#Dead Trigger 2 hack

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 2 - First (Second) Introductions

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Tim Drake was an obsessive creature by nature. Ever since he was little, he’d always been easily swallowed by his obsessions. His wants and desires, the little things that fascinated him. And, more than that, he never fought it. He gave himself into it, wholly. It was how he’d gotten this far in life.

He’d taught himself how to code, how to hack. He discovered Batman and Nightwing’s true identities. He’d learnt how to fight, how to keep the city safe, how to fling oneself off a building without fainting. He’s taped the family back together again and again after every splinter. He was one of only two Robins left, and that would soon be the only once Bruce retired and Damian graduated.

And this was all done through obsession. And it was obsession. He was self-aware enough to know that. While the rest of the family often indulged in delusions, he never had the time for them. He’d spent countless nights pushing his lagging body along with caffeine and sheer willpower. He’d often forget to sleep or eat even on the calmer days. All that was to say, Tim Drake was obsessive.

But, his obsessions never lasted. Sure, he’d keep the skills and the relationships he’d make, but when the dust settled, he’d find himself feeling empty. Tim Drake was obsessive yes, but his true obsession was the conquest. The rush he’d get when he finally claimed a new skill, a new person, a new piece of knowledge or wisdom.

And then, too quickly, far too quickly, the rush would disappear. The tingle in his spine would leave, the energy would disappear, and that feverish nature of his would flatten. Cool down. The others in the family knew it as one of his ‘moods’, but Tim thought it was probably more than that. Still, he was definitely in one of them right now.

It didn’t matter. None of it really mattered. The point was, right now, he was quite simply depressed. Bummed out, if you would. He’d finished a mission from Bruce, one that had taken him months of desperate, undying effort, and it was now done. And he didn’t have anything to do.

It sucked.

Boredom was a sinister demon. While Tim was by far the most emotionally stable of the family, he was still, well- not. Not by a long shot, honestly. The League’s mandatory therapy sessions had confirmed that. He just needed something to entertain himself, and quick. Usually, on a day like this, he’d be at home working on any random degree.

Unfortunately, he had responsibilities. He could not alleviate his boredom, because he was in the most boring place on earth.

A party. Not a party by any normal person’s standards, but one of his adoptive father’s galas. Even more horrifying, Bruce Wayne was in attendance. He was doing his billionaire playboy persona, and Tim couldn’t stomach it. It was no shock no one else had shown up. Even Dick was busy in Bludhaven, and he sometimes enjoyed these. Sometimes.

And once again, as every year, the birthday girl was nowhere to be seen.

Tim’s eyes rove over the very boring gala. Your gala, for your birthday. You weren’t here, because you never were. He couldn’t blame you. These balls sucked, even the better ones. This one was miserable, and the atmosphere was sombre. While it was your birthday, it was more than that, a day of death.

Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.

And Jason. Jason, who now walked the earth again, flesh and blood. Jason, who tore himself through a wooden coffin and grave dirt. Jason, who even Dick couldn’t seem to bring back into the family. Jason, alive and well and probably spending the night at Roy’s house. It was still the anniversary of his death, and while Jason did his best to put on a front, anyone with half a brain could tell he found today… upsetting.

But, he was alive. That was more than Tim could say for your family.

None of these people knew that. They saw one of the great Wayne’s dead, and they mourned. They saw the new wife and step-children of Bruce Wayne dead, and they lamented. Tim was sure most of it was faked, at least in this gala. The rest of the city truly grieved the Wayne family's tragedy. Especially Jason, one of the princes of the city. But here? No, they just wanted to rub shoulders with Bruce.

The man you very clearly insisted had never been your father, and never would be, was… probably a little sad. Tim was probably a little sadistically pleased about that. He was bored, alright? Anyway, Bruce did not know how to deal with you, and you with him. Both of you were stubborn people, unable to communicate or reach a place of cooperation. You never showed up to the galas or the manor, you did everything in your power to never have to interact with anyone from the family. The only reason you even still lived in Gotham was to be close to your dead family. And above all, you made sure that everyone knew how much you hated Bruce. That the sight of his aging face made you nauseous. Everyone else found that hilarious, of course.

And Bruce, because he was stubborn, kept trying to reach you, despite your angry protests. Even if he had absolutely zero legal ties to you, he still kept trying. And so, another birthday party passes without its leading star. The memorial tomorrow would be missing you too. Christmas, easter, hanukkah, new years, Rosh Hashanah, you refused to show up to any of them.

Still, he had to agree with Bruce. They couldn’t just leave you. Not with the way you were.

You’d once quietly admitted to him that you hoped you’d one day go to sleep and not wake up. That you’d rot away in your room, disappear from the world entirely. That was one of the last few times he talked to you face-to-face. And then a few months after that, you’d blocked him on all social media.

He’d read hundreds of books on therapy, and he knew what suicidal idealisation looked like. Luckily for his sanity, he was not your therapist, nor was he your keeper.

That was poor old Dick’s job, and he was, hilariously, failing at it. Badly. Technically, you were the second massive failure Dick had taken on, and it was starting to show in his mental state. Old Dickie was spending more and more time in Bludhaven, preferring to patrol there instead of Gotham. Still, he insisted he could get through to you. Tim was doubtful. Dick had better luck with Jason, of all people.

Jason actually wanted to be a part of this family. You hated them all, viciously. And so, you’d obviously never show up at-

Wait. Wait, no. He definitely recognised that face. Why the hell were you here? Well, that was irritating. Tim prided himself on being prepared for any situation, for any unlikelihood. He was the son who would be taking over Wayne Enterprises, after all.

You being in the same room as Bruce Wayne was impossible. Completely impossible. At least willingly. You should be kicking and screaming, scratching like a hellcat at anyone who tried to make you stay. Instead, you’re standing in the middle of a crowd, chugging back champagne like your life depends on it. He could already imagine the chaos the media would be starting, to his misery. ‘Estranged ex-Wayne shows up at birthday gala and drinks like a fish’. Well, he had been complaining about being bored. Careful what you wish for, and all.

Shit. He was not prepared for this.

He was, despite it being your birthday, not at all expecting you to be here. He didn’t even have a present. Shit. He pulls out his phone and shoots off an order to his assistant, who would probably go to Dick’s for help.

He sees you over there, obviously uncomfortable, and realises he should probably rescue you. He tells himself he should, that he’s gonna get up and go do it.

Instead, he crosses his legs at the ankle, leans back in his chair, and watches. You won’t catch him off guard twice. He has his pride, after all.

You throw another glass of champagne back. Tim winces. Okay, maybe you might. This was all a bit of a shock. And the rest of the gala seemed just as surprised at your appearance as he was. They obviously didn’t know what to do about you, creating a wide ring of people who refused to step closer to you. And you seem oblivious to the social pariah you have suddenly become. Or maybe uncaring, as you’ve already claimed an entire buffet table and champagne tray for yourself.

Just… just drinking. You seem to only care about ingesting more alcohol and confectionaries. It’s your twenty-first, but uh… this definitely doesn’t look like the first time you’ve been drinking. Not that he cared if this was your first time drinking. He’d done his fair share of illegal activities. Sure, they were mostly superhero stuff, but still illegal. Frankly, it’s kind of impressive. You might even be able to drink Jason or Alfred under the table.

…Good for you, he guesses. A talent’s a talent.

He realises, after a few minutes, that you have absolutely zero plans of socialising. You’d showed up here of your own free will, and then just scared off anyone who’d talk to you. Not that there’d be many who’d be interested in talking to the swaying woman who looked like a threat to herself and everyone around her. No, you were still just drinking. You’d gotten halfway down the buffet table, trying every single cake and a few of the savoury items as well.

You kept circling back to have more champagne and Victorian sponge, and then you’d go back to wherever you were in the buffet and try something from there. Your choices seemed sporadic, and more than once you spat something back out into a napkin. You look at some of the dishes like you think they might be poisonous, taking wide circles around them.

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward to press his face to his intertwined fingers. He’s definitely past the point where he should go help you. You’re making a mess, both physically and socially, and yet, he still just sits there. He can’t help himself, it’s interesting.

“Tim.”

Uh oh, your knight in shining armor is here. Or well, dark. Bruce had never been known for pastels. Tim turns his head to the giant man blocking out the light, giving his father and leader a smile.

“Hey Dad,” he greets, in an open attempt at manipulation.

Bruce shakes his head, not caving begrudgingly like he usually did. Shit, that usually worked. Guess he must be actually mad. He glances from Tim to the object of Tim’s apt fascination. You. He turns back, looking down at Tim with his ‘I’m trying to be a good dad’ look. It’s not very convincing.

“How long has she been doing this?” Bruce asks, straight to the point as always.

“Twenty-seven minutes. You’re ruining my process,” Tim replies, telling B to screw off in the kindest way possible. He doesn’t take the hint, because he’s a bit of an ass. Even Batman fanboy Tim could recognise that.

“You can’t just count when someone is getting drunk in front of the public. You need to actually do something.” Bruce shakes his head, hand lifting to massage his brow. It was just that easy to give the old man a migraine. Poor baby probably needed some Ibruprofen. Tim had some in his pocket, but he wasn’t going to offer.

“I was going to eventually. And aren’t you curious? She refuses to show her face for months, and then pops out of the blue to… what? Steal from your liquor cabinet? She knows she doesn’t have to come to get whatever she wants,” Tim ignores B’s nagging, turning his gaze back to you. You’re having a love affair with that cake, honestly. Oh, you’re going for another shot… You do realise the stuff you’re chugging goes for millions, right?

You probably don’t care. You never had about money.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s here, and we should be taking care of her. This is obviously her reaching out for help, and she obviously needs it,” B insists, splaying his worn and scarred hands over the table. Tim has the same hands, everyone in the family does. Vigilante work left scars and callouses.

“Then why hasn’t she come over here, yet? My theory is she’s just trying to smear your good image. Which doesn’t need smearing in the first place, but who understands the minds of young, drunk and miserable women?” Certainly not Tim, as he had proven in his relationship with Stephanie.

“Tim, enough with the sass. Go and help her.”

“She’s not your responsibility anymore, B.”

“Her mother would disagree. Now go,” Bruce orders, his words final. Because they always are, in the end.

Tim groans, letting his head fall back. He glares at the ceiling and all the sparkling diamonds strewn about, and then he pulls himself to his feet. Cracks his shoulders, and parts the Red Sea with a glance. The crowd in the gala splits so the young heir can easily find his way through, and he gives everyone he passes a kind smile.

He strides up to your side, calmly waiting for you to notice him. You’re still imbibing, completely oblivious to his presence. It’s funny. And fascinating. Usually, you were so paranoid that he wondered how you weren’t always a single breath away from a panic attack. Like a feral animal, ready at a moment’s notice to fight or flight.

He sees that you’re dealing with those social anxieties in a way befitting the Wayne name. Which is to say, absolutely shit. His head tilts eyes flickering over you. You don’t look too good, which is no real surprise. Even with your people’s perfect styling, they can’t cover up the shaking and sweating in your form. It might just be anxiety, but knowing you, it’s probably not. He wonders if you even notice how sick you are.

You don’t look like you notice much of anything. Maybe the cake, but that seemed to be pushing it.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” Tim starts but is unable to continue when you spin on your heel and drop your flute of champagne. It crashes to the ground, and he finds his socks becoming uncomfortably wet.

The two of you look up from the mess and meet gazes. Your mouth is open in horror, eyes comically wide. Tim has to bite the inside of his lip so as not to immediately burst into laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, you do a weird crouch-pop-up movement, and then your eyes swivel around frantically, “I’m- am I supposed to clean this up? I can totally clean this up.”

You look just about ready to kneel into a pile of thin glass shards, so Tim stops you. Because God knows Bruce would hang him from the rafters if he didn’t.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Somebody else will handle this. It’s your birthday after all, right?” he says, giving you a charming smile. It’s sort of a shock when you don’t scoff at him, and instead just stand there with a deer-in-headlights sort of look.

“Hey, are you alright?” Tim asks when you don’t say anything else.

You startle, and then blink at him rapidly. Distracted and inebriated. Lovely. He doesn’t think you know what you’re doing here either, which was a bad sign for your mental health. Have you been refusing to go to your therapist again?

It wasn’t like he went either, so he couldn’t judge.

“I’m good,” you say, your words only slightly slurred. You blink again, your head cants towards the floor, and then you glance back up at him. You look like he’s caught you committing a crime. “Do you- uh, want some of the cake? Sorry for stealing it all, it’s really good.”

You were acting… really strange. Tim found himself with the undeniable urge to follow along with your strangeness.

“You know what? Yes, yes I would,” he says, taking one of the little plates of strawberry cake and a delicate three-tonged fork. He scoops up some of the cake, the cream and jam, and eats. Chewing he keeps staring at you, as you fidget awkwardly. It’s good, but all the food here’s good.

“Did you like it?” you try to smile at him, but it looks more like a grimace.

“I did. Javier did really well with these desserts,” Tim says, before waving over one of the staff to clean up the mess the two of you are ignoring. You look surprised when he offers an arm to guide you away, and he wonders if you’ll accept it. He can’t imagine a world where you would, but today seems to be full of surprises. In the end, you do, but it takes you a good five seconds of awkward staring before you take it.

He takes you over to one of the tables, careful to make sure you don’t slip and fall face-first into the spreading champagne puddle.

“Oh. Is he the chef?”

“He’s the pâtissier.”

You give him a blank stare. Right, you probably don't speak French.

“The pastry chef,” Tim clarifies, as he helps you find your chair. You slump down with zero grace, and for a second Tim thinks you’ll fall right off. You manage not to with a desperate grasp at the table. Good for you.

“Oh, cool. That’s super cool. I think I love this Javier guy, honestly.”

Tim snorts, taking his own seat, “He has that effect on people.”

You’re not looking at him, instead grimacing at the mess you made that two of the staff are cleaning up. Tim’s sort of surprised. It wasn’t that you had been particularly mean to the employees before, but you rarely acknowledged them. You had barely acknowledged anyone, completely unaware of your effect on the greater world. You didn’t care. To be fair, it didn’t seem like you cared about anything but your family’s gravestones and memorials.

Still, there was definitely something different about you, today. And he couldn’t blame it all on the alcohol. Today, you looked a little green about the whole accident. Like you actually gave a shit. Maybe you’d had a change of heart. He hoped you had, for Dick’s sake. You looked more alive, even if it was a confused, embarrassed, uncomfortable sort of alive. It was still an improvement. Usually, your expression was dead, a blank stare. It reminded him of Jason’s as he’d been lowered into the ground.

The two of you wouldn’t like that comparison. And it’s hypocritical too, Tim knows he sometimes resembles a zombie after one of his little sessions.

He can’t help himself. He’s curious, so damn curious. What had prompted this miraculous shift? And plus, you could still be planning something, even if it was seeming more and more like you’d stumbled in here drunk and confused, not able to remember you hated them all. Maybe you had a concussion or something. A head wound sounded like a good explanation for all this.

“Why’d you show up here today?” he finally asks, caving quickly to his need to understand.

You give him a weird look like he’s the one being strange.

“It’s my birthday.”

Tim tilts his head. “That it is.”

“Was that- that the wrong answer?”

“I don’t know, was it?” Tim knows he should stop playing with you. You’re making it far too easy, though. And he's bored, damn it.

“I don’t know either. That’s… that’s why I’m asking you.”

Before he can react to the strangeness of that comment some (awfully rudely, might he add) intrude on your conversation. One of the board members of W.E., someone he had to pay the proper respect to. When his hand slaps down on Tim’s shoulder, he has to suppress a withering sigh. There were less fun parts to his job, and this was one of them

“Drake! It’s so good to see you,” the old man greets, and it takes even Tim a second to remember his name.

“Lancaster! You as well,” Tim replies, noticing your barely there flinch.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you tonight. My project’s funds are running a little low, and everyone knows you’re the one to go to for an easier time. Bruce is a great leader but…” the man chuckles, and Tim grins at him. It’s fake, of course. When in Rome, they say.

“A bit strict, yes. I have struggled with his attitude before, too.” Understatement of the century.

Tim glances at your quiet form, eyes set on the tablecloth in front of you. Even still it’s obvious you’re listening to their conversation, head cocked just slightly to the right. The board member doesn’t even seem to notice you. Tim’s curious if he recognises you.

You’d been out of the public eye for so long he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. That’s the way you’d wanted it to be, after all.

“But let’s talk about this later, I’m entertaining a very tipsy birthday girl at the moment,” Tim says, hoping you don’t mind him using you as an excuse.

“Oh wow!” Lancaster cries, at your mere presence. Subtlety is not this man’s strength, “I didn’t see you there. Wow, jeez. Didn’t think you’d be here today. What made you change your mind?”

You give him a long, assessing look. Whatever you find makes you pull an expression like you sucked on a sour lemon.

“My assistant forced me to,” you answer honestly. Seems you’ve realised that ‘it’s your birthday’ isn’t an adequate reason. Not that you’ve never failed to reject any and all pressure to attend these events before. Like Tim had said, kicking and screaming.

“Ha! I know the feeling. Well, I’ll leave you two kids to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” the old man chortles, gives you a wink, and leaves. Your gaze follows him into the crowd, and stays there, even when he disappears behind it.

It’s quiet for a moment. Tim waits for you to speak first.

“Who was that man?” you finally ask.

“Charles Lancaster, one of the newest board members of Wayne Enterprises,” Tim says, surprised you’re curious. You’d never been interested in W.E. or anything involving the family. Surprised, surprised, surprised. He should just accept any odd behaviour from you at this point, start expecting it.

You slump in your chair, pressing your forehead against the table. Then, you let out a long, unhappy, groan. Tim gets it, he really does. He does not get what you do next.

Your hands slap against your cheeks, and Tim jerks in his seat. Okay, maybe Bruce was right, you probably do need help. He couldn’t imagine the big guy sending you to Arkham, though. It was obvious you were only a threat to yourself. You take a deep breath, completely ignore his confused stare and get to your feet.

