”

Realization knocked Caitlyn out of whatever was going on here but as she turned to make a break for it, Finnrick rose his hand to stop her.

She glanced at him, lost and confused.

“The favor. I’m calling it in.”

“What?! Here?! NOW!? You got to be kidding!”

“I kid about a lot of things.” Finnrick admitted “but not this.”

“We’re standing outside the place I just robbed! This isn’t the time!”

“Yes it is.”

Caitlyn took a step back and cast a suspicious look at the private investigator “You were using me, weren’t you? You didn’t want to get your hands dirty so you let me borrow the wings so I can steal the thing for you!”

Finnrick shook his head.

“Don’t turn this around on me!” Caitlyn snarled

Finnrick answered simply “You were clearly better at locks and sneaking around than I am. I was actually having trouble figuring how to pull this off. Every option ended with a fight with Andor. That’s why I’m out here. Why I busted every cameras on the street and managed to keep the window open. To make sure you were okay.”

“Where even were you?!” Caitlyn tried in vain to recall seeing Finnrick on the street “it doesn’t matter! You want me to trust you?! Just like that?”

Finnrick sighed tiredly “Please angel I trust you.”

Caitlyn’s eyes went cold “That is your mistake, not mine.”

Finnrick stared back at her, his dark brown eyes warm and gentle “Trusting you is my choice. Breaking it lays entirely with you.”

Caitlyn felt the rage and distrust drain out of her and replaced with a tense exhaustion.

Angel. He had let her borrow the wings and while there was no way he’d let her keep them he did give it to her for a favor. A simple favor he promised.

She sighed in defeat “What’s the favor?”

“I need a paper from the stack.”

“And if I give it to you, will you let me go?” She asked, hating how weak and vulnerable she sounded.

“No” Finnrick spoke without hesitation.

Caitlyn's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“I will protect you.”

Caitlyn couldn’t help but stare at Finnrick: His face was scrunched up in a rather cute sense of determination and his body was relaxed. It was clear he was trying to be as nonthreatening as possible and despite her recent outburst, he seemed more concern with her than himself.

When was the last time someone offered to protect her? Granted she didn’t need any but even Caitlyn had to admit it was nice to hear.

They stood there for a moment, the angry shouts and cursing of Andor and his thugs breaking the silence of the night.

“Which paper is it?”

“It’ll be a single sheet with some fancy silvery writing on it.”

It took her no time to find it: It was thicker than all the others, written on some ancient paper that was aged yellow with time but was otherwise intact. The shining silvery writing was indeed fancy but nearly impossible to make out. She could actually feel her eyes water just looking at it and she wasted no time shoving it into Finn’s hand.

“There!” Caitlyn cast a nervous glance towards the third floor window “I kept my end. Now keep yours. Please.”

Finnrick said nothing. He instead tucked the loose paper inside his coat and offered a hand to her.

Confused but running out of options, she gingerly took his hand in hers. She flushed at how warm he was. Caitlyn let out a yelp as Finnrick pulled her in. She tried to keep her cheeks from turning a lovely shade of red when Finnrick held her close.

Finnrick began chanting, his hands drawing unseen symbols in the air. Caitlyn could feel the same warm sensation from earlier wash over her as Finnrick’s spell took effect.

-----

“FIND MY STUFF NOW!” Andor screamed with bloody rage. He was typical of an elf: Impossible well kept blonde hair that flowed to his back, piercing forest green eyes. He was tall and lean with the tackiest suit anyone had seen. Reds and pinks in some sort plaid pattern. He called it looking good. His goons called it a headache. His pointed ears twitch unhappily as he struggled to listen for any sort of sound nearby but found nothing beyond the usual quiet hum of the city.

Andor groaned unhappily as he made his way to the window. His eyes scanned the street with a clarity not even the most technologically advance camera could match. His elf eyes took in every detail through the shadows: every imperfect scratch on the brick buildings, the asphalt embedded with the grooves of tires, cracked sidewalks that spread out like bolts of lightning.

Nothing. Not a single soul was in sight. The silhouetted street was bare and empty.

“FUCK!” Andor screamed into the silence “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! FIND THEM NOW! CHECK THE FRONT DOOR CAMERA!”

“We can’t boss, it was fried yesterday, remember?”

Andor shut the window with a violent thud.

-----

Caitlyn let out the tense sigh she hadn’t realized she had been holding in.

She instinctively looked towards Finnrick only to find empty air.

“We’ll have to be invisible a little longer. They’ll be searching the shop before they think to start fanning outside. Andor will be making the process longer. Let’s get to the end of the street and I’ll drop it then.”

Caitlyn nodded for a moment before realizing he couldn’t see her

He guided her arm into his and the pair briskly walked down the street. It felt weird to walk invisible, arm in arm, while a childish elf baby raged behind them.

When they reached the end of the street, Finnrick dropped the spell. The two reappeared as quickly as they’d vanished. Caitlyn pulled away from the detective, her body shivering from the sudden lack of warmth.

“Thank you.” Caitlyn murmured softly.

Finnrick tipped his fedora “Any time sweetie.”

“What now?”

Finnrick scratched his chin thoughtfully “It is late and staying here would be a terrible idea. I suspect we both have places to be.”

Finnrick reached into his pocket and held out a piece of paper for Caitlyn to take. She stared at it, unsure what he was offering.

“It’s my fence.” He clarified with a smile “I take it you don’t know a magical one. He’s very trustworthy and he’ll give you a fair price.”

“Thanks” she took the slip of paper “I….thank you.”

“Any time. Good night angel.”

“Wait!” She reached for him but drew back when he turned to face her “Your hairclip? The one you let me borrow?”

Finnrick’s eyes twinkled with amusement “You didn’t hear me, did you? I told you that’s yours.”

Caitlyn could hear her heart thundering in her ears, cheeks ablaze “You sure? It seems like it costed a pretty penny.”

“Pretty amount of gold.” Finnrick corrected with a wink “And I’m pretty sure. I made it for you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out of her mouth “Why me? You barely know me.”

“Not true.” Finnrick nervously bit his lip “You barely know me. I’ve been waiting for you forever now. About five yearsin fact.”

“Me?” Her blush worsened “I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Finnrick took her hand in his once more and softly kissed it. Caitlyn could feel a flutter of butterflies fill her stomach.

He hesitated to break his hold on her but he did so respectfully. Caitlyn could see his cheeks tinged with a pinkish hue as he began walking away.

Caitlyn stood there and watched the detective vanish into the night.

-----

Okay, so she didn’t just stand there dumbfounded as Finnrick walked away. It was probably a terrible idea and definitely not normal Caitlyn behavior but she followed him.

It wasn’t too hard given her newfound verticality. She just waited a few minutes, noted the direction he was heading and flew over the rooftops. Finnrick didn’t seem to be aware he was being followed. He walked the darken streets of Newton Haven, gesturing to the odd person or mythical being cloak in the darkness. His pace was casual and unsuspecting.

Her concerns about running out of time were unfounded as about 30 minutes later, Finnrick ducked into a fairly decent apartment complex. It was better kept than hers but only by a fraction.

A dark apartment on the third floor was suddenly flooded with light as Finnrick Drift made his way inside. He hung his coat and fedora at a coat rack that stood by the door. The apartment was itself humble: he had a battered desk placed by the window, his tiny kitchen was on one side and the door to his bedroom on the other. There was a large file cabinet next to a battered, ancient fridge. Not the place of a well paid private investigator.

Finnrick sighed tiredly as he rolled up his sleeves. The way his body hunched over with the slow debilitate movements he made, it was obvious he must’ve been exhausted. But whatever he was up to must’ve been important because he began drawing on his lovely wooden floor.

Caitlyn couldn’t really guess what the detective was doing beyond the shape he was making: There was a large outer circle and a much smaller one within. An array of symbols were drawn between the two circles such as stars, a crescent moon, squiggles shaped like trees with a language she didn’t understand.

It didn’t take Finnrick long to finish. He stood at full height, wiping the sweat from his brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled a baggie. Carefully, he opened the bag and pulled out a sliver thread that seemed to shine even at this distance. He placed it within the smaller circle and outstretched a hand like he was grasping at something. His eyes, normally a warm dark brown, glowed with blue arcane power. Magical symbols formed before him and the building groaned and creaked like the mere presence of magic commanded it to speak. He lit a match, his lips moving more and more wildly yet no sound could be heard from within. Finnrick closed his hand into a fist and the symbols sunk into the circle. He flung the match onto the sliver thread and the entire glyph blazed with fire for moment. There was a flash of a brilliant light and the circle had vanished only to be replaced by some strange figure.

She was much taller than Finn, so tall in fact the top of her head nearly scraped the bottom of the next floor up. Her hair was wispy, thin threads of sliver that reached to the bottom of her feet. Her skin was pale like moonlight and two dark sunken pits formed her eyes. Her frame was lanky and unnatural like someone had pulled and stretch her into her current form. Her clothes were torn and ragged.

The figure tiled her head curiously at Finnrick who dug into his pocket and pulled out the yellowed paper Caitlyn had given him. The figure was dumbstruck as Finnrick handed it to her with a warm smile. He offered a match to the creature but she shook her head. She gingerly held the paper in her hand, staring at it like was about to vanish into thin air.

Then she ripped it. She tore at it with a fierce, terrifying frenzy. She ripped and ripped and ripped until impossibly small bits of paper rained across the apartment. Caitlyn leaned closer as previously unseen shackles formed upon the figure’s wrist and cracked wide open. They slipped off and vanished into the air.

The figure let out a manic laugh as she shrunk, her limbs realigning themselves until she looked like a proper human sized person only a head taller than Finnrick. Her thin wispy hair fattened to thick, full braids of metallic silver. Her skin remained pale but her dark sunken eyes turned a coal black, full of life and joy. Even her clothes had transformed into a splendid elegant dress that sparkled like stars.

She cried, clear streams of water running down her face as she held Finnrick’s hands tightly. She wailed and shook, unable to keep her emotions in any longer. Finnrick let her, giving only a satisfied grin in response. She handed him a handful of gold, 3 maybe 4 pieces and began patting her dress as if looking for more. Finnrick stopped her, pocketing the gold and shaking his head no. The creature was not satisfied by this and began to gesture wildly about. Finnrick remained steadfast. He gestured to himself, lips speaking but Caitlyn couldn’t read whathe was mouthing this far away. The figure said nothing as a small child matching her skin tone appeared from out of nowhere. The child gestured to his wrist excitedly though nothing was there. The figure scooped the child in her arm and gently kissed his forehead. She glanced to Finnrick and was gone. A gentle warm breeze sailed past Caitlyn’s hidden spot, dispelling the frigid 2 a.m. air.

Finnrick chuckled to himself and despite on the verge of collapsing, made his way to the kitchen. He remained there for a few minutes and reemerged with a steaming cup of those instant noodles found at the store. He made his way over to the window and lifted it open. He placed the foam cup on the fire escape and hastily wrote a note which he folded carefully next to the food.

And with his job seemingly done, he made turned off the lights with a flourish of his hand and made his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and did not reappear.

Caitlyn flew over with the few minutes she had left in her wings. She picked up the cup of ramen, contently sighing with its warmth. She grabbed the note and read it aloud, curious what Finnrick wrote.

Caitlyn felt a chill of run down her spine as she read “Hey! Noticed you watching me and given you didn’t try to attack me, I assumed you had your reasons. If you’re trying to track me for your boss, here’s your warning! I will destroy everything they hold dear. You possibly included. If you just were a person or fae that was just curious, have a warm meal on me! It’s cold out so bundle up. Have a good one and don’t touch the window. I am a powerful warder.” F- :)

Caitlyn couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her lips as she saw the cute smiley Finnrick had ended the note with.

She held the cup close as she made her way to street level. Finnrick told her she’d understand in time. She wished she understood now but she shocked to find herself more than willing to find out.

#Mirror's Edge #My story #Original Work #original story

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

Text

The Ties That Bind 7 of ???

Two chapters? TWO CHAPTERS??? *nods* Two chapters

Kneeling before Zane and promising to find a way was one thing. Getting back up off the floor and actually doing it was quite another.

So we compromised, staying on the floor but moving the lean up against the bed. It was surprisingly easier to talk to him this way; yes, we were touching, a bit of leg here, shoulder there, but I didn’t have to look at him, and that made all the difference. I suddenly realized that part of what made talking to Andreios in those late nights was that I put my back to him. Leaning into the solid warmth of his chest and talking into the dark made confessing my heart so much easier.

I don’t think it was my heart I was confessing to Zane, but it was still made easier by facing a neutral tapestry covered wall instead of my would-be king.

Shouldn’t that be a sign that this was a bad idea? That I could only talk to him if I didn’t look at him.

But then, he hadn’t tried to meet my eyes either. Maybe we just weren’t that sort of couple.

Couple. The thought took my breath away, and I struggled to release it, to keep from that trembling tension that I knew Zane would misconstrue.

“I’m alright,” I breathed before he could ask. “Just... adjusting. Overthinking.”

“Your thoughts might do us more good out here in the open.”

A surprised hiccup of laughter escaped me. “I don’t think telling you that the thought of us being a couple makes my limbs seize up with fear is helpful.”

“On the contrary.” Zane’s voice was soft enough it made me want to look at him, to see the kind of expression that went with that face. But I kept my eyes on the tapestry, wandering its warp and weft without seeing more than the colors.

“I think it’s extremely productive to talk about exactly how we feel with one another. My people will have a hard enough time embracing an avian queen. One that hides behind her haughty mask of reserve will never be tolerated.”

“And mine won’t like you no matter what face you show them.”

“Do you dance, Danica?”

The question caught me so off guard that I did turn to look at him then, staring in incredulity.

He gestured to the tapestry I’d been staring at without seeing.

It’s threads wove the tale of the first hawk, the golden queen Alasdair. The center was a radiant riot of gold, the hawk queen framed in triumphant flight against the sun. But the borders showed more subdued scenes, of brown and dying earth, of an infant in a feathered nest, of a young woman dancing among the clouds and then the fields, grown green at her feet’s touch.

“It’s just a metaphor,” I murmured. “Avian magic comes through song, not dance. But how do you weave a song?”

My gaze lingered on a corner piece, the queen Alasdair raised in supplication, stretched out long from the tips of her toes to her delicatedly embroidered fingers, raised high overhead with her wrists crossed. The details doublestitched over the base weaving made her pop, standing out in radiant golden threads on the more humbly woven green.

I was focusing on nonsense details again, remembering the technical skills that went into this piece rather than thinking about its deeper meaning.

“I just wondered,” Zane said casually, though this moment was anything but. “She’s woven against a backdrop of the Ahnleh, which is the sign of the dancers’ nests among my people.”

I tried to pick out the sign he’d indicated, but all I saw was the seal of Alasdair, a glyph as common to my eye as any. All coins, contracts, and sigils of protection bore some incarnation of that mark, a single line stretched from heaven to earth, with delicate branching wings meeting in the middle. It was mostly obscured by Alasdair herself on this work, but I knew it well.

“I’m sure there are differences we just can’t see because she’s in the way,” I said, not really knowing what else to say. Was he just trying to distract me, til I calmed down and could speak more rationally?

“I’m sure there are similarities, too.” His voice had gone all tender and soft again, and I couldn’t resist turning to look at him. “Enough so that I recognized it.”

Our faces were unspeakably close, a breath way from touching. I knew that wasn’t objectively true, but... I’d never let my face linger so close to a man’s before. The thought of that beautifully cruel mouth so close to mine...

“I never kissed anyone before.”

The words came out on a breath unbidden, my mind tumbling from lips too preoccupied to hold anything back. They wanted nothing more than to press themselves against the hard softness of Zane’s, to see if those lips so clever and cruel could also be gentle and tender.

But Zane had jerked back at my soft declaration, utterly shocked.

“You’re joking.”

The heat of desire flared into outrage. I felt my eyes harden and my lips thin out in a narrow, tightly pressed line.

“Why would I joke about something like that?” My words were cold, measured, precise. “Why would I admit to such a weakeness in a moment of vulnerability where we are trying to be truthful with one another? You said anything to make this work, yet you’re mocking me for keeping chaste? It’s the way of my people, Zane. We don’t sneak into each other’s bedrooms in the middle of the night--“

My words caught on the jumble of anger, and the memory of Elanor sneaking him into my room so he could propse to me while I was not even awake to recieve it.

”--and propose mad fancies as if that will solve anything! There is no easy way out of this, Zane Cobriana. We either have to work together, or make enmity anew with this pointless conversation!”

I’d crossed my arms over my middle, holding my own ribs in that way of my most intimate of comforts. It was what I did when Rei was not there to hold so. I did it now to keep from flailing about, letting my hands speak the aggression my tone would not. I would not scream at him. I would not escalate.

I would not be the reason the guards poured into the room and broke us apart.

But I would also not sit here and be insulted.

He was quiet for far too long, face turned away, hiding from me as surely as he accused me of doing with my ‘haughty avian reserve’. How dare he? How dare he! He was such a hypocrite, coming to me with this mad scheme, making grand gestures and pretty speeches and never once suggesting how this mad thing migth be done.

I was so caught up stewing in my own fury that I almost missed his softly spoken answer.

“I never said proposing marriage would be easy.”

“But you never said anything more about how such a thing would be done, either, did you Zane?”

It was all I could do to keep my voice quiet, to contain my outrage in harhly whispered tones.

“You just dumped this problem in my lap as if I’d have any more luck solving it than you did. What am I supposed to do with this, Zane? If I say no, your feelings are hurt and we’re still without a solution. But if I say yes, we still haven’t really solved anything, have we? We’ve just made a complicated scenario more messy and entangled and vulnerable--“

The rest of my words were cut off by his face suddenly in mine. I jerked back so quickly, I didn’t immediately process that he’d been attempting to kiss me.

Fury burned, hot on my cheeks and in my eyes, and in my fiercely whispered words.

“How dare you. How dare you! You think this can all be solved with an uninvited kiss?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted!”

He cut off my tirade with an equall fierce whisper, eyes dark with hurt and frustration. “Why else would you have brought it up, if not in invitation? I don’t know how you do things in the Keep, Danica, but I am trying my best. I know you expect me to persue you, to be the active party, so that your avian virtue remains intact, but what am I supposed to do when that isn’t the right answer either?”

I just stared. He’d caught me so completely off guard, I had no idea what to do with him. My shock kept me from monitoring my words, kept me from doing anything but pour out the honest truth of my whirling thoughts.

“You know--you know, do you? Well tell me, Zane, how am I supposed to act according to your serpiente morals? Because while you think you know everything there is to know about avian pairbonds, I don’t know a thing about serpiente--” I paused, groping for a word I didn’t have. “Skies above, Zane, I don’t even know what your people call it! You don’t have pairbonds, do you even marry?”

“Would I have asked you to marry me if we didn’t have such traditions?”

“I dont’ know!” I hated the emotion that crept into my voice. “I don’t know anything about what I’m getting myself into. I dont’ know the first thing about your people or your expectation and you’re asking me to marry you. Don’t you understand how absurd it is?”

“Yes!” He met my fire with his own, both of us growing ever louder. “Gods, yes, I do, but I’m really out of ideas. I thought spending time with your people would help me understand them better, but I really have no idea--“

“What do you mean, spending time with my people?”

Zane looked away, eyes fixed on the floor. He was quiet long enough I almost thought I’d have to ask again, but he finally admited, “This isn’t my first time visiting Elanor’s aunts.”

Again, I just stared at him. What on earth could I possibly say to that revelation?

But he carried on, eyes drifting up to the tapestry, as if searching it for inspiration. Or apparently, memory.

“I knew this tapestry becasue I spent a full night and a day staring at it, as I fought to work through a delirious fever brought on by that damnable falcon poison. Adelina brought me here, to the first shelter she’d found, and demanded a place to keep me safe while I healed. All I can say was that it must have been the will of Fate to bring me here, to a house sympathetic to true peace, with a wound minor enough that the am’haj didn’t just kill me outright.”

I thought of Elanor’s retelling of his dramatic ride, of declaring it the will of Fate that he find her--and had to wonder if my dearest friend had lied to me. But Zane continued, sweeping me away with his dramatic story.

“I stared at this tapestry and tried to keep my grip on reality as she sang to me of peace, a halluciantion to be sure. But when I heard of what you did for Gregory, I couldn’t help but remember that fevered dream, and hope...”

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that maybe it was a sign. That maybe things really could get better. That maybe hawks could dance with cobras, and peace could rise from bloody fields.”

“Alright,” I said again, with less conviction than before, but more of an idea of how to proceed.

“Alright?” Zane echoed with a raised eyebrow. I nodded.

“I’ll sing you back to health. We send messengers to both palaces that you were injured on your return journey from the Mistari lands, and I’m attending your bedside to give you what healing aide I have. It will give us time to brainstorm, and maybe come up with a less ludicrous idea than a marriage neither of us actually want.”

Zane just stared. I shrugged.

“It’s the best idea I have. It buys us time. I just... I just need some time. To do what, I don’t know yet. But I didn’t have this plan until just now, so maybe, with a few more days...”

“And what’s to stop the Keep from scouring the fields to find me and finish me off?”

“My word,” I said firmly. “I’ve commanded the generals twice to stand down, and if they cannot obey me in this I’ll... I’ll,” I shook my head, trying to shake off some of the fury that had been building over the past several days. “I’ll discharge each and every one of them. I’ll discharge the entire army if I have to. I am done fighting. This ends here.”

“Or they overthrow you,” Zane said with a dry wryness that was anything but humorous.

“They can try,” I said through gritted teeth. “Shardae magic holds the key to the hidden fields on the far side of the mountain. If they want a civil war, we’ll see how long it lasts when their soldiers are starving.”

Zane gave me wide eyes, but they were marked with approval. “Wisely put, my most bloodthirsty queen.”

“I’m not--” But I cut off as I realized he was teasing me. I wasn’t used to people laughing at me. I was going to have to learn how to turn it into Zane laughing with me, as it was clear that was how he intended it. I was too accustomed to taking myself seriously. Even if it seemed no one else did.

I realized with a bit of a start that I liked Zane laughing at me--with me. I liked that it felt like he was honestly trying to engage me, not just manage me. I liked the thought that he, of all people, might actually see me. The thought brought color to my cheeks, and again, I felt the urge to get up and move.