And you immediately fall sideways.

Tim’s arm shoots out, grabbing yours before you crash into the shining marble floors. You look down at him, mirroring his shocked expression. You look down further down, and Tim follows your gaze.

Your stilettoed heel looks the same as it always does. Still, you stare at it like it’s a shark biting at your toes. Tim thinks this is one of the first real emotions you’ve shown in months, and it’s desperate fear of your shoes.

“I told her I can’t wear heels,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“What? Yes, you can. You wear heels to all these events,” he replies anyway.

“What- Well, I meant… heels this tall. They’re really tall.”

He just blinks at you, at the inanity of your statement. They were really tall, but Tim had seen you wear taller. Why were you lying about something like this? Had you drunk too much and were too embarrassed to mention it? Or maybe you’d hurt yourself?

He looks down at your ankle again. No, the flesh seems unharmed. And you hadn’t been walking with a limp earlier, you were just stumbling around now. Must really just be too much champagne. You’d already dropped a glass earlier and had been obviously embarrassed by it. Even if Jeanine had swept in just like she was supposed to, fixing the situation. You’d apologised profusely.

He’d never heard you apologise before. It’s… well, it’s strange. That’s the only way he can describe this encounter.

“You can let go of me now. Please?”

Tim lets you go, and you rub your arm. Shit, he grabbed you too hard. He knew you were on the delicate side, wasting away both mentally and physically. You didn’t take care of yourself and rarely even left your apartment. Even now you looked oddly sickly.

“I’m going to uh- I have to go pee,” you say, and immediately wince at your words.

Tim, without thinking, replies, “Go piss girl.”

You make a shocked choke of laughter, nod at him, and then run off as fast as you can while grasping every piece of furniture in your reach. You look genuinely ridiculous. Well, it’s not the first time a Wayne gala has turned into a clown show. Compared to Dick’s younger years, this was completely unnoticeable.

Bruce still loved to complain about the chandelier he’d broken in an impromptu trapeze show. It’d been diamond, and over a hundred years old. The ones above him now were just as expensive, but not vintage. Jason thought it was hilariously funny, and was always trying to get Dick to do it again. Luckily, Dick had matured, if only a little bit.

Speaking of which, this is a perfect opportunity to mess with Dick. He pulls out his phone and the secure channel they use to communicate. Dick was in Bludhaven right now, probably on patrol. Doing something fun. Sure, tonight had gotten more interesting, but you’d just run off and with you his only entertainment. Tim was bitterly envious of Dick’s fun, and because of that, he had to make Dick just a little more miserable. Just to make things even, of course.

‘Smartest_Robin’: guess who just showed up to her own birthday party?

‘Underwear_guy’: you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. why?

‘Smartest_Robin’: hell if I know. she’s drunk as hell lmao

‘Underwear_guy’: please don’t let her do anything stupid.

‘Smartest_Robin’: yeah, yeah. i’m the idiot who has to deal with the fallout anyway

‘Underwear_guy’: how’s it feel being the ‘favourite son’?

Tim snorts. The media often called him that, purely because it was well known he was the one inheriting W.E. It was hot gossip that it was Tim and not Damian, the proudly stated ‘blood son’. They didn’t know Damian was inheriting an even greater responsibility. And it wasn’t like he particularly wanted it, he just knew he was best for the job and it helped the time pass in between missions. It was fun sometimes, too. He enjoyed giving Luthor Corp a good thrashing every now and then.

‘Smartest_Robin’: same as always. im bored, anything interesting going on over there?

‘Underwear_guy’: bludhaven’s my city, dickhead. go do taxes or something

Tim sighs, and puts the phone back down. He had to try, at least. When it becomes obvious you are absolutely not returning from the bathrooms anytime soon, he gets up, adjusts his cuffs, and walks back off into the fray.

He greets and shakes hands, he takes photos and makes deals. It’s all a blur, really. He does it with half his attention, the other focused entirely on you. Amidst all this pomp and splendour an intriguing new mystery has been born. A puzzle to hold his attention, just for long enough till he gets to the next one. And your sudden shift in personality is more than enough. And if he focused on that, he could get through all this politics.

He’s talking up a chairman of a rival company when the lights go out. When the windows shatter inwards, his heart starts to race. And when familiar masked thugs break in through the wide open doors, guns up and ready, he’s already prepared for the fight. People start screaming, scrambling, and even more gunmen follow through the side exits. While guards raise their own firearms, everybody knows they’re completely outnumbered.

The Joker’s here, and he’s brought his army. Well, shit, all this excitement, and Tim left his suit upstairs. Guess he’ll have to improvise.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand Alone Series Chapter: 2

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Hermione attempt to deal with the emotional and mental turmoil that came after the 'Battle Of Hogwarts' & everything else that led up to it.

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, depiction of cutting & self harm, death & violence, a bit of fluff somehow

Note: this one gets pretty graphic so please approach with caution. like stated there is mention of self-harm and a depiction of it so i have indicated that section with asterisks. if that sort of thing is triggering for you please skip and stay safe! but other than that, hope you enjoy. <3

Taglist: @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @poppyflower-22 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @cherryflavoredcoke @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

(comment to be added to or removed from the taglist)

You cover your ears, a feeble effort to dull the incessant ringing.

Squinting to find your way through the courtyard, the dust began to make your eyes water. Yet the sting was a welcomed distraction from the near deafening noise that reverberates through the air.

You gaze up at the sky and it only helps to disorient you further.

The sun is out, but there is no light.

“Harry Potter is dead!” A voice dulls the noise, his voice.

The large snake that slithers past your foot makes you recoil, it circles you continuously, as if stalking a prey.

You reach for your wand on instinct, but you find that it is not in your pocket.

Your breath catches in your throat as Voldermort advances towards you. Half of his body deteriorating into dust, yet a spine-chilling grin remained.

You attempt to call for help, but you have seemed to forget how. So instead, you take a frantic scan of your surroundings.

Your stomach turns as you catch sight of a bloodied arm, sticking out of a pile of rubble to your left. You shift closer, motivated by a curiosity that you quickly learn to regret.

What you once thought was rubble, turns out to be a mountain of corpses.

They lay limp and lifeless atop one another, some nearly burnt to ash– others bloodied beyond recognition.

Your schoolmates, reduced to pieces of charred flesh and bone.

The urge to wretch overcomes you again.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

Voldermort's voice again, now only above a whisper, still makes you wince. You followed the arm he has left outstretched, pointing to the highest point of the mountain.

There you spot Harry, laying on the top of the pile, unmoving.

Dead.

The noise that leaves you is involuntary when you notice Ginny pinned underneath him. Then there is Fred, Neville, Seamus– Ron.

All dead.

“No!” You cry out, this time your voice does make it past your lips.

At last, you are able to locate your wand, you retrieve it swiftly as you point it at Voldermort.

His face has changed again. This time he appears to you younger, human.

You are left staggered for a heartbeat, still you continue to aim your wand towards the man standing before you.

“The snake, y/n, you have to kill the snake.” Her voice carries through the courtyard. Hermione's voice.

Still, you can't see her.

You just barely manage to bite back a sob.

Her absence is like a dagger to your chest, twisting relentlessly.

“I will try.” You respond to no one.

The man's head morphs into one of a serpent, and soon, a bright flash of green erupts from the tip of your wand. With a large thud, the man before you drops to the ground.

It leaves you unsettled– killing still feels unnatural, it made you sick, and you vow to always feel that way. To never let it be a part of who you are, you cannot allow it to be.

You stand over the body now only to realize there is a serpent head no longer.

The corpse now bears a resemblance to someone you recognize all too well. A blade twists in your chest again, hacking away at your heart.

Hermione remains motionless as you kneeled over her. Frenzied, you pull her head onto your lap, feeling her pulse.

You did wish to see her, but not like this.

How can a sight you desperately yearned for, so suddenly turn into something you utterly dread?

“No, no. Wake up, my love. Please, wake up.” You beg in anguish, clutching her body close.

She is so cold.

The only bit of warmth you feel comes from the uncontrollable flood of tears that escape your eyes. You cannot sense the dagger anymore, and soon, you cease to feel much of anything.

Your chest– your very being, vacant.

You have killed Hermione, and the last bit of your soul in the process.

-

When you open your eyes again, you are in bed. You wake, alongside the familiar blinding ache in your arm.

All you can hear now is your quickened breathing, and the pounding of your heart as you sit up.

“Shit–” You mutter, clutching your head, your shirt sticking to your frame from sweat.

It wasn't real, only a dream.

The Dark Lord is gone, and you are safe.

Instinctively, you reach for Hermione, only to find the empty space next to you.

Panic sets in once more as you climb out of bed.

It can't be– it was only a nightmare.

“Hermione?” You call out into the darkness, but you receive no response.

You know she is alive. You spent the day with her and you went to bed with her.

It has been that way for weeks, you concede.

That is unless, you've managed to escape one nightmare only to wake up to an equally bleak reality.

The thought makes you shiver, you wrap your arms around yourself as you call out once more.

“Hermione?” You speak slightly louder as you enter the kitchen, still, she is nowhere.

You swallow uncomfortably, rubbing your throat when you realize just how parched you are.

You quickly approach the sink, retrieving a clean glass. “Aguamenti.” You watched silently as water started to fill it.

Soon you throw your head back, entirely emptying its contents.

You attempt to set the now empty glass down but a sudden sharp pain in your arm causes it to slip out of your fingers.

Before you can save it, the glass shatters across the counter.

The sudden noise causes you to flinch, but any shock you experience quickly morphs into pure anger as you observe the dark mark etched in your arm.

Truth be told, after the battle you had expected it to become dormant, obsolete. There is no use for it now that Voldermort is dead. but to your dismay, the effects only got worse and far more agitating.

Still driven by hot rage, you carelessly reach for a piece of glass, clutching it firmly.

Simply desperate to put an end to it all. The wretched memories– the pain and anguish that you carry with you every waking moment it is a result of this symbol in your arm.

***

Without another moment's thought, you run the sharp edge across your skin. You groan at the pain, but a queer sense of relief sets in as you watched the blood trickle down your arm.

The warm, red substance defaces the dark mark, you began to relish in the fact that you could hardly see the symbol now. So you decide to cut again.

You have no intentions to stop until it has been carved out of your arm entirely.

***

Although, you are only allowed to continue for a moment longer. You are caught by surprise when Hermione distrupts your plans. She wretches the piece of glass out of your hand in distress, it makes a loud crash as it lands it in the sink.

“What on earth are you doing?” Your girlfriend exclaims in horror. She immediately grabs a wash towel, quickly placing it over your arm to stifle the bleeding.

You don't respond for a prolonged moment, you can only afford to stare at Hermione. She is safe, she is alive.

You have not harmed her.

“Darling..” Hermione coos, you only realize you are crying when she gently wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“I just wanted it to stop.” Is all you can manage to utter, and your girlfriend's expression only grows more concerned.

She averts her gaze, lifting the towel to inspect your arm. Whereas, you mantain your stare upon Hermione– you cannot bear to acknowledge the damage you've inflicted upon yourself.

“This.. that was not the way to do it. What if you had cut too deep? Please, y/n, you can't do things like that. You frightened me half to death.” Hermione reprimands, her frustration entirely justified.

You nod in resignation, the fact is you weren't thinking, you simply acted, as you always do.

“I'm sorry.” You say with real remorse and Hermione swiftly wraps an arm around you.

She kisses the side of your face, embracing you tightly. The both of you remain like that, without speaking, for a while, simply taking comfort in each other's presence.

“Where were you?” You finally mumble against Hermione's shoulder. She pulls back to look at you properly before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out onto the balcony.” Your girlfriend explains, loosely gesturing to the sliding doors in the distance that remain open.

“I lost track of time because I was reading.” Hermione adds, more sheepishly, and it only makes you smile.

“Of course you were.” You quip.

Your girlfriend shifts her eyes away from yours once again to look at your arm. You observed as she set her bottom lip in between her teeth, always a sign that she was thinking.

“You know, I think it's almost romantic.” You say suddenly, and Hermione blinks at you in confusion.

“What is?” She asks but you don't allow her to ponder on your statement for too long as you reach for her left arm.

You lift it up. It is tough to see under the moonlight, but you could still somewhat make out the scarring on Hermione's forearm.

Her flesh once carved until bloody with the word ‘mudblood’, now fully healed, leaving only a thick scar.

“Now we're the same.” You remark with a smirk, an effort to make light of a otherwise grim situation.

Hermione scoffs, retracting her arm.

“You are an idiot.” She claims, but there is no bite to her words, and you catch a faint smile playing on her lips as she rolls her eyes at you.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” Your girlfriend coaxes, tossing the bloodied wash towel into the sink.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader

[passivenovember]

“Do we have a mop?”

Mrs. Harrington looks up from her crossword puzzle, razor sharp #2 poised to hack and slash her way toward victory, “Our house is covered wall to wall in tasteful black hardwood,” She says, because her husband’s time last week was 3.35 and she plans to shave at least ten seconds from her own today. “Of course we have a mop.”

Steve shuffles in the doorway, rapping four knuckles against the wood to get her attention. “Could you tell me where it is?”

“Steven,” She sighs, “I’m a little--”

“I want to clean up.”

She resists the urge to dig her fingertips in her ears. Bites down on shock and thrill that her son has finally taken to the perfectionism that runs the roots on both sides of his family tree. “Go dig around the mud room,” She says, returning to her crossword, “That’s where one usually keeps mops, vacuums, dustpans--”

“Thank you,” Steve disappears, leaving Mrs. Harrington’s study in blissful, waving quiet.

She makes it another ten words before all hell breaks loose.

“Mom!” Steve shouts, voice muffled by walls and imported rugs. “Mom, I can’t find the--”

“Goddammit,” She hits the stop-trigger on her alarm clock. 4.15. Her husband’s going to have a field day with this development. 

The kitchen is filthy, but only in the way that shows her son is trying his best. Her precious marble counters are streaked with forgotten all-purpose cleaner, and the rugs have been removed, shaken out, and put on their stay mats crooked. 

Every dish in the house has been left in the sink and somewhere, past the sound of Steve digging through the pantry and mumbling to himself, something is burning. 

“What on Earth--”

“Mrs. Wheeler used to make Nancy clean the floors with pinesol,” Steve breathes, his face as red as a lobster when he pokes his head around the doorway, “But we don’t have any pinesol, mom, I’m not sure what--”

“I don’t like pinesol. Smells too much like a burning nuclear factory.”

“What am I supposed to clean the floor with, mom?”

Mrs. Harrington tugs a mitt onto one hand and removes a sheet of charred sugar from the oven.

Thinks maybe they’re chocolate chip cookies, or brownies, or--

She turns the oven off, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s gotten into you, Steven?”

Steve charges out of the pantry and stops dead in his tracks. “Nothing,” He says, gripping the mop handle so tightly that Mrs. Harrington is positive it’s going to snap in half. “It’s just. I have someone coming over tonight, and--”

“Do you fancy this person?”

“No. Yes, I don’t. I don’t know--”

“You know, When I met your father he didn’t know you couldn’t clean glass with dish soap.”

Steve’s eyes get big. “You can’t?”

“No, it leaves streaks all over the place,” She rolls up her sleeves, turning the faucet water on as hot as it will go. “Anyhow, the first time I came over to study for our pre-law exams that first year of graduate school, he had tried to clean his entire apartment. It was a massive failure because he didn’t have anything in the way of a conventional cleaning product.”

“What did dad use?”

Mrs. Harrington laughs, unable to help herself. “Olive oil.”

Steve saddles up next to the dish rack, using a clean tea-towel to dry whatever’s handed to him. “Dad’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, but he loved me. Maybe he didn’t know it at the time, but I felt it. The second I walked in and fell into the wall because the floor was so slippery,” She pins Steve with what she hopes is a gentle, knowing look, “It meant the world that he’d even try.”

Steve looks thoughtful for a moment. “Okay,” He says, drying his hands on the seat of his Levi’s. “But what do I use to mop the floor--”

--

Two hours later, the house is clean enough that Mrs. Harrington doesn’t feel guilty returning to her crossword puzzle. 

She sits down and restarts her timer just as the doorbell rings. She listens, straining to imagine the big, goofy soft smile that matches the tone of her son’s voice. 

“Billy,” Steve says, and he might as well float around on heart-shaped clouds. “I made some cookies--”

“Smells like you almost burned the house down,” The second voice answers. 

Mrs. Harrington holds her breath and hopes against all hope that this kid won’t break her son’s heart.

There’s a long pause and then, quiet as a sunrise, Billy laughs. “I’ll choke ‘em down for you, pretty boy.”

For you.

Mrs. Harrington starts the timer and doesn’t even care that her husband beat her record. 

5.18. He’ll smile when he sees it.

#harringrove #fluff and humor #mrs. harrington is a good mom

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 2 - Reflections

Word count: 2,600. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter

Chapter summary: The story of Mina's (Alastor's wife) life and death. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, canon typical language, suicidal ideation, religious trauma if you squint, forced marriage, mention of abortion, mentions of dubcon, terminal illness, drug use, domestic violence, murder.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 2 - Reflections

October 4th, 1917

California coastline, near Sonoma

Mina Gallagher looked out at the Pacific Ocean and wished she was dead.

Fantasized about it, more like.

Growing up in Ireland had given her a enduring love of the ocean. She was in awe of its power; how it could go from calm as a child’s rocking crib to an omnipotent force capable of ripping sea cliffs apart in a matter of hours. Her small, weak body craved that kind of strength, and she would slip her shoes off to stand in the shallow, icy waves, praying to it as devotedly as her parents prayed in mass every Sunday.

As a teenager, she would run away to the shoreline any chance she could and let the ocean be the only witness to her desperate tears. She had thought about swimming out into it then, letting a rip tide carry her away to freedom . . . and certain death. Same thing, really. But she hadn’t the courage then.