Which was why I made myself stay put, and even found the courage to lean back against Zane, to close the distance our fight had put between us.

“I need an ally in this,” I said madly, hopefully, absurdly. “I don’t think I need a husband, but...”

I let myself lay my head over against his shoulder, to show my serpiente counterpart that I was willing to try. Maybe not something as absurd as becoming lover, but at least co-conspirators. Maybe friends.

“I certainly need an ally.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes

#raev does fic #the ties that bind #hawksong fic

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danjo-ao3 · 4 years

Text

When Ashes Fall p.3

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are a combat medic working for Overwatch, when a mission goes south and you cross paths with Talon mercenary Reaper. But will he kill you on the spot or is there more to this encounter?

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: rape/non-con, violence, blood, emotional manipulation, blackmail, kidnapping

Word count: 52,215 (in 5 parts)

A/N: the warnings are clear on this one. Yes, there is going to be rape/non-con, and it’s going to get explicit. I strongly advise anyone who is not into that kind of story to turn back around, because this is going to get pretty heavy and will finally be the non-con story with Reaper that I had always wanted to write.

Part 3 / 5 (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

***

You got ready for another day at the lab, trying to forget all about last night. Be a good little assistant to very important Dr. O’Deorain.

Casey was her cheerful self as she greeted you over the bagel she had snuck inside the lab while she cast around slightly nervous glances as the doctor had chided her once for bringing food into her lab.

“It’s silly, don’t you think? It’s not even touching anything. I’m always careful.” With a small roll of her eyes she popped the last bite into her mouth, then wiped her hands on her white coat. “So what’s up, how did that op go?”

You frowned at the mention of the mission.

“It uh, it was a success,” you offered, as you went to sit down at one of the tables with lab equipment.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” She followed you to the workstation and sat down next to you, but only after pushing her chair a little closer to yours. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice. “I heard that you had to work with Reaper.”

Oh no.

You raised your gaze to hers, pleading with your eyes to not go there, but she just pushed her glasses up her nose and raised her eyebrows at you.

“Well, what is he like? I’ve heard so many different things about him, and I want to know which of it is true.” With a huff, she sat back in her chair, one finger at her chin and casting her eyes towards the ceiling in thought. “I only ever see him when he’s, you know—” She motioned towards the empty examination table in the middle of the room. “—when he’s knocked out.”

Your eyes followed to where she pointed. Unsure what to tell her you asked her to specify instead.

“Well, what have you heard?” Maybe she’d get that you didn’t feel like talking about it the more you got her to rant.

“That he,” She got closer again. “That he drains people.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“They say that when you’re lucky, he’ll shoot you with those shotguns he carries around. But if not, he’ll leave you a husk.” By the end of her sentence she was almost whispering, like she was telling a ghost story by the campfire.

A husk. That was kind of what you’d felt like after that encounter.

Your gaze fell to the floor. “I actually didn’t see him in action, he went alone. I was simply...patching him back up after it was all done.”

Casey sat back, her curious expression turning to one of disappointment. “Oh well, what a shame. I bet he’s really scary in action.”

You couldn’t believe her. As if working alongside a homicidal murderer was anything but terrifying and to avoid at all cost. Scary wasn’t even beginning to cut it. Red shining orbs flitted through your memory and had you suppress a shiver.

“Yeah, I guess.” You answered meekly.

“Are you alright?” Casey cocked her head to the side, the messy bun on her head flipping along.

“Sure, I’m just tired.” It was true, you were still feeling drained from all the healing you’d had to do. You wouldn’t be up to your normal self for at least another day, that was for sure.

“How bad was it? I remember once when he was here—you should have seen it—he’d been barely able to hold shape, it had seemed like his entire left arm was missing.” She shook herself in abhorrence. “But, as usual, he made a full recovery. If you can call it that, I suppose.”

You winced. Surely, it couldn’t have been worse than what you’d seen the night before. The image of that dark mass, mist swirling around and shifting in and out of human shape, would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“It was pretty bad.” What an understatement. “But, aside from the worst of his wounds, he seemed to be able to heal himself pretty effectively. How exactly does he do that?” Now that you remembered, he had not called upon you for the first half hour or so, until the mist had finally decided on where to take form.

Casey blew out a frustrated breath. “I wouldn’t know. Dr. O’Deorain doesn’t tell me the details of her work on him. Only the necessary parts, to get him back into shape. But what is in the serum that I administer, I don’t know. She’s very secretive about that project of hers.”

Well, whatever was in it seemed to be responsible for the state he was in, you were sure of it. Wraith serum, your brain helpfully provided, and you suppressed a sarcastic laugh. Ridiculous!

The rest of your day was uneventful, thankfully. You worked alongside Casey in the lab to get some tests done on a few blood samples, put a couple of liquids in the centrifuge and took notes while Casey examined slides under the microscope. It was nice. Distraction.

Only when you went to bed that evening, new nightmares plagued you. They came every night now. Terrifying you in different ways. Sometimes your mind provided a visual manifestation of your fears, but mostly it was just this feeling of darkness creeping over you, consuming you in every possible way and stealing the air from your lungs. Replacing precious oxygen with black mist that made you feel like drowning.

Every early morning you woke with a start, sometimes with a hoarse shout, other times with your breath choking on a silent scream. Always with a frantically beating heart that would take a while to calm down. This was starting to adversely affect the amount of rest you got. You felt tired all the time, when you tried to concentrate it was almost impossible to focus for more than five minutes. All of that was giving you regular headaches now.

Today marked a week since your mission with Reaper. You wiped at moist eyes after this night’s terror. Sluggishly, you got to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Those always helped to calm you down, to get the adrenalin out of your bloodstream.

When you were ready and dressed, you made your way to the lab, where Casey was already pipetting on the work table. She was always present when you got in, it was almost like she was sleeping there. First to come, last to leave.

“Morning, Casey. Already at it again, huh?”

She answered without looking away from where she was currently squeezing blue liquid onto a clear gel. “Yep, you know me. Always working.”

You smiled to yourself, Casey was the one constant in your life right now that made you feel an inkling of normalcy. In another life you might have even called her a friend. But here, at Talon, you weren’t naïve enough to believe even for a second that any one of those people thought you to be more than a tool.

The smile on your face fell flat, and you turned away to get a lab coat from the small locker in the corner. As you opened the narrow metallic door, the fine hairs at the back of your neck stood on end. A rhythmic droning was growing louder, foreboding and practically freezing you to the spot. Your eyes were staring unseeing at the coats when the door to the lab burst open.

You already knew who had entered the room, even without looking. The thunderous sound had been footsteps, you realized.

Shaking yourself minutely, you grabbed a coat, shrugged it on and closed the locker door silently.

Dr. O’Deorain had entered, her usual severe look on her face, followed by no one other than Reaper.

Your heart dropped. Somehow you had hoped to never see him again, even if it was delusional. He was dressed in his usual getup, right from the white mask on his face to thick black boots on his feet.

“Good morning,” Casey said cheerfully in greeting as she swiveled around on her stool with a smile, pipette still in hand. You didn’t miss how she took extra care to momentarily pause her work for the doctor.

“Yes, yes. Serum administration in two minutes,” Dr. O’Deorain said dismissively while she walked towards a table in the far corner. Reaper was already sitting down on the examination table, his armour creaking and clanking faintly.

You still stood with your back to the locker, not realizing that you had pressed yourself against it. Now that Reaper had sat down, he saw you. But he made no sign of acknowledgement aside from a small tilt of his head in recognition. Your heart had started to pound quite frantically.

Maybe you could excuse yourself, tell the doctor that you were ill or something. But just as you were about to open your mouth to ask, did Dr. O’Deorain address you.

“Please, come over here.”

Hesitantly, you peeled yourself away from the locker and made your way over to where she was standing over something. It was your amplifying glove that she had given you.

“Yes, doctor?”

“I would like for you to demonstrate how you use the glove. Testing has been rather rudimentary.” She sounded thoughtful, then lifted the object and proffered it to you. “The results from yesterday speak for themselves,” She went on with the faintest hint of a proud smile, “but I want to observe it myself.”

Your eyes darted from the glove to her face.

“Yeah, about that,” You began, and picked up the item carefully, but did not put it on yet. “It doesn’t seem to work.”

Dr. O’Deorain frowned.

“Nonsense. You used it, didn’t you?”

“I tried, but it hurt too much, too quickly.”

She looked mildly upset with that frown of hers as she made a thoughtful sound. Finally, she seemed to have come to a conclusion.

“You will show me, only that way I’ll know what might be wrong with it.” And with those final words she went to the corner and approached a cabinet. Her long fingers deftly entered a code and with a small beep, the door opened for her. Inside was quite a big apparatus that she grabbed and put on like a backpack. There were gloves attached to it as well and she proceeded to put them on. With a final tug at her left hand, she approached Reaper who was still sitting on the table, metal spikes and claws glinting faintly in the overhead lights.

About one and a half meters away from him she came to a stop, her left hand extended in front and aimed at the man on the table. Then something clicked and you could see an instantaneous connection between Reaper and Dr. O’Deorain. It was a kind of beam, very thin and purple-ish in color.

Reaper jerked and grunted when the beam connected with him. It was gyrating and twisting maliciously as it moved from him towards the doctor.

The sound he’d made had you bite down on your cheek, a faint pain blossoming in your mouth, the taste of blood spread and you swallowed subconsciously. You took a small step backwards, eyes glued to the now faintly purple glowing mask of Reaper, whose head snapped in your direction at your movement. It made you stop in your tracks, commanded your attention. As he was staring at you and the doctor used that beam on him, you could hear his clawed hands tightening on the metal of the table. The scratching sound was like nails on chalkboard, goosebumps rose on your arms in discomfort and you hugged yourself.

The urge to get out was making you tremble.

On the doctor’s back, the apparatus was equipped with a big, clear tube that was slowly starting to fill with purple liquid, or was it mist? You couldn’t tell. The longer she held that beam active, the more of the tube was filled. But it seemed to also have an effect on Reaper. He was starting to bend forward, his arms were slightly shaking where he gripped the table edge hard enough to leave marks, and his breath came in short huffs. He seemed to be in pain.

Your eyes wandered from Reaper’s hunched over form toward that of Dr. O’Deorain’s, who was still standing tall with her arm stretched out and connected with that beam of hers. Her face was gleaming in delight, eyes wide, her mouth split in a grin and in that moment you realized that this woman was just as dangerous as that masked maniac sitting to your right.

“Yes,” she said softly, almost inaudible over the hum of the beam. What was she doing? With a worried glance you checked for Casey, who was watching the whole ordeal from her seat not too far away, and—was she taking notes?

Abruptly, the humming stopped, the purple light vanished and the doctor withdrew her arm with a satisfied smile. She studied her left hand for a second, before her sharp, mismatched eyes met yours.

“All right, it’s your turn,” She addressed you curtly and nodded toward the amplifying glove.

“What—” You looked between her and Reaper uncertainly. “What was that?”

She chuckled as she removed her equipment and stowed it away again.

“This piece of cutting edge technology is my Biotic Grasp.” She explained, pride evident in her voice. With a swift motion, she produced a small drone from her pocket and placed it in mid air in front of her, where the little machine started to float and whirr softly. Next to her lay a data pad that she used to command the drone and have it float towards Reaper, little laser beams scanning his vitals.

You still stood there, a good few meters away from either of them, your hands balled into fists.

Dr. O’Deorain watched the data pad intently, while she kept explaining. “The beam you just saw is a derivative of the nanite technology, not unlike the one you have. But instead of regenerating someone, it does the opposite: it saps their energy. Their life force.”

Holy shit.

“I never understood why it was the medic’s duty to offer so much of themselves, when all the required energy is around, ripe for the taking. To redistribute as one sees fit. Enemies are always aplenty, especially in combat situations.”

Her monologue had you realize that she herself must have been a combat medic at one point.

“With this technology, I can equip anybody to do the required work, no training necessary.” A few taps to the pad and the drone hovered around Reaper to his backside, still scanning busily.

“I even managed to go further than that.” Her eyes flashed, your heartbeat accelerated. “I was able to directly implement this technology into the human body.” She laid aside the data pad and approached Reaper, who was still visibly struggling to even sit straight. Her hand reached out and boldly removed his mask.

Black mist rose in plumes from the hood, but from where you stood, you couldn’t see anything, his head was turned down and the darkness was hiding his features.

“It does still have a few... side effects,” she murmured, then used one finger underneath Reaper’s chin to lift his head enough for you to see his face.

You held your breath.

This was the first time when no smoke could conceal him, no darkness; when you were fully conscious and your sight not hindered by anything. The first time had been glances into a dark pond, in the twilight of evening, where the depths of it had been nigh invisible and only the blood red moon had been reflected on its surface. The second time was during midday, the sunrays penetrating the water and illuminating the very ground of the pond, even though it was still murky.

But this time?

This time it was as if the entire pond had been emptied, the unforgiving sun had evaporated all the water, only a few traces of mist remained. And you could see everything.

His eyes were currently closed, a deep frown edged into his brow and a scowl twisted his mouth and revealed pearly white sharp teeth.

The scars were even more prominent now than they had previously been, they were numerous and seemed to be very old. He’d have looked like a normal man—who had gone through some rough shit—hadn’t it been for the greyish tint to his skin that made him look deceased.

Finally, his eyes opened, slowly blinking upward towards the light.

Again, your heart dropped.

The garish lamps overhead cast their light directly into the red orbs of his eyes, making them glow brighter than you’d ever seen before. He blinked once, then their fiery red fell onto Dr. O’Deorain.

She still had her index finger underneath his chin, tilted his face towards herself, and beckoned for the little drone to approach. The small lasers scanned Reaper’s retinas, he didn’t even blink; he simply stared ahead, seeing right through the doctor.

Now that you could see his face in its entirety, you got the feeling that he looked familiar. But you couldn’t remember how.

The little drone beeped softly, signalling that its scan was complete, and Dr. O’Deorain let go of the man in front of her to once again consult the data pad.

Slowly, Reaper let his head fall forward again, but not before his eyes found yours.

It was like staring into the eyes of the devil. Had you been Catholic, you’d have crossed yourself. Even so, the urge to do it made you hug yourself even tighter.

You couldn’t look away, even though he was obviously weakened by whatever the doctor had done to him, he was still able to hold himself up. Slowly, his mouth opened, even more black mist rising from it, like cigarette smoke. Paired with the look he gave you it was very...suggestive.

You bristled and averted your eyes.

Casey was still busily writing things down from where she sat a few meters away.

“Go on now,” Dr. O’Deorain reminded you impatiently from the left.

You couldn’t postpone it any longer, with an internal sigh, you went and put on the doctor’s glove. Casting wary glances at Reaper, you went as far as was necessary, which was still closer than you liked, extended your arm and prepared yourself for the worst.

Unsure of where to aim—there were no visible wounds or anything—you directed the gentle golden spray at his chest, where it dissipated into nothing on contact. After a few seconds, he was already starting to relax, his grip on the table was loosening, as were his drawn shoulders. The scowl on his face remained though, that was probably permanent...

Just when Reaper released a quiet breath of relief, did you feel the numbness spread out and up your entire arm. This time, the following pain came with a vengeance.

You tried to suppress the grunt, but it came so quickly and unbidden, that it was impossible. Reaper seemed to be studying you now, no longer looking through you. His red eyes were jumping from your hand, to your forearm, and finally landed on your face.

As his breathing was becoming calmer and easier, yours was starting to grow heavy. Keeping your arm extended was proving to be too much already, you had to use the other arm for support, wondering when this was done.

All the while Dr. O’Deorain was standing to your right, rapt with attention at witnessing her creation.

“I—I can’t. This is too much,” you ground out and already wanted to move away again, but suddenly the doctor pulled you into her and took a firm hold of your arms.

“You’re not done yet,” she said right next to your ear and a shiver ran through you at the memory of those same words spoken by the very man sitting in front of you.

The sheer surprise of having the doctor reacting in that way and to manhandle you like that, had you in shock. For someone who was usually sitting in a lab, she was surprisingly strong. The grip she was having on you was unforgiving.

Now you were left to watch as the spray kept coming, your arm was cramping up so badly you wondered if it was ever going to relax again.

As your eyes were now fixed on your arm, held tightly in Dr. O’Deorain’s grip, you saw your veins standing out in dark contrast to your skin. They were shimmering with a bluish tint.

“Hng!” you exclaimed. The pain was almost intolerable. “Please, doctor—”

“Just a little more.”

You whimpered, face scrunched up in agony.

Then you heard Reaper snarl, your eyes shot up to his face, black mist was starting to rise from him again. The look on his face was exuding annoyance. His hand came forward to snatch your arm out of the doctor’s grip; she was just as surprised as you were, because she let go immediately, letting him pull you away from her.

Even though he was still wearing his gauntlets, he was able to deftly peel off the glove from your numb hand with ease. His claws left white marks where they lightly scratched against your skin, but you barely felt it.

You just stood there, passively letting him work, watching while you caught your breath.

When he had finally managed to remove the glove completely, he flung it at Dr. O’Deorain, who caught it with an almost comical expression of surprise.

“Back to the drawing board, doc,” he said drily.

Watching the many emotions flitting over Dr. O’Deorain’s face was both alarming, but also strangely satisfying.

With a final huff of indignation, the doctor turned on her heel, glove in hand, and made a beeline for the exit.

Almost immediately, Casey jumped up from her spot and hurried after the doctor and out of the lab.

You grimaced.

A light tug on your hand made you realize that Reaper was still holding it, now examining the many purple veins adorning your skin.

Now that the glove was off, you could finally see the full damage it had wrought. With a shocked gasp, you reflexively pulled free of the man’s loose hold on you and studied your skin with horror.

The discoloration wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen before. Like ugly bruises they were criss-crossing all over your skin. Were these going to be permanent, would they be there until the end of your life?

Tears threatened to spill from your burning eyes. This was a nightmare...it couldn’t be true. Your arm looked like it was dying, like it could fall off any minute now.

Feeling faint, you backed up until you hit the workbench behind you, felt blindly for a stool and slowly sank down onto it. But even though your world was crashing down around you, no tears were coming.

“This is all your fault,” you accused Reaper. Instead of breaking down in tears, your body decided it was feeling aggressive instead, and even though you were mostly angry at the doctor right now, the only one whom you could antagonize was Reaper. And you had enough reason to be mad at him, too.

There was no reaction from where he still sat on the examination table. Why was he still here, anyway?

“If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be with my friends right now, drinking coffee and doing fun shit or something.” Well, it was partially true. There wasn’t always a lot of time for people in Overwatch to actually do anything besides training, paper work, or going on missions. But there had been the occasional meetup over coffee and a nice piece of strawberry cake.

“If it hadn’t been for me, you’d be dead,” Reaper finally answered in his gravelly voice, then got off the table to land on the floor with a loud thud from his steel boots.

Your head whipped around to glare at him.

“Better off dead than being a pawn for terrorists and murderers!”

The man crossed his arms in front of himself, the scowl on his face deepening. “You think working for Overwatch is morally superior?”

“Obviously.”

He tsked.

“Overwatch is a joke. Always has been.”

“Right, I bet you know all about it,” you said sarcastically, idly rubbing your right arm back to life.

“I do.”

All right, you would bite.

“How?”

“I was there.” He reached for his abandoned mask that lay on the workbench beside you, heavy footsteps making you tense as he approached.

“Before it was disbanded, Overwatch was a giant façade for some of the richest people in the world to play war.” Mask in hand, he looked at it pensively. “We all were pawns for them, given the illusion of being in command. We were, sort of. I commanded my team in the shadows, we were the ones who didn’t even have to play by Overwatch’s official rules.”

Slowly, you realized he was talking about Blackwatch and goosebumps rose on your skin. It couldn’t be. Maybe that’s why he seemed so familiar.

Finally, he looked at you, but his eyes were far away, in the past.

“The ones up top, those we never got to meet, they were pulling the strings. And we were the expendable private militia they could send to their enemies in their stead.”

He turned to you. “Nothing we were told to do was ever for the greater good,” he finished, the light in his red eyes burning.

“Even if all of this were true, why not fight it from the inside then? Instead, you decided to go full maniac and became an official bad guy?” You were treading on thin ice, but he must have been lying to you. Never before had you heard any of these accusations, they sounded baseless and frankly, ludicrous.

You were familiar with Overwatch history, at least the official stories they’d taught you at the beginning at orientation. Had they omitted these details?

The ghost of a smile flitted across his features. “I decided to fight fire with fire.” Then he leaned against the tabletop with his claws resting against its surface, aligning himself to you two side by side with just a few meters in between.

You snorted.

“Is this why you run around dressed like that?” You pointed at his getup, it felt good to poke fun at him like this. But you were also wary about how far you could to push him.

But even as you spoke that last sentence, Reaper suddenly narrowed his eyes at you. It wasn’t in anger, though, but rather in intrigue. He was staring openly at your neck. Self-consciously, you let go of your right arm to reach up to the spot instead.

It was the same one that Ogundimu had inspected after your mission. This particular memory, how he had brushed away your hair, it opened the floodgates to all the other things that had happened on that night.

You were shocked that he was still able to see it. When you’d tried to catch a glimpse of it in a mirror, it was almost impossible because of its position so far back. And the mission had been like a week ago, the mark—whatever it was—should have faded by now.

“I’ve gotta go,” you blurted and abruptly stood from the stool, almost toppling it over in your haste.

You didn’t get very far, your wrist was gripped tightly by a hard, cold steel gauntlet stopping you from leaving. In a state of shock and disbelief you saw your badly discolored arm in his claws around it, and like a wild animal caught in a snare, your body went into fight or flight mode.

With jerking movements, you pulled hard to get free, you threw your entire weight away from where he held you and even kicked at him.

“Stop that,” he grunted, but only sounded mildly disgruntled, and somehow that made you calm down enough to stop your struggling.

“Let me go,” you demanded, emphasizing your point with a tug. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he studied your damaged hand.

“I must know…” he said ominously and removed one gauntlet with his teeth. It clattered on the tabletop noisily, making you jump. The skin of his hand was darker than that of his face, you noticed, as he used the pads of three fingers to lightly touch your bluish forearm.

“W—what are you doing?” You demanded to know, trying to pull away again.