When she was married off at 16, she stood through the whole long torturous ceremony, daydreaming not of a groom as most girls did, but of stowing away on a ship and fleeing to America.

A year later, with her husband in pieces in his coffin and her dead baby not yet dispelled from her womb, she got that wish granted. Only she had been no stow away; she had been a proper passenger, with her fare paid for by her new manager.

Her voice, and her body, were his for the time being. They often snuck out on deck late at night and he would fuck her from behind, thinking she enjoyed the thrill of potentially being caught as much as he did, but in reality, it was so she could watch the waves ahead of them and ignore the man grunting from behind her.

Men were such pigs, but they were easy to manipulate. He had thought he was using her, but it was the other way around.

It took her a couple more years to be free of him but eventually she was able to dispose of him. Not as violently satisfying as she had dealt with her husband but with a poison that she was able to frame his assistant for.

There were many downsides to being a woman born around the turn of the 20th century but getting away with murder was one of the rare benefits. No men were comfortable admitting that a quaint little five foot nothing girl was capable of causing them harm, let alone hacking them to bits or slipping arsenic into their drink, so she was never the prime suspect in either of those cases.

The Irish Siren was the nickname the Americans had given her and they loved her scandalous life story and the lyrics that were inspired by it in a way that her conservative Catholic homeland could never.

If she had lived to see the roaring twenties, she really could have come into her own.

Mina coughed into her napkin and it came back bloody.

She had been able to make a living touring the nation, completely reliant on her “God given” talent to sing until the age of 24. Not long after that birthday, the coughing started. By the year’s end, it was clear her singing career was over. She was the Irish Siren no more.

The Atlantic ocean had always felt like home to her, so she had stayed on the east coast for as long as she could. Back home in Ireland, the Atlantic was mercurial and always in motion but here in America, she saw its other face. This Atlantic was calmer, steadier, and more reliable. The fair weather, high humidity, and low elevation of the Carolinas were supposed to be good for those suffering from consumption and she was able to continue making a decent living as a poet. She couldn’t sing anymore but she could still write, though she kept her favorite, darkest pieces to herself.

Eventually the itch to travel one last time consumed her thoughts, a stronger acting force than the disease consuming her body, and she saved up enough money to cross the country by train and buy a house on the west coast. She had always meant to see the Great American West and now that her time was growing short, it was now or never.

The Pacific Ocean was so much more than she expected. Here on the coast it was often overcast and rainy, and tricked her mind into being nostalgic for her lost childhood home. She had loved Ireland’s landscapes, enough to almost make her forget how much she had hated her life there.

It was so big, this new ocean. She purchased a globe so that even in the evenings when it grew too dark to see the water, she could still admire the sheer dominating size of the thing. There could be so many secrets hidden beneath its depths. Lost civilizations or ancient Eldritch style monsters long forgotten by the modern world.

If she had worshipped the Atlantic Ocean, she had well and truly fallen in love with the Pacific.

Mina stared out her window, watching the rain, and accepted she would have to wait for another day.

Her plan was to row out on the next sunny, calm morning, get out as far away from the shore as the tide and her sickly body could take her, swallow the rest of the laudanum, slit her wrists, and jump in the water. Let the ocean and its creatures, depths, and secrets have her body. It was better than a casket and a last devotional ceremony to a God she had turned her back on long ago.

She coughed again, and the wracking overcame her frail form, forcing her to sit down and double over. Afterwards, she breathed in as deep as she could, but it was painful and hardly satisfying to her oxygen starved body.

That perfect day had to be very soon or she wasn’t going to live to see it.

From what seemed like a distance, she heard a knocking, and realized it had been going on for a while but she was so lost in her laudanum she hadn’t noticed.

It was probably just her one and only neighbor, a bizarre middle-aged man with more money than wits, and a rather strange collection of exotic animals that tended to get loose. He came over more often than her physician, asking if she had seen any of his escaped creatures. The conversation always turned into a proper visit, and she didn’t have the energy or the patience for his strangeness today. So she ignored the knocking and continued in her reverie. Maybe the would-be visitor would assume she had finally died and would leave her in peace.

She laughed out loud at that thought and triggered another coughing fit.

The world turned glossy again and several minutes to several hours could have gone by as she watched the ocean waves in her drug induced stupor until a voice from behind her lifted her from the fog.

“Hello, Mina.”

She turned in her seat to face the man in her doorway, unsure of who he was at first. After a heartbeat, her mind registered the face.

“Johnathan,” she said, acknowledging him as if she had any idea of why he was standing in her living room like he had every right to be there.

She thought she had done away with him for good. In no uncertain terms she had made it clear to him that unless she wanted to continue being dissatisfied in the bedroom, there was no point in him staying in California for her. She was too sickly to perform any kind of proper wifely duties for him, too barren to give him any more heirs and frankly he had enough of them already, and she was clearly dying soon anyway. The only reason he had to continue to propose to her was for her money, and she had told him frankly she wasn’t stupid enough to leave her fortune to a man such as himself. That had gotten her slapped and though she hadn’t been physically well enough to fight back, she had born the shiner proudly in the mirror for a couple weeks. At least she had been left in peace because he had stormed out of her house after that argument and not returned. She had hoped either the war or the pandemic would kill him, or that she would be dead herself before he had the opportunity to bother her again.

“More prospecting business dragged you back to town, eh love? Come to try and marry a corpse while you’re at it?”

“You were always such a cold-hearted bitch,” he said, and she noticed he was slurring his words even more than she was. “I’m surprised there’s enough heat in you to keep that cunt warmed up.”

She had her faculties about her enough to know to stand up and begin putting distance and furniture between him and her. He had never spoken to her that way before, not even when he had hit her.

Johnathan was always a short-tempered little shit with those he deemed beneath him but he had been well mannered with her up until his last visit. She was lonely and often drunk or drugged since her diagnosis and had allowed herself to be entertained by him now and then.  But she was realizing too late that she had become arrogant and careless around men in the last couple years of her life and forgotten how dangerous an animal they could be when they didn’t get their way.

And Johnathan looked like he regretted not giving her more than a hard slap all those months ago.

Mina ran, as fast and hard as her tired muscles could carry her, and made it all the way into her rarely used kitchen before he was able to catch up. Not that she had any plan or real means of escape.

But she did have knives.

She was able to grab one out of a drawer but then he was on her, slamming her face into the edge of the counter and she dropped to the floor.

Somehow she managed to roll onto her back and face him, all without dropping the knife. But he saw it and was able to grab her arm before she could drive her weapon into him.

Her arms were as weak as everything else in her body but her grip was still strong enough so that he couldn’t pry her fingers off from the around the hilt, at least not while also trying to hold her legs down as she desperately tried to kick at him.

Johnathan gave up his attempt at removing the knife from her hand and instead turned her wrist so that the deadly point was now facing her stomach.

“Stupid bitch,” he hissed out when she got a good hard kick into his shin. “I don’t want to kill you, stop fighting!”

Oh, he just wants to beat and rape me, how considerate, she thought.

Her face was bleeding badly from where it had made contact with the countertop and she tasted her own blood. Johnathan had strength, size, and health on his side of this battle but she had something he likely hadn’t considered.

She had already come to terms with her death. And she was really, truly, quite insane.

Mina stopped trying to hold him away from her and let the knife plunge into her abdomen. It hurt, but there was little wind to knock out of her lungs anymore and she had so many painkillers in her blood at this point, so she hardly felt more than a deep pressure.

Johnathan’s face was brought suddenly closer to her as he wasn’t expecting the sudden stop in resistance against him so she closed the gap between them by sitting up just a couple inches and bit hard into his cheek.

She clenched her jaw down as tightly as she could and felt the flesh tear and a new taste of blood spurted across her tongue.

He screamed and she laughed.

Mina let go as he pulled away suddenly, clasping a hand over his face and still screaming. She wasted no time in yanking the knife from her own stomach and swinging it up and then down again, burying the blade to the hilt in his neck.

It made a squelching noise as it sank in and Johnathan’s screams were replaced with a wheezing expulsion of air.

She brought the knife out and then right back into his chest.

He fell backward and she stabbed again.

And again.

She didn’t stop until the fatigue in her arms made her stop.

Mina struggled to her feet, using the kitchen counter to pull herself up, and looked down at the body of the man she had just slaughtered with her bare hands. He had not been her first victim. Not even her second. And her only solid thought was it was too bad she couldn’t have done that more often, to more men.

She was so out of breath and getting really, really tired now.

Looking down at herself, she realized most of the blood pouring down her dress was her own and remembered she had been stabbed.

Right. Today would be the day after all.

She stumbled through her house and out the back door.

The rain hadn’t stopped but it was alright because she really couldn’t feel the cold.

Just make it to the water. That’s all I want, to feel it one more time.

But it was so far away.

Her house sat a good 200 yards from shore and she was barely off her back porch before vertigo caused her to stumble to the side. It took almost all her remaining energy reserves to get back up and when she did, her vision was so blurry and her head was spinning to the point that she nearly vomited.

She looked down at the hand that was pressed to her bleeding abdomen, trying to will herself to walk the rest of the way down to the water. It was no good. She was surely going to pass out any second now. If she hadn’t been so out of her mind from lack of blood and opium, she likely would have cried.

When she looked back up, she saw the strangest thing.

A panther was crouched, maybe just ten feet from her, still as a statue and looking right at her. Its coat was shiny and mostly black, but light enough in some places that a dark golden-brown pattern of wide spots could be made out along its sides.

Maybe the knocking had been her strange neighbor after all, at least at first. Come to tell her he was missing a member of his collection and to not venture too far out from her house today.

The panther’s irises were green, with gold around the edges, and her poet’s mind declared it the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

But it doesn’t have a panther’s face, she thought, that’s the face of death.

It leapt for her then and she simply sat down. When it landed, she had a moment to feel its weight push her back into the sand beneath her.

She kept her eyes open as its teeth found her neck but she was already too far gone to feel any more pain.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin oc #alastor x oc #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #the fire in the sin

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch of Eliot Spencer with long hair and in a sleeveless top, tied to an upright chair with his hands bound behind it and his neck held to the back of the chair with a thick leather band. He has blood and bruises visible on his face. In the background, beyond him, is Alexandra Bligh walking towards him and talking, and in the foreground is a close up of someone drawing a bright red liquid from a vial into a syringe. Black bars above and below the sketch is the text 'COMPOUND 002 -- 15 % w/v' and 'DOSE # 1 12/26/22 -- 17.04', respectively. End ID]

-

Day 15: Experimentation

Bligh makes a deal with some high ups in the FBI or CIA, gets released in order to oversee and run experiments into more effective methods for torture and interrogation using untraceable chemicals. Each experiment is recorded visually as well as notes taken.

Ficlet below the cut - part 2 of the three-parter started on Day 8

-

Parker hated the velvet softness of the night. Almost as much as she hated the glimmering stars that broke the darkness like thousands of unattainable diamonds.

How dare the evening be so peaceful and calm and beautiful when Eliot was in so much pain?

Or probably in pain.

He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He had promised not to leave her and he wouldn't break a promise.

But they knew by now who had him and why, and it was impossible that Eliot was enjoying anything less than torment.

Because that was the point.

That was why they took him.

Using Hardison’s hacking access, they had managed to find out who took Eliot after almost two weeks of searching, and what they found was horrifying.

Alexandra Bligh, released before ever really getting to jail, had been extremely active.  Expenses that took some digging to find revealed rental payments for a building on a private island off the east coast, the hiring of a complete security team and of several scientists from within various government institutes, and purchase orders of chemical ingredients for some of the most brutal enhanced interrogation drugs currently in existence.

The funding had come from within government, through several layers of secrecy, but ultimately under the ordinance of a former member of the CIA. Someone who Vance - after being made to understand that Eliot was in severe danger - revealed had worked with Eliot on some classified operations under his command.

The funds had been transferred under the name of an operation that had very little digital trace, beyond the purpose, whose lengthy wording boiled down to: design new chemical means for breaking people, and the person in charge: Alexandra Bligh.

Hardison had researched the components while his and Breanna’s programs worked to search for Eliot, and privately told Parker what he thought they would do.

Like red haze mixed with toxins designed variously to trigger pain receptors, alter the threshold for pain and other unpleasant stimuli, and cause something called central sensitization, which Parker didn’t understand but it sounded bad.

Hardison’s simplified summary sounded worse. All the memory and sensation heightening effects of red haze, but now with added very real and very strong pain.

They were using Eliot Spencer as the test subject to develop more brutal, untraceable, methods of enhanced interrogation.

And all that on an island almost inaccessible by any stealthy means.

Now Parker was standing with Breanna on a dock in the darkness, waiting for Dr Not-Dead-Paul to bring around the boat they’d need to get to the island. They'd called him in to help in the recovery mission, in part because they needed someone trustworthy who could fight, and in part because they didn't know what state they'd find Eliot in. Having a medic who Eliot knew on hand could prove very useful.

It was Paul who suggested Harry and Sophie remain behind. Having been told what they believed Eliot had been kidnapped for, he cautioned against having too many people around at the point of rescue. Only the three of them needed for the rescue itself - Breanna to stay in the boat or just beside the building, using the proximity to get into their servers and then guide Parker and Paul to where Eliot was, and the thief and temporary hitter would then break him out and escape.

“What if you need more muscle to get out and Eliot can’t fight?” Breanna asked nervously, watching the headlights of the boat as it approached, “Shouldn’t we call in another hitter? Bligh looks like she hired a hell of a lotta security...”

“No time,” Parker watched beyond the boat into the darkness that hid Eliot somewhere inside it, “And Eliot will be able to fight.”

“He’s been tortured for weeks…”

“He’s been shot, stabbed, beaten, drugged, poisoned, and hit by cars, trucks and carnival rides, and still been able to fight. He’ll be fine.”

"Parker's right," Paul said, and Parker thought he sounded sad, "Eliot can handle being tortured. And, usually before, he’s had to fight his way out alone. No team to back him up."

"But he does this time," Parker smiled at Breanna and hoped it looked reassuring, "Eliot's going to be fine."

He had to be fine.

Like Paul said, Eliot had been through torture before, and probably for much longer than this. He’d been injured physically and tormented mentally more than enough times for this to be almost meaningless.

In theory.

But theory didn’t stop her being on edge and upset and angry at the beautiful night.

-

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 15: Experimentation #leverage redemption #eliot spencer #cw torture #Parker #Paul orozco #Breanna Casey #masks whump art

[fastlikealambo]

The Girlfriend: Modern rockstar! Eddie Munson x Black Reader Angst Drabble

Summary:Your relationship with rockstar Eddie Munson goes public and you’re not prepared for what happens next.

Trigger Warnings:bullying, mentions of depression, some gaslighting (not eddie), panic attacks

Minors, dni.

Act One: A list. 

10 Celebrities You Didn’t Know Had Non-Famous Significant Others

A blurry shot of you and Eddie at some restaurant, your name spelled wrong.  You laughed it off, made jokes about calling your agent sitting on Eddie’s lap while he worked on a new song.  Things were good, you had gotten a good job in LA, Corroded Coffin had finished their first big tour.

You only had a few friends on social media then, Eddie, the band, a few family members.  You had a shitty phone so half your posts were out of focus anyway. 

But you were happy and that’s all that mattered.

Act two: A viral moment.

“Smile princess!” Eddie yelled over the roar of the crowd, a curtain away.  You smiled shyly at his phone, the flash in your eyes as you kissed Eddie on the cheek.

“Knock em dead babe.” You whispered in his ear playfully pushing him on stage.

You woke up in Eddie’s arms the next morning to your phone nearly vibrating off the table. It had to be an emergency so you climbed over your sleepy boyfriend in a rush, praying it wasn’t.  Instead of a dire text from your parents, you had over 2,0000 notifications. No wonder your phone felt like it was gonna burst into flames.

The first one you clicked on led you to a tagged post of Eddie’s own photo of you both from the previous night but it wasn’t on his instagram or the band’s, just a random account.

“Baby?” You asked the rocker who had finally fully woken up beside you stretching.

“What’s up princess, you want to grab breakfast before I go to the studio?” Eddie asked, a lazy arm pulling you back into bed.

“Did you post that picture of us last night?” You asked, handing him your phone.

“No, I forgot. Did I send it to you?” He asked, hands in his hair.

“No.”

Eddie’s team is there twenty minutes later, talking around you, coming to the conclusion that Eddie’s phone had been hacked or that someone had taken a picture of you two taking the photo, whatever it was you weren’t really listening.

You were going through every single notification, your sudden influx of new followers,  scrolling through the comments on what looked like a fan run account for Eddie. You can’t help but look at the comments, most are sweet, remarking about how cute you two looked, how happy you must be, but one comment sticks out first.

corrodedfan45 she’s not that pretty.

Eddie’s face appears in front of you, hand on your thigh.

“You okay? I know it’s a lot at once but  it’ll die down after a few days. If it doesn’t, I’ll take care of it, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Eddie said, pulling you close. Suddenly exhausted, you gave him a small smile, your head on his shoulder.

“I bet it’ll be old news by tomorrow morning.” You said, hopefully, more for Eddie’s benefit than your own but the comment floats through your brain.

She’s not that pretty.

Act Three: A video. 

“Storytime guys: I met Eddie Munson’s girlfriend yesterday and let me tell you, she was not worth the hype!  I tried to ask her for a photo and get this: she said no and tried to take my phone. Tried to grab it out of  my hand, can you believe it? Who does she think she is?  Does she not know her job is on google? We know how to handle her, don’t we?  If this blows up, I’ll do a part 2-”

The video cuts off and your hands are shaking.

munsongrl9000849: source? 

starbyy7873333333: i believe it, her vibes are RANCID

unorvrse69: 🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢

hawkins86: yall see the google reviews, im cackling

rightsideup: he’s a 10 but he’s dating an ugly bitch

You’ve never seen that person in the video in your life, you’ve been working from home for the past two months since too many people kept parking outside your job waiting for you to come out.

Eddie’s on the European leg of his tour, sends you pictures every day, calls you every night but his absence is felt as his pr team talks around you again with your boss included in the conversation.

“I think it might be best if she didn’t work for a while, their finances are good, think of it as a vacation.”

“ The gallery will issue a statement condemning bullying of any kind, it’s being drafted as we speak, she should repost it to her socials tomorrow.”

“Why?” You asked quietly.  The team looks up at you as if noticing that you’re there for the first time.

“Why what, hun?”  Eddie’s PR manager parrots your question.

“Why do I have to leave my job? I’m good at it, I enjoy working, why do I have to leave?”

“Our business rating has gone down to 1 star overnight, we need to think of the gallery.” Your boss concludes.

“You understand, don’t you?  We need to protect Corroded Coffin, Eddie’s brand is on the line here.”

“But who’s protecting me? I have to leave my job, people are lying about me, people are watching me, who in this room right now is looking after me?”

“Oh you poor thing.” Eddie’s PR manager pats your leg in what he thinks passes as sympathy. 

“ Are you still taking your meds? The last thing the brand needs is a rehab stint, sweetie. Oh and it’s best if I take that too, we haven’t finished the plan to announce your engagement yet.” 

Before you can say another word, your engagement ring is in a baggie, never to be seen again.

“ I can’t wait to take you with me next time, you would love Dublin sweetheart.” Eddie said, spinning the phone around so you can see the view behind him.

“It looks amazing baby, I’m so proud of you.” You said, trying to smile.

“ You alright angel? Did you eat today? You look like you’re coming down with something.”

“ I’m fine baby, don’t worry, just missing you is all. Have a good show tonight.” You said, mustering up a big smile but Eddie’s concerned face doesn’t waver.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“ I would.”

Act Four: A deluge.

ccoffin_56: where’s his fucking gf? why isn’t she supporting him?

vecnasbitch: eddie’s such a sweet bby he needs to listen to us about her

pulluptotheaddy777: #dumpthatbitch

“ That’s it, I’m coming home.”  Eddie said the moment you came into view on FaceTime.

“Eddie no, you can’t leave the band like that. Your manager turned off all my socials, I’m fine now.”

“Baby, you’re not fine. Your mom called me, she’s worried about you, I’m worried about you.  I’m sorry, I  shouldn’t have waited this long, I’m on the next flight out of Barcelona.”

“Your manager already released a statement-

“Fuck my manager, I care about you. None of this means shit without you, the tour is done.”

“But-” You don’t finish, as your throat tightens and the tears begin to fall.

“Sweetheart? Come on baby, talk to me.”

“It’s never gonna stop, is it? If you end the tour, they’ll blame me. I can’t go back to work,  I can’t leave the house, somebody followed my sister and her kids home the other day, my phone’s basically a brick and I can’t even wear my ring. I don’t blame you, it’s not your fault, but I’m tired and I’m scared, I’m so scared all the time Eddie.” You’re struggling to breathe now, choking on sobs as it all comes out.

“Breathe with me baby, I’m right here. I know you’re scared but you gotta breathe, you’re scaring me angel.” You can hear commotion behind him, bags being zipped up. You take a few deep breaths, trying to get your breathing under control but it’s not working.

“ Sweetheart? Are you still there, answer me!” There’s panic in his voice and you manage to get a few deep breaths in and turn the camera back on you.

“I’m here, I’m okay baby, look don’t leave tour just yet, I’ll think of something, I’ll-”

“The only thing I want you to do is turn off your phone and get some rest. I’ll call you before soundcheck, okay?”

“Okay. I love you Eddie, no matter what.”

“I love you too baby, get some rest.”

You fire off a quick text to your mom and sister, letting them know you’re okay before turning your phone off.

Act Five: A stand.

You’re out of it most of the next day, alternating between sleeping and just laying on the couch with the tv on mute. You must have dozed off again because the next thing you feel is Eddie’s lips on your cheek and hand against your forehead.

“Eddie?” Your eyes fluttered open to see Eddie standing there.

“Hey gorgeous, I missed you.”  

“ But what about the tour?”

“You are more important than any tour baby.”

You all but jump into his arms, feeling safe for the first time in a long time. You’re so wrapped up in him you don’t notice at first that’s  he’s crying.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“On the ride home, I looked up everything: the comments, the dms, the hate pages, that stupid fucking video. All this time, I thought my team was doing right by me, right by you, but they didn’t do shit. This has been going on since that picture leaked and I left you alone to deal with it. I promised to take care of you, to protect you from this shit, and I didn’t.”

“Eddie, it’s not your fault.”

“ Baby, you’ve been suffering, actually fucking suffering and when I looked into your eyes yesterday, I saw the possibility of losing you to this shit and it fucking terrified me.  So this stops, right here and right now.”

“Eddie, what are you doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

Eddie turns his phone on, slipping it onto the tripod and standing in front of it. 

“Hi everyone, it’s me. You’ve probably noticed by now I did not play the Barcelona show today and for that I am sorry. I am also sorry to announce that for me, The Cult of Vecna European Tour has come to an end. No, I have not left the band, there is no drama between any band members and myself, however there is something I need to share. 

For the past year and half, my fiancee and her family have become the target of harassment both online and in person. She was left unprotected, her torment swept under the rug in favor of boosting my image on the behalf of my as of right fucking now, former management.  If you’re a fan of Corroded Coffin, you know we talk about taking care of each other so how can I get on that fucking stage and say that shit when the love of my life is going through shit nobody should ever have to go through? “

Your phone is blowing up but you don’t take your eyes off Eddie.

“ If you love and respect the band, then you respect our boundaries.  Every night we promise you a safe show so in return, you will value our safety and the safety of those we care about or you can simply, get fucked. I know my real fans understand this but if you call yourself a fan of Corroded Coffin and engage in this bullshit, know that you mean nothing to me or the band.

I will be taking a break from music as of right now, please direct any questions to my lawyer Erica Sinclair who will be investigating the harassment of my wife but also the pending charges of fraud performed by my former management. Long story short: leave me and my girl the fuck alone. Eddie out.”

You’re crying so hard you feel Eddie pick you up before you see him, carrying you back to the couch, tightening his hold on you as you allow yourself to fully expel everything that’s been going on with you.

“I’m right here baby and I’m not going anywhere.” Eddie said softly before producing your engagement ring from his pocket and sliding it back on your finger.

Your name trends on Twitter but you don’t see it.

Your face is on the news but you don’t watch it.

It’s just you and him, no noise, just love.

And for right now, that’s enough.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #tw mentions of trauma #tw bullying mention #TW depression #tw panic attack

[wildlygay]

JNP Fire Patrol - INCIDENT REPORT (1)

(This is apart of my TFP grimdark au, love cryptic horrors and so my blog will get a few snippets of this! Got it from my google docs.)

WARNING: Viewing this file without proper authentication will result in action taken by the Nevadan National Guard, hacking into this file is punishable by law. 

Log 1: Jun. 12, 2011 - Officer Mitch arrived at Watch Tower 1 in Jasper National Park, he seemed naturally skeptical of the infamy of that tower held. Those rumors about a beast resting underneath the tower like a makeshift nest, taking hikers and fellow watch guards for some reason. 

Some thought the beast was eating them, others thought that the beast was turning them into beasts themselves, the fates of the missing hikers and staff members are uncertain. Mitch took the summer job due to the high pay, and as a stress relief. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take in the view of Jasper’s gorgeous national park?

Log 2: Jun. 18, 2011 - Settled in well without issues, he got a hang of doing the weather reports and stopping any would-be campers from entering past curfew relatively quickly. The following is a transcript between Officer Mitch, and the watch guard for Tower 2, who shall not be named for privacy concerns.

Watch guard two hung up after a short call with guard two referring Mitch to a training video to explain the new security system, and Officer Mitch watched the training video. He managed to access the security feed, watching through the footage. He is a bit worried of the ‘something’ that was mentioned not being able to shake off the feeling that he’s in danger, but no other negative feelings are reported.

It’s encouraged that Watchtower guards write their negative feelings in physical journals or the online diary that’s on the computer. We look over the logs weekly and see if they’re stable enough to continue working. 

Log 3 - Jun. 25, 2011: Mitch has not been reporting for the daily weather reports, and Watchtower guard 2 reported seeing Mitch leaving his station at midnight on June 24th, holding the shotgun. The ‘shotgun’ is an emergency weapon used in case of a feral creature, a cybertronian, and or him. We are unsure of how Mitch figured this out, but it has not been determined yet. 

The bullets are made out of dark energon, as it’s proven that it’s very efficient in disarming them, and weakening them. Mitch is considered lost, however, security footage says otherwise. BIOHAZARD WARNING: The following footage is considered to have contingent effects on those who view it, watch at your own risk. If you are infected, please contact Agent Fowler. 

The only thing available is the audio, but that alone is unsettling. There are noises, and Mitch goes down to the bottom of the watchtower, with the shotgun. “What the hell are you?” (Unintelligible growling)   “Oh god, that’s a corpse.. What are you doing with a corpse?”

“Are you fucking licking it? It’s dead, that’s not even living anymore!”

(The growling gets more defensive as it lunges at Mitch, the sounds of the shotgun being used are heard, then a sickening crunch noise.)

(But he seems… Happy? There’s the sounds of dragging, and a loud purr. A deep voice can be heard.)

“New ... toy.”

From the context clues, Mitch is disgusted at the sight of him licking a dead corpse, presumably in a maternal manner. Like how a little girl would take care of a baby doll. 

When Mitch is viewed as a threat by seemingly triggering him when he exclaimed how the ‘doll’ was a corpse, hence a dead body, the entity attacks him, hence the missed shotgun shots, and it crushed him to death. 

But the entity, in a sick twist, seems to view Mitch as a new toy. Presumably excited to get a new human doll with a cute uniform to play with. It’s clear he doesn’t know the difference between a toy and a human corpse. This contradicts with our earlier reports, as it’s reported that he’s much more violent. This information could be wrong however, as one of the reports was proven to be falsified.

#[your local froyoholic; quickshadow] #[in the goblincave; ooc] #[reloading memes on my terminal; pc posting]

[yanderes-galore]

This is regular request for Springtrap (fnaf3) — A -1; B - 2 (because like imagine if he’d force darling to do this - the smell… 🥴) and C-2. Thank you, very much, if you’ll do this… we had some “super” gore with Funtime Freddy, so why not something with Springs? Hehe.

Oh you want gore, do you? Remember you asked for it ;) Heavily implied to be animatronic due to the nature of the fic but android works too if that's to your taste!

I am so sorry that it's just as bad as the Fluffy AU! Funtime Freddy one-

Prompts Found Here!

Yandere! Springtrap Prompts A-1, B-2, C-2

A-1: "I want to know how you'll taste between my teeth."

B-2: "We won't stop until you're so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again."

C-2: "Don't complain now- you did this to yourself."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Gore, Blood, Vomit, Torture, Implied biting, Blood loss, Springlock failure, Death, Sadism, Fair warning this is just meant to be disgusting and horrific, if you HATE vomit, blood, and gorey descriptions then avoid this one, Just meant for the gore fans with a strong stomach.

"I want to know how you'll taste between my teeth."

Blood pools from the wound on your body. Mechanical, rotting, teeth were stained in your blood. The crimson stain on the snout of the rabbit matching the much drier ones on it.

You hack and wheeze, vomit dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. You choke, the stench of your own vomit and the smell from the rabbit shaking you to the core. You couldn't move, both from your nausea and pain.

There was no strength to cry. Only to shake in front of the bot towering over you. One that was covered in blood and reaking of corpses.

It was as if death himself was standing before you. Eyes a decaying silver, staring at you as if you were prey. Based on the wound on you, such a thought was not too far off.

"Aw, come on. That bite wasn't too bad! I was just getting started."

You quake on the floor, scurrying from your own mess. A vile concoction of your suffering... all due to a certain tormentor. You doubted you'd be out of here in one piece by the end of this.

"It's so nice to have a soul other than the phantoms to talk to. You have brought me great company since you took this job, dear...!"

He never leaves his spot from the hall. The same hall he chased you down before lunging at you with the intent of carnage. Now here you lay, pathetic and bleeding.

Your body lurches forward when he threatens to step closer. Your stomach still unable to endure the smell of a 30 year old corpse. Springtrap laughs at your reaction.

"That's what being dead for 30 years does to you. You reek to high heaven. Gonna be sick again?"

As if reading you like a book, you crumple on the ground and release what little bile you have left. It was all too much. You needed this job for money.

Instead? You get a haunted rabbit craving torture.

You barely have time to register him pulling you up from the floor. At this point your senses are so dead you can't entirely process the smell. Only those blurry dead eyes... your vision failing you.

"We won't stop until you're so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again."

He laughs at his own statement.

"Not like anyone will even bother. You'll be dead before you exit this horror house! In fact... you won't be leaving at all."

Your body's going numb to blood loss. Springtrap shifts himself to hold you in a different position. You then hear something click faintly.

"They won't ever find you if I keep you in this rotting hell with me. Then you won't have anywhere to go. It'll just be you, me, and those dreaded phantoms."

You weakly struggle when he gets things ready. Some way or another, he'll shove you into the bot he calls a coffin. All before releasing the springlocks in the old and withered suit....

"Don't complain now- you did this to yourself."

Once you're fit snugly in the greenish suit, senses shutting down, your fate is sealed. The rabbit laughs distorted cackle like this is the best joke he's ever heard before you hear more clicking. A timer before your eventual doom....

"Welcome to your own personal hell, sweetheart..."

The rabbit cooes before jolting.

"I, William Afton, will be your tormentor for eternity."

With that, a wet sickening snap rings out in the hallways. Blood pools on the floor, mixing with your previous fluids. The pain was there, but you didn't register it for long.

No one would ever hear your screams....

#yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 3 #yandere five nights at freddys #yandere springtrap #yandere spring bonnie #yandere william afton

[codenamehazard]

.:In The Dark of the Night: Part 2:.

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR ARACHNOPHOBIA, OMMETAPHOBIA, TRYPOPHOBIA AND OTHER CREEPY CRAWLIES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!]

Chapter 25: In The Dark of the Night: Part 2

Hey guys, I hope you all had a Happy New Year and I hope I didn't make you all wait too long on a cliffhanger. Things got a little insane between the holidays and life things turning everything upside down for a little bit, but the wait is over and the helicopter has come to free you from the cliffhanger.

Without delay, let's jump in.

------------

Panic… Pure panic and pandemonium breaks out as Pangolin falls: screaming, writhing and powerless. A cold sweat mixes with the sparking rain-water on my skin as I see what a single sting did to the Brick Spartan. He’s defenseless to the oncoming swarm.

In his fear, Dove calls forth a massive wind gust to blow the menaces back, protecting his eldest brother from being eaten. Mako rushes over to help the fallen leader as Kestrel fights off more bugs. I can see Dove trying to take the lead, but with how freaked out he is and the fear making his voice crack and squeak, his commands fall upon deaf ears.

Time seems to slow as I watch the once well-oil machine fall to shambles. With Pangolin on the ground howling in pure agony and mutant hellish bedbugs scattering around, the team had no rudder. They were all clueless and damn near helpless.

As I thin the swarm, thoughts rush through my head. A headless team is a dead team. I remember the promise I made to myself as I ran from the army I had once led. Never again would I let shackles hold me back, including the shackles of leadership. If they can’t hack it without my help, then so be it. I could bail and leave them to their fate. Steal a jeep and let them be the distraction. Easy as that.

Then the logical part of my brain kicks that impulse sharply in the head. The Amp is still in shambles and needs to be fixed and the one who’s willing to do that is part of this team. There’s also the fact that… As much as I hate to admit this… I’m starting to grow quite fond of this motley crew of outcasts and it wouldn’t kill me to help them just this–

“ALRIGHT FUCKERS, LISTEN UP!!!” I turn my head sharply as a cross between a metallic boom and a barking command cuts through my thoughts, drawing my eyes to the source of the sound: Kestrel. “The situation’s gone FUBAR, fall back! Mako, get Pangolin into the Medi-Trailer! Dove, get a grip and head to the lead HEMTT, we need to book it and fast!!” I can’t help but to gawk for a split second, both in shock and relief. Well I’ll be damned; for once in my life I don’t have to play babysitter when things went to shit.

I shake my head to get back in the game before I get stung. Kestrel takes charge, getting Mako to focus on Pangolin as she clears a path. I make my way towards the panicking chicken of a Dove who’s still acting like he’s trying to take command, even though Kes gave him his marching orders. With how out of it he is, I’m not surprised he didn’t hear a word she said.

“Dove!” I boom as I grab his shoulders and shake him. Not the best way to handle a kid freaking out, but there’s no time for sensitivities. “Pull yourself together!” The bird stammers nonsense and I bonk him on the forehead with the meat of my palm. He yelps before staring at me with a look that said “what was that for?!” I look him in the eyes. “Good, now that I got your attention. Kestrel gave an order, get to the HEMTT and get ready to floor it. We’re falling back!”

“What about Thom-” He starts to question before I give him a red-eyed glare.

“Don’t worry about him!” I growl, my impatience starting to bleed through. “Mako’s got him covered, now do as you’re told and MOVE YOUR ASS!!!” I watch him stammer out an affirmative before scrambling off to the Convoy. I’m half tempted to give him a zap for good measure, but with the rain and the fact he’s the get-away, I decide against it.

The sound of grunting catches my ears as I turn to see Mako and Kestrel trying to move Pangolin while fending off the scittering hellish things. I quickly run over so I can help Mako.