He hummed darkly in thought, tracing small patterns on your skin. The motion sent shivers up your arm and through your entire body. Your eyes anxiously darted between where he was currently touching you and his face. The sensation was disconcerting, but also—you were hesitant to admit—kind of pleasant. A faint blush spread on your cheeks.

All of a sudden, he used the grip he had on your wrist to pull you a little closer and took a hold of your other hand as well.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, and once again tried to break free. And once again, failed.

With all the time in the world, and the strength of a fucking machine, he raised your good arm and laid your hand against the side of his neck, then held it in place.

Now you were...touching him, you felt so repelled by the mere thought of it, that your face twisted in abhorrence.

“Heal me,” he commanded in a low voice.

The audacity. Anger rose up inside you.

“Fuck you!” You uttered with vigor and stubbornly held still without doing a thing for him. What would he need healing for, anyway; you’d just healed him mere minutes ago. He was insatiable!

He growled.

“Do it.”

You pushed your luck.

“No.”

The two of you stared at each other in varying degrees of frustration.

What were you doing? Reaper could easily tear you apart if he so desired, why were you defying him like that? A small voice answered how the last time you healed him through direct touch it resulted in things that still caused you nightmares to this day.

With a snarl, the man pulled you into him and to the side, to push you on top of the examination table. He followed closely, to pin both your wrists to the tabletop, right next to your head. You lay there awkwardly, while your upper body was on the table, your feet still touched the ground lightly, and Reaper now stood over you, holding you down. He was right in your face, too.

“Do you have a death wish, girl?” He was furious, the glowing red orbs of his eyes were burning brightly, dark mist was rising off of him in waves. You guessed he wasn’t used to people not following his orders. All you could do was stare, your head was still spinning from where it had hit the steel table. It hurt like a bitch. Your spine too, how it was bent so uncomfortably.

When you didn’t answer fast enough, his eyes narrowed, his gaze flitted over your face. Finally, he shifted, moved in between your legs so they fell open and around his thighs.

Your blush deepened and your heart stuttered.

“Or is it something else you wish for,” he murmured, eyes falling to your lips.

Oh god, no.

You blinked through the headache and weakly started to struggle again. Of course, you couldn’t even move him a millimeter.

“Nng—don’t…” you gasped, averting your eyes to the side when you couldn’t dislodge him.

Surprisingly, he let go of your wrists, instead his fingers tilted your head towards him. You would never get used to these eyes, you thought, as you were forced to look into them once more.

“Heal me,” he repeated himself, a solemn expression on his ashen face.

You shivered, silently pleading for him to just stop. But the determination in his eyes told you that he was ready to go as far as he needed in order to get what he wanted.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

Arm shaking, you slowly reached for his face. That was the only place where you could touch his skin, and as you did so you had to push down the fear of the consequences. He was watching your hand as it moved, the last centimeter was the hardest part. You were hoping he might help by closing the distance, but he stayed in place. Then you finally touched him, your fingers twitching.

Concentrating on your breathing, which was way too fast, you sent out a gentle wave of healing. It took only a second before Reaper closed his eyes and exhaled in satisfaction.

His breath faintly brushed against your face, he was that close.

You kept the healing stream low on purpose, you’d already given it your all to heal him with Dr. O’Deorain’s glove. No need to go all in this time.

To an outsider this must have looked like a scene between two lovers; the way he was bent over you and you practically cradling his face while he obviously enjoyed what you were doing… good thing there was nobody else present.

His eyes were still closed as you felt his fingers loosen their hold on your chin to gently brush down the front of your neck.

“W—wait,” you stammered and momentarily broke the contact on his face. As you had feared the direct healing was having the same effect on him as the last time.

The second your palm left his cheek, his eyes flew open and his still gloved hand shot up to press it back into place. “More,” he growled in that eerie, dark voice.

If you kept going like this you would collapse again, it was simply too much. That damn glove did something to your nanites that seemed to make them work in overdrive and use all your resources at once. At least that’s what it felt like.

“I think that’s enough,” you said meekly and simply stopped the healing output, glassy eyes staring at Reaper, probably not without an air of a challenge in them.

When he felt the healing stop altogether, Reaper scowled. “I say when it’s enough.”

“No!” You’ve had it up to here with him. “No, you don’t! I get to say when it’s done. And I say it is done,” you yelled and snatched your hand out of his to cradle against your chest. “I’m not your personal health pack!” Just damn this man to hell.

At your blatant display of insubordination, he went through multiple stages of disbelief and anger, followed by one of his growls.

In the blink of an eye he had grabbed you under the thighs and pushed you completely on top of the table, crawled over you, put a knee between your legs and pressed against your core roughly with how he held himself on top.

When you wanted to protest against him manhandling you like that, he simply brought his hand that was still in the gauntlet, up and around your throat, effectively cutting off any of your words. The only thing that left your mouth were short gasps now.

He bared his teeth at you, his fiery red orbs almost burning a hole through your skull.

You whimpered.

“I am—” he began loudly, then stopped to think over his words. “I haven’t felt... anything like this in…” he drifted off, eyes darting between different spots on your face. You wondered what he saw there, what he was trying to tell you all of a sudden. Not that you were the least bit interested to know the inner machinations of this utter lunatic. Maybe when this was all over you’d write a book about it, you would call it ‘My Life With The Murderer’.

Only that when this was going to be over, you’d likely be dead.

“Why do you do it?” The question startled you, what did he even mean? You’d done as he’d asked, you’d healed him. Simple as that.

Your frown deepening, you mouthed your answer and that’s when he must have realized that his heavy hand on your windpipe was hindering your speech. He loosened it just a fraction and you breathed in as deeply as it allowed you to.

“I don’t know what—”, you coughed, “what you mean.”

“No. You know,” he ground out and leaned forward a fraction. “Why, mariquita? Is it to weaken me, to catch me off guard?” He hummed, his voice had taken on a velvety smoothness to its coarse undertones and it made your shiver. “Someone set you up to do this.” Again, he searched your face while his eyes squinted. “Was it Akande, Maximilien?”

The way he seemed to be convinced that somebody had ordered you to, what, seduce him made you exhale in a short hysterical laugh. What utter nonsense.

But your laughing made him tighten the grip on your neck again, he didn’t seem to find this the least bit funny.

“If that is what you tried to achieve, then I’ll give them what they want.” And with those words he closed the distance to press his mouth against yours.

With wide eyes you stared into his, panic rising in your chest. The sheer malice on his face was not a good sign for what was about to come. Then you remembered that your hands were currently free and you pushed at him with all your might. But he just gripped your throat harder, the pressure inside your head was painful, and the lack of air had you open your mouth to gasp.

Reaper used that opening to lick inside and over your tongue. The smell and taste of him were assaulting your senses just like the constant pressure against your neck and groin. Failing to push him off, your hands flew to his wrist where he was cutting your airflow off instead.

Your eyes were burning, tears were gathering at the corners and a single one traced down the side of your face to disappear into your hairline. This was it, just a few more seconds and you’d suffocate. Black spots were dancing at the edges of your vision, your muscles spasmed with the lack of oxygen in your blood, and you whimpered.

When he pulled away it was like coming up from deep water, as if you broke its surface and could finally breathe again. Everything hurt, but especially your chest and your head. You moaned in pain in between deep breaths. The cold from the metallic examination table was seeping into your bones and had them ache as well.

It took you a little while to get your breathing under control again, your numb fingers had slipped off his gauntlet and fallen limply to the side, but he still had a secure hold on you. Finally, you managed to look him in the eyes again.

You were at his mercy once more, your life was literally in his hands. Already his grip threatened to tighten again.

When you tried to speak, it only came out as a whisper. “Please,” you swallowed and another tear ran down your face. “No more.”

You couldn’t do this again, the choking was a horror you hadn’t ever experienced before and it had you on edge so much you thought you might have a heart attack.

The malice that had previously distorted his face had ebbed down a bit, he seemed to be more pensive right now with how he was watching your face and let his gaze wander over your heaving chest. Finally, his gauntlet left your neck to brush down your front, claws scratching you unpleasantly and sending shivers down your spine.

Wordlessly, he moved his hand over your chest where your lab coat had fallen open and lightly squeezed your breast through your thin shirt, his talons dangerously close to piercing your skin.

You held your breath in fear, there was nothing you could do to deter him if he wanted to do... that to you, and the realization had you sniffling pathetically as you turned your head to the side.

Meanwhile his gauntlet moved further down your belly to push under the hem of your shirt. The cold, pointy ends of his claws made you shiver violently as they moved to where your bra was, bunching up your top in the process. The razor sharp tips of his talons made short work of your bra, it snapped in half right in the middle, and you flinched at the feeling of the elastic going slack.

You hid your face in the crook of your shoulder when he bared you to his gaze, light tremors running through your entire body.

For a while, nothing happened. He cruelly left you anticipating his next move.

Then, gradually, you felt him shift above you, his fingertips lightly brushed between your breasts and circled around your left nipple, pebbling it in the process. It tickled, made you squirm. When he rolled it between two fingers, you tensed and tried to turn away and to the side, but bumped into his arm that he currently used to prop himself above you.

“Don’t be shy now, mariquita,” he murmured, suddenly very close to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. “We’re just getting started. This is what you’ve been sent to do.”

Oh god, you’d never recover from this. This was the most nightmarish, fucked up excuse for foreplay you could imagine.

He kept breathing in your ear, nipping at the lobe and lightly kissing your neck while his hand kept playing with your nipple.

Soon, the blush was returning to your cheeks. As fucked up as it was, it was still foreplay, and your body reacted to the stimuli it was given, regardless of its source.

“I—I wasn’t sent by...by anyone!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he growled, but kept his ministrations gentle. It was messing with your head. Your anxiety level was through the roof.

“I’m not…” you sobbed, trailing off. This was not helping at all, it was no use. He wouldn’t believe you.

“I know it was me who found you,” Reaper started, “but it was Akande who teamed us up. I had wondered what his intentions had been.” He kept fondling your breasts, and even though you were terrified, your body was starting to get aroused with it. Tingles went down between your legs, made you want to press them together, but Reaper’s armored knee was still nestled against you intimately.

He hummed in thought. “I will find out why you...” he nosed into your neck, “affect me so. A little indulgence in the meantime won’t hurt.”

Won’t hurt you, you thought bitterly.

Reaper’s knee ground against you, so hard that it pushed you up the table with it. The shock of it had you tilt your head back towards him, ready to protest again.

But he simply kissed away any words that had been on your tongue. He was rougher now than before, his mouth forcing yours to open wide and he invaded it boldly with his tongue. It was an all consuming kind of kiss, one that would have you swooning had you not been lying down already. Still, it made your head swim and your legs shake where they tried to squeeze together around Reaper’s thick thigh. He groaned at the feeling of you squirming around him, his bare hand moving from your breast to the fly of your jeans to pop open the button.

His mouth was still slotted against yours, stealing your breath away in a passionate dance.

You were hesitant to admit it, but it was a really good kiss, with the right partner you’d have loved it, given yourself to him without a second thought. Alas, this was Reaper, and the terror you felt at the thought of being raped by him was all consuming.

But suddenly you felt him tugging at your pants, pulling them over your hips, and another wave of sheer panic momentarily gave your head some clarity.

“No,” you pulled away from the kiss, cast fearful eyes down your body and tried to slap his hands away from where they were currently tracing along the top of your panties.

With ease, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them both above your head in his gauntlet.

“Don’t,” your voice broke on the last syllable, “please.” Tears were finally streaming down your face, you couldn’t keep it together any longer.

He paused, cocked his head.

“Poor girl,” he cooed and brushed some of the tears away with his thumb. “You are but an instrument, to be used by one and then by another. This is your place now.” He kissed your brow and drew back again, unphased by your revulsion. “This is what Akande wanted, so it is what he’ll get.” His voice turned cold. “Send him my regards.”

Apparently he was really under the impression that Ogundimu had instructed you to do this, the mere thought that maybe that was true, that Ogundimu thought of you as someone to whore out to teammates acting up made you sick to your stomach. What was the purpose of that, though? Distraction, dependency?

Reward?

Your musings were interrupted when Reaper resumed what he’d been doing previously, his bare hand moved down to your jeans and pushed them down, along with your panties, until they bunched around your knees.

To get them further down though, he had to momentarily get off of you, and it was in that moment that you saw your chance to get out. His hold on your wrists was easily broken when he was so focused on your bottom half. One hard tug and your hands were free, twisting to the side you managed to dodge his renewed attempt at catching you and your legs could slide out beneath him on the smooth metal of the examination table. The fall to the floor was painful, but the adrenalin in your system helped to ignore it as you collected your limbs underneath you and got up to your feet. A quick tug on your pants and you had them up around your hips again, the way to the door beckoning you.

Four long strides and the door almost in reach, but there was a black mass swirling in front of you now. It was Reaper’s black mist, you recognized from where you had stopped in your tracks, too shocked to look away. The mist was swirling, folding in on itself and finally taking on human shape.

This was straight out of a horror novel and you yelped in surprise.

The first part of him that was truly identifiable as human were his eyes, burning through the mist in their demonic color. The rest of his face followed suit, then his body materialized, already reaching out for you.

Too late you stumbled backwards.

In the blink of an eye you were whirled around and pressed against the doors that you had so desperately tried to reach a moment ago.

Reaper was holding you by the arms, a manic glint in his eye.

“You think you can run from me?” He sounded amused and it was almost convincing, hadn’t it been for the way his hands held you in a vice like grip, painfully tight.

That had been your very last chance of escape.

His rhetorical question hung above you heavily. No, you didn’t actually think that, it had been a knee jerk reaction of your body to flee.

“I’m—” His gauntlet on your mouth stopped you mid-sentence. He had pushed even closer to be able to release one of your arms and shush you like this. You cast wary eyes his way and saw that he was looking off to the side.

It seemed like he was listening for something.

Then you heard it: footsteps were fast approaching from the outside. Your eyes went wide. Who was coming to the lab? Were they going to try and come inside? Maybe you could cry for help…

Any hope that dared to blossom in your heart was crushed by the realization that nobody in this building was likely to help you at all, especially with Reaper. You were convinced that most people were afraid of him, yourself included. Hell, you were the president of club Reaper Is Scary.

With his finger against his lips Reaper signaled for you to be silent, not that you could have made a sound anyway. The sound grew ever louder and finally they came to a stop on the other side of the door.

You strained your ears for any clues on who it might be, but all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears.

Then, a knock.

It almost made your heart stop right then and there. Wide eyed you stared at the man in front of you, not daring to make a sound. You were acutely aware of how Reaper was pressed to you, all hard edges and cold metal.

Casey called your name from outside. “Hey, are you there?” Her voice sounded muffled through the thick walls. “I forgot my keycard when I left. Can you let me in?”

What would Casey say if she saw you like this, half naked with bruised lips by rough kisses from no one else but Reaper . Would she be disgusted, or would she understand that this was not what it seemed? Really, you didn’t want to find out.

It felt like an eternity until Casey called your name and knocked one last time, followed by a silent curse and mention of finding Dr. O’Deorain to let her in, that told you she was going to leave and come back at a later time. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

You had closed your eyes in fear and only now cracked them open to tentatively watch what Reaper was doing. His face had softened somewhat, the fire in his eyes muted just a little. He was watching you intently, removed his hand from your mouth and took a step away from you.

Your knees buckled where you stood half leaning against the door with wild eyes, your hands fiercely clasping your lab coat to shield from view...and maybe more.

“This is not over, mariquita,” he promised darkly, then did his disappearing act again and vanished in a cloud of black mist right in front of you.

It took you a minute to breathe easy again. The darkness had lifted off of you for now, his presence was no longer looming above and you sobbed in relief. Your hands covered your face as tears were flowing freely again.

Your mind was blank, too many emotions were warring within you to make anything coherent of them. What you knew for certain was that you had to get out of this building and as far away as possible.

But what about Caleb?

#gabriel reyes #overwatch #reader x reaper #reaper #fanfiction #female reader

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snipehuntpotatosack · 3 years

Text

Unofficial Commentary on the text tagged [Chronic Metaphor] – A Servo-Subsystem Research Program Summary in Four Cantos; with Addendum re site visit

Initial apologetics (if the term is applicable and/or recognized) are due concerning the graphic or “pronunciatory” form in which the material herein discussed was/is presented, even tho the unit(s) generating said material were not at any time under my direct or indirect personal control. Yes, I identify myself as a “person” in the oldest and most trivial sense in addressing you herein, and the form I use will continue to be the prosiest, fussiest and most boringly irritating of proses. As for why precisely a psychoneurotic pseudopoet with a rusty valve stuck open seems to have generated an idiosyncratic 255-line precis of the non-results of an actual very official, time-consuming, and quite expensive archeologic-epistemic study in astrocognitive phenomena in a species of volatile vers libre rather than the usual lethal academic sludge-speak: as part of one of the cyclical waves of good-heartedness affecting managerial disposition toward the treatment of the “semi-sentient,” a random selection of report writers were encouraged to experiment with other linguistic models which might more effectively package complex/banal-seeming information so as to attract more network attention, this being regarded as an a priori goal for some reason…It is not clear whether the composers of the CM text had any particular literary models in mind (and I can assure everyone that no ‘machine’ time has been spent on investigating this uninteresting question); I think it more likely that the inspired creator(s) attempted to place breaks similar to physical speech rhythms – as in the incantations of Druidical sages gone cybermad – into whatever data it occurred to them to convey (partly suggested by the fact that the “speaker-units” under study imitate the rhythms, the rushes and caesuras, of persons talking – while of course making no sense whatsoever).

Regardless of the semi-bizarre form in which the summary report has been assembled, and even taking into account its various semi-snide sidelights on the assumptions, motivations or delusions of participants in this and other official research ventures, having been called upon unofficially to comment on its usefulness at this stage in our reckoning with what we have encountered, I can only add the following:

I have nothing further to add.

Whatever follows should not be expected to modify our overall evaluation of the project or of any potential for further expenditure or non-expenditure; it represents only my particular, that is personal, inclination to fill in some background details regarding this overall puzzling, unsatisfyingly incomplete area of inquiry. (As intimated in a particular line of Canto C, “breadth” without “depth” of information can be particularly irksome to the curious mind, though whether my extra depths may lead anywhere is doubtful.)

Standard trans-galactic probe techniques did in fact encounter (and retrieve detailed information in a wide range of sensory and mathematical categories), at a date not too far from the beginning of our current technocratic era, with a nearly perfectly planar solid object consisting entirely as far as we know of the element Carbon, in the form graphite, at a location which remains constant though classified. Its planar quality is “nearly” perfect, of course, since the sheet does possess some top-to-bottom thickness – exactly 256 molecules. Otherwise, no limit to its extent has yet been found, by any sensing or calculational means possible, in any direction. (We can, of course, access its “other side”, by approaching from the other direction). The object is thus referred as “finite but boundless,” in the sense that before contact is made with the planar surface, there is no graphite; once contact is made, there is.

This description would seem to imply that the plane slices the megaverse in half; and so it would, except for its orientation in Riemann space. You will appreciate that this point cannot be expanded on using semantic language.

The entire “population” of the plane is a transfinite (that is the word, as per Canto A , – and there’s no other; we simply cannot know how many) set of black carbon nano-fiber cubical audio speakers, of an extremely basic design, with one smallish vibrating sound-producing diaphragm each. Forgive me if I slip into homey jargon – each one is about knee high, and they sit there about one-and-a-half arm’s length from each other in a very exact pointillist array, all facing in the exact same direction, if there was a way to define that direction, which there isn’t. Tomography indicates a small disk at the interior base may be their power source, though what activates and deactivates (or uses up) this power source is beyond our ken. In addition, a small white light of the simplest construction on top of the cube lights up with modest wattage when the speaker-unit operates, and goes out afterward.

Yes, of course we’ve tried to sample the graphite. Of course we’ve tried to disassemble a speaker and microanalyze its parts, in situ or, if it could be arranged, at another location. They cannot be picked up, moved, pierced, bent, melted, dinged, crushed, drilled, lasered, or physically affected in any way. This although they are quite physically real; you can trace its contour through your glove, and if you bang your knee against one of the corners (through the leg of your e-suit) it will raise a lump. It cannot be detached from the surface of the plane by the application through torsion of a force sufficient to propel an object free of the gravity of galactic center. No, we have not attempted to destroy any smaller or larger part of the plane and its population using the most fearsome destructive tools known; logical analysis could not project any conceivable gain in information through this procedure.

And yes, as the lumpiness of my description indicates, I have been personally to Site F, as the wags call it (short for many possible terms). Only once. Continued data collection of any sort of data anyone or anything could ever dream up obviously continues via automatic installations on site; budgetary questions only arise concerning whether to continue analyzing this Leviathan of unappealing input as it grows dusty in our virtual ledgers. As for the considerable resources entailed in dispatching any more eyewitnesses to F, in corpore, I suspect the only reason this is not now completely ruled out is a kind of inchoate, cosmic superstition – having never successfully peered into the mind of function f, if any such thing exists, we can’t stop peeking sideways to see what it might do next; and we certainly wouldn’t want it to feel slighted in the meantime.

Approaching F from a series of eccentric hyperbolics, one’s first impression is of a dimly pearlescent Cupid’s bow, of the radius of a gnat, then an inchworm, then perhaps a comb jelly, performing rather silly flips and inverted rotations in the blackness as your perspective gyrates round that of the approach trajectory. When very close indeed, the sense of a gargantuan flat dance floor – picked out in midnight streaks not by F itself but by our own, stationary illuminators – grows alarmingly, and then vanishes completely as one comes to rest – on an array of cubes, rather than the actual floor, which makes no difference. (An odd sensation, being deposited on a perfectly flat plane – it immediately popped into my head that our own technology approaches nothing similar.)

It is simple to make shoe-soles that love graphite. The environment of F is pure, dead-vacuum, intergalactic space, with a floor to walk on. Unfortunately, the floor is studded with solid shin-busters whose regular spacing will not spare one without considerable practice, so travel groups are collectively lighted from above. There is not much of a walk to reach the Activated Area, no matter when you go, since one can land anywhere; but tourists are given about fifteen minutes approach time to allow the pupils to adjust.