“You taking over?” Kes questions, I nod in confirmation before we trade places. Oh Jesus Christ, he’s heavy and it doesn’t help he’s still flailing about. Thinking fast, I arc-restrain the writhing spartan. Mako gives me a questioning look, but when I explain it’s to make it easier to carry the giant of a man, she doesn’t argue. Kes provides cover fire before throwing what looks like a blast-shard wired to an explosive away from the convoy.

The shard seems to draw the attention of the giant Hell-Spider, getting her off the trailers and allowing us to get in safely. The sound of an explosion and screaming ring out as we shut the door.

As Mako gets Pangolin stabilized in a transport cot and I release the restraints, Kes gets on the comms and barks a single phrase.

“FLOOR IT!!!”

I can feel the trailer suddenly jerk as the HEMTT takes off, nearly taking all of us to the floor. The screech of the spider returns as she takes notice and gives chase.

The trailer rings out with the sounds of Warped and hellbabies being chucked onto the runaway caravan. A stark reminder that we’re not out of the woods yet. A Blink Scorpion almost slips in, but Kes is quick on the draw.

It's clear that without someone on the outside, the Convoy’s defenseless. With nothing but a quick glance and a nod exchanged between Kestrel and I, we know what needs to be done.

Though the emergency hatch on the top of the trailer, we climb out into the darkness to face the monsters.

The rain hisses and spits into steam on Kestrel’s skin as it makes black and red sparks arc off of mine. Bathing the hellish sight in a blood red hue. The scorpions scitter and screech as they charge towards us. Quick to react, we pop the bugs with slag and bolts, slashing them with blades and claws when they get too close.

As the air fills with soot, sparks and gore, I can see out of the corner of my eye something I hadn’t noticed before when the most that Big Momma would move was when she swung her stony arms around to swat at people who came near. Something that’s now plain as day with her running at ridiculous speeds for a creature her size.

Gaps in the armor where the joints connect.

“Hey Kes!” I call out as I punt one of the stinging cockroaches into another. “Check it! The big bitch actually does have weak spots!” I fire a missile at one of the knee-joints to point it out. The impact on the sinewy flesh causes the monster to scream in pain and slow down some, but with seven more legs moving, the hit only staggered.

“Good eye!” The Gunsmith calls back as she starts to focus fire on the exposed targets. We work together, but with the sheer number of babies the spider-bitch is spitting out, it’s near impossible to do both. These babies have got to go.

“Damnit!” I hiss out as I narrowly avoid getting tagged in the ankle. “There’s too many of these things!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Kes snips back as she nails one that was leaping towards my head. “This is getting us nowhere and we don’t have the right equipment to kill the mother monster.”

“Got any bright ideas, birdie?” I growl. I see Kestrel look at the Rock-Spider-Thing and I can see the gears turning in her head.

“I might.” She replies. “One of us pops a charge while the other coverfires. It won’t kill her, but it should slow her down and thin out the herd enough to break free.”

“It’s a start, but who’s doing what?” I question. “Because if you haven’t noticed, my powers are as useful as a damn ashtray on a motorcycle against that thing.” I hear Kestrel groan before I pop a bug near her foot.

“I don’t know if mine will be of any use either, but I’ll do it. Cover my ass!” She shouts as she starts to shake her head, eyes glowing iron-hot. Probably trying to fire herself up. I position myself behind her, but give her space so I’m not touching her back.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I grunt as I launch a few shockwaves to send the horde flying.

The sound of rain sizzling off of her body cuts through the chaos as her body throws off heat, causing the air around her to ripple and warp into the familiar heat mirage. Thank God I gave her the space, I would have gotten burnt from the rapidly rising temperature of her body. Steam hisses and spits off of her skin as smoke bellows from her mouth and jets from her nose.

I watch as I keep the bugs off of her. The shimmering particulates in the smoke start to move and gather, merging to become an entire swarm of shards the size of razor sharp, white-hot hornets. Kestrel’s arms move back into an open position before swinging them forward, commanding the shards to fly off towards the enemy.

The shards almost seem to buzz as they cut through the air, burying into anything that’s in their way. The metal is hot enough to make the blink scorpions pop like ichor-filled balloons and cook the shamblers and runners that tried to climb up.

The metal-bees couldn’t penetrate the rock armor of the Momma Bitch, but to our relief, some of them hit their marks and bore into the exposed joints. The living boulder screams in agony as its joints seizes from the onslaught, causing it to stagger and tumble from the momentum. Anything unlucky enough to be under-foot gets turned into a glowing purple paste on the red dirt as HEMTT leaves the bastards in the dust.

“Take that, bitch.” The Gunsmith pants out with a snarl and a smirk before her eyes cool and her body starts to wobble. I move to catch her so she doesn’t fall off the HEMTT. Damn, the combination of expending a large burst of RFE and the rain rapidly cooling her must be sapping her strength like mad.

“Hey…” She pants out. “Thanks for the catch.” I grunt in acknowledgement as I let her use my body as a support. We watch the monster-mash of a road wreck grow smaller and smaller as we escape. Out of the corner of my eyes I can spot light starting to grow.

Turning my head to see the source of the light, I gawk at the sight that is rapidly approaching.

Bright spotlights, all forming a barrier that burned and scorched any Warped that dare stray too close. Within the safety of the perimeter lies a city that looked like the fucking carnival took it over. Rides made of metal and scrap tower like skyscrapers and roller coasters snake through any buildings in maddening twists and turns. The crowning jewel of the sight? A large red and yellow striped tent with three prominent points, the center its tallest.

I turn to Kestrel and I see her face relax into a smile, the smile of someone coming home.

“Cole, welcome to Tri-Point.”

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #caper #blast shard caper #pangolin #Mako #Dove #tw: creepy crawlies #tw: scorpions #tw arachnophobia #tw arachnids #cw: creepy crawlies #cw: scorpions #cw: arachnophobia #cw: spiders #tw spiders #The Misfits #tw: trypophobia #tw: ommetaphobia #cw: ommetaphobia #cw: trypophobia

[neonacity]

ARCANE : INIZIO | CH.4 | NCT DREAM X READER

Summary: When human deviants granted with the abilities of the legendary Arcana cards find themselves racing against devious forces, they are left to make a choice that might change the fate of the world itself: be the victims of the game, or become the masters of it themselves.

But will this war end with a crowned hero?

Or will it just create another mad villain?

*****

Note: This is the second book of Arcane. The happenings in this story is a prequel to the first installment which you can check in my Masterlist. Since the lore is highly dependent on the first book, I highly suggest you check it out first—otherwise, new readers might have a hard time understanding what is happening here. Expect lots of time jumps and flashbacks throughout the chapters.

Pairings: Dream 00’ Line + Mark x Reader

Trigger Warnings/Themes: romance, violence, torture, trauma, poly dynamics, suggestive themes, language, psychological, mystery, sci-fi. The concept of the tarot or Arcana cards will be loosely used throughout the series. Note that I am not a trained doctor so there may be some slips here and there about medical things. Again, this is a work of fiction and I am not implying any likeness between the characterization here of the boys to their real life counterparts. I also reserve the rights to all my work—I do not post anywhere else other than tumblr. Minors DNI. Please do not repost. I only publish my works in Tumblr.

© neonacity, 2022

Previously > CH. 1 | CH.2 | CH.3

[6 years ago, Rosewood Academy]

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking right now?"

The snapping sounds of thin branches breaking under heavy leather boots mixed with the buzzing hums of the forest insects. A light-haired boy of about sixteen grinned to himself as he hacked an offending stem hanging low on his face with a thicker branch he had picked up earlier. He didn't need to look around to know that the girl trudging behind him is frowning at the path they are trying to traverse, wearing that signature frown that always makes him want to tease her more. When she cursed under her breath, he tried his hardest to keep his shoulders from betraying the laugh he had been trying to hold back.

"What?" He asked casually, voice steady as if he wasn't grinning from amusement. He deftly ducked under a flowering branch of a tree before proceeding to go down the small dirt path they have been following for about half an hour now.

"Make a guess."

"Hm... That you hate how there are spiderwebs on your hair?" He proposed lightly. A slight scoff behind him answered his question.

"Spiders are not a part of my ick."

"How about inhaling three dozen insects so far?"

A pause.

"Okay, that is gross. But no. It's much worse than that."

Jaemin stopped and finally turned to face the girl behind him, his grin now in full display. She paused just in time before she crashed against him but he still easily caught her by the arm to steady her balance. His smile widened as she tried to find her footing on the rocky path, her face ducked away from him.  At this distance, he could fully see how he had grown just a bit taller than her since the last time she visited the Academy.

"What's on your mind then?" He asked again as he continued to observe her with his hooded gaze. When her eyes finally found his face once more, his fingers squeezed just a little bit tighter around her elbow before he finally let her go.

"I think you're bluffing. There is no overlooking oak tree in the middle of the forest. There is no view and you’re just leading me nowhere."

His brows slightly raised in interest. "Oh? Why do you think I brought you here then, noona?"

"I don't know. Two possibilities. One, you're planning to finally murder me and bury me under the dead branches."

"Mm. And the second possibility?"

"You're trying to flirt with me."

He paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment.

"What do you think is the answer then?"

The slight change in his tone made her stop and finally think over what she just said. From the looks of it, she just came out with her guesses out of nowhere and didn't even consider them seriously. The look of dawning realization in her eyes made Jaemin's grin slowly melt into a much more gentle smile. He watched as her lips slightly parted, already knowing the next words that would come out of them.

"Jaemin, we've already talked about this before..."

His expression didn't falter. "We did. You told me to wait. And I did."

"I didn't tell you to—look, it's just a crush. All boys your age have it."

"You're talking to me as if I'm a kid. You're only two years older than me," he said steadily, voice as calm as ever. He closely watched her now, trying to break down every emotion that quickly flitted over her features. He knew she was trying her best to hold back, but she couldn't hide anything from him, even if she tries. She can act all she wants, but he knows she also feels the same for him, even for just a little bit.

He sighed and glanced away momentarily as he thought of another approach.

"Jaemin…"

"Is it because of Mark? Do you like him?"

She frowned at his question.

"What? He's my best friend."

It wasn't a direct answer, so he pushed on. "Is there anyone you like then?"

"I am not planning to date anyone right now so stop—"

"Then one last question. Do you not like me? Is that it?"

The way she froze made it seem like he asked her such a shocking thing. To be fair to her, he couldn't really blame her reaction, especially with how forward he is being now. Though he may not have grown up with her just like Mark did, they've also known each other since they were kids. She had always been aware about his childhood admiration for her growing up, but it is only now that he had decided to stop beating around the bush and put it out there once and for all.

"Just tell me if you like me or not, noona. If you say now that you don't feel the same, then I promise, I will leave you alone."

The look on her face almost made Jaemin want to punch himself. She looked so torn that it took every fiber of his being to not reach out to her and apologize. He may be determined, but he also didn't want to be an asshole. Still, he tried his best not to to be swayed by guilt for the sake of getting an answer.

"I... li—"

The loud crash of something heavy falling to the forest floor made the two of them flinch and quickly turn towards the direction of the sound. The noise seems to have come a few meters from their current spot, but they couldn't see anything beyond a few feet thanks to the thickness of the shrubbery framing the rest of the path beyond. Jaemin immediately reached out for her hand and drew her closer to him as they tried to listen for more additional noises from the distance.

"What's beyond there?"

"A clearing. And an ancient oak tree," he answered warily. "I think we should go. It could be a wild animal."

He was about to steer her back to the way they came from when another noise split the air. This time, it sounded like a low growl that quickly intensified into a shriek. Beyond them, a flock of birds took off from the trees, disturbed by the haunting noise.

"Jaemin, that's not an animal."

"Yeah. It could be much worse. Let's go, we need to go back to Rosewood as soon as possible," he said, his jaw tight as he tried to steer her urgently with a hand in the middle of her back. She barely budged, however, her head still turned towards the distance beyond.

"No, I think we should check what it is."

His eyes widened at her words. "What? You heard it. That is no animal or human. I'm not walking there to get the both of us killed!"

"Exactly. Whatever that is, it's something different. The grounds are shrouded by a protection shield, right? No regular human or supernatural can breach this area unless—"

Jaemin stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what she was trying to say. He turned to look at her and she slightly raised her brows at him in return.

"...They are related to the Arcana," she finished. It took him a while to finally react to that, unsure of what to feel about about the situation. Finally, he sighed in resignation.

"One look. If we see something weird there, I am whisking the two of us away from here, okay?"

The thankful smile she gave him only took a slight edge of the nervousness spreading in his chest. Swallowing, he stepped forward again to tread back towards the source of the sound, his fingers wrapping around the stick he had been using to clear their way earlier. He is convinced that flimsy excuse of a 'weapon' will do nothing against whatever beast they were about to face, but there is also no way he would go down without a fight today.

Fortunately and unfortunately, the walk back felt shorter and they soon enough reached the edge of the forest trail. He slightly turned towards her now and pressed a finger to his lips before nudging his head towards the view beyond. If they're going to be walking straight into danger, they should at least see from the distance what they will be up against.

It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was just in the right place in the sky to bathe the view that stretched beyond them. Unlike the thick shrubberies they walked through, the clearing beyond was vast, dropping off into a slope where the rest of the thicker part of the forest stretched. It looked like an oasis in a sea of green, mostly bare with trees except for the lone oak tree that stood on its pinnacle. It was majestic and regal with its old age, with branches that spread wide and hung low to ground. Jaemin peered between the leaves of the bushes that covered them now, searching for anything out of place.

The next seconds that passed were choking. Everything was so quiet that it almost made him think that they simply imagined what they heard earlier. He was on the verge of speaking again when another round of ripping screams tore the silence of the surroundings, followed by a sight that made him flinch back in shock. A burst of black void burst straight out of nowhere in front of the oak tree, like a rip from an entirely different dimension. Coming out from the depth of its void are what looked like half a dozen of black, clawed limbs grasping and reaching out as if they were trying to escape. Screeches filled the air again so loudly that they clapped their hands over their ears to block off the hellish sound.

As soon as it stopped, Jaemin snapped and grabbed the girl beside him by the arm again. Without looking back, he hauled her off from her crouch and started dragging her back to the pathway.

"We need to run! Let's go!"

"Jaemin, wait—"

"Noona, this is not a joke—!"

"There's a boy! There's a boy there, we need to help him!"

Everything that happened next came too fast for him. He only stopped for a few seconds in confusion to what she just said, but it was enough for her to struggle out of his grasp and run straight to the clearing. The next moments were a blur of sounds and colors. He realized too late that he was also running, breaking through the edge of the forest as he tried to catch up. The screaming of the monsters grew louder as he ran straight to the middle of chaos, but he temporarily forgot them when he found her again, now kneeling next to a black haired boy propped up against the bark of the oak tree. She looked like she was trying to speak to him, but he seemed unresponsive, despite his eyes staring wide open in fear at the gaping hole and the monstrous limbs trying to reach out to him. It took him a chilling moment to realize what made the other's face look strange. When it did, it was like time snapped back to him again and he could hear the howls of the beasts once more.

The boy's eyes, similar to the dark hole and the creatures inside, were pure black.

"Jaemin! He needs our help!"

Her voice was the one that finally dragged him out of his frozen state. Blinking, he ran towards the two and immediately kneeled on the other side of the stranger.

"His abilities are out of his control! He's the one summoning those monsters!"

"What?! But what should we—"

"You need to calm him down! He needs to let me in so I can do something!"

The look of fear and doubt that registered on his face as soon she said that must have been so obvious because she quickly reached out to him and gave his hand a comforting but urgent squeeze. The truth is that Jaemin has never truly used his abilities on anyone yet, more so for this kind of situation. The prospect of it scared him, probably even more so than those hellish creatures.

"Hey. Jaemin. You can do it. I know you can. Just try."

He gave her one last look before he tried to rein himself in. He was terrified, but it wasn't like he has any other given the urgency of the situation. Gritting his teeth, he turned to the boy now and clutched his shoulder tightly to try and get his attention. From his peripheral vision, he saw her grab the stranger's hand as well, her fingers growing white from the intensity of her hold. Not even a few seconds passed when a faint white light started to glow around their linked palms. Jaemin felt goosebumps rise to his arms as he felt a current run down from the boy right straight at him.

"He's trying to resist. He needs to calm down more," she said, her tone sounding thin and stressed. The strain in her voice made him dig his nails harder against the stranger’s shoulder. It worked slightly as the other boy turned his head to look at him.

"Listen. You need to stop. Do it slowly. Your heartbeat's slowing down at this moment. You can do it," he said, his voice low and clear despite the hellish sounds of the shadow beasts filling the air. It was slight, but the boy in question slightly tilted his head in response, his black irises staring into his own.

"You can do it. Your pulse is getting better, see?"

Just as he said it, he subtly pressed his thumb against the other's neck to feel his pulse. It fluttered against his hold like the wings of a terrified bird, but it also started to slow down a little as soon as the words left him. Quickly, his eyes shot to the girl's hands still clutching the other. The light there has grown a little brighter... Stronger.

"Just a little bit more…" she whispered from the other side. Jaemin looked at her briefly, noting how pale she had become. Beyond them, the hole started becoming smaller, as if it was a cut that was slowly being sewn shut by the seams.

"Let her take over," he said, causing the stranger to blink his eyes at him. A headache was already starting to build at the back of his head, but he still pushed on.

"Do it. Now."

As soon as his last word left his lips, the boy's pulse stuttered, stopped, and started again all in a second. The same moment it happened, the light from the girl's hand grew until it snapped into nothingness again. Jaemin felt the shift in the energy that flowed from her to him. The buzzing feeling sank in his skin too, the force of it making him so dizzy that he had to let go of the stranger to catch his balance. It was uncomfortable—not painful—but numbing to the point that he felt like a part of him had temporarily shut off. The next time he caught his bearings again, the surroundings were back to normal. There were no monstrous cries, not even a trace of the rip in dimension just a few seconds ago.