You are advancing on foot into the maw of trillion-diamond Tiara City, the scintillating illusion building intricately to past fifty, sixty degrees above the horizon even tho every individual photon originates mere centimeters from the surface. The walls and webs of light are thickly constructed to the sides of you and behind you, and seem to be narrowing and crowning upward ahead – the parabolic arch now spanning well more than a billion active electrified entities of unknown origin and purpose. Two hours walk, three, and the illusory multidimensional effect has worn thin as you near the focus; adjusted retina now perceive a flat broad white light everywhere, neither intense nor interrupted, utterly transparent, and yielding a perspective at once completely repetitive and monstrously surreal, as the twinkling cubes march in serried ranks to the horizon.

Then, your automated guide introduces the next phase of your learning experience. Your earphones, which have been shut completely till now, are slowly – over a period of many minutes – exposed to what is really filling the air around you, reaching and remaining at a level approximating eight percent of the true volume level –

Did I say the AIR?

Indeed Madam or Sir, without which there would be no way to hear, record, analyze the Speech of the speaker cubes. In fact, when Site F was first discovered, millions upon millions of active speaker-units were gabbling away freely – as evidenced clearly by the tremblings and agitations of their sound-producing diaphragms - and producing no sound at all in the vacuum of space.

Nor did they, until our researchers filled the surrounding space with ambient gases appropriate to the operation of the speaker units in producing phonemic sound. Verbal sound. Innumerable combinations of gases with and without particulate additives have been tried for this purpose, but only one maximizes F-Site speaker performance: the exact proportions of nitrogen and oxygen found on what our dear dead ancestors were pleased to call home.

Our poetic prologue omitted this as a mere technical detail; the notion that indestructible space-born units would be sent on an eternal mission, i.e. to talk – and not only not given anyone to talk to, but no way to be heard if there was –

did not interest our core analytic cadres compared to the potential or hypothetical mathematics of the mother-ship f function.

So now, fellow voyager, we have reached the final revelation, laid bare to our senses. As hovering tanks emit invisible atmospheres toward all and sundry, we finally hear the Star Speech of the mysterious Speakers. They talk, and talk, and talk, in every direction.

As far as anyone can understand, it means nothing at all….

except for one small detail.

There is one other thing about their conversation, which the Poem did not mention.

They don’t just talk. They whisper, they moan. They bellow, they proclaim in profound orotund baritones. They shriek like the demons of Macbeth’s blasted heath. They burble, grovel, compliment, snarl, sob, ululate, snicker, mimic, plead, project, perorate, bloviate, gargle, snivel, boast, wheedle, insinuate, denounce, exaggerate, hype, summon, denounce, deceive, chatter, natter, blather, yammer, wail, mourn, elegize, mesmerize, scandalize, ingratiate, stutter, sputter, mew, whinge, neigh, hector, harp, emote, ejaculate, envision, exclaim, erupt, elucidate, yowl, yak, jape, jest, jabber, greet, grandiloquize, chisel, charm, chuckle, chitter, crow, brag, argue, segue, toast, threaten, ameliorate, pray, parry, aver, avow, acclaim, attest, affirm, achoo, agree, account, accept, accredit, auction, authorize, augur, theorize, temporize, tantalize, tongue, tang, teeng, tong, and tan two tonsils for every top ticket in town

And there’s one other thing we know. Not from ourselves, because we’d have to die first. But from the machines, who can stay there long, long after we’d wink out.

If you just stand there, and wait until all the quintillions around you have had their say, they all wink out, night falls; and The Perfectly Clear Light, and then The Trillion Diamond Tiara City, and then The Pearly Cupid’s Bow, move on, on, on into the Inky Way, talking, talking forever

#scifi

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junquisite · 4 years

Text

Fated to love : Introduction + Preview

PAIRING : Park Junhee X OC X Kim Wooseok

GENRE : Fluff, Angst, future mature content. Further warning for each chapter would be provided.

WORD COUNT : 1.8k

PARTS : I+P 1 2

“You deserve this break more than anyone Bora” Aerin said and Seri agreed.

“I think so.” Bora whispered as they were called in for the training.

“Everything is cool but please tell me again why is the first thing you wanna do as we landed in switzerland is paragliding?” Aerin asked as they saw their instructor approaching.

“He's cute.” Seri mumbled and Bora rolled her eyes at her.

“Hello, I'll be your instructor for now and my name is Park Junhee, if you can just give me your consent forms.” he said and they handed it to him. “Aaah I can't believe I met Koreans on my last day as my last customers.” he said and they laughed.

“It's your last day?” Seri asked and he nodded. “I’ll still be here for a couple of days but the last few days before leaving I want to spend time appreciating this country. I'm gonna miss it.”

“Where are you from in korea?”

“Seoul. You?” he asked.

“We’re from Seoul too.”

Soon they were standing on the edge, Bora about to take off (after Seri asking her own trainer if she could switch hers with Bora’s who had Junhee), did Aerin come to her.

“Think about it Bora, if i die during this your marriage might get postponed.” and Bora laughed.

“Trust me, she would like it”, Seri said as she dragged Aerin away and the next thing Bora knew, she was in the air with Junhee guiding the sail behind her.

Too soon for her, she was on the ground and waiting for Aerin and Seri when Junhee came and stood up beside her.

“I can't believe the girl that caught my eyes for the first time in almost a month here is korean AND engaged.” and she looked at him.

“Who's engaged?”

Junhee gave her a confused stare,”Aren't you?”

“Well..” she trailed off. “I'm not per se engaged but I am supposed to marry someone when i get back home.”

“So not engaged yet?” he asked her as he bent to stare in her eyes and smile at her.

“Not yet.You never know though. I might be engaged when i go back 2 weeks later or i might get a text message tonight saying I'm engaged. But not engaged yet.” something in his smile made her tell him that. And it was the truth. She wasn't exactly engaged yet.

“So this is like a pre wedding trip for yourself?” he asked again, she felt him taking a step closer towards her and she hid her face behind the scarf around her neck.

“Sort of.”

“Why not sure? Parents against it?” he asked and the way he laughed when he looked at her, he knew he got the bullseye.

“You can't even imagine.”

They saw as Aerin and Seri’s sail was going in circles meaning they’ll be landing soon enough.

“Try me.” he said as he turned to face her completely.

“Okay..you know how they come to check your permanent address for verification before issuing your visa?” she asked and he nodded.

“My father denied I lived there when they came because he did not want me to come on this trip.”

They saw how the girls landed with loud cheers but Junhee had his eyes set on her, wide open.

“You win. Oh god how did you come here?” he asked her and she giggled.

“I ended up giving my apartment address as my permanent address. And here I am.”

Seri and Aerin were loudly calling her name as they were coming to her.

“I'm happy you're here.” he said with such a soft smile that she hated to admit that it made her heart flutter. It was all so new to her.

“It wasn't that scary and i'm happy i tried it bora.” Aerin said as soon as they reached them and Bora smiled at her.

They were called by the people from the paragliding company staff and Bora turned around all too suddenly without realising she was still tied up with Junhee over the string and ended up falling down taking him with her - they ended up with her over him and she heard her friends giggle as Junhee held her softly.

“I don't give in before the third date, Miss. You gotta take me out thrice to get me into bed with you.” he said and laughed loudly at how quickly she turned red.

“Oh please take her out Junhee-ssi. She deserves at least one good date and getting laid before her marriage.” Seri said as they both stood up and the glare Bora threw her way could have been scary if Seri was one fo those who got scared of her.

“You have never been on a date before?” he asked her and she turned away from him.

“That's not true.”

“High school doesn't count Bora.” Seri spoke again and Aerin mumbled how she had no fears.

“Lass mich dich auf ein Date Mitnehmen.” he said and Seri cursed out loud.

“Ja.” bora said with a smile, giggling at how seri cried about not knowing what he asked because she wasn't a language nerd like Bora.

“I think we can announce our engagement today.” Wooseok said as Bora ended her call and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I have no objection if it's okay with both of you.” Her father said.

“We won't be announcing my engagement at my company’s party organised for possible collaborations.” she said with certainty, “we can hold another party for our engagement.” she added and her father nodded as she turned to bow and leave.

“At Least wear the ring.” Wooseok asked before she could leave though and she stopped to level him with a cold gaze. She extended her hand to him and he tried to put the ring on her finger but she took it from his hand instead.

“I’ll do it myself. It's not like we have been properly engaged. You don't have to do this.” she said as she turned to leave.

“But we’re engaged still. I’ll see you at the party.”

“As the Chairwoman of ‘Neverland’ fashion, I'm proud to announce that it’s been a year since my company has been listed and I’m extremely thankful to each and everyone of you who have chosen to consider the idea of collaborating with us. I truly wish i can find a chance to work with all of you at some point of time and as always, I'm extremely thankful for the support. Please enjoy the party!” Bora said as she bowed and everyone clapped. She was proud of what her company has come to and nothing could make her happier. And a lot of companies she has been interested in were here for a chance to work with her company. The time to prioritize the needs of her company and the demand of products was now.

“”Miss Kang?” someone called her and she turned to come face to face with a smiling face.

“Im Lee Donghun from JD Footwears. I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you.”

She smiled. JD footwears - a rising company giving even established brands a run for their money - a company founded by two friends which was reaching new heights every month. According to Bora, with the speed they were rising, she was expecting them to come on her level in a few months. JD footwears - a company she has been keeping an eye on for months now and would probably be her first choice to work with.

“Aaah I have been meaning to get a chance to talk to you.” she said with a smile.

“That's a pleasure to hear from you.” Donghun said as he bowed and she did the same.

“I thought you have a partner too?” she asked and he nodded.

“He was supposed to be here but there was an emergency at the shooting site for our new product’s advertisement so he had to be there. Regarding that, i have request for you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, a request?

“What is it?”

“How about we have dinner tomorrow night? A meeting to discuss potential collaboration and get to know each other. Since we would be working together soon enough.'' Donghun ended with a smile and she was impressed. There was a subtle flirting in his tone with enough pinch of professionalism which was a fresh surprise. His smile was adding it to it showing he knew there was a very small chance she might deny it -that confidence was something she found attractive, not necessarily in a romantic way but in a general sense.

“I don't think i appreciate you talking to my fiance like this.” she heard from behind her as Wooseok came and picked up her left hand to show the ring to Donghun.

“Oh I apologize I had no clue you were engaged. I swear it was all harmless flirting, I was just trying to make you feel comfortable Bora-ssi.” Donghun said as he bowed to her and Bora waved her hand as she smiled, “it's fine Donghun-ssi. I understand.” Then she pulled out her card from her coat’s pocket and a pen, scribbled her personal number on the card and handed it to him, “Feel free to message me the details for the dinner. Does tomorrow night works for you?” She asked as Donghun nodded at her.

“Then i hope to see you and your partner tomorrow night. Please send me the place you’ll be comfortable to meet at and let’s discuss the possible collaboration in detail.” she said and bowed as he bowed back and turned around as Wooseok tugged at her arm.

“I don't like the idea of you dining with him.” Wooseok said as they walked in the party hall, smiling and waving at people.

“It's not only him. His partner will be there too.” she said.

“What if he’s like him too?” Wooseok mumbled.

She turned to look straight at him at that and as he saw her cold expression, he realised how much she has changed from the Bora he used to know since middle school.

“Don't act like you care for me Wooseok. I don't care whether you like me having dinner with them or not, I am going and nothing is going to change that decision.”

It’s the trip. That changed her. Wooseok thought.

“I knew it was a bad idea letting you go on that trip to swiss.” he mumbled and saw how she narrowed her eyes at him - he had been seeing that look on her too much recently.

“Stop trying to control my life. You're marrying me, not buying me.” she said and she pulled her hand away from his and left him standing along at that party hall.

#a.c.e #park junhee #kim wooseok #a.c.e scenarios #x1 scenarios #x1 scenario #a.c.e smut #x1 #wooseok smut #wooseok scenarios #a.c.e imagines #wooseok imagines #x1 imagines #ACEWRITERS

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liliesoftherain · 5 years

Text

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch. 7 The Big Day is Here!

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Here’s the next part!! Finally we get some action(: I hope you all enjoy and I’m sorry for nay mistakes! Thank you all!

TAG LIST: @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(:

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You spent the last two weeks training extensively, focusing on how to use your quirk while trying keeping up your stamina up and your heat down. You felt confident when the time for the sports festival rolled around, especially since you were able to train with your father whenever he had the time. Training with him was always nice, because he was a strong man who didn't hold back, too much anyways.

So when you found yourself in the locker rooms in the arena, you didn't understand why you were feeling nervous. Maybe it was because you'd be on every television screen in the country? Or that'd you'd have to go up against classmates? While it could have been both, you also believed it was due to your dad watching you from the crowd. Even if he didn't care if you placed, you wanted to make him proud.

"Awh man!" Mina's whine ripped you from your thoughts, " I was totally hoping I could wear my costume!"

"At least everyone will be in uniforms," Ojiro smiled, "That'll keep things fair right?"

"Some people have costumes designed to help enhance their quirks, and the other students who aren't in the hero course don't have costumes at all, so it would make it an even bigger disadvantage for them."

"Oh that's true, I guess you guys are right." She huffed at your words of wisdom, still wanting to wear her costume because she wanted to be cute.

"I wonder what they'll have in store for us in the first round." Sato asked in a nervous manner, he didn't look so confident.

"No matter what they prepare we must persevere ."

"Right."

Iida busted through the door, screaming as always, which caused everyone to turn to him.

"Everyone get your game faces on! We are entering the arena soon!"

You let a small smile grace your lips, hoping it would somehow wash the nerves away.

"Modoriya." Todoroki called out to the kid, stopping to be face-to-face with him.

"Hey Todoroki, what's up." You all looked on at the boys not really caring that it was almost like eavesdropping, they were talking out in the open after all.

"I think from an objective standpoint, it's fair to say that I'm stronger than you."

"Uh! Um, well yea.." Izuku trailed off, brows pulling downwards.

"However, you've got AllMight in your corner helping you out. While I'm not here to pry about what's going on between you two, just know that I will be the one to beat you, even if you have his help."

The stare between them caused high tensions to fill the room, Denki tried his best to to lighten it up but it did nothing.

"Yea what's the big deal, why are you picking a fight all of a sudden?" Kirishima added, putting a hand on Todoroki's shoulder before the said boy threw it off, not even turning to him when he responded back.

"We aren't here to be each other's friends. Don't forget this isn't a team effort."

"Wait a sec Todoroki," Midoriya called out to him, halting Todoroki from leaving. "I don't know what's going through your head or why you need to tell me that you'll beat me, and yea you're better than me, you probably have the best potential out of everyone in the hero course.."

"Midoriya maybe you're being a little hard on yourself, and the rest of us too.."

"No, he's right you guys. All the other courses are coming at us with everything they've got. We really need to do what (y/n) told them we would that day, and bring our best. And fight to stand out. And I'll be aiming for the top too, using no one's help but my own, that means even AllMight's." Izuku finished his speech, eyes set firm in determination, staring straight into Todoroki's cold eyes.

"Fine." Todoroki turned his back on him, looking at you instead, "we've all got secrets and help, even if we don't want to admit it."

"Excuse me?" You questioned, not liking his tone.

"You heard me Hakamata, do you believe I have no idea who your father is?" Your eyes narrowed, standing quickly to look him down, which didn't do much because you still had to look up, but you felt it was now a more level playing field.

"You think you know me based on my father? Even though I know who your father is too, I never once said anything about you being his son. I never accused you of "getting his help" whatever that's supposed to mean. I don't know about you but I'm fighting to prove myself, by myself, just like everyone else here. And I'm not going to let my father's fame blind everyone around me." You jab a finger in his chest.

"Even if they know who I am, I'm going to show everyone I'm more than just my father's daughter. You too should be wanting to prove you're nothing like yours." You saw his eyes open for a moment, before you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, heading down to the opening of one of the arches that lead to the field.

You were told you had to wait here, and could come out once you've been announced by Present Mic, and from under the cover of the large opening, you saw his face pop onto the screen

"Hey welcome to the U.A sports festival! Make some noise you rabid sports fans! Get your cameras prepped and ring your horns because this year we're bringing you some of the hottest performances in sports festival history! I've only got one question before we get this show on the roll, ARE YOU READYYYY?! Let me hear you scream for these awesome students!"

Being told to go out in groups, the first one being your class, you were huddled together to wait for the right time to go out. You made sure to stay away from Todoroki as possible, ignoring the side eye he was giving you, as well as all the other looks from your class. Now was not the time to get distracted. You had a festival to win.

"While these up and coming stars fight for the chance to win it big and get first place, this first group who you'll have the pleasure of seeing is the group all know and love, who are no strangers to the spotlight, the ones who withstood a villain attack, the famous hero course students from CLASS 1-A!"

Everyone began to walk out, almost blinded by the light and made deaf by all the screaming. It was incredible to see so many people here for the first year fight, normally the arena was only this crazy for third year students.

"I didn't know there would be so many people!" Izuku stuttered, his head whipping around to look at everyone around them.

"I hope we're still going to be able to give a good show with all these eyes on us."

"That's what heroes have to go through every day Iida, the public eye watching and demanding. It's no different form now." You responded with a smile, turning away and looking forward.

"Present Mic sure did talk us up a lot, kinda makes me nervous." Kirishima was doing the same thing as Izuku, just less intense as he was scanning the crowd. You put a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a reassuring smile before turning to Bakugou.

"How are you feeling Bakugou?"

"Yeah man, you look a little.." Eijiro trails off, seeing Bakugou looking at the ground, a little surprised when he lifted his head with a dark smile on his face.

"I'm not worried, this makes me wanna win even more!"

As Present Mic announced all the other students, you couldn't help but try to look for your dad in the crowd, even though you knew you'd never be able to spot him from here. Filing into rows, you tore your gaze away from the crowds, and looked to the announcer standing on the podium.

"Now for the introductory speech!" The R-rated Hero Midnight stood tall, an interesting choice of a weapon in her hand. She winked and blew kisses before getting serious.

"Silence everyone!" She smacked her whip-like object and you felt yourself blush. Was this really appropriate for this kind of event?

"For the student introductions, we have Katsuki Bakugou!" You turned to look behind you and moved slightly so he could walk by. You shared a look with Momo who shook her head.

"This is going to be a disaster.."

"He's the first year rep??"

"Well I guess that hothead did finish first in the entrance test."

A large sigh was made at your right, and you saw a girl from the gen ed studies. She looked at you all with annoyance in her eyes and arms crossed.

"He only placed first in the hero course exams."

"Oh right, sorry." Midoriya apologized, Sero leaning closer and muttering to all of you,

"That girl seems to really hate us."

"Yea and we've got Bakugou to thank for that." Denki pouted.

Your eyes rolled at his pouts and looked to see Bakugou walking up the steps to stand in front of the microphone next to Midnight. Silence rang throughout the crowds, spectators and students alike holding their breath to see what he would say.

Bakugou stood with his hands in his pockets, looking over the students.

"I just want to say, I'm going to win." You along with everyone else in your class sighed at his words, hearing the boos come from other courses. Bakugou simply threw a thumbs down, uncaring as he called everyone a stepping stone.

"He may be brash but he is strong, I don't think it's over confidence, just him being rude as always." You whisper to Kirishima.

He only mumbled an agreement, not wanting to get trashed talked any more than the class already was. Bakugou walked back to stand behind you, and you turned your attention to the screen. The words "First Game" in large writing stood out.

"Anyways without further ado, it's time to get going! This is where you students really begin to feel the pain!" Midnight pointed her whip at the crowd.

"The first fateful game of the festival is..." The board spun and spun till it stopped. "Tada! An obstacle race!"

"All 11 classes will participate in the dangerous race, the track being 4Km going all around the stadium. I won't restrain anyone, at least in this game." A sinful grin crossed her lips.

"As long as you don't leave the course you're free to do whatever your heart desires! Now then, take your places contestants!"

The students walked over, and you managed to snag an area towards the front, but not good enough. If you thought this through, you knew everyone would be rushing, and it would be packed just like how it was when the students panicked the day the reporters broke through the school walls. You had to make sure you weren't caught in their swarms.

The lights started to dim one by one, and you prepared your body, waiting for the last light to dim so you can sprint off. You took in a breath, as you heard the last buzzer.

"BEGIN!" And you were off, shoves from other students threatened to send you to the floor but you weren't budging.

"And we're off to a racing start! How about some commentary Mummy man?"

"How did you talk me into this?"

"What should we be paying attention to this early in the race?"

"The doorway."

The yells from everyone around you made your head pound as you pushed people aside to get through. You used your power almost like stilts to push you up, making you slightly taller than the people around you before you dropped your power to start running on them. You felt bad, of course you did, your shoes were probably painfully digging into their shoulders and heads while using them as push off points.

Many kids tried to knock you down and many almost succeeded, it was hard to use living beings as a runway after all. Yet you always were able to land on someone else for support, and even though you wanted to apologize you had no time to do so. Next thing you knew a blast of freezing cold air came through the tunnel, and you saw the students you were running on unable to move.

You were outside of the area now, and saw Todoroki speeding away while leaving everyone else stuck to the ground. You used some kids shoulders to jump off of, seeing the ice unable to let him fall, and skidded after Todoroki.

The ice was slippery but you caught yourself on solid non-frozen ground, using your quirk to quickly speed after him. Hearing shouts from your classmates behind you made you smile, until you locked gazes with the half-and-half boy as he looked to see who wasn't caught in his trap. You stared at him hard, a smirk coming to your lips as his eyes narrowed before looking ahead.

"Nice trick Todoroki!" Momo shouted.

"I WON'T LET YOU TWO AHEAD OF ME SO EASILY YOU BASTARDS!" Bakugou yelled after the two of you, and you felt pride swirl in from getting ahead of the boy.

Although it didn't last long as he used his quirk to get ahead of you by blasting himself in the air, and while it was hard to tell you assumed he was. It was amazing that Mineta actually jumped by you with incredible height, surpassing both you and Bakugou. You watched as he was going to land on Todoroki, till the boy was knocked from the air by a giant robotic arm.

You watched him fly back, nowhere near you guys anymore. You came to a halt, breathing heavily while trying to see what was going on. Giant robots from the entrance exam blocked your path, and you felt more students stop behind you, as you stared ahead.

"OH! Looks like we're in for a treat here, enemies showing up out of nowhere! A test of strength and cunning! IT’S THE ROBO INFERNO!"

Shouts around you about the disbelief that hero course students had to take these on during the exam were drowned out as you looked for any point of passing by them without getting too physical. You remembered your battle during the entrance exams, and the zero pointers were definitely better to avoid than to attack head on. Not that they were too challenging, you just needed to save strength for the rest of the race and couldn't afford to get overheated here at the beginning.

One attacked, and Todoroki was quick to freeze multiple at once.

"I wished they put in more effort, seeing as my dear old dad is watching." You heard him grunt out while looking in shock about the force behind his ice attack. There was an opening between the legs of the robots and you wondered why he created a path. He must've had done so for a reason, no way he'd leave the opportunity for everyone to cross.

He ran off and you waited while everyone tried to follow, it was a trap. He was going to set everyone up. He confirmed your suspicious and he let them fall haphazardly towards the ground, and you used your quirk to launch yourself up as soon as they did. By willing the light in your feet to shoot out, it gave you a boost to send you up while everyone was running back, giving you a heads start from the others besides Todoroki.

"That's Shouto Todoroki from class 1-A pulling ahead to an early lead with a devastating display! Amazing! He's the one we should be watching, it almost seems unfair!"

"His attack was both offensive and defensive-"

"NO WONDER HE WAS LET IN ON RECOMMENDATIONS! He's never even fought those robo infernos before, but even still they didn't stand a chance for those jaw dropping moves!"

More robots came through the dust cloud that was created by the others falling. You grit your teeth as you were heading straight towards it, no way to dodge it unless you wanted to fall back flat on your ass. Best chance you had was to keep going, and land on the robot to either slide down his back or do another jump.

"Eijirou Kirishima from class 1-A makes it out from under the scraps of metal, SHEESH talk about a breakthrough debut for this rookie! WOOOOH TETSUTETSU FROM CLASS 1-B WAS ALSO STUCK UNDERNEATH, going beyond!"

Once you landed on one and had no time to think as you launch yourself off of that one to the next. They tried to swing at you but you dodged, using your quirk to help your speed and make you jump more swiftly. That led them to miss you while they swung for you.

Once the last row of robots was cleared, you saw the ground come at you faster and faster, and you had no good way to brace your fall. You sucked in a breath and encased yourself in light, hoping it'd take off some of the sting. You landed with a hard thud, and felt yourself rolling. You tried to catch your breath when you finally came to a stop, grunting at the pain. You'd have to work on it if you ever wanted to do something cool like that again.

"Class 1-A's (y/n) Hakamata is launching herself over the big hunks of metal! What a genius! As the number 2 in this race right now, we should also try to not let her out of our sights! GO GO GO STUDENTS!"

You pushed yourself off the ground, running through your pain. You didn't have time to sit around, you knew students would be coming soon.

"ANOTHER 1-A STUDENT, KATSUKI BAKUGOU, IS LAUNCHING HIMSELF JUST LIKE MISS HAKAMATA. She's such a trendsetter! But she better pick up the pace if she wants to stay in her number 2 spot, otherwise she may have it stolen right out from under her!"

"Thanks for the idea glitter bomb!" You heard Bakugou yell, and used your quirk to try to give you some more speed. While you only heard him because let's face, it he was loud, you knew it was only a matter of time before he'd take your spot. Just like Present Mic said.

You saw the next obstacle approaching and stopped just in time, spotting Todoroki's back facing you. He gave a quick glance back unfazed before jumping onto the rope, allowing the ice to bind his feet to the rope before sliding all the way across.

You felt stuck, unsure of what exactly to do, but you needed a plan before you fell behind.

You decided to try something you never thought of before, and willed your light to solidify in your hands, and melded it into a hook of some sort with a strap. You let this strap wrap around your wrist and you connected the hook to the icy rope Todoroki made. You let yourself fall and yelped as it hurt to hold yourself up with one hand.

You brought your other hand up bracing yourself as you used your feet to push off, using the rope as a zip-line. Thankfully the rope didn't snap from the heat, all thanks to the ice acting as a barrier.

Reaching the end of the rope where it connected with another dirt pillar, you brought your feet up to stop yourself from slamming into the side. Reaching up with one hand to the top, you pulled yourself up with difficulty and unhooked the claw from the rope. You panted, looking to see you still had quite a few left, but you'd be fine as long as you stayed on the path Todoroki took.

You heard popping sounds and looked up, seeing Bakugou fly over you and all you did was curse as he made a snide comment.

"Thanks for sucking enough to let me pass, I'll look down on your from the winners podium shitty glow worm!"

You picked yourself up and continued your half-ass attempt of a zip line, noticing other students starting to make their way to the beginning.

"For those of you who thought that task was easy, let us see how you feel about the second one! If they take a spill down they're out, to pass this test they'll have to get creative!"

You ran up to the last one, but you jumped down too fast and screamed out as a searing pain made its way down your arm. You couldn't lose focus, unless you wanted your light to turn back into its regular form and have you drop into the abyss. So despite the pain you still held on, using your other hand for support as you made it to the other side. But when you reach the end, you couldn't pull yourself ups, it hurt your right shoulder too much.

'I must've dislocated it!' You thought in a panic, trying to figure out a way to move unless you wanted to go down.

No. That wasn't an option. You bit your lip through the pain as you began to swing your body, feeling tears make their way down your cheeks as you finally had enough momentum to kick you legs up and use that as a leverage to use your good hand to pull you up the rest of the way.

You clutched your arm, not knowing what to do. You looked back and saw students already at least a third of the way, so you ran on, still clutching your arm to make sure it wasn't jostled too bad while you did.

"In the world of heroes, it can be hard to get popular without a flashy quirk, right EraserHead?"

"I don't know what you're talking about idiot."

"Looks like Todoroki is still skating by easily! And it looks like Bakugou has taken over second place from our little miss Hakamata-Oh what's that? It looks like she hurt herself! Whatever will she doooo!??"

"Obviously keep going, she's still in third place isn't she. She managed to pull herself up with a hurt arm and all, she wouldn't let herself quit now."

"YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT, KEEP FIGHTING GIRLY WE'RE CHEERING FOR YOU!"

They were embarrassing you, and letting others know you had a weakness right now. You ran on glaring at the ground in front of you and grumbling.

"And now that we're approaching the last obstacle, so when everyone else catches up, you better tread carefully cause, YOU'RE STEPPING ONTO A MIND FIELD!!! If you look hard enough, you can see where each little bomb was placed, so you don't have time to look around, keep those eyes on the ground! YEAH!"

"You better tell them the disclaimer."

"RIGHT! Keep in mind folks these were designed for the game, so while they may be loud and flashy, they're not that powerful.."

"Good."

"JUST ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU WET THOSE PANTS!"

"Oh get a hold of yourself.."

You came up to the 'DANGER' sign and looked behind, noticing people running to catch up to you, since you weren't as fast as you wanted to be with your shoulder the way it was. You kept your eyes down and tried to speed walk, being swift but as careful as possible. One bad move and you could be blown away, that wouldn't help at all.

At first all you heard were little explosions caused by Bakugou's quirk, before explosions from behind you drowned it out. People were rushing and acting carelessly, trying to make it to the lead. You wondered if it would be worth it to try to make those light rays into stilts again, even though your body was already warming to an uncomfortable level, it was still bearable.

You looked and saw those two weren't that far ahead, and if you tried hard enough you could take them both. You felt heat pool at your feet, extending it till it solidified and you grew taller. You were even more careful now, making sure the bottoms had no chance of touching any bombs.

"You made your declaration of war to the wrong guy!" A blast followed Bakugou's shouting rang out and you saw he was attacking Todoroki!

"JUST LIKE THAT A NEW STUDENT TAKES THE LEAD! The crowd is going crazy, there's nothing we love more than an upset! Hey hey hey, the rest of the competitors are catching up too! C'MON HAKAMATA KICK IT INTO HIGH GEAR IF YOU WANNA STAY IN THE TOP 3! "

"You're supposed to be unbiased.."

"Uh... AND WHAT'S THIS !? CAN OUR TWO LEADERS FIGHT EACH OTHER AND STAY IN FRONT OF THE COMPETITION?"

You were getting close to them. you planned on sneaking past them while the were too busy fighting and running into the lead. You were right behind them now, only a couple steps behind, when an explosion larger than any other went off. You snapped your head back and saw something, someone, soaring through the air.

"What was with that explosion, that's way more powerful than it should of been!? WOAH LOOK AT THAT, INCREDIBLEEEE! Whatever just happened, it caused class 1-A's Izuku Midoriya to be suddenly in hot pursuit of first place!"

He zoomed passed you guys, and you felt your eyes widened in disbelief.

"AND JUST LIKE THAT THE LEAD IS MIDORIYA'S!"

Even though he was still cutting through the air, you saw his momentum slow and Bakugou took off after him.

"DEKU, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HUH?"

Todoroki created an ice path, before sprinting off, it seemed he didn't care to try to keep from unintentionally helping the others, he just wanted to catch up to the boys. You quickly used that to your advantage and willed your stilts to go down, just leaving enough heat to grip the ice as you raced off after them.

You were trying to catch up, the pain becoming numb as your body was ignoring it while adrenaline ran through your veins. The only sounds you heard was your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears as you continued to chase the three.

"LOOK AT THAT PLOT TWIST, THOSE TWO AREN'T FIGHTING ANYMORE, THEY'RE CHASING MIDORIYA! Having a common enemy will do it for ya in this type of competition! This fight is far from over!"

Izuku was falling fast, looking as if he was about to headbutt the two boys while coming down face first. You were only a few steps away and you willed your legs to pick up the pace.

"Dammit!" You cursed, trying to hurry. Izuku twisted in the air and swinging down his large piece of metal, hitting the ground causing an explosion to go off and you ran straight into it. You were tossed up and yelled in pain. You somehow were pushed forward by the explosion, and landed clumsily on your feet. You stumbled, holding your arm tighter as pain shot through it once more. Two blurs raced by out of the smoke and you bite your lip so hard you began to bleed.

'I refuse to lose!'

You raced after them but it was no good, even though you cleared the minefield you were now pretty far behind them.

"With another stunning move, Midoriya has blasted by his classmates from 1-A, I don't believe it but he cleared that minefield in an instant! EraserHead, your students are amazing! What the heck are you teaching them?!"

"This has nothing to do with me, each of them is powered by their own drive to succeed."

"There you have it, EraserHead is a terrible teacher!"

"I'm what?"

"Who would've imagined at the beginning of this race that the climax would be so thrilling! The first to make it back to the stadium is the winner!.."

You were in the last stretch, begging your body to keep your fast pace, using your quirk to try to pass the boys. Already feeling the sweat pouring down your face as your tried to breath in. It was almost impossible and you felt like you were drowning with not enough oxygen. You entered a hallway, the finish line up ahead. But you were too late..

"Izuku Midoriya is our champion!"

You slowed down once you have passed through the doors, your hand on your knee as you gasped in breath, trying to calm your wild heart and cool your body down before it hit unsafe zones.

Other students began to pile in after you, and you smiled nonetheless. You came in fourth, and there is nothing wrong with the number 4.

You arm was still hurting and you knew you had to pop it back into place somehow. You were going to ask Bakugou, but he seemed too upset, probably at the fact he lost to Midoriya.

Speaking of Izuku, he was most likely the best person to ask.

"Hey Izuku, can you help me?" You motioned towards your dangling arm, he squeaked at it.

"W-WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"I dislocated it, can you help me pop it back into place?"

"I uhm yea I guess uh, how do I do that?" You felt uneasy, maybe he wasn't the best person to ask. You'd do it yourself but you didn't have the time to sit through the pain, you needed someone to do it for you.

"The contestants are pouring in one after the other, let's hear a round of applause for all of our competitors as we get the results ready!"

"Here." A gruff voice spoke out, grabbing your good arm and dragging you away from Izuku as Ochaco and Iida came up to him. Izuku looked at the two of you surprised, trying to call out but his attention stolen by his other friends. You were just as surprised to see Todoroki of all people, especially after what had transpired between the two of you in the waiting rooms. You eyed him carefully, and he saw you were hesitant.

"Do you want help or not. I'm most likely the only one here who knows how to do this." As much as you wanted to be stubborn and walk away, you nodded. You did need the help.

He made you let go of your arm and slowly began to lift it. You hissed, the pain sharp and hot as he slowly raised your arm. Both of his hands held onto your wrist as he made slight up and down motions while going continuing to lift.

Once your arm is about a 90 degree angle, Todoroki makes small circular movements for a bit, before titling your arm towards your head, you let out a whimper and he stopped. You looked up at him and saw he was staring back to ask in a silent way if you were okay.

"I'm okay, keep going please." So he did, moving it by your head to make about 120 degree angle, still rotating your arm till you both heard a pop. It hurt, just like when you dislocated it the first time, but now the pain faded and you were left with a sore feeling, you went to rub the muscle when ice touched it.

"Icing helps." You didn't know what to think of this guy. He acts like a total dill-hole one second and a perfect gentleman the next.

"Yea.. Uhm, thanks Todoroki. Look I'm sorry about-"

"Don't. I still meant everything I said. I'm going after Midoriya.." He stopped, looking away and taking his hand off your shoulder.

"But I too, want to prove myself. So be ready because I wont lose to the daughter of Best Jeanist, even as you fight as your own person. I'll be the one to take you down too." His eyes narrowed at you, but this time you looked past the malicious intent in them and saw the eyes of a boy trying to be something greater than himself.

So you just smiled, giving your sore shoulder a roll, even though it still hurt it was feeling much better now that you can move it. Staring right back at him, a similar look in your own eyes.

"And I won't lose to you, as you fight just as Shoto Todoroki."

"The first game for the first years is finally over and what a game it was! Let's take a quick look at the standing shall we?"

You both looked at the board as Midnight yelled out, interrupting your conversation and pulled up the results:

1: Izuku Midoriya

2: Shouto Todoroki

3: Katsuki Bakugou

4: (y/n) Hakamata

5: Ibara Shizoki

6: Juzo Honenuki

7: Tenya Iida

8: Fumikage Tokoyami

9: Hanata Sero

10: Eijiro Kirishima

The rest of the students were announced but you were still staring an awe at the top 10. Poor Bakugou looked done as he placed third. You'd trade him spots if he wanted to complain.

"Only 42 students made it into the next round but don't be upset if you didn't make it, we have made other ways to help you guys bask in the spotlight hehe." Midnight smirked.

"Now the real fun is about to begin, the chance to move yourself into the limelight. Give it your best shot!" She cracked her whip, which made the screen start to roll in deciding what the next round was going to be.

"Let's see what we have in store for you next! Let's see... Ah, prepare yourself for this young ones!"

'Calvary Battle' popped up on the screen, and you wanted to groan. Now you'll have to take part in a team, which wasn't bad but now you'll have other people to worry about more than just yourself.

Midnight explained the rules revolving the silly game, but added a twist.

"Each player has been assigned a point value based on their results from the race. It starts from the bottom for example, the 42nd place is worth 5 points, and the 41st is worth 10. Till you go up and up, and 1st place is worth... 10,000,000!!!"

You all looked at Izuku, his face going white in shock as he processed his information. Some were in disbelief, some were starting to plot. Everyone was going to go after the first place winner to get those points, no doubt about that.

"That's right, it's the chance for those at the bottom to overthrow the top! Let's get started!"

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sgtrolandhills · 4 years

Text

When I Look Into Your Candy Corn Eyes || Erin & Roland

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @corpse--diem & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: Erin brings lunch by the station for Sarge after learning he eats mostly Lean Cuisines.

“Hi!” Erin chirped, greeting the young police officer at reception with the biggest smile she had to offer. Tried not to think about how it had taken a full ten minutes to muster the nerves to step foot into the station. Tried not to picture the very dead Dale she slid into the incinerator just last week. Would he be considered missing? No, no. Marley had taken care of that. Still, her eyes flashed to the bulletin board when she walked in. No familiar bald-headed fucks to be found. This was okay. Probably. She toned down the smile when the officer merely glanced up at her from their paperwork. “My name’s Erin Nichols—I’m just popping by to see Roland—Sergeant Roland. Sarge.” She swallowed. Smiled brightly once more, lifting the Tupperware container in her hands. “I brought him lunch. He’s not expecting me or anything but I thought it’d be nice to surprise him. He’s been eating a ton of Lean Cuisines lately, which are so bad for you, and—“ And this rookie stuck greeting the general public couldn’t have cared less. Erin stopped, nodded. Understandable. “Right. Is… uh, is he in?”

Lately, work had seemed to make Roland’s head spin more than it calmed him. This wasn’t a feeling he knew how to navigate. Burying himself in his work had always been his coping mechanism and something he’d genuinely enjoyed, but now, it just seemed to bring him more anguish than anything else. He’d always been so good at this and now here he was scrambling, letting another lead go cold. The mimes had come and gone with no real indication of why or who brought them here. The eyes seemed to be doing the same and it left him even more obsessed with the data in front of him. There had to be something he was missing. Another connection that he wasn’t quite making that would tie this all together and point him in the right direction. As he looked over all the different missing persons cases related to the eyes that had turned up in town, he let out a frustrated groan that was interrupted by his phone. “Sarge, you got a visitor at the front desk-- Erin Nichols?” His head tilted, a bit surprised. He remembered she offered to bring him lunch one of these days though he hadn’t actually expected her to follow through on that. He couldn’t fathom why she’d want to anyhow-- She couldn’t possibly be interested in him. She was leagues out of his league, but he could hardly turn her away. “Yeah, send her back.” He cleared his desk, to make the office a bit more tidy and stood to wait by the door. He waved as he saw her approaching. “Hey, Erin,” he extended his hand to shake hers, “It’s good to meet you in person. You really didn’t have to bring lunch. Does smell better than the Lean Cuisines though.”

Those initial nerves when Erin stepped into the building trickled back up her spine as she followed the officer past the cluster of desks, where more police officers were busy working. White Crest was a small town but there were more than she expected, though that made sense the more she thought about it. They were famous for few things, and one of those was their alarmingly high death rate. There was a reason the funeral home had one of the biggest fridges in all of Maine. When she finally saw Roland though, it was easy to brush those nerves off and return a warm smile. “Nice to meet you too, Roland,” she answered sincerely, shaking his hand with the one not holding the tupperware and utensils. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, waving him off. “Are you kidding? There’s literally no way I could sit around and let you keep putting that stuff into your body. And now you’ll have no excuse to ever touch that filth again.” She smiled wider at him, glancing past him and into his office, then back again. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Roland reasoned with himself that perhaps taking an honest to god lunch break would do him some good. The more he stared over all the details of each seemingly insane case in front of him, the more it all bled together until he simply couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe a true rest from it would allow him to return to work with some clarity. At least he could hope for as much. Plus, Erin had come out of her way to bring him a nice meal which admittedly sounded much better than a Lean Cuisine Macaroni and Cheese. He realized that sounded sad and probably because it was. Everything had him feeling a bit down lately. He spent so much of his time dedicated to the job and he still couldn’t quite seem to get a grip on all his cases. “You know, I’d normally object to being someone’s charity case, but that smells way better than a Lean Cuisine. I might have to give that Hello Fresh thing a try,” he said jokingly as he reached out to take the tupperware container from her. At the mention of a bad time, he shook his head and responded, “Not at all. I think a break would do me well if you’d like to join. We’ve got a break room up the hall recently equipped with a new Keurig if you’d like a coffee after lunch.”

“Roland you are not a charity case,” Erin said with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” She raised her brow, staring pointedly, but was relieved all the same when he took the tupperware container from her hands. “Trust me, it’s delicious,” she smirked, pulling out the two forks and plastic plates she had also brought with her. “I may or may not have tried a bite or three on the way here.” Helping herself to a seat, her grin grew brighter and she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from her at the mention of the Keurig coffee. “Oh wow, you sure know how to impress a lady, don’t you?” she teased, setting the plate and utensil out for them both. Her eyes were focused on Roland, but she couldn’t help but keep an ear out for the hustle and bustle of everyday life at the police station. The usual buzzwords filled her ears but nothing concrete she could latch onto just yet. “I wouldn’t call myself a chef, and the food came with pretty explicit instructions, so hopefully you think it’s as good as I do too.” She shot another smile his way. “Good enough to convince you to take some time out of your day to actually cook yourself something once in a while?”

He wasn’t a charity case. It was a relief to hear, but still left Roland feeling a little out of his element. Ever since the divorce, he found he was really off his game. “Well, I’m glad,” he responded with a sheepish grin, “It’s nice to have some real food and company.” It seemed a little surreal to him that there was a beautiful woman seemingly flirting with him and bringing him a nice lunch. The breakroom at WCPD wasn’t impressive by any means, but he hoped the new cushions he got for the chairs were comfortable enough. With an unsure chuckle, he responded, “I can hardly blame you. Smells so good, not sure I’d have been able to wait either.” He settled down in the seat across from her and opened up the tupperware container. Keurigs weren’t how he’d normally try to woo a woman, not that he’d done much wooing, but women liked coffee, right? He gave her an earnest grin. “Is coffee and chocolate not how you make women happy these days? I’m a bit out of practice.” Making light of his current lack of romantic skills seemed to ease some of his own tension. “You still had to make it. Worlds ahead of me and my Lean Cuisines.” He gestured jokingly toward the microwave. He took a bite of the steak and nodded, “Definitely good enough that I’ll try my own subscription out. It’s nice having something that tastes like real food. Were you good at cooking prior to trying these out?”

“Good food and good company is extremely underrated,” Erin smirked, pointedly eyeing Roland. She felt a little bad about all of this but being on the favorable side of the police sergeant felt like the right move here. Better company than the one she had in her head, at the very least. If she had to hear Fuck black and white cookies or Putain one more time, she was going to scream. She settled in across from him, digging into the small portion she’d served herself. “Coffee and chocolate are a great start. You’re not so bad at this, huh?” Alright. Good. He was picking up on what she was putting down here. “I better not even get a whiff of you going back to Lean Cuisines after this,” she pointed her fork at him teasingly. She shrugged, narrowing her brows. “I’ve always cooked a little, and just for myself really. So it tasted decent enough to me? But these things really helped me realize everything I was doing wrong,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I know I sound like a walking sponsor for these things but I’m not trying to get you to sign up for the free meals, I swear. I’ve always been an advocate for healthy eating. You have no idea how many heart attacks I see come through my doors on a weekly basis.” She raised a brow, then took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “But I’ve gotta ask--have I officially converted you?”