Two warm hands cupped his face with panic and gave him a slight shake. He didn't even realize that he had his eyes closed until he found himself blinking to make his vision focus. It snapped on her after a bit, and that's when he realized that she was ducked over him, her face pale from worry. He must have collapsed after what happened.

"Jaemin! Jaemin, are you okay? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—are you hurt?"

It took him a good few seconds before things finally clicked in his head. Whatever it is that she has done to the other boy has somehow affected him too, probably because of the proximity of their Arcanas working together. Slowly, he gave her a nod as he propped himself up into a sitting position.

"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy… don't worry."

"Your Arcana. Is it—"

"It's back. I can feel it again…" he reassured her gently. Her fingers curled around him more, as if she was afraid of letting him go.

"How did you do that?"

The sound of a new voice made the two of them turn their heads at the same time. Their eyes landed on the boy by the oak tree, his gaze now clear and back to normal. He stared at them with an incomprehensible look on his face but didn't make any outward moves—his non-verbal way of saying that he doesn't mean any harm. Jaemin didn't buy it though, a cold look settling on him as he stood and pushed the girl behind him for cover. The stranger noticed the move, but didn't say anything.

"How did you get here? Who are you?"

The latter didn't answer. He simply stared at him before his eyes slipped towards the girl half-covered by him. Jaemin tightened his jaw and reached out for her hand which she silently took.

"You stopped me," the stranger said, his eyes still set on her. Slowly, he pinned his stare back to him again. "And you helped. You're IL Diavolo, aren't you?"

He didn't answer. Something about the unwelcome stranger told him that he is not an enemy, but that still doesn't undo the fact that he almost released a whole fleet of monsters from who knows where right into this realm. The girl's voice behind him confirmed what he had already been thinking.

"He's one of us…" she said softly as she carefully stepped beside him. The boy followed her movements closely, as if it was his first time seeing someone like her.

"You're hurt… do you need help?"

He didn't react.

"Did someone send you here?"

More silence.

Jaemin watched the one-way exchange silently despite his instincts being on edge. Far away, several warning shots fired from the direction of the Academy, an indication that a party is currently on its way to where they are. With the amount of Arcanas that were released in that tense exchange earlier, the Headmaster has probably picked up the burst of energy even from far away. The girl also noticed, and she threw a quick glance towards the direction of the school before turning once more to the stranger. Not once has the latter looked away from her.

"People are coming… If you want to leave, now's the best time to do it. They might hold you up and ask you some questions if you stay."

Jaemin looked at her, surprised. "Noona, are you letting him walk away? Your father—"

"He's not an enemy. I can feel it," she gently but firmly cut him off. "I'm right… aren't I? You didn't mean to do that earlier. That's why you should leave… If you don't want to stay here."

For a moment, the boy seemed to actually consider her words. A look of wariness briefly passed his face, but it only took another second before his features settled into an expression of finality. Both her and Jaemin noticed the silent decision and exchanged a quick look between each other. Finally, she turned back to the other boy and took a small step closer to where he was still seated. Jaemin let go of her hand, but kept himself ready to jump in if he needed to.

"What's your name?" She asked slowly. Almost a full minute passed without the boy saying or doing anything, except look at her. It was only when the sound of rushing steps had started sounding closer to where they were that he finally decided to break his silence.

"Jeno Lee."

*******

[5 years later, Rosewood Academy Dungeons, one year before the Cypher project]

"Jeno."

Jaemin called out lowly to the boy standing a little ways in front of him as he finished tying the lace around his forearm. Beyond them, just standing outside of their hearing range, was her and Jisung, locked in some quick pep talk with each other. Jeno slightly turned his head towards him at the sound of his name. From the look on his face, he already knows what he was about to say.

"You got it?"

The dark haired boy merely gave him a slight dip of his head in answer. He did, however, throw a quick but pointed look towards their two other teammates for the tourney.

"Back her up if she needs it?"

"Oh, you're going to be the offense now?" Jaemin asked with a teasing lilt in his voice. His best friend gave him a slight smirk that rivaled his.

"Me? You know damn well I'm not the ace here."

"You're right. Let's finish this quickly."

From above, Mijeong watched the scene with equal parts nervousness and excitement. While she is no longer a stranger to tense situations, this is the first time she will witness something on this scale—eight of the most powerful Masters of this generation about to square off against each other. The air in the room itself was different, crackling with energy as the seconds ticked away like a timebomb nearing its end. Beside her, Ten and Kun have gone as silent as ghosts, their eyes also set on the growing tension in the field below.

Five seconds passed. Ten. Twelve. Twenty–and then,

CRACK!

Everything in the room—from the arena below up to the pillars of the underground dungeon—shook as a loud, crackling sound split the previous silence. Mijeong flinched in surprise, her eyes swiveling automatically to the screens in front of her to see what was happening. Her panicked gaze was met by the feedback of the grounds below covered by settling dust. A huge black line now ran in the middle of the field with sizzles of electric blue running down its length. Mijeong's jaw dropped as she realized what caused it.

"Is that—"

"Lightning. It's Mark," Kun said beside her. He turned to Ten now who was back to typing something on his keyboard.

"Did he ever show this before?"

The bespectacled boy gave a quick shake of his head.

"No. But he showed signs of affecting the weather before. I guess he can influence their elements now, too."

Elements…. Matter. The Emperor. Mijeong squinted at the people below again, her eyes raking over their mostly unbothered form. Nobody looked distraught or panicked. If anything, the energy has shifted into an entirely different intensity now that the first blow has been made. It was on edge… On the verge of snapping.

"Dang, someone's pissed off today. And here I thought I was the only one jealous because of the teams, Marky~"

Mark ignored Haechan's teasing and instead nodded towards Chenle who was grinning from ear to ear now. The boy stepped forward, already knowing what the other was going to say.

"Chenle, we'll be the offense. Haechan, shield Renjun."

"Got that," the youngest replied in a sing-song voice as he slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled something there. It was a pen, and he twirled it between his fingers before the small object lengthened and shifted in his touch. Soon enough, he was holding what looks like a spear as tall as him with two blunted sides. Mijeong frowned at the sight from the control room.

Transformative Magic. 

La Luna.

"What is he doing summoning a spear for? We have to get the queen's ribbon, not whack each other," Jisung grumbled from the other side of the arena, his frown settled on the other. The girl beside him laughed, amused by his reaction.

"Do you think you can match him with your solar orbs, Sungie?" She asked. The boy looked a little hesitant at first before giving a small nod.

"I can. I'll try."

"I know you can do it. Without hurting anyone too.”

She gave him a reassuring smile that Jisung returned with his own, albeit a little nervous. Slowly, crackles of energy glowed around his open palm, forming small balls of light. It floated around him like living marbles made of the sun's rays. At that moment Jeno also stepped closer to them his eyes set on the opposing team. 

"I'll take care of Mark. Jisung, you handle Chenle."

"Okay, hyung."

"Be careful. They have Renjun, I'm sure he's already trying to read off our next actions," Jaemin said as a reminder from the back of their pack.

"Try not to think of your next moves too much, that'll throw him off a little," Jeno suggested as he rolled up his sleeves.

"It’s fine. Leave Renjun to me."

Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung all looked at the girl standing between them at the same time. Her eyes were now also set on the other side of the arena, right at the boy stationed at the very back of the other team. She smiled, a gesture that was well caught by her own teammates. Jeno raised his brows slightly while Jaemin smiled silently from his spot. He crossed his arms over his chest before giving a slight nod.

"Go ahead then. I'll just be here… Acting all queenly and stuff."

From the other side, Renjun frowned slightly to himself as he caught the way the girl looked at him. It completely went unnoticed by Haechan who looked downright bored as he yawned beside him.

"Well? Can you pick up their plan? Noona's there. Pretty sure she's strategized about five different attacks already."

Renjun drew a deep breath before finally flicking his eyes towards Mark and Chenle at the front of their party.

"No. I can't get inside their heads. My powers are not working on them."

Haechan stopped in the middle of another yawn, blinked, before finally looking at him with pure confusion in his face.

"What? They haven't even attacked yet."

The other gave him a deadpan look that caused him to part his lips in sudden realization.

"They've already started. I think you shouldn't relax."

"Oh… shit."

Not a second after those words left his lips, an explosion of sounds swallowed the whole arena again. With no prior warning, the offensive pairs from each team launched their attacks at the same time. Chenle's laugh wove through the noise as he ducked and swung at the solar orbs Jisung sent his way with his spear, the burnt ends of the metal growing back to its shape every time the balls of energy would burn them off. On his other side, Mark and Jeno were engaged in close combat, their movements almost too fast for the naked eye to follow. Instead of simply throwing fists and kicks at each other though, sparks of light exploded from every time they would hit contact with each other. A dull red glow emanated from Mark, while pitch black wisps came from Jeno.

Mijeong watched, equal parts impressed and confused at what was happening. She pointed towards the pair at Ten's screen the same moment the two were pushed back by the sheer force of the impact caused by their collision.

"How are those two doing that?"

Ten answered her question easily, a sign that this wasn't the first time he'd witnessed this show.

"Mark controls matter as The Emperor, the basic building blocks of all elements. Jeno is the master of The Death, which means..."

"He controls everything related to the nether dimension, and all things that are opposite of anything living. Like anti-matter," Kun finished as he straightened up from his leaned position on the table. 

"Those two are like opposite charges… Opposing ends of the magnet that repel each other."

Mijeong slowly processed that information. "If that’s the case... then that means they are almost equal in power…" she whispered silently to herself as she turned her gaze back to the monitor. From the screen, she saw Mark blast a shot of flames towards the other with just a flick of his hand. Jeno counter-attacked it with what looked like a smoke of shadows that mixed with the flames before dissolving it into fumes. 

Finally, she was starting to see what Ten was talking about earlier about both teams having almost equal offensive ability.

Almost, being the operational word, with Jisung's orbs slowly being overwhelmed by Chenle's trained defense, at the very least. The older of the two boys have already moved past the border that Mark had blasted earlier with his lightning, which now, Mijeong realized was a marker created to make it easier for their team to gauge their advance towards the side of their opponent. Jisung didn't miss it and gritted his teeth before sending a more massive round of orbs to the other.

Chenle was too late to catch on to the new deluge of attack, but a burst of black hole ripped open on the space in front of him before the first of the orbs could even hit him. The void looked like a massive pair of jaws that instantly swallowed the rain of fire from Jisung, before it fizzled into nothing as soon as it appeared. Chenle quickly turned to Haechan and gave the other a blinding grin.

"Thanks for the save, hyung!"

The latter winked, looking pleased at himself.

"I got you."

The other team was so caught up in the quick heat of their last minute save that nobody noticed Jaemin when he took a slight step forward as if to closely observe what happened. Casually, he draped his arm over the girl's shoulder, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing her forearm.

"Impressive. I think Team Black is getting so tired with all this jumping around though. Perhaps a quick break would do you good, Chenle? Maybe Mark-hyung, too? The corners of his lips tipped upwards as the words rolled smoothly from his lips. Pointedly, he ducked a little closer to the ear of the girl beside her, his eyes dancing..

"What do you think of the idea, noona?"

It took a while for her to react and consider his words. Finally, she blinked and gave a slight sigh. Mijeong watched as she lifted her hand, her fingers lightly grazing over the boy's hand still resting on her forearm.

"Yes. Maybe just a little while."

Jaemin's smile curved into a full grown smirk. The moment she said it, both Chenle and Mark froze on their spots. It was a strange sight to see, with their faces going from confused, to blank, until they finally relaxed. The shift was so subtle and mundane, but it seemed extremely out of place in the setting that was highly-charged with energies from both sides just moments ago. 

Mijeong watched everything unfold with stunned silence. What she just witnessed was the last thing she could have ever expected, and she slowly straightened herself up as she realized what it is exactly that happened. This might be the first time that she is seeing actual Masters in action, but she knows enough about the history of the Arcana to understand its intricacies as well as its limitations. IL Diavolo’s ability is considered one of the most diabolical in the ranks because it compulses and controls others, but its influence weakens when it comes to influencing fellow Masters. It’s almost impossible even... Especially for a younger wielder like Jaemin whose abilities are presumably still maturing. 

"…He wasn’t supposed to be able to do that," she said slowly, her eyes moving over to Kun. The way her voice came off sounded like she was convincing herself more than anyone else. The look the man gave her made goosebumps rise on her skin before he even spoke. 

"He didn’t. IL Matto did."

*******

"Papa?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you think I'm useless?"

The Headmaster looked up from the pile of papers he was reading to peer at his daughter. She was currently sitting on one of the loveseats in his office, her small hands flipping over the pages of the book that she had on her lap. The child had been so silent in the past hour that her question, specifically the nature of it, entirely took him by surprise. Slowly, he put down the documents he had been reading to give her his full attention.

"May I know where that came from, honey?"

The way her eyes flickered guiltily towards him before slipping back towards the page she is obviously not reading told him that she had been simmering on the thought for quite some time now. When it looked like she didn't have any plans of answering, he picked himself up from his table and went over to her side. He nudged her playfully to urge her to make room for him on the seat, a gesture she responded to by pouting slightly before letting him squeeze in. He draped his arm around her small form after and gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Come on, talk to Papa. Did something happen?"

The child chewed on her lower lip for a moment before finally giving in. Without looking at him, she carefully closed the book on her lap and started unconsciously picking on the edge of its leather cover, a tick she does whenever she is unsure of something.

"Mark and I… We were playing yesterday. He showed me that he can make fire with his hands. It was small, but he made it from nothing…"

He listened silently despite already knowing where the conversation was going. His daughter continued, her eyes still downcast on her lap.

"Why… Can't I do something like that?"

The way her voice softened at the end of her question made his chest slightly constrict. He watched as she shifted her face away from his, her eyes landing on the small flickering candle in the middle of the coffee table in front of them. He let her sit for a bit on her thoughts while he also tried to think of the best approach to talk about this.

"Do you remember one of the chapters in The Snow Queen story that you love so much, Princess?"

The girl a confused look at his sudden question. He, on the other hand, merely gave her a smile before continuing.

"There's this part of that story that I really love. It's when Gerda met the Lapland woman who was supposed to give her something to help her defeat the Snow Queen. Do you remember what that something is?"

She only thought of it briefly, having almost memorized every word from the fairytale by now.

"The power of ten men… She wanted to be strong to defeat the Snow Queen."

"Mm… and do you remember what the woman said after she asked for it?"

"She didn't give it to her. She said…"

"The power of ten men would be of very little use. There is nothing anyone can do for this girl that she cannot do for herself," he gently cut her off by dictating the exact words from the story she—and her mother—loves so much. He watched as her small face morphed from confusion, into a look of slow realization. Still smiling, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before he continued.

"The Lapland woman didn't grant Gerda any special powers, because they weren't something she needed for her mission to save her friend. What she already has is so much more powerful, because she was able to go that far with what she has, despite being human. Gerda saved Kai even if she was just herself."

The look on his daughter’s face told him that she already got the gist of what he was trying to say. Still, he wasn’t surprised at all when she decided to push on.  

"But I am not just a human. You told me yourself," she reasoned, and for the first time he saw the traces of doubt that she often works so hard to hide from him. "You always tell me that I should be careful. People treat me like they hate me or they're scared of me but I—" she stopped, her eyes looking brighter in the flicker of the candlelight. "I don't see why. I can't make fires. I can't move objects with my mind. I'm useless on my own."

A flicker of guilt teased the edges of his own features as he listened to her words. In the few years that she had manifested her ability, he had never heard her talk like this, and it's only now that he realized she never did because he never gave her a chance to. The moment he knew that the powers he hated so much—the very same who took his wife—chose his daughter to claim next, he set on doing anything and everything to hide her away. What he didn't realize, however, was how much his actions alienated the very same person he was trying to protect.

"How big was the fire that Mark made?" He asked again now, his face set. He turned to the direction of the coffee table and gestured at the flame there. "Was it like this candle here?"

Her daughter frowned before giving a slight nod.

At the confirmation, he leaned forward in his seat and reached out for a scrap of paper lying next to his bundle of notes. Without saying anything, he held it up to the fire and let the small flame lick it until they grew bigger and brighter.

"What happens when you create a bigger fire, Darling?" He asked quietly, his eyes set on the burning paper. He kept on holding it, unperturbed by the fact that the page was slowly being turned to ashes.

"It… becomes scarier," she answered, still looking doubtful about what he was trying to do. When he didn't react, she glanced at him, worry and panic obvious on her face.

"Papa. Let it go. You'll burn your hand."

That was enough for him to drop the paper to the same bronze plate where the candle's wax melted and curdled. The two of them watched as the remainder of the page got consumed by the flames before growing even more bigger as it started eating into the wax droppings on the plate.

"That's how it is with you, Princess. The small flame is Mark, but you can turn him into a big fire that can eat up and burn everything in its path. Arcana holders like us have our limits but you… what you do is beyond the usual boundaries that no generation of Masters have ever seen. You can turn a flame into an explosion, or make it destroy itself as if it never existed at all. You will meet many other flames in your life, some of which will want to have and use you, or destroy you."

The look on her face almost broke his heart. He pushed on though, knowing full well that there is a possibility that he might not have the courage to talk to her about this again. This is a necessary evil—something she must open her eyes early on so she could also protect herself.

"Why would they hurt me?"

"Because everyone wants more. More power, more influence, more fire. It's human nature, something even you and I have deep down in our instinct. But people are also terrified of what they can't understand and control. And darling… you will be exactly like that when you grow older."

He reached out for her small, cold hand now and engulfed it with his own.

"You and I are the only members of the immediate circle who can outwardly affect and influence other masters. Without them, we are useless—just people who can easily blend in with regular humans if we want to because we have no physical manifestations of what we can do on our own. With us though—with you most specially—they can be so much stronger." His hold on her hand tightened as he felt the slight tremor that ran through her.

"You can make Arcana powers more powerful if you will them to.  You are an asset, but also a threat. This is why you should never fully trust anyone, and why you should always be one step ahead of everyone. No one can use or betray you then."

She kept quiet, taking in every word he said. He is sure she had this train of thought before being the smart and observant girl that she is, but right now, he gave her the hard, uncoated truths she needed to hear. He hates doing this, but if it means he can save her from facing the same fate as her mother, then he is willing to sacrifice even some parts of her own happiness just to keep her safe.

"Do you understand it now, honey? Why I'm working so hard to protect you from everything? Can you promise me you'll try your hardest to keep yourself safe?"

Something flickered in her eyes that made a hollow spot in his chest tighten. It brought back flashes of memory of another girl who, at one point, also found herself lost because of a power she never even wanted in the first place. His daughter's voice finally saved him from the memory before it consumed him again.

"Yes, Papa… I promise."

*******

"Ability Amplification. That's the power of IL Matto," Kun said calmly, his eyes set on the figure of the girl on the screen. Mijeong looked at him as if he was saying the impossible. He’s no longer surprised by the reaction, knowing how ridiculous and far-reaching it might sound, even for members of the Family who are acquainted with the Arcanas. In the long history of recorded manifestations of IL Matto, this is the first time a master who can affect the strength of other abilities has been born.

"And they know?" Mijeong asked, her own voice still unstable. Before she even got her answer, she moved to step away from her hovering position over Ten’s shoulder and stalked to the open balcony overlooking the field. Her eyes zoned in on the same girl she had been trying to protect in secret before studying the other boys in the field. Kun and Ten exchanged glances before the former followed her there.

"The Headmaster has only let a certain number of families know about her. But yes, the boys know."

"Is that safe?"

Kun paused. His eyes strayed towards the open field, briefly studying each face there.

"It probably isn't," he finally said, deciding to be honest about it. 

"But it's strategic."

*****

"What the fuck, Jaemin? That's such a dirty move," Haechan scowled from the other side of the field to the amusement of the silver-haired boy on the other team. The latter openly smirked at him, pleased at his reaction.

"Hey. Only rules of the game is that a Queen cannot attack another Queen. The rest of the knights are fair play."

"You know damn well your Arcana's black listed for things like this," Haechan shot back, his jaw tight. Jaemin merely shrugged and pulled you closer to him, a blatant move that only made the other boy fume more.

"Oh? So you're admitting I'm stronger then?"

You sighed and shot him a quick look. He easily caught it, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Stop it already. You've done what you needed."

The boy gave a slight shrug but didn't say anything else to deny what you were implicating. He did finally let you go though, wearing a pleased look that he didn’t even try to hide. Jaemin is the type of person who mostly doesn't care about things like this, but when he starts to get serious, he is also not afraid to play a little dirty. After all, it's in his nature to know how to get under anyone's skin using their emotions.

"Sorry, love. I had to. Somebody has to piss someone off or else we'll be in this field for hours. I think it's kinda working."

"Kinda is a very humble way of putting it," Renjun finally spoke from the other side. His voice was steady, but anyone who knows him enough could see that he was also not amused by what his friend just pulled. He raised his hand now and snapped his fingers twice. As soon as he did, both Mark and Chenle flinched, as if somebody woke them up from their stupor. Unlike Jaemin's Arcana that controls, his protects, shielding all of his teammates from other mental attacks. The two boys who were just released from the devil's spell both looked around, gathering their bearings.

"What the hell…" Chenle frowned and pressed a hand at the back of his head. Mark seemed to have caught on faster about what happened as his eyes moved from Haechan, to you, and finally to Jaemin's Cheshire grin.

"Did you just…"

Renjun sighed and rolled his eyes slightly.

"Yes. He did. Before you get pissed, hyung, please know that this guy here is already doing a pretty bad job in controlling his temper," he said as he jabbed his thumb towards the boy on his side. "Yah, Haechan. Calm down. Irritating you is exactly what Jaemin wants."

"And that’s exactly what he is getting," the other answered without even batting an eye. "He's right. Let's quit playing."

"Time to get to business."

At his words, two black holes resembling jaws of void opened up on the still air beside him. They snapped and howled like two wormholes ready to swallow anything their way.

From the other side of the arena, Jaemin watched with a pleased look as the opposing team started to lose their cool. Jeno moved back closer to where you all are huddled, his eyes silently reading the energy of the other boys. He slightly pressed a hand on your lower back to catch your attention.

"Now?" He asked in a voice only you could hear. You gave him the slightest nod ever as your eyes shifted to Jaemin. The latter is already looking, and he leaned his head a little to the side in confirmation to your silent message.

"I got you both," he said. "Go off."

At his assurance, you moved to reach out to Jisung next. The boy looked down on you, a questioning look on his face.

"Jisung, can you shield us?"

He frowned, clearly confused by the request.

"What?"

"Shields. Can you do projected energy fields?"

His confused look slowly morphed into that of panic.

"I—I haven't tried. I don't think I can do it yet."

"Well, you have to. You have ten seconds to do it before Haechan tries to swallow all of us with his void monsters."

The boy’s face paled at your words. "No, you don't understand, noona. I literally don't know how to do it—"

"Seven, six, five…" you said in reply, softly counting under your breath. Jisung whipped around, looking absolutely terrified. From the other side of the arena, Haechan's black holes reared back their heads like cobras preparing to attack.

"Oh my god."

"Come on, Jisung. You can do it. Just think of summoning it."

"I c-can't—"

You squeezed his hand in yours and gave him a smile.

"Go ahead. I'll help."

He barely had any time to process what you just said when Haechan's shadow tunnels finally snapped and hurtled straight towards where you are. Jisung threw out his arm in instinct before impact and sure enough a bright burst of light flashed in the arena, temporarily blinding everyone. When the air cleared out again, a bright golden dome stood high above your heads, covering the good half of your end of the field. Grasping and snapping its jaws outside of it, trying to break through, were Haechan's voids.

Jisung's jaw dropped as he stared, dumbstruck at what he just conjured. Outside, Chenle straightened up as well, his eyes round with surprise.

"Holy shit dude… You just unlocked a new game skill."

Your smile widened as you patted the boy in the back. "Good job. Now try to hold that a bit more." Turning around, you looked at Jeno who was still calmly observing everything from his position. You watched as the ground beneath him seemed to ripple and shake before long shadowy figures started to rise from it. They moved like smoke, bearing the resemblance of slender women about 6 feet in height each. None of them have any solid features nor a body, but their eyes glowed bright like beams of light. You smiled. The figures sauntered forward, their bodies dispersing slightly as they passed beyond Jisung's shield. They snapped back to their form again as soon as they did and started slowly advancing towards the other team.

Mark and Chenle, who still brought the front, exchanged tense looks. Behind them, Renjun watched the shadow maidens fan in formation like predators eyeing their prey. They moved languidly but tensely, like strings about to snap anytime.

"Haechan…" he murmured under his breath. The boy beside him didn't need to look at him to understand what he was trying to say. Nobody moved, waiting for the tension to finally break. When the pin finally dropped after the suffocating silence, it drowned the field with deafening sounds that exploded at the same time.

Mark lifted chunks of earth from the ground, hurtling some straight at the shadow monsters that had sprung into action to attack. Assisting him was Chenle who turned some of the rubble into orbs of steel, some of which went straight into Jisung's shield. The dome grumbled under the force, making the boy grit his teeth from the attack. Lifting his free hand, Jisung pushed back against it, a move that caused spears of light to shoot out of his barrier. Haechan moved back his own monsters, the two voids merging together to form one big black hole that swallowed the younger boy’s attack. He flicked his wrist afterwards, causing the beast to swoop down and grab two of Jeno's shadow maidens closing in on Mark.

Mijeong watched, petrified, at everything that unfolded in a matter of seconds. What she had witnessed earlier was nothing compared to the scale that she is seeing now, the whole arena being torn apart from the ground up. Explosions were erupting everywhere and it was getting harder and harder for her to follow everything that was happening. When the field finally cleared again after a particularly strong blast, her gaze made a beeline towards the sole girl in the arena to make sure that she is still unharmed. She froze. There was something about her face that seemed out of place at first, and it took her a moment to realize that her eyes had turned lighter—the color of amber—as she watched everything that was happening.

"Is she alright? Ten?" Kun spoke before she could ask her question. The other boy took a while to answer, his lips pursed.

"Her heartbeat is rising, but everything else is okay."

"How about Jeno?"

"His control is more stable than his last record. He's good."

"What is going on? Are they in danger?" She finally spoke up, her voice barely masking her panic now. Kun, however, simply turned back at the carnage below.

"No. Everything's fine."

"Fine? Your kids are killing each other!"

The man smiled, an expression that seemed entirely out of place in the situation. "They're being a little more energetic right now, but everything's still under control."

Mijeong wasn't convinced but she pursed her lips anyway.

"I'm more worried about her. She's influencing that boy's powers, right? The one who created the shield?"

"Mm. That and the two others with her. Why do you think she asked Jisung to create that wall? I can assume it's her way of containing the reach of her ability to her teammates to tip the scales to their favor. Otherwise, Haechan and the others would be affected too."

His answer did nothing to assure her. "Isn't she pushing herself too much this way though? What if she—"

"Goes overboard? I doubt she will ever let that happen. Besides, Jaemin and Jeno are both there," Kun explained, nodding towards the two boys. At the look of confusion in Mijeong's face, he continued.

"Masters can lose control over their abilities when they falter in their focus and let the Arcana take over them. Jaemin will step in for her—and for anyone else in this arena—the moment he senses that. As long as they let him, he can bring them back to focus. Jeno, La Morte's abilities, come from the Nether. The rest of Arcana's originate from the Aether. If he wants to, he can also cancel or stabilize other powers since his source is the direct opposite of the others. She'll never go mad, as long as he's with her."

"And Jeno will never lose control, as long as Jaemin and her are there,” Ten added, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her. “Why do you think we put them in one group? Those three…"

"They're a package deal."

Mijeong processed all of that slowly. She turned back to watch the battle as she put together the pieces in her head.  So this tourney is not only done to check each of the Master's abilities. They also do it to see how abilities mesh well with each other. It’s a training and a study in one.

A blast of force shook the field once again making her and Kun slightly duck for cover. Unlike the damage caused by flying rocks and exploding metals though, this one is silent and invisible, like a wave of wind running through the bare arena. Rocks split and shattered as it swept through, including the shadow figures who were now just a few meters from breaching Mark and the others' side of the arena. When it hit Jisung’s force field, the surface shook under its force.  

You looked up, surprised and confused by the attack. You know Mark, Chenle, and Haechan were too focused on defending their spot, which only means…

"Renjun," Jeno said from beside you as more of his shadow maidens rose from the ground to replace the ones the force obliterated. Your eyes rounded in response.

"Psychokinesis… Since when did he learn to use it?"

Jaemin was the one who answered. "Nobody knows. He barely shows it, but when he does, it means…"

"You're very pissed," Haechan smirked and stated the obvious as he closely watched the boy beside him. Renjun had pretty much remained calm and quiet in the middle of all the chaos, but the set of his lips easily gave him away, now that Haechan gave him a real good look. The boy in question scoffed in reply to his teasing. 

"I'm not. I want this over.”

"Sure, dude. At least you seem like you impressed her,” he snickered, amused by the denial of the other. “Look, how about we all give it one last shot so we can finally get this done?”

For once, the pair agreed on something.

"Sounds like a good idea."

"I think we should end this," Jeno said as he noticed the shift in energy from the other team. You caught it too, and you gave him a slight nod in answer. Walking over to Jisung, you whispered to him in a voice you made sure only he could hear.

"Jisung, I need you to release your shield at my signal."

The boy gave you a look as if you've finally gone mad.

"What? But they're attacking us, noona."

"Just do it quickly then bring it back up again. I just need to do something."

He still looked unconvinced but both Jeno and Jaemin gave him a look that finally made him give way. In front of you, the shadow figures moved to guard the front of your team, just beyond Jisung's border. You watched with bated breath as the opposing group quickly responded to the move, every boy's attention set on getting the last line of your defense. When Haechan's void reared back again to do its final attack, you started counting the seconds in your head.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Jisung, now!”

You gave the signal the exact same moment that the black hole burst straight towards all of you. Its jaws split wide, it hurtled forcefully in the air with the full intent of swallowing the shadow army acting as your last line of offense. Jisung almost missed your signal in panic, but he thankfully managed to dissolve his force field at the last moment, enough for you to slip in the same periphery where Haechan’s targets are. You fell in the right spot just in time for the void to swallow you whole before everything disappeared, leaving nothing in its wake.

*******

"Haechan!" Mark turned and shouted in panic as he saw everything unfold in front of him. He wasn't the only one who shared the reaction though, with both Chenle and Jisung giving gasps of horror while Renjun froze in shock. Haechan paled as he realized what just happened, his eyes wide.

"Shit. Shit, shit!"

Above, Mijeong gave a wordless scream as she watched the full extent of the scene from above. Before she even realized what she was doing, she turned, ready to storm the field. She had barely made two steps when she felt Kun grab her wrists and pull her back.

"No. Don't go there."

"What the hell?! Let me go! Can’t you see—!"

"Stop. Just watch."

*****

You tumbled and stumbled inside the void, hands trying to find purchase on something, anything so you could slow down your spiral. Everywhere was dark, but you could hear sounds merging over each other as if you were speeding through different worlds and realities. You couldn’t figure out which direction you are going, or whether you are floating or falling. There was no sense of time or velocity where you were but you could also feel Haechan all around you—his fear, his shock, and his panic.

You didn't know how long you got suspended there, but when you heard Mark scream out your name from what sounded like a distance, you closed your eyes briefly and grasped at the weightless void surrounding you. The noises around you intensified, but you focused everything that you have in a single command. Whether you said it out loud or screamed it in your head, you weren't sure, but you poured every bit of your concentration on the thought, even as you struggled in the chasm surrounding you. 

Dissolve.

Now.

As soon as you expressed your intent, the churning darkness around you froze into a standstill. When you finally opened your eyes again, rips of light started puncturing the void, widening and pulling until…

You stumbled back to the field, the maw of Haechan's black hole releasing you back to the right dimension. Instead of finding yourself in the right side of the arena where the rest of your team are, however, you are now standing directly in front of Haechan who was currently looking at you, frozen in shock.

You smiled. Without saying anything, you flicked your wrist slightly, the move making his still gaping void to splinter into glass like pieces behind you. His expression changed into that of understanding as he watched it dissolve right in front of his eyes.

"You boys were so focused on attacking so you got distracted. Number one rule in the game, never forget your goal. In this case…" your gaze moved towards Renjun who was still standing beside the other boy. He looked at you, still surprised and confused, as you reached out towards him. It was too late for him to stop you from gently pulling at the ribbon on his arm.

"Your Queen's lace."

The bell sounded off again, this time, announcing that a team had won. Your smile widened.

"Checkmate."

*******

"What…"

Mijeong stared, thunderstruck, at the scene below her. Everything moved so fast, but she doubts her eyes were tricking her about what she saw. Kun quietly voiced out the thoughts that were already crowding her head.

"Ability Nullification. She dissolved Haechan's powers. Made his Arcana completely null," the man said, his eyes calmly set on the girl below. "The Fool always has two sides, a strength and a weakness. The true force of IL Matto's Arcana does not lie on how it can amplify powers…"

"But how it can void them."

The silence in the balcony was matched by that in the field. The only sound that disturbed the room where Mijeong, Kun, and Ten were on was the slight ding of a message that popped out on the edge of the latter’s screen. Ten quickly clicked on it and promptly read the short message there. His gaze shot to Kun then before he leaned over to the mic, his face set.

"Tourney's over. Winner of this round is the White Team. Please go back to your dorms and rest. Everyone here needs to report to the head office this afternoon..."

"The Headmaster is back."

CHAPTER 5

*******

Note: I had to redo my taglist because of Tumblr problems. The new list below are those who requested to be re-added or recently requested to be part of the new list. 

NEW Taglist: @effulgentfireflies, @kasperneo, @lostlovesoul11,  @byunniebaekhyunnie​, @smolpeyy, , @dearj43, @bettyschwallocksyee​, @babyksworld​

Untaggable for some reason:  @yongboksfreckles,  @user103843

#mark x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct dream fic #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream supernatural au #jisung fic #chenle fic #ten nct fic #kun fic #nct dream fantasy au

[clonerightsagenda]

everythingitcouldbe THE TAGS???? HELLO???

re: this post's tags, a 2 year old extremely silly conversation from discord making a lot of references to the Lambert Week video series

Kat thinking about the timeline of Lovelace's appearance again… Eiffel at some point after staring into space for several minutes: Captain I think you exist because the commander was having a breakdown Minkowski: has her fucking meltdown Eiffel: is consequently off the comms for a few weeks the aliens: print off a spycam to see what the fuck is going on Lovelace: enters this world with severe anxiety who says having a mental break and hunting a plant for 2 weeks isn't productive

Kate Summon a Captain and a friend

Kat my stream of consciousness from this point 'why did they think Lovelace was the best responsible adult to send' 'well they were trying to be Sneaky and she was the only one who had a craft they could copy and not be super obvious' 'what if at some point in s2 Lovelace is Not being a responsible adult and Eiffel is unable to broadcast for whatever reason and so the Listeners decide they will send in a responsible adult and just fuckin. teleport a Lambert on death's door in' Lambert, in the process of hacking up a lung, glowing blue: Why Aren't You Talking To Us Eiffel: So. Uh. Captain? Commander? Sorry to bother you but this nerd guy just appeared in Hilbert's lab and I think he's speaking in tongues? Also he might be dying. Anyway I'm still strapped to the table due to Lungs Exploded, please advise.

Gill the ghost of Hilbert's past sins

Kat Hilbert, walking in and assessing the situation: motherfucker

Kate Pffff

Kat Eiffel: Should I make room on the table??