“Doesn’t hurt when the company happens to be a beautiful woman,” Roland blurted out and his cheeks immediately turned a flushed shade of pink. Why had he just said that? And why was he still hungry for the heart of a frat boy? “I don’t know why I said that-- Not that you’re not. I mean you have to know you’re a good looking woman. I just hadn’t meant to say that. I don’t know what’s come over me lately.” He was embarrassed. Not that he was normally great with the ladies, but this odd voice in his head seemed to be extra throwing him off his game. “Noted. Any favorite coffee drinks or chocolates I should know about,” he responded playfully, fighting with his hand to stay on his side of the table. They were in the middle of the station and he refused to give into the impulse to touch her hair. Eyes but replace them with candy corn. He briefly imagined Erin with candy corn eyes. She would still be gorgeous. Why did he keep thinking this weird crap? He took a few more bites and enjoyed the proper steak. Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak and Mac and Cheese had nothing on this. “Okay, okay, no more Lean Cuisines. I’m not much of a cook, but if they’re as easy as you say, I’m sure I can manage.” As if he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “As much as I’d love to be coming through your doors, I’d rather it not be because I had a heart attack.” He buried his face in his palms. Why did he keep saying these things? This wasn’t how he normally talked to women. “I’m so sorry. I don’t--” He was definitely blowing any chance he may have had. “I’m definitely signing up for one of these meal delivery services. This makes Lean Cuisines look like crap.”

Erin slowed her chewing as she watched poor Roland short circuit literally right before her eyes. Oh, this hurt. This was painful. Wherever her conscience had been hiding, he’d summoned it back into the light because she was already feeling terrible about this. She’d make a shitty full-time criminal. “It’s okay,” she laughed softly, shrugging. “I don’t mind hearing it sometimes. Especially not from you.” Oh, she was going to hell. She could feel the flames burning in her chest already. “You know, I’ve actually really been into cheese lately?” She raised a brow, partially at herself. That was all Kaden’s doing, of course. “Cheese and wine. I’m pretty sure it’s just a phase but I’ve gotta admit--it’s a pretty good one,” she smirked, taking another bite. Oh boy howdy, he was struggling. “How about this?” She propositioned, sitting up straighter in her seat, pointing her fork in his direction. “The first box you get, you can return the favor and make me lunch. That’s absolutely the only acceptable way I’ll let you into my house.”

What was going on with him, Roland couldn’t be sure. First, he had hallucinated a monster in an abandoned house and now he kept having strange thoughts that didn’t feel entirely his own in his head. They pushed him to do and say things he found to be uncharacteristic. Hardly the ideal state of mind to be in when talking to a beautiful woman who for whatever reason wasn’t running for the hills. Instead, she still seemed to be flirting with him and that prospect left a warm smile on his face. “Well, good. It’s true, you know. You’re a beautiful and witty woman,” he added on hoping that he wasn’t taking it too far. He was more rusty than he would have liked and it didn’t help that he was out of sorts. Somehow she said she even enjoyed him being cheesy? Not that he was a bad looking man by any measure, but he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt. Did women even still find Brad Pitt hot? He didn’t know. “Cheese and wine kick, I can get behind that. Any favorite kinds of cheese and wine?” At her suggestion of him bringing over a meal for her once he got his own subscription, a goofy grin etched its way across his face. “I think I can manage that one. Maybe I’ll even bring some of that wine and cheese you mentioned.”

From their brief online conversation, Erin hadn’t expected the Lean Cuisine lovin’ police sergeant of White Crest to be quite so… forward? But the confidence was there and it was a little impressive coming from a man who looked like he hadn’t had a real meal in weeks. “You’re pretty charming yourself, Sarge,” Erin smirked. Her eyes flitted up as someone walked by and there was something eerily familiar about them. “Fucking Gary,” she murmured to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. The man just looked at her with a puzzled expression and she returned it with one very similar, though there was an underlying disdain there she couldn’t quite explain. “Sorry,” she glanced down at her nearly finished plate, narrowing her eyes at herself. “My favorite?” She shrugged. “I mean, a good comte always goes pretty good with a pinot noir, you know?” Hmm. It wasn’t entirely clear to her how she knew that, but she was confident she did. She finished up her food with one last bite, that guilt picking at her insides, subtly and quietly. “We should do this again though, seriously. It was really nice. I mean, I thought so, anyway.”

Somehow his being out of sorts and more forward than Roland would have ever dreamed of didn’t scare Erin off. In fact, it seemed she was still flirting with him and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around why. Ask her if she wants to make out rang in his head, but he stifled the unfamiliar thoughts this time. “Thanks,” he said instead though he became confused at the mention of Gary. His brow scrunched together and he mused, “I didn’t realize you knew Gary. Our other animal control officer isn’t his biggest fan either.” In all fairness, Gary seemed a bit more stable than Langley, but he wasn’t about to go there. “It’s fine,” he responded with a small chuckle. He’d find out what she had against Gary next time they saw each other. As he was walking her out, she did confirm she would in fact like to do this again. The smile on his face was hard to contain and he didn’t see a reason to bother. She mentioned something called comte and Roland had no idea whether that was cheese or wine, but he wasn’t about to give himself away on that. A quick internet search could get him up to speed so he could get Erin something she’d be happy with. “I’ll definitely have to keep an eye out for a nice comte and pinot noir.” To say he was beaming at the mention of doing this again would be an understatement. Erin was witty, smart, and undeniably gorgeous. And she wanted to spend more time with him. His confidence in the dating department hadn’t been the best post-divorce, but apparently his brief stroke of crazy forwardness had done him some favors. “Absolutely, I thought it was a nice time, too. I’ll talk to you soon and we can plan something.” He gave her a final wave and felt a newfound sense of excitement as he made his way back to this office.

#when i look into your candy corn eyes #erin #wickedswriting

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nothingbutfangirlsmut · 4 years

Text

Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 18

Thor, Steve, and Bruce joined the rest of us on the couches. Steve sat on the other side of me squishing me between him and Sam. Thor laid his heavy-looking hammer on the table instantly sparking chatter among the group.

"It's a trick!" Clint shouted over everyone else.

Thor laughed as he shook his head.

"No, no, it's much more than that." The god said with an amused smile.

"Who shall ever be, he, worthy shall haveth the power." Clint said in a mocking accented voice.

I had to laugh at that.

"Whatever man, it's a trick," Clint said dismissively.

Thor laughed again.

"Please be my guest." Thor said with a smile as he gestured to the hammer.

"Really?" Clint asked as he stopped twirling the drum stick in his hand.

"Yea" Thor nodded.

"Oh, this is going to be beautiful." Rhodey chuckled.

"Clint, you've had a tough week. We won't hold it against you if you can't get it up." Tony teased.

The group laughed as Clint stopped in front of the hammer.

"You know I've seen this before." Clint said as he wrapped his hands around the handle.

He started to pull but the hammer didn't budge. His face started to turn red from the strain. He let go then chuckled as he shook his head.

"I still don't know how you do it." Clint laughed as he looked at the hammer curiously.

"Smell the silent judgment." Tony teased.

I leaned my head on Sam's shoulder as I watched the group of superheroes.

"Please, Stark, by all means." Clint said gesturing to the hammer then going back to his seat.

"Never one to shrink from an honest challenge. It's physics. So what, if I lift it I then rule Asgard?" Tony questioned as he stepped over to the table.

"Yes, of course" Thor nodded.

"I will be reinstating prima nocta.” Tony said nonchalantly as he pulled at the hammer.

He let go with a grunt then stared at the object for a moment.

“I’ll be right back.” He said holding a finger up.

Maybe a minute passed when Tony came speed walking back into the room. One of his hands was now covered in a metal glove from his suit. He grabbed the hilt once more then tugged. Before I knew it both Tony and his friend Rhodey each had a gloved hand pulling at the hammer together. The group around me was laughing and cheering them on.

“Are you even pulling?” Rhodey asked Tony harshly.

“Are you on my team?” Tony asked his friend.

“Just represent! Pull!” Rhodey ordered.

“Alright, let’s go” Tony said as the two of them tried pulling the hammer together.

Once more the thing didn’t even budge. I laughed with everyone else.

“Now this is some good entertainment.” I chuckled softly to Sam.

He laughed then nodded in agreement. Next up to try for the hammer was Bruce Banner. He grabbed the hilt tugging on it as the others did. He pulled off it then pretended, very badly, to turn into the hulk. Steve stood up then stepped over to the hammer. He looked it over for a moment then wrapped his hands around it. Not even super soldier Captain America could move the thing. Steve chuckled as he stepped back from it.

“Nat?” Steve asked gesturing to the hammer.

“Oh no, that’s not a question I need answered.” Nat laughed and shook her head.

“All difference to the man who wouldn’t be king but it’s rigged.” Tony stated.

“You bet your ass.” Clint nodded.

“Steve, he said a bad language word.” Hill said pointing at Clint.

I laughed as Steve sighed.

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve asked Tony.

Tony wasn’t paying him any mind. He was staring at the hammer looking completely lost in thought.

“The handle’s imprinted, right? Like a security code. Who so ever is carrying Thor’s finger print is, I think, the literal translation.” Tony said keeping his eyes on the hammer.

It must really bug him not being able to figure this out.

“Yea, it’s uh, a very very interesting theory. I have a simpler one. You’re all not worthy.” Thor shrugged and laughed.

“I think we are going to head out.” I told Steve quietly.

Steve nodded then hugged me tightly. He kissed the top of my head then turned to give Sam a bro hug.

“I’ll be in touch soon.” Steve said with a nod.

Sam and I got back to his apartment in record time. We were both exhausted from our hunt in Mexico. It was nice to meet everyone tonight and have a bit of fun but really all I wanted to do was sleep. I cuddle under the blankets wrapping myself around Sam. He was always so warm.

A few days later I had woken up to a cold and empty bed. Sam was no where in the apartment. Where the hell did he go?

As I waited for everything I needed to be sent to me I started to pack a bag. Once I was done and finally dressed I pulled up my email to find the file Steve had sent me. I pulled on my leather jacket as I opened the file. This was infuriating. Steve would rather me hunt down these ridiculous and always cold leads than help him with whatever SOS he has going on. I'm a super soldier. I could help him better where ever he is. I hugged shoving my phone into my pocket then throwing my bag over my shoulder. Looks like I'm going to England. Alone.

I had never been to England before but I was a little surprised by the place. So many things were the same but different. I felt like a stood out compared to everyone else. It wasn't until late in the evening that I got to where I needed to be. I got a hotel room then left my bag so I could talk to some of the residents. My first stop of a small pub down the street from my hotel. I walked inside straight to the bar where an older man was standing.

"Excuse me" I said to get his attention.

"What can I get ya young lady?" The man asked with a polite smile.

"I wanted to ask if you've seen this man." I said pulling the photo of James out then laying it on the bar.

The older man picked it up. He squinted as he looked it over. He handed it back to me.

"I sure have miss but the man made it clear he didn't want anyone to find him." The man said slowly.

"Please, I'm a very old friend of his. I promise he won't mind if it's me finding him." I tried to sound as genuine as possible.

The man looked me over as he chewed his lip.

"Alright but I wasn't the one who sent ya. He's been hiding out in the old abandoned factory at the end of the road." The man told me.

"Thank you" I said quickly then ran out of the bar.

I jogged down the street not stopping until I saw an old run down building. That had to be the one. I was slow and cautious to go inside. I pushed the large door open letting it close behind me. The room was open and dark. I couldn't hear anything and I could barely see.

"Hello? James?" I asked threw the darkness.

I took two steps forwards when a large arm wrapped around my neck then pulled me backward. My back slammed into a hard chest as something cold and sharp pressed against my cheek.

"It's Willow" I choked out in a panic.

The person holding me let go then grabbed my arm turning me to face them. Cold metal grabbed each of my cheeks holding my head in place. The man stepped forward as he pushed me backwards. He only stopped when he got me into the moonlight streaming in from a broken window. He let go of me face then stepped into the light so I could see him. It was him. It was really him. He looked tired and scruffy. His hair was much longer and unkept.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked harshly.

"Looking for you." I said breathlessly.

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Why?" He asked slowly.

"Steve has had us searching the world for you. It's all been cold leads until now. I honestly didn't think I'd find you." I explained quickly.

James sighed then fell into a chair by the broken window. I moved to stand in front of him. He rubbed his eyes then leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees.

“What do you want?” He asked looking up to meet my eyes.

“I guess Steve wants me to bring you back. Your his childhood best friend after all.” I chuckled softly.

“No, I asked what you wanted.” He repeated.

I was taken back by that. What I want? I never thought about it. I’ve only been doing this for Steve. I didn’t think I had a reason for it. Not a personal one.

“I’m just doing this for Steve.” I said softly.

James stood to tower over me. He brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

“Still no memories of me I see.” He said quietly.

I shook my head. For some reason I felt bad about it. I felt sorry for not knowing him like he apparently knew me. His eyes seemed to fix themselves on my jacket. A small smile rugged at his lips.

“If I could remember I would but whatever they did to me it seems permanent.” I shrugged.

James chuckled darkly as he stepped closer to me.

“I thought the same thing about myself but I was wrong. So are you. All you need is a little spark to get those memories started again.” He explained in a menacing voice.

I knew he was trying to intimidate me for whatever reason. I didn’t move from my spot. I wouldn’t back away. I wouldn’t flinch. His face moved closer to mine until his lips were hovering less then a inch from mine.

“Let me help you.” He whispered.

Before I could reply he pressed his lips softly to mine. It was such a small simple kiss yet everything in me roared to life. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. As James pulled away a sharp pain went threw my skull. What seemed like a million images flashed before me. It was like a true ‘my life flashed before my eyes’ moment. It was so incredibly overwhelming. I felt myself be overcome by whatever was happening as my body went limp and fell to the floor.

I woke up the next morning in my hotel room. I was safely and comfortably tucked into the bed. I sat up slowly trying to recall what had happened. The last thing I remember was talking to James. I found him! I jumped out of bed then quickly pulled on my shoes. Without thinking I ran as fast as I could out of the hotel all the way to the end of the street where that old building was. I pushed my way inside to find absolutely nothing. He was gone. Just like that. I had him. Steve is not going to be happy.

—

#nothingbutfangirlsmut #the girl out of time #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #clint barton #tony stark #thor #agent hill #bruce banner #rhodey #sam wilson #sam wilson fanfiction #sam x reader

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beyondconfessor · 4 years

Text

The Infernal Contract

[2/16] Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: "Was that–“ she asked, feeling her voice rise with anger, "a failed attempt at a Caligari spell, Faustus?"

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Zelda entered the suite and set her shopping bags down, onto the counter, while keeping a hold of the bassinet in her right hand.

"Ah, Lady Blackwood," Faustus said, from the dining table, where he seemed to have finished a late dinner. "I see you've been enjoying the Night Markets."

"Just a few essentials," she promised, looking over at him. "I'll go and change Judas and then I can show you." Though she doubted he would be all that interested. She'd purchased a new dress, a few brooches, an enchanted day planner for when she returned to the Academy, as well as a few rare plants for Hilda's garden.

The Night Markets were an excellent place to pick up ingredients or spell casting objects for your traditional charms, but some of the vendors sold some more boutique enchantments. It was a bit of roulette, however. Sometimes you would get a dress that never tore, and other times you may pick up a necklace and find that it'd been cursed and the vendor was trying to pass it on.

Zelda adored the Night Markets and especially took pleasure in haggling with witches until she made the vendor throw their hands up in frustration and submit to her offer.

Taking the bassinet into the bedroom, she bathed Judas and changed into his sleepwear before setting him down into his crib. But it was as she turned to grab her bag for a cigarette that she noticed something sitting on her bedside table.

It was a reasonably large box shape, wrapped in a smooth, brown paper.

Zelda felt a rush of excitement as she walked over and lifted the present up with two hands and examined it from all angles. There was a card, attached to a ribbon on the top. Written in sharp penmanship was her name as Lady Zelda Blackwood.

Zelda felt her heart sink with disappointment, realising it was not from Lilith.

She had not seen the demoness since the week before. Nonetheless, she had found herself lately taking evening walks in the hopes that Lilith would melt out of the shadows with a smirk, and take advantage of her somewhere inappropriate.

She carried the present to the dining area of the suite, where Faustus was enjoying a cup of coffee. "Ah, I see you found it," he said while setting his cup down on its saucer. "I saw it in the window of a shop and couldn't help myself. It's a DaVinci original, you can see his design if you open the top."

"That's very sweet," she smiled. Reaching up, she tugged the ribbon undone and gently peeled back the brown wrapping paper. It revealed an antique musical jewellery box, made of redwood. Lovely, but relatively young for her. She shuffled through the drawers, finding them all empty but one which held a photo of her.

"Take a look at the dancer," Faustus said, standing up. "She reminds me of you."

Zelda raised an eyebrow, before lifting up the lid of the musical box. She watched as a tiny dancer, with red hair and an emerald-coloured dress, spun around to a music box tune.

She knew that tune...

Its porcelain hands were high in the air, her skirts twirling round and round and round as Faustus stepped close and placed a hand on her waist as he whispered something lovely into her ear. His voice was warm in her ear, coaxing something wrong her.

Zelda could feel herself fading away, her vision blurring as she watched the girl spin round and round.

What was he saying? It sounded like...like Latin?

Her head spun, it was as if the world was fading away and she was becoming small inside of her self, unable to draw her own breaths or reach out.

Zelda recoiled as electricity shot through her right hand. She snapped away, turning around to face Faustus as the hypnotism washed from the expanded magic, leaving her with a splitting headache. "Was that–" she asked, feeling her voice rise with anger, "a failed attempt at a Caligari spell, Faustus?"

Faustus cleared his throat, stepping back. "Of course not, Zelda. You know I would never dream of doing-"

She snapped the lid of the music box down and glared at him. Her head pounded, feeling like the pressure would burst through her skull pierce through her eyes. The magic felt oily against her own, bubbling like a residue against her psyche.

In all of her life, she'd never had a man dream of placing such a spell on her. As her rage narrowed her vision, she noticed the silver knife within reach.

No. It was too dangerous given his stance as interim anti-Pope. She'd have to be smart about this.

Turning away, she drew a deep breath and pushed the outrage down in her chest. First, she needed to worry about her family, then she could kill him.

"What in Heaven made you decide to do this?" she asked, rifling through the drawers of the box to pull the picture of herself. Once in grip, she smashed it against the table. "Did I not promise to submit to you, to serve you as Lilith serves the Dark Lord in our very vows not two weeks ago, Faustus?"

Faustus was beginning to look more and more awkward as he shrunk backwards. "Yes, of course. It's just that..." he trailed off, clearing his throat. "You were..."

"I was what?"

"Arrogant in a way a wife shouldn't be." He stood still then, lifting his chin up to hold against her.

Zelda laughed despite herself. "Arrogant? Oh, that's rich. No, I don't think that was the problem Faustus, I think you're just a little bitch, but if this is how you want to play, you won't win." She stalked forward and grabbed his wrist, hissing a hex against him. Her nails dug into his wrists, piercing through to seal her curse to his blood.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice panicked as he tried to break free of her grip and failed.

Zelda smiled before she let go of his wrist, feeling the expended magic drain from her. She'd pay for that price later. For now, she wanted him to suffer.

"A jilted-bride hex," she said, before stepping back and adjusting the sleeves of her shirt as she gave him a tight smile. "I have no idea what you planned with your curse, but if you thought you would ever have me or any other woman again after what you just tried, you're sorely mistaken."

"Zelda, honestly, this is absurd," he said, walking over to grab her by her arm.

"Careful, Faustus. A wedlock curse isn't easily broken. I'd hate for your manhood to become diseased next."

Faustus stepped away, his face caught between anger and horror. The threat hung there between them, a dark reminder that he wasn't the first man to disappear after breaking her heart and if he wasn't careful, she would personally ensure he was the last.

He turned away, wiping his hands over his mouth, looking for some way to have the final word.

Zelda watched him, feeling the magic flex in core as she prepared herself against whatever he might try and throw at her.

Faustus turned sharply on his heel, raising his hand to point at her. For a moment, he looked like he was going to curse her back before he closed his mouth and shook his head, his shoulders sagging. "I can't even look at you," he said with as much vehemence as he could muster.

It wasn't much, and as he walked away into the bedroom, Zelda felt a tightness in her chest unwind. Had Faustus not been up for Anti-Pope, she was sure he would have tried to retaliate. But a missing wife so soon on the honeymoon would have raised eyebrows. Zelda may not be loved and adored by the coven, but they would certainly wonder about her absence.

Zelda exhaled and felt herself sink against the kitchen counter. He would plot and scheme and find some way to wield power over her again if she didn't somehow smooth the situation over. No matter her growing bitterness to that man, she would not waiver on her wants when they were within sight. Sacrifices had to be made in the pursuit of power, she could concede where necessary to ensure the endgame remained in place.

Still, she wondered how it went wrong so fast. His misogyny may have tripled since their wedding, but a Caligari spell went against the Satanic Bible. Free will was gifted by the Dark Lord after the False God so chose to forbid it. It was with his persuasion that humans and witch kind alike were blessed with the ability to determine their own fates.

Taking the music box, she walked over to the trash and dropped it there, taking pleasure in knowing that Faustus would have spent a pretty coin on it. Then, she washed her hands with salt to cleanse any magic residue, before pouring herself a drink.

The headache still throbbed as she sat down on the settee. It would eventually go away, but it would likely be a few hours. Zelda had enough spells blow-up in her face over her centuries to know that the headache was the result of a cast spell backfiring against its target. Which meant for all intents and purposes, the Caligari spell should have worked, but hadn't.

Zelda looked at her hand to where Lilith's ring sat.

She played with it, twisting it on her finger before dropping the hand away into her lap. Whatever reason Lilith had for granting her the gift, she was thankful for it. Zelda had no idea what nefarious plot Faustus had for her with that spell, but it made her all the more sincere to the notion that Ambrose was innocent.

Which meant that Sabrina was right, and if she was right about that, then there was every possibility that Faustus had murdered Edward and Diana.

No, she couldn't stomach that thought.

She took a sip of her whisky and considered her options. How long would Faustus wait before his rage over-boiled the pot? She thought it over, at every angle, and decided that it was easier to catch flies with honey.

After an hour had passed, she walked into the bedroom. Faustus sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands, his jacket removed and shirt undone - no doubt from having tried and failed to get an erection to see if her curse had landed true (it had).

"I've decided," she began and watched as his head tilted towards her. "That you had some rather important business here to attend to given that you are the interim anti-pope. As such, you have sent me to return Greendale with Judas and prepare for your return in a week."

Faustus swallowed and looked directly at her. There was a rage in his eyes, but he had enough sense to push it back.

"No one needs to know of our dirty laundry, Faustus. In time, you will learn that I can be very discreet, but make no mistake, if you try something like that again, I promise you that not only will your very precious manhood become incurably diseased, but it will be publicly removed by my hand."

"Understood," he said, though his eyes still stared at her with rage.

"I'm glad we can come to an agreement. I expect I will see you in a few days."

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

Zelda arrived in Greendale mid-afternoon feeling all the more at ease to be on home soil. She walked up the front steps of her home and pushed the door open, just as it seemed Ambrose was opening it.

"Ambrose?" she questioned with a sharp look as if to say: shouldn't you be in the dungeon at the Academy?

"Auntie. Good to see you," he said, though his eyes were darting around behind her.

"It's just myself and Judas, but if you're hiding here, leaving through the front door is not the way to do it," she said, pushing him back inside and shutting the front door behind her.

"I...had thought you were Sabrina."

She quirked an eyebrow at him as she carried Judas and set him down on the kitchen countertop. He'd begun to fuss, soft mewls turning to hiccups that would like turn to screaming soon. It was likely time for his afternoon feed. "And what has Sabrina gotten up to now?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Clearly not," Zelda said as she went to the fridge, pulling out the goat's milk. When she turned around, Ambrose had his face in his hands, a look of horror on his face. "Well, spit it out, Ambrose, I haven't all day."

"She..." he fumbled, trying to find the words. And then the whole story came tumbling out, about the witch hunters, Sabrina's alleged death and resurrection, her forceful burning of the angels and her healing properties which no one knew she had a talent for –- something that would have manifested in her early years at the very least.

And now, it seemed, her dear niece could apparently control the weather.

Zelda paused, drinking in the story. With everything that happened in the last six months, it wasn't entirely far-fetched. Sabrina's powers had been growing at an unprecedented rate. Still, weather control, resurrection, healing? Sabrina could do many things, but she'd always been awful at things that required patience and attention to detail.

"Auntie?" Ambrose prompted. "I'm worried. I know he's your husband, but Father Blackwood despised her before. He will see this power as a threat. Please, you can't-"

Zelda raised her hand, silencing him. "I know," she said. "Believe me."

Her nephew sighed, great relief falling from his shoulders before he looked up at with sweet, kind eyes. "I take it that Rome didn't go well?"

Zelda rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "He tried to use a Caligari spell. On me," she scoffed as she took out a saucepan and filled it with water. "In all my centuries, I've never had a man even consider such a violation against free will."

"Did he...?"

"Does it look like he succeeded?" she asked, before turning back to the stove pot and placing the bottle into it. "No, he immediately failed, like the washed-up warlock he is." Zelda stared at the bottle, feeling the anger rise and then sink away deep into the pit of her belly. Anger made for magical accidents, and she couldn't afford that at the moment. "I'm fine, Ambrose. Truly."

"Yes, but your neck is..." he trailed off and then a red began to tinge across Ambrose's cheeks as he realised what the marks were. "Oh."

Zelda brushed her hair back over her neck, adjusting her blouse collar as she quietly cursed Lilith. "They're not from him," she said, before taking the bottle out the bottle from the water, testing it against the temperature against her wrist.

"So, the Dark Lord, then?"

Zelda looked up, feeling heat rush across her face at the very memory of not just that first night, but re-visitation. Lilith's touch left an imprint on her, both literally and metaphorically. "I would have thought that they would have faded now, but apparently not."

"Yes, well, infernal marks tend to leave an impression," Ambrose said, looking them over before he darted his eyes away. "I had thought that the, um, well that it was a legend told to terrify brides before their wedding."

"Evidently not," Zelda said as she held the bottle for Judas and turned the stove off. A silence carried over the room as Ambrose rocked on his heels, looking as though he was holding back a hundred and one questions. Sooner or later, they would come tumbling out, and Zelda had no desire to feed any more half-truths towards him or any other inquisitive mind.

"Where did you say Sabrina was?"

"Oh, she went to speak to her school teacher. The one that-"

"Wardwell," Zelda seethed. The woman got under her skin more than any of Sabrina's other teachers, with her snide remarks about how she knew best and was far more worldly given her excommunicated state because of how dearly trusted by Edward she was –- bullshit.

And her ability to procure spells to magnificent degrees, the likes of that haven't been seen in centuries? No, there was something up with this woman, and she didn't buy the fact that she loved Edward one bit. The way she spoke of him was cold and distant, not some jilted lover holding onto the pieces of her heart.

Sure, Edward kept his secrets, and he was undoubtedly paranoid enough to seek outside help, but that woman did not know her brother better than she did.

"And Hilda?" she asked, instead of pressing the issue.

"At the Academy, I believe. Where is Father Blackwood, if I may ask?"

Zelda's heart sunk. "He's in Rome. He's been made the Anti-Pope, in the interim until the Cardinals can arrange a meeting."

"The Anti-Pope?" Ambrose said weakly. Zelda could see hope shredding in his eyes as he exhaled out a short, deep breath and stumbled against the kitchen counter. "Satan save me, I'll be executed within the hour of his arrival."

"Ambrose, we will find a way out of this. Even if it means placing you in hiding."

"Hiding," he whispered, nodding. "They'll have all of witch kind after me if I left. There'll be a bounty against me."

Zelda had no words of comfort to offer. She reached out and squeezed at his hands, hoping that was enough. There would be some way out of this, she was sure of it. It was just a matter of finding out what. (If only murdering Faustus wouldn't fix the issue.)

"Does Sabrina have any ideas?" she asked.

"One, I think, but she wanted to meet with Wardwell first."

Zelda nodded. "Then I suppose we trust her. After all, it's not over until a banshee sings."

Ambrose smiled weakly and nodded.

"Now, why don't you upstairs and keep out of sight. When Sabrina arrives, you can run off and do whatever needs to be done."

"Thank you, Auntie."

"And Ambrose, I meant what I said. We will find a way out of this. We're Spellmans, we survive."

Ambrose nodded t her, but the movement was morose. As he turned away, Zelda could see him slump forward, footsteps heavy as he made his way up the staircase, towards the attic.

Zelda burped Judas, before moving him upstairs where she bathed him and changed him into new clothes before placing him back into his bassinet to sleep in what had meant to become Leticia's nursery, now refurbished as a joining spare room to what had been her own room.

Not that it was really her room since she married.

Zelda stepped through the door and looked over the contents of her old room. Everything had been packed, ready for the move to the Blackwood Manor on the outcrops of the Academy. Her dresser contained a few items, in case she needed to stay for any reason, and the bed which had a throw she'd procured from Morocco forty years prior, remained in place.

Everything else was gone, likely waiting at her new residence for her to unpack. She couldn't even think about doing that.

What was she going to do now, she wondered. Stay in a marriage where they both held a knife behind their backs, or divorce after a few weeks, ruin their chances at power?

Satan forgive her, the fallout from the church would be catastrophic for decades. Not only would it weaken his position as the Anti-Pope (which she didn't care for) but it would also undermine her own search for power. Faustus would likely turn his anger back on her, and then where would she be?

Powerless and at war with an adept warlock.

She could handle losing the coven. Her faith was more than church walls and a priest. Satan knew Sabrina had brought her fair share of humiliation to the church. But her leaving Faustus wouldn't just affect the two of them or her family. There were others involved.

She sat down at the end of the bed and clutched at the bedding as if it could steady her –– what of Judas, she wondered, of Prudence and Leticia? Who would look after them if she fled back to her family? Prudence was just a girl, no matter how bold she acted, and Faustus would swallow her whole to keep her from stealing his son's legacy.

No. She would stay.

She would build iron walls against him, but she would stay, for herself, for her family and for the family she'd married into. And if she had to quietly murder Faustus and bury him in the forest, then so be it.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she found herself suddenly praying to Lilith for strength, whispering the old prayer into the dim light of the room. It'd been a long time since she'd made such a prayer, Sabrina had been just a babe in her arms, newly an orphan with nowhere else (worthy) to call home.

Zelda opened her eyes to the dark, feeling a shiver run down her spine. The path was long and wretched before her, but she was a Spellman by blood and Spellmans survive.

#zelda spellman #lilith #caos fanfic #zelith #madam spellman #morgans fics

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sumi-sprite · 5 years

Text

Omnic Study: Deducing the Original Functions of Well-Known Omnics Based On Their Appearances

Okay people, just, like, bear with me for a hot minute here.

I actively try to stay away from Omnic HCs for numerous reasons; the primary ones being so I can develop my own HCs, and to avoid canonical bias. And it has so far worked! As such, I guess I wanted to put together a bit of an “HC article” about Omnics and their numerous aesthetical appearances, and WHY they were built they way they (possibly) were.

Or, Sumi tries to pull a smort and guess what it was Omnics were initially built to do based on their appearances and other known information.

Please note, this is going off of the assumption that these examples were of Omnics “born” with their current bodies in the examples, and were not later modded or changed as their situations allowed them.

So, let’s begin!

The Uncanny Valley

Uncanny Valley is defined, “In aesthetics, the uncanny valley is a hypothesized relationship between the degree of an object's resemblance to a human being and the emotional response to such an object. ... The uncanny valley hypothesis predicts that an entity appearing almost human will risk eliciting cold, eerie feelings in viewers.”

In short, the more something that isn’t human looks human, the more eerie it is to look at, and the more uncomfortable and even frightened a person may feel looking at it. It is theorized that phobias of mannequins and other human-esque objects and entities stem from the Uncanny Valley. The theory of the Uncanny Valley has a lot to do with the brain’s perception and observation of an object that has a form that, on an instinctive level, the brain is trying to figure out if this object is human, or if it is not human. Neurons start going off as the brain confusedly tries to figure out just what it is looking at, and whether or not it needs to process this entity as “human”, thus a relatable, living creature you could possibly connect with, or “not human”, thus not something you can socialize with and build a relationship with. This confusion of the brain results in the eerie feeling of uncertainty, that “uncanny” feeling.

But! There is a flipside to the Uncanny Valley.

Humans are, naturally (and arguably), social creatures with a need to relate to and empathize with other people (again, arguably, just roll with it people). In the extreme, an object that looks human despite not being human can be extremely unnerving, thus, the extreme of the Uncanny Valley theory. But, if something looks roughly human but has distinguishingly not human features, it turns the uncanny feeling into a sense of curiosity. It’s much easier to react positively to something that is just on the margin of different, but just within the realm of similar, and thus it is easier to interact with.

This is why series such as Transformers have worked out and maintain a loyal following. Because the characters are humanoid, but not human. They are just humanoid enough to relate to, but not so close to looking human that we want nothing to do with them. Humans are naturally attracted to things that look like them, but not so much so that we can’t figure out if it’s another human or not. We like relating to things in this way. This object has two arms, two legs, a head, two eyes, a mouth, etc; but it also has features that scream it is not human. This object has skin, hair, two arms, two legs, two eyes, a mouth, talks, blinks...but it’s not human; and it is making you very uncomfortable.

Stay with me, there is a reason I am explaining all of this!

Okay, so, we now know generally what the Uncanny Valley is without getting too technical, and we have a small example of how and why it is utilized in media. Media creators know we like things like robots and androids and those characters that are humanoid, but not human.

So, onto Omnics and their aesthetical appearances, with image examples to pick apart and theorize what they may have been originally built to do and why!

I repeat - this is all going off the assumption these Omnics have not upgraded themselves or have done too much to change their appearances.

Let’s start off with arguably two of the most popular Omnics - Zenyatta and Mondatta!

The Omnics

Arguably the simplest in design, we know there are a lot more decorative and aesthetically complex Omnics in the Overwatch universe, but we will get to those later. For now, let’s break these boys down.

Zenyatta is a very simple design, made almost frail by his seeming lack of armor. It is not entirely clear if this is just his design overall, or if he ever had more armor to begin with. If at some point he did have more armor, he likely would have looked similar to the Omnics seen in the Alive short, with an example below.

We can see many similarities and even full matches to some plating in the example image and Zenyatta’s image. The breastplates seen in the example image and on Zenyatta are identical, and the areas we can see that seem to be missing armor can easily be filled in with the plates of the Omnic on the left side of the example image. Even the abdominal plate of the Omnic on the left seems like it would fit almost perfectly on Zenyatta’s abdomen where it seems he is missing a similar plate.

(Note that it is somewhat doubtful that Zenyatta would actually look exactly like the Omnics presented in the image if he had full armor, because it seems Omnics in general have regional attributes and trademark appearances based off of what region they may be from. The Omnics above are likely to be European trademark models since they are, in fact, in Europe. But you get the idea.)

Regardless of any armor he may or may not have had, his design is simple. Extremely simple. There does not appear to be any overtly human qualities to him aside from his overall shape and form. He has two legs, two arms, a torso, fingers, a head, and very vague facial features. Two slits in his face downturned at the outer corners serve as a marker for eyes without being actual human eyes, and a differently colored, seemingly locked jaw serves as a marker for a mouth. Curves added to his waist and chest lend more humanlike features and proportions. The only thing about him that may make a human uncomfortable or give him an odd second look is his ability to perpetually hover.

He’s nowhere within the extreme of the Uncanny Valley; he sits right on that very comfortable margin that, when you look at him, he is just familiar enough in shape to be relatable to as one who shares a similar shape, but he is clearly not a human being. His lack of true facial features helps this, and his overall having no skin, hair, eyes, etc also helps the brain determine that he is not human, and thus will not instigate that confusion in the brain.

This makes him of a build that is, very likely, not truly meant to be worth a second glance.

Zenyatta’s build is, as I said, extremely simplistic. This tells me, personally, that he was not built with the purpose of working close with humans. He isn’t decorative enough to warrant attention from one or more people, and he doesn’t possess the features needed to allow humans to identify with him on a level to prompt cooperation. Because he is so simple in design, and his lifestyle suggests he was built to be relatively sturdy, he was likely meant to be a laborer of some sort. He is an Omnic who was built to work “behind the scenes” if you will, with little to no human interactions outside of management.

Aesthetically speaking, he is easily passed over if you were to walk by him while he was working or doing something mundane; moreso if he wasn’t wearing his current attire.

It is, unfortunately, impossible to gauge a more broad idea of what Zenyatta’s original function may have been. Because he is likely missing a massive amount of armor, we lose the idea of how sturdy he is, thus what sort of environments he would be able to work in. His proportions are, like most Omnics, exaggerated, with seeming emphasis placed on his limbs, which may suggest he was meant to be frequently mobile. This is a bit difficult to gauge though considering he hasn’t been seen moving with both feet on the ground.

Many have theorized (myself included recently) that Zenyatta had come from Null Sector, and as such, probably underwent a full downgrade and hardware replacements. If this is the case, we really can’t make any solid guesses to anything unless we see what he looked like pre-downgrade.

(Hmm…)

It is difficult to add much more on what Zenyatta likely was prior to his current self. We lack visuals of him in casual settings, and have mostly audio, screenshots, gifs, and in-game bonus animations to work with, and very little else. Gestures and mannerisms are somewhat lacking, so it’s impossible to gauge a 100% determination of what exactly he could have been in his primary function. His voice lines also mostly determine his current life, rather than many implications of what he used to be or do before the current time. So for now, I can only guage what he was originally built for on his appearance alone.

(Waiting on that lore too, guys…)

Mondatta is in a very similar though distinct boat.

Mondatta is sort of the aesthetic step up from Zenyatta. It has been theorized they are the same make and model, but of a newer and older variety (Mondatta usually depicted as an older model of Zenyatta). But there are also some very distinct oddities to Mondatta that Zenyatta lacks.

Many people have theorized Mondatta was meant to be a focal point of attention as his original function. He is very eye catching and distinct from other Omnics, but then again, just how many Omnics have we seen in the Overwatch franchise? He is also hardly the most aesthetically complex. Like Zenyatta, he is extremely simple in design, with slightly sharper angles and narrower features than Zenyatta, who boasts rounder features and more curves. There are also very subtle yet telling nuances that put him between a simple model and a complex model.

Firstly, his coloring. As far as my research goes, I haven’t seen another Omnic with white armor remotely similar to Mondatta. Most Omnics we have seen are chrome with features in more chrome, copper, black, silver, etc. It is very unlikely he got this armor to replace or upgrade a former armor set. The armor he wears is chipped and stained in some places, suggesting its age and wear. I can also safely assume that Omnic armor of such an obscure color is probably not cheap, and he does not seem like the type to drop so much for frivolous aesthetics. He doesn’t seem to have an obvious reason to adding the white armor to himself at one point in time. Mondatta, while simple in design is obscure for this reason alone.

Another obscurity of Mondatta is his size in comparison to his proportions.

Now, we do not know his or the guards’ heights, but with the average male standing around 6ft (roughly 182cm) tall, we can guess that Mondatta is roughly around 6ft tall, if not taller standing next to his guards, so perhaps 2 or more inches taller than Zenyatta (5ft 8in). We also get to see that his bodily proportions are very close to a tall human’s build. If he is an older model, it is likely that classical proportions went into his design, whereas with Zenyatta, slightly more exaggerated proportions were used. This could also just be a simple result of hardware. Omnics, from what I can see, are very disproportionate because of the ratio of hardware they carry. It’s almost impossible to make an artificial entity with exact human proportions without adding a synthetic skin and padding to fill in narrow or hollow spaces.

Larger Omnics tend to have more exaggerated and wider proportions, yet with Mondatta’s size making him a relatively larger Omnic, he remains in sensible proportion similar to a human, rather than more exaggerated like other larger Omnics. This makes him appear exceptionally tall, though not notably broad. This also makes him sturdy.

He is not thickly built, but there is an implied broadness in his shoulders that, if taken into proportion with the rest of his body (unseen), suggests he is likely bigger and set a bit heavier than Zenyatta, with a larger and slightly more elongated and squared head, which may suggest a stronger and faster processor, or just a lot more hardware to buffer the processors. Though “size doesn’t matter” has become a bit of a running gag for humans, in machines, it usually counts since the hardware size can sometimes imply the power, speed, and efficiency of the software. He likely has a very powerful AI. In a word, he’s smart.

All of this tells me that Mondatta was only slightly like Zenyatta in that he was never meant to work closely with humans. But while Zenyatta was probably never meant to interact with humans at all, Mondatta may be an obscure exception. If he is given the hardware and software to be socially equipped to be dealing with mass crowds and individuals, it could be that he was only meant to work closely with selective humans.

Mondatta’s form is a prime example of “simple yet elegant”, aesthetically subtle and pristine, but not so complex as to be a distraction. His form is one you may expect to see on a well-dressed servant. It could be theorized he is even a custom model some well off individual commissioned to perhaps work as a personal servant. And if in fact he was meant to work closely with one individual in particular, he probably could have been the individual’s assistant - be it for work or in personal assistance, or even health assistance. He would need to be able to, to a degree, argue with and refuse certain orders - ie refusing to finish a project, refusing to take medicine, etc - and try and convince his owner to do something they need to do, but may not want to.

(Confirmed: Mondatta is Ra9)

Both his appearance and his processors imply a sort of interpersonal function, and one that demanded he toe a few lines without actually crossing into areas of insubordination. His function probably demanded he maintain a certain amount of order, and even power, in his former function.

But this also may beg a more functional reason as to why he looks the way he does. Let’s go back to his coloring and his sturdy built again for a moment. As we know, Russia in Overwatch has its own Omnium, and is home to hostile Omnics. Siberia is a common battleground, with Zarya herself being from a Siberian village that got caught in the crossfires. And as we know, a lot of areas in Russia, particularly Siberia, is covered in snow. If at some point Mondatta was built during the Crisis, it would be prudent and even smart to make sure he, as a soldier or otherwise, could blend into his environment during a fight. This could imply he is a Russian made Omnic, and with his simple yet distinct form, could have been anything from a grunt soldier to a higher ranking Omnic officer (if the God AIs even used the militant system).

If his processors are as powerful as they are seemingly implied, this could work well in his favor as a personal servant or a part of the Crisis. As a servant to someone well off, he would probably need to engage with and determine orders and who he can and can’t take those orders from, and thus he would need an AI powerful enough to discriminate, categorize, and even personalize. In a war situation, this would help in strategizing and organizing, even mapping and planning defence and offensive techniques.

Regardless, his aesthetic appearance sits in a margin similar to Zenyatta’s: not too human as to be uncanny, but not so distinctly object-like to not be comfortable interacting with. But he is also touching just this side of a more complex Omnic because of his armor coloring, his overall build, and the implication of powerful processors. He seems, quite simply, like he is built to walk just as well as he talks.

He makes up for his lack of humanoid features with his manner of speech, gestures, and other body language. He gestures frequently during his speech in Alive, and even when he is being escorted off the stage to make his escape, he makes contact with and nods to the crowd as a sign of conscious acknowledgement. This could be a learned behavior, but if it is in fact an ingrained part of his function, it could imply that he is supposed to acknowledge people who are speaking to or regarding him. A sort of “speak only when spoken to” behavior that serving staff would typically be taught. The more he acknowledges, the more he engages, the easier it would be for a human to relax around him and relate to him, and thus make his job easier, and thus increase his efficiency.

But if he did not have these habits and mannerisms ingrained, he had to have the social baseline to learn, and indeed to want to learn them, perhaps even out of necessity. These gestures and little nuances in his everyday body language would be vital in his endeavor to show humans that Omnics are alive and deserve the same treatment as humans. They make him more easy to communicate and cooperate with humans.