Kate Eiffel is yelling because a guy just teleported into the lab. Minkowski is yelling because Will People Stop Randomly Appearing On Her Station. Lovelace is yelling because what is Lambert doing here, aren’t you dead, I had FINALLY managed to Cope and move on, what the fuck. Lambert is trying to yell but can’t because critical lung collapse Hilbert turns around and leaves

Gill Hera: Yup, same shit, different day.

Kat also bold of Lovelace to claim she has managed to Cope and move in while in season 2 Murder Mode

Kate She thinks she’s handling it very well and normally

Gill Lovelace: Some people?? Give a dude two liters of their blood? To cope???

Kat The aliens just want to know why their favorite podcast is on hiatus!! Their spycam was doing shuttle repairs and not watching their Boy, they needed to know what was Up

Gill so do you think they figure out how to keep their new spycam stable before he dies a second time and they have to reboot him

Kat probably not frankly it's not great for anyone involved

Kate I am a huge fan of Lambert dying and rebooting several times in a row before they figure out a stable configuration

Gill also, Lovelace, having progressed past terrified anger into giggling hysterically: I was right!! This is hell!! This is my own personal hell and I am stuck here forever!!!

Kat Lovelace just like D : Eiffel, still strapped to the table: cool cool this is cool

Kate It is deeply traumatic for everyone involved, except for Hera, who thinks it’s fascinating in a gross way, and Hilbert, who tbh also thinks it’s fascinating in a gross way

Kat someone please get Lovelace's heart rate trigger off

Gill Minkowski, approaching Lovelace: Captain….. I think we're in a very stressful situation…… and we should probably take the bomb trigger off your wrist until things calm down Lovelace: /is not in a headspace to receive this information

Kate Lambert keeps it together just long enough to say “the what” before dying for the third time in the past ten minutes Eiffel: oh yeah it’s this whole—aaaaand he’s gone again

Kat Hera: Is this how it normally works

Kate Eiffel: Hey doc is this what Decima does

Kat Hilbert: …. maybe?? Is unprecedented medical phenomenon. Might as well take credit.

Gill also i am absolutely picturing him at least once collapsing into Lovelace's arms and going "Captain, I think something's still really wrong with me /hurk /dies again" Lovelace: D'8

Kat He died not knowing Selberg was making them sick on purpose. I wonder if Hilbert would feel at all bad if one of his victims popped up still dying and asked for his help, because he's his doctor Probably not Lambert: Doctor, I - keels over Hilbert: Eh. Better luck next time

Gill Hilbert: Perhaps I can- Lovelace: NO!! Hell no you're why he's like this in the first place this is YOUR fault and you don't get to touch him

Kate This is the closest Decima has ever come to working Hilbert wants to Study

Gill alien blood vs Decima round 2: Oklahoman Cage Match

Kat Hilbert like well, I don't know that Decima can't make people manifest out of nowhere and revive repeatedly. His blinders are on really well Eiffel: is this my future. Am I going to get stuck in a respawn cycle Hera: I find it morbidly interesting when someone else's communication officer is spitting blood. I draw the line at my communication officer spitting blood

Gill honestly the level of Freak Out just makes it funnier if/when the Dear Listeners do figure out a stable configuration and Lambert has one last blood-hacking-up coughing fit before going "actually I feel much better now" (Lovelace refuses to put him down anyway)

Kat how much of that did you process Sam

Gill he heard shouting and then Captain Lovelace was squeezing him really hard

Kat Lambert: I guess I blacked out a few times - Hera: His vitals stopped a lot

Kate And then he glowed blue It was a little noticeable

Gill Eiffel: Also he asked when the broadcasts would resume in this weird echo-ey god voice.

Kate Minkowski: Okay. Okay. We are going to calm down and figure this out, calmly, together. Minkowski, glaring at each of them in turn: Minkowski: Hilbert, explain.

Kat Hilbert: No precedent for Decima virus producing bio-luminescence but I suppose - Eiffel: Listen I know my pop culture experience isn't respected here but that guy is 100% possessed Or a ghost? Can you be a possessed ghost? (Yes)

Gill Eiffel, putting a hand up: I'm not saying it was aliens, but…

Kat Eiffel: He manifested in here. This is a manifestation Minkowski: Eiffel you are on a lot of medication right now Hera: No that happened

Gill oh yeah I suppose if Lambert's been rebooted over and over again it's only when respiratory gets stable that he'd get to go through the Brain Reboot Thing so he's like half-conscious and clinging to Lovelace and mumbling something about being a goose

Kat Lambert, vaguely: I don't want to crunch the ice

Kate Lambert, half-conscious: you smell like musk. Lovelace: ….. thanks? Lambert: no. That’s bad

Kat Lambert, fuzzily glimpsing Eiffel: the future man…. he's bad at his job Eiffel: REALLY

Gill Hera: …how does he know about you? Lambert: Oh you're here too! Hello! You're a person!

Kate Hera: oh, he talks in a normal voice now? Lambert, pointing at the ceiling: you! I like you! You’re a person! Ha same braincell

Kat Lambert: Rheeeeeea. Heeeeera. That's a… that's an acronym. No that's not right… Minkowski, so lost: Anagram?

Gill Lambert: Is this… the future?? Lovelace, just completely beyond capacity at this point: Yes, Sam. Yes it is.

Kat Lovelace: Sam I think you need to rest and calm down, ok? Lambert: You were there too captain but you weren't…. yourself? Eiffel: : o Lovelace is also a possessed ghost?

Gill Minkowski: I think we all need to take a deep breath… and calm down. Lambert: /attempts to take a deep breath Lambert: /starts coughing again Lovelace: ( 8

Kat Eiffel also starts coughing so as to not be left out Minkowski gives Hilbert a death glare

Gill so is this before or after the events of the live show

Kat unclear but iirc Eiffel was not supposed to be out of bed in the liveshow and the dialog in Knock Knock would imply he got sent back to bedrest for a while Eiffel: Someone untie me I refuse to keep sleeping in here what if more ghosts manifest to yell at me. I think this lab is cursed

Kate Minkowski: Eiffel! You are not ready to leave bed rest! Do you want to end up like that? Eiffel: That wasn’t expressing a preference for non-ghosts to yell at me

Gill Lovelace: Ok but what if more of my dead friends do come back because they manifested to yell at you sounds like something worth testing

Kat Eiffel: Ok fine! Then Captain Lovelace has to stay here with me! Eiffel: Or a nightlight! I demand one of these things

Gill tbh if Lambert has to stay in the lab under observation I dont imagine Lovelace is leaving

Kat

Hera: Are you scared of the ghost? He doesn't seem that scary. mostly he's coughing up blood Eiffel: This is how zombie movies start Eiffel: if he bites me you have to vent me into space quick before I bite the commander Hera: Can I let you bite Hilbert first at least Eiffel: Yeah actually make sure I bite Hilbert

Kate Hera: he’s been mumbling about spreadsheets for twenty minutes. I don’t think he’d be interested in your brain. Hah

Gill Lambert talking in his sleep about scented candles Jumbling up his candle shopping adventure with random Pryce And Carter tips

Kate Lambert: nnnnnnnn… tip 24… sandalwood There is a wrong way to eat an oreo. It’s coziness points

Gill Lambert: Gay boy Lambert… is not proper emergency procedure…

Kate Lovelace, who is definitely not crying, shut up: Is he talking about Pryce and Carter’s in his sleep. I’m going to strangle him again.

Kat The aliens have still not gotten a new podcast episode. However they at least have eyes on their boy now and a slightly better understanding of the importance of lungs.

Gill Eiffel, on his next broadcast: she might kill me for saying this, but I swear to you, Dear Listeners, I heard the new guy say to Captain Lovelace something like “I think you have maximum smelly points Captain” and she started like, openly sobbing, and I don’t think it was because she was upset either

Kat "It's been a weird 24 hours!"

Gill Lambert waking up the next morning and interrogating Eiffel about how he’s here and what’s going on and also, why are you so bad at your job?? Eiffel would leave but he’s strapped to a table to prevent that exact thing

Kate Eiffel: You’re the one who just teleported here and then died in all of our arms at various points! I think I should be asking the questions here

Gill Lovelace, half-awake in a chair between both of them: can all of you stop being so loud this early Lambert: Whatre you doing already up, Captain?? Lovelace: Bold of you to assume I ever went to sleep Lambert: Captain…

Kat Lovelace is also low on blood at the moment

Gill Everyone in this medical lab is not doing so hot at the moment and is in various modes of hilarious mess

Kat Minkowski showing up in the morning with cups of coffee and granola bars like…. hello?? Eiffel: Hera did anyone else teleport onto the station Hera, darkly: not yet

Kate Minkowski: are any of you okay at all? Simultaneously, Lovelace says “yes,” Eiffel says “no,” and Lambert makes a whiny gurgly cough noise Minkowski: … I’ll take that as three “no”s

#everythingitcouldbe #replies #tales from the group chat #wolf 359

[shatterinseconds]

sharpshooter

Julance ‘22 day 2

Lance has to take the shot; he has to take the shot. If he doesn’t, Keith will die; if he misses, Keith will still die. He can’t let Keith die, but his finger trembles against the trigger. He can vaguely hear his other teammates yelling through the comms on his helmet that he tossed away from him.

The Galran general, a big meaty guy about eight feet tall, chokes Keith, lifting him in the air. Keith kicks him a few times in the knees but the Galra never flinches, never loosens his hold. Keith desperately claws at the fingers around his neck.

Lance anchored his sniper rifle against a pile of boulders and has kept watch through his scope for the perfect opportunity to strike. But there isn’t one. There’s too much of a chance he will accidentally clip Keith if he’s even a millimeter off his target. 

But Keith catches Lance’s gaze and stops struggling almost immediately. Scope trained on Keith’s face, it takes Lance two times to realize Keith mouths ‘do it’ without an ounce of fear in the world. Lining up his shot, releasing a breath, Lance pulls the trigger.

Keith falls to the ground in a heap, struggling to prop himself up on his hands. His hair curtains his face. Coughing and hacking to clear his throat, spit dripping from his lips, Keith gently prods the bruising skin ringing his neck. 

“Keith, Keith!” Lance calls out as he rushes forward. His feet pound against the ground; dust kicks up in the air. He falls on his knees to slide forward, reaching Keith as quickly as he can. “You’re okay,” he says in a near whisper. He can barely breathe. He cradles Keith’s face, and he brushes his thumbs against his cheeks. Those dark eyes stare at Lance with rapt attention.

Keith’s face splits into a stunning smile. “Thanks to you.” His voice, hoarse and ragged, struggles to form the words, but Lance hears enough of it to understand.

“I was so scared.” Closing his eyes, he rests his head against Keith’s forehead. Even with the general dead, Lance’s heart continues to race, his own breathing ragged as if he was the one in the Galra’s clutches.

“I trust you,” Keith says, voice regaining some semblance of normalcy. It seems to hurt less at least. Good enough to get out, “I knew it’d be okay.”

“That makes one of us.” Lance almost barks out a wet laugh as if he’s close to tears. He almost was. “I’m glad you’re okay; I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Keith wraps his arms around Lance, dragging him down until he’s almost lying fully on top of Keith. He finds home in the crook of Keith’s neck; his nose brushes against Keith’s skin, careful of the bruising. A hand cards through his hair as Keith whispers directly into his ear. “Thank you.”

#klance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #julance2022 #klance fic #keith x lance #my writing

[juuls]

Juulna’s 2021 Multi-Fandom Fanfiction Rec List - Part Two

(Yes, I realize this is a year late, but this year's been a bit nuts. I still hope you enjoy these fics anyway!)

Based only on what I’ve read with my own eyes this year!

Follow me on my journey into what, at times, was…

…actually rather calming! Perhaps you can find some comfort and entertainment, fluff and angst and romance and friendship, smut and a distinct lack of it, space adventures and fantasy and modern adventures, serial killers and good guys, redemption and reconciliation and learning to become someone completely different — there is so much here I read that stuck with me over the past year, and the 2021 Fanfic Reading Challenge ( @fanfic-reading-challenge ) allowed me a new way to keep track of all of my favourites. So props to that event! Definitely participating again (considering I run the event, yeah, that's probably a given lol, but full disclosure).

Without further ado, here were my 2021 fic favourites!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

Fandom: Marvel (Comics & MCU)

Stony, Polyvengers:

you great unfinished symphony (you sent for me) by @ketchupcrisp

The last thing Steve Rogers ever expected to see on a Wednesday afternoon was his (their) dead submissive tumbling out of a portal and practically into Phil’s lap, very much alive and frantic about Soul Stones and timelines and some other version of the team.

Avengers Family:

Of Spectrums and Spoons by @calloftherunningtide

Natasha had been taught to pretend – to act and respond just like she was supposed to act and respond - from an early age.

Things You Learn In the Kitchen at Night by @buzzcat

When Darcy went into the kitchen that night, she didn't expect to meet her platonic soul mate or Tony Stark, let alone have them be one and the same person.

Iron Family (typically very Civil War Team Iron Man):

Second Chances by @izazov

Tony Stark is in love with Steve Rogers. Also, he is dying. There is no direct correlation between those two facts. But there is also the matter of Steve Rogers having no idea about Tony’s feelings.

And all that's best of dark and bright by @kaaterinapetrova

When Steve Rogers leaves her to die in Siberia, Toni Stark hacks her soulmark apart, tears the flesh and veins until she is blinded with pain, and waits to die. Up above, somewhere in the universe, something fractures.

Trigger warning for cutting, suicidal thoughts, breakdown.

Siren by @tsuki-chibi

When the exvengers were granted pardons, they return to the Compound. Steve was prepared to fight an uphill battle, but not for the biggest change of all:a clone of Peggy Carter, who is already at the Compound and acting as the newest Avenger. Determined to see everything go back to the way it was, Steve, Wanda and Clint become obsessed with figuring out a way to upstage the New Avengers and prove that the Accords are unnecessary.

Spoiler: their plan doesn't work.

Basic Rules by @striving-artist

It said something about Toni’s life that she had an established system in case of kidnapping and torture, and while there had been tweaks, it was still basically the same as from when she was a kid.

1. Let them underestimate you. 2. Don’t fight back until you have an exit. 3. Lie from the start. 4. Protect what matters. 5. Assume no one is coming to help.

you want a war? (you don't know what you're asking for) by @dyke-yoonji

“And now? Now you’ve all betrayed,”  Steve flinched at the choice of words, “Stark, and Potts and Rhodes are not going to sit and take it.”

Natasha frowned at the phone. “What does this mean for us?”

Fury laughed - an ugly laugh with no myrth in it. “It means that Potts or Rhodes are the ones who sent me this phone because they wanted me to contact you. They wanted me - and you - to know that they are with Stark, that they are the line of defence between him and us.”   “It means that they just declared war. God have mercy on your souls.”

Tony Stark is Not a Supervillain (But his Poker Group All Are) by DaughteroftheSilverMoon

A superhero walks into a room full of villains- and they play poker and give him a drink. After all, it's the polite thing to do. Only then they get to liking him, and all of a sudden they're slaying dragons for the good guys. It's very disconcerting, but kind of nice.

The Worst Job by @thealextheshipper

Jessica is assigned as the Rogue Avengers Accords delegate upon their return to the US, on the plus side she befriends Tony Stark, on the down side she has to deal with PR nightmare Steve Rogers, and his best friend PR nightmare Clint Barton.

DomesticIronHawk: (Laura/Clint/Tony)

Set On Fire by @allthemarvelousrage

She's not sure if she forgot to take her suppressants, or if something Wanda did screwed with her meds, but her world is on fire for the first time in years, and there's no one to help her through it... until there is.

IronMarvel:

Keep Me in Your Orbit by @moonlitmidnight-1

A post Civil War AU in which Toni knew Carol during the events of Captain Marvel, and was the person she gave the pager to.

IronStrange:

ARC I: An Infinity In The Wings by @bad-days-and-beautiful-nights

Stephen and Toni met just before she's kidnapped. They spent the night together and when she returns, they strike up an easy friendship. Soon enough, Stephen falls in love with her, but by the time he realizes, it's too late. Hoping she never finds out, he gracefully steps back, trusting Captain America to be the right man for his best friend. But when Steve surprises everyone and Toni ends up at death's door for the fourth time, Stephen has to re-evaluate his life's choices.

IronTaser:

Disinformed by Del_Rion

It’s time to come clean about Phil Coulson’s death. Out of all the Avengers, Tony’s reaction is the most surprising, and Phil must investigate it further.

Maria Hill/Sif:

Diplomatic Relations and Intelligence Failures by @scifigrl47

Maria Hill would like a night off, and maybe a date. She's not likely to get either one of them, so she's pretty resigned to long nights of protecting the world from behind the scenes. It's very satisfying, but not quite in the way she's hoping for.

Most people who know Maria are far too intimidated to make a pass. Luckily, the Lady Sif doesn't have that problem.

Phlint:

SHIELD Has Paperwork for Everything by @scifigrl47

Clint Barton knows where his loyalties lie, and they have more to do with his handler than his employer. Phil Coulson takes his responsibilities seriously, and a big part of his job is protecting the agent in his care from any threat to his well-being.

At this rate, neither of them is going to get a date. Natasha Romanov has other ideas, and the only side she's on is her own.

Stucky:

Reputation by @cpt-winniethepooh

Captain America is a hero to the nation, but an uncomfortable cage for Steve Rogers. He is confined by his reputation as the boring Avenger, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, and has long given up on hope to change his public image.

Then he meets James Barnes, the infamous assassin also known as the Winter Soldier, who recently switched sides and is now working for the US instead of Russia. Barnes is tall, dark and handsome with his man-bun and eyeliner, and everything Steve shouldn’t want but does.

But just as there is more to Steve than Cap, there is more to Barnes than the Soldier - but will they be able to see that and find happiness?

An albumfic about finding