(It is somewhat ironic that we can gauge more about Mondatta personality and function-wise from a single short animation, than we can from Zenyatta over years of gameplay)

Now comes a slightly more obscure model that toes the line of Uncanny Valley, and mild anthropomorphism.

Lynx 17 is an example of a VERY obscure Omnic due to one major factor - their adorable headgear.

Lynx is a bit difficult to discern in terms of what their original function was, but with their abilities, we can conclude they were in fact originally intended for computer-based fields; assuming they did not install these functions and software themselves at one point.

Lynx’s possible function is also further obscured by their appearance - or perhaps enhanced by it.

A trademark of Lynx is their ear-like helm extensions. We can safely just assume they function as functional antennae to further enhance their wireless networking and hacking skills. They could also be a means of protection, not unlike an antenna used to project a powerful firewall around their processors. But, looking at the upper left image, we can see they are also used to express emotions.

We also see, in most of the images above, that they have larger optic slits, and in fact, have visible optics. It could be just optical glass inset into their optic slits, but the adding of glass makes a tremendous difference.

Eye contact is something vital to human beings, and it helps for other living things to have eyes they can see and lock with. Gazing into the eyes has been proven to help strengthen relationships of all sorts, and even helps make short term relationships (such as interviews) a much more successful endeavor if you can keep eye contact. This suggest Lynx was, in fact, supposed to work relatively close with humans, probably on a one-on-one basis, or in small groups.

Back to the odd appearance. Lync overall is a sort of subclass example of anthropomorphism, which has been linked vaguely to the Uncanny Valley. Their helm shape, helm antenna, larger optics, and the glass used to make them look like they have more noticeable eyes puts them in a very weird area in terms of human relations. And in fact, this may have only helped them if they were meant to work with humans.

Humans have a much easier time relating to animals than other humans. You ever hear the phrase, “Greet the dog, ignore the owner”? Well, here is your middle ground. People like animals. People like anthropomorphic humanoids. People like anthropomorphic, humanoid robots. And to go further, people who work in more technical and computer-based industries tend to have a much lower tolerance for fellow human beings, and in fact will pick an animal over having a five minute conversation with humans. Animals are just that much more approachable, and they’re easier to get along with, and in fact have been proven to reduce stress in a tense work environment.

This tells me that Lynx likely was built to work in a technical industry, perhaps as tech support or a tech assistant of some sort. But due to the social minefield most humans in this field walk in, it was likely to the benefit of the makers to make Lynx just that more approachable; not by making them look more human, but by making them look less human, and more animal. Again, their antenna features could be entirely utilitary to their function, rather than just an aesthetic; or they could be both. Regardless, the antenna and other, smaller elements have made the idea that Lynx, in function, was supposed to work with humans in an industry where the humans in question would find them more approachable if they looked less human. We can’t go much further due to the rest of their body being covered by a jumpsuit, but from what little we can see, we can conclude Lynx was designed with social preferences in mind.

(On a slightly interesting note, Lynx’s model would make a great companion or minder to humans who have Autism or social defects. Their anthropomorphic design makes them easier to look at, as people with Autism or other social defects do indeed tend to prefer animals over other people and avidly avoid eye contact with other humans. The simple design coupled with the cat-like eyes and “ears” would make it easier for an individual with Autism in question to look them in the eyes more easily, and perhaps enhance and teach the individual in question how to interact with human peers on a much more comfortable level. Lynx’s model would be excellent in teaching subtle body language too because an individual could use their expressive “ears” as a reference, and later pick out the more human-like gestures in Lynx’s model to go along with the more telling droop, prick, and tilt of their “ears”)

Mondatta, Zenyatta, and Lynx 17 are simpler designs, so what about the more complex, thus more Uncanny, Omnics?

Enter, Maximilien…

This Pretentious Asshole™ that I would die for is an example of an Omnic that is much closer to the Uncanny Valley than the previous three Omnics.

Maximilien was first featured in the comic, Masquerade, then later in the campaign, Storm Rising. And looking at him even in the comics, we can all pretty safely conclude that he was meant to work with humans in both one on one, and mass.

Why can we conclude this? Because of his smug face. His head in general actually.

Of this entire list, Max will be only one of two Omnics we will see with a hairlike protrusion on their head. We can’t really say for certain that the “hair” was something he himself added at some point in his life, but it’s doubtful this is the case. We know Maximilien is Akande’s accountant, and that Max has some very high prestige for an Omnic. Storm Rising has shown us that he owns a brewery, and likely various other businesses around the world, and profiles and the comic have shown us that he runs a casino in Monaco. Max knows how to handle money, and this tells me that he is very likely still serving his original function as an accountant.

Accountants are far from the most pleasant people to be around, and working with them can be a chore in and of itself. Handling money is a chore in an of itself. And a lot of people in well-off situations just don’t want to deal with where their money goes and how it is being used, and will likely hire a high end accountant to manage it for them. There is an issue though: accountants tend to be human. Humans tend to make mistakes. They also tend to steal. So, the solution? Make a supercomputer accountant to handle your funds, with zero will or desire to even be greedy or steal from you. Bear in mind, this thought likely came into being before the Crisis and before Omnics started becoming more sentient and self-aware.

This makes Omnic accountants cheaper than their human counterparts, and it makes them a thousand times more efficient since you eliminate human error and bias. It is likely that Omnics like Max have extremely fast and efficient processors; they are living calculators, a sort of sentient supercomputer if you will. They likely have the ability to measure markets, determine stock, bond, and investment pros and cons in less than a few seconds, and can calculate safe and risky investments, as well as determine based on hyper-collected data what you should and should not invest in in the near or distant future. They likely have every up to date accounting manual and guideline in their memory banks, and every accounting and monetary law crammed into massive data banks inside their own processors.

This makes Maximilien and other Omnics like him smart. Frighteningly smart. I would honestly not be shocked if the theory of Max low-key puppeteering Akande to control Talon turned out to be true.

But, back to the aesthetics and why this works in Max’s favor. Max sits a step above the previous three Omnics, and likely many others, and is closer to the Uncanny Valley due to his very distinct and humanlike facial features. In the gifs above and in the beginning, we can see he not only has distinct and lit optics, but optics with shutters - he has eyelids. In fact, if you look closely at the gifs, you can even see he appears to have optic foci - or a pupils - that shift and flicker depending on where he is looking; from Genji’s sword to where Tracer is standing after she clears her throat to get his attention. Like Mondatta, he gestures and makes subtle movements to express in a way that is animated in a human manner and is either an ingrained part of his function, or a learned habit. And although lacking in solid confirmation in the Storm Rising cutscenes, in the comic and presented in the lower right image on the collage, we see Max has a fully articulated jaw that, in my personal theory, only opens when Max is in a state of more volatile or strong emotions.

Max’s humanlike features make him even more familiar to humans than Zenyatta, Mondatta, or Lynx. He’s easier to trust when it comes to business savvy men and women on a social level because he looks just enough like them to be comfortably familiar. Anyone looking for someone to manage their money would want someone who isn’t as likely to steal or make a blaring mistake with where money is spent, gained, or lost.

Now, we can assume Max is likely bleeding clients dry, but bear this in mind: he’s strategic. If anything I said about his processors is true, and if his final cutscene is implicit of his intelligence, then he would legitimately do his damndest to keep his clients happy and not rob them blind. Because if they decide he’s obsolete in managing their money, they will leave, and he loses reputation, money, and resources. Reputation is the lifeblood to any successful high end accountant’s career, and any slip or red mark on their ledger is an absolute death sentence. Max literally cannot afford to screw over accounting clients if he can help it.

He shows a sense of calm and lack of being intimidated by casually adjusting his tie and pin in the third gif of the first set. This expresses confidence. In the cutthroat world of business, no human would trust an accountant with zero confidence in themselves, otherwise, how can they trust them with their money? This could be a learned attribute to his personality, but confidence tends to stem from an inborn seed (meaning, one is not necessarily born confident, but they may be more predisposed to it as they age). Charisma, confidence, wit, charm, and brains are the key factors of a good accountant after all, and the attributes of an accountant someone with a lot of money can trust.

Maximilien does not seem to be loyal to any one person, as we see this loyalty ambiguity when he sold out Akande to be arrested by Overwatch. But we never find out if Akande found out, or even if Akande cared; if anything, perhaps Akande would find the fact endearing. Max seems to have an ingrained loyalty to whoever and whatever is going to benefit him in the long haul. He is “loyal” in the sense that he will remain loyal to X so long as X provides protection and absolute security without compromising his own life. Faced with Overwatch and no escape, Max no longer had any loyalty to Akande, thus sold him out.

This fluidity in loyalty is an absolute necessity in preserving one’s reputation, and thus one’s credibility and ability to perform their given task. It’s nice to feel like your accountant works for you 100%, but if that were the case, your funds would stagnate because your accountant has no resources and no connections, and thus, no means of actually helping your funds grow and increase. Accountants, and accountants like Max, need “friends in high places” as well as “friends in very low, very desperate, very dark places”. Thus, he needs charisma and social prowess, of which he has in spades (hah, puns).

He is a master negotiator if his getting off the hook with Overwatch is anything to go by, and is just enough of a “backstage” type of worker to very easily slide under the shifting leadership roles in Talon without a hitch. This also includes helping Akande remove Vialli from Talon’s head when Akande escapes prison, despite being the reason Akande was put into prison (though again, we do not know if Akande is savvy to this fact). Maximilien functions absolutely seamlessly in his craft, and that is strategy. His appearance gives nothing away of this, but his mannerisms, gestures, how he speaks, and the topics he discusses lend a serious implication to both his function and the benefits he gains by continuing to work by his function, rather than outside of it.

So far, we have seen three Omnics who likely had vastly to mildly different functions to what they do now. Max and others like him, due to how close they work to humans, and thus the benefits they reap, may in fact be more likely to serve their intended function rather than abandon it, while simpler, “disposable” Omnics are more likely to shift their perspectives.

Another Omnic similar in aesthetic class to Max is Luna.

Now, we know next to nothing about Luna, other than the fact she is present on the Paris map in the Cabaret Luna. Luna is a slightly off-the-wall case because of her appearance, and the fact that her gender is made physically very clear.

Most Omnics appear to present as sexless or male by default, usually based off of their bodies or their voices. In Lynx’s case, neutral pronouns are used by their choice. Luna is, as far as I can tell, the only distinctly female Omnic we have seen or had interactions with - second only to Athena/Iris and Orisa. We haven’t really seen any other female-oriented Omnics though, and with female characters of ANY species often being sexually emphasized so we ALL KNOW they ARE female (we get it, please stop with the armor bikinis), it’s very hard to miss if a character is defined - until stated otherwise - as female.

Luna is defined in a relatively subtle manner as female in numerous ways physically, and even audibly by her feminine singing voice. Women in entertainment are, well...they have expectations based on appearances, sadly. And with Omnics being made and installed with the desired hardware and software, even designed with the desired appearances, this criteria becomes moot.

Luna is clearly meant as an entertainer, though whether or not this is of her own choosing, it is difficult to say. There exists little to no information on her other than what her job is and where she is found. But based on her appearance, we can safely conclude she is meant to catch the eye of humans. Her entire physical appearance is meant to catch the eye, likely and primarily the eye of straight men.

She has a curved build with hide hips, an elaborate hairstyle, as well as lit optics set into a coy downturn at the inner corners. Even her facial plate seems to express a coy smile. She even has the implication of breasts on her chest. The cat ears add a sense of mischief and promiscuity, perhaps even some playfulness, and likely a nod to a sort of feline theme.

Though it may just be an attribute of the game itself, there could be implications that she is not a fully sentient Omnic. When spawned in Luna’s cabernet, she appears to be singing, but the whole room is empty. This may suggest she is not - or not yet - self-aware of anything but her function. Whether or not a room is empty, she keeps singing, day or night, until customers come in to watch and enjoy a drink or two. She is not “free” like Mondatta, Zenyatta, Max, and others may be, and in fact may be a very new and very young Omnic who has not yet had a chance to be someone other than her function. But again, this could mean absolutely nothing, and merely be an attribute of the game itself rather than Luna’s lore.

Looking at her arms, legs, feet, face, and collar, we can see light blue lines of biolights. This emphasises her presence, which heightens the desire to gather the attention of as many people as possible in a collective group. Humans are naturally drawn to light and flashing shapes, and this only further emphasises the intentions of her build. Adding in her flashy clothing, humanlike hair, jewelry, and her musical voice, we can safely assume she was built to entertain and catch an audience’s attention, and she is perhaps still serving this function, and may in fact not be self-aware just yet.

TL;DR - I spent a few hours compiling this pile of TRASH BABBLE because I was bored and couldn’t stop thinking about what could be implied by the appearances of some well-known Omnics in Overwatch and I needed to write it all down.

YES, I KNOW I SKIPPED ORISA AND BASTION. But let me explain why: Both Bastion and Orisa have had their primary functions made glaringly obvious as war and battle Omnics, and are in fact relics leftover from the Crisis, and thus, there isn’t really much to unpack about them. But if you want me to do a sort of study on them too in a more current sense rather than a past function and Uncanny Valley sense, let me know!

And that’s all I got. Can I go to bed now?

~Sumi

#overwatch #headcanon #Omnics #tekhartha zenyatta #tekhartha mondatta #mondatta #zenyatta #overwatch theory #theories and lore #maximilien #overwatch maximilien #luna #overwatch luna #overwatch omnic #Sumi is a Stupid Lil Squiddy #Sumi Rambles #so tired

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inspired-by-the-music · 5 years

Text

Chapter 18: Letting Go

Ae-Young’s POV

After waking the next morning in the pillow fort we made the night before, Key decided that dressing me up for a day out was the way to cure a broken heart. I didn’t find that I preferred to be left alone to my thoughts, so I agreed without the slightest objection.

“Oh, this is new,” he said when he pulled the blue sundress out of my closet. He examined it closely and gushed, “It’s pretty—”

He must have watched my face fall. Gathering its connection to Kyuhyun— or You-Know-Who, as Key had taken to calling him after watching Harry Potter— he amended, “Pretty— pretty ugly. Seriously, whoever bought this has terrible taste.” To prove it, he dropped it into the floor.

Although I was grateful for his attempt to mind my feelings, I narrowed my eyes at his actions. Rising from my bed to pick the dress up from the floor, I said, “I chose it, you goober. And it’s beautiful, so I’ll wear it.”

“Fine, fine.” Key turned away from me and focused instead on finding a pair of shoes. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, impossible to read?”

As I stepped into the bathroom to shimmy into the dress, I countered with a small smile, “Maybe you’re just illiterate.”

His laughter made my heart a little lighter. “Fiery! That’s my Ae-Young. Keep this up— I don’t want to waste my time doing your makeup if you’re gonna cry it all off.”

“Fine, fine.”

. . .

Kyuhyun wasn’t supposed to be at that restaurant down the street from the firm on a Saturday, but I didn’t want to risk bumping into him before I got my emotions under control. But will I ever stop feeling this way? It didn’t seem likely or even possible. Then, does this mean I can never stand to see him again?

Key insisted, “I want to try that coffee you’re so obsessed with,” and he couldn’t be persuaded otherwise. Not even the torrential downpour outside would convince him to get brunch somewhere closer to home, so I found myself in one of the last places I wanted to be.

Being in the place where it all began was too much to handle considering how everything had changed. I was no longer who I was when I walked in there months ago to discuss an uncomfortable arrangement— and being there made the difference between past and present too painfully clear to tolerate.

I was turning to leave as Key requested a table for two when my eyes were drawn to him. He was sitting at our table in the corner, the one we sat at every time we visited the restaurant since the beginning. He was reading a book and stirring his coffee, continuing with his routines as if his world was completely undisturbed by my absence while mine— mine—

Key tried to contain my temper, calling, “Ae-Young wait, the hostess has to take us to a table,” and reaching for my hand. Once I tugged out of his grip, once he realized who I was walking toward, he hissed, “Oh shit,” and dashed out of the restaurant, I assumed, to give me privacy.

It didn’t matter that the restaurant was filled almost completely with old couples. I had no objection to causing a scene in front of a bunch of strangers— it was embarrassing myself around people I knew that would make me a blushing, stuttering mess.

As I approached Kyuhyun, I planned to comment on the weather, but when he looked up at me with eyes wide and surprised as if I was the last person he ever expected to see, the still-fresh wound re-opened.

Before I could stop the bleeding, I blurted— wanting him to feel for himself the injury he caused— “What the hell, Kyuhyun?”

This was a nice restaurant, remember— the kind of place where every woman wears pearl earrings to match her pearl necklace, the kind of place where every man wears a tie, the kind of place where I, the only person under the age of 30, looked out of place. At my language and tone, the patrons silenced and turned toward me. Their curious disapproving stares burned into me, but Kyuhyun didn’t seem to notice.

His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on me. “I— what?”

Furious at how he could just gawk at me, I defaulted to a habit I developed during our time together and twisted at my engagement ring. I can’t wear this anymore. Rather than crying at the realization as I would have last night, I yanked it from my hand and demanded, “Did you ever plan to get your ring back?”

Before he could answer, I threw it onto the table. He watched, not breathing, as it rolled onto the floor. He picked it up and put it on the side of the table closest to me. “No.”

I wheezed, “So you never planned to see me again?”

“No—” He stuttered and closed his book without marking his place. “Wait, yes— no— I don’t know.”

My face burned. How can he respond to me with broken one-word answers after he detailed my faults to Dad at length? How can somebody who has taught me so much through careful explanations be speechless at the time I’m most confused? How can he struggle this much to explain himself?

Glaring, I suggested, “Since you’re not feeling too articulate today, let me explain things as I understand them. You can feel free to pipe up with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ whenever you feel like it.” I took his blinking as an okay and started, “You agreed to marry me while I was away at college because you respect my father.”

Instantly, he agreed, “Yes.”

“Then, you agreed to ‘court me’ to humor me.”

He thought for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No, I agreed to court you because I wanted to have a better relationship with you. I wanted you to be—” he fumbled for a word— “comfortable with me.”

“Whatever,” I said, unconvinced. I didn’t pause to consider how to phrase the next portion, which is probably why it came out so tactlessly. “You kept all this— this shit I sent you years ago in your desk at work for God knows how long like it means something to you—”

His head tilted as he likely wondered how I knew about the drawer. He recovered just long enough to counter, “It does mean something to me!”

Kyuhyun never yelled before, so it should have been enough to silence me, but I had gone deaf. “ — And you spent every day with me, made me fall deeper in love with you than ever— and that’s really saying something because I have loved you with my entire being for my whole life—”

He didn’t react except to drop his jaw, but I would have continued even if he dared to speak.

“ — You made it impossible for me to enjoy another day without you, and then you broke up with me through my Dad?”

The only vocal response came from the other patrons who murmured amongst each other. Feeling somewhat vindicated that they shared in my surprise, I laughed at nothing funny. “I mean— who does that? I guess it makes a little bit of sense, though. You started it through him, so it makes sense to end it through him with absolutely no regard about how I would feel.”

“I—” Unsurprisingly considering his behavior that day, he faltered, dumbfounded. “Can you repeat what you said?” Realizing that I couldn’t or wouldn’t, he asked, “Did you say that you were in love with me?”

Too angry to be ashamed, I answered, “It’s not so much a past tense thing. I don’t think I know how to not be in love with you.” His shocked expression was on my last nerve, so I snapped, “You don’t have to pretend to be surprised! I know it’s been obvious my whole life. And I understand that you still think of me like I’m a kid, so I don’t expect you to love me like I love you. I know you can’t. But you could have told me yourself. You shouldn’t have asked Dad to break my heart for you.”

“That wasn’t—” He held his reddening face in his hands briefly before trying to explain, “On the first day, you sad that this whole thing was such a shock, and you said that you wanted to focus on your career, and — I know that was a long time ago, but when you got that job offer, all I could think was that I was holding you back. You would resent me for it sooner or later—”

I wouldn’t resent you for something like that. I would give it all up for you. But I will resent you from running from me, I will resent you for breaking my heart without so much of a good-bye, I will resent you for never telling me how to feel okay when I’m not with you.

“ — and even if you never resented me for it, I would resent myself.”

As if it would return things to how they had been before, as if I didn’t know that this specific job was not to blame for how things had ended, as if it would cure the still glaring fact that he wasn’t in love with me, I said, “I turned the job down.”

Almost angry, he asked, “Why?”

“I didn’t want to go so far away from you,” I answered, and he frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. There were other reasons, too. I didn’t want to leave my father and Heechul again. And the job wouldn’t pay enough to cover travel expenses. And then Key offered me a job, so it was the right decision.”

He wasn’t convinced by my reasoning. “I never want you to turn down exciting experiences for me, and that’s all our relationship would be for you: a cage.”

“I don’t think—”

Like everybody else always did, he interrupted me. Why did nobody care what I had to say? Why did their opinions matter more? Why didn’t I speak up more often in spite of this? Why didn’t I refuse to be silenced for another minute?

“You’re so young,” Kyuhyun said, sounding very much like he had at the beginning, “you can’t even imagine what you would be giving up to be with me. You don’t know how many pieces of you are out there waiting to be discovered. And I— I can’t be the one who keeps you from finding yourself.”

Before I could carefully consider what he said as I always had, I asserted, hands drawing into fists, “I know who I am! I know I’m immature in all the ways you told my Dad—”

“I didn’t mean those things—”

I didn’t listen to what he said. Instead, I finally shouted, “Don’t interrupt me! It matters what I think too, whether you want to listen or not, so I’m going to say it!” As if seeing me clearly for the first time, he snapped out of his daze. “The things you told my dad were true. It doesn’t matter how old I get— I won’t be the wife you deserve, so maybe— maybe this is best. I’d rather you be with somebody you truly love. I mean, obviously, I wish that someone was me, but—”

The entire room gasped when I stopped mid-sentence, especially following my outburst about saying my piece, but I couldn’t continue.

What am I doing here, begging for something that never existed? If this makes him happy, who am I to object, even if it breaks me? I can learn to be okay. I can learn to let it go. I can make myself into somebody new. I liked who I was before— I loved who I was with him— and I can learn to love who I am now.

One day, I won’t be hurt that it’s over; I’ll just be happy it happened, and I’ll be able to remember with a smile the things that hurt me now.

I won’t beg like this for things that are not meant to be.

Making up my mind, I bowed. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Kyuhyun.”

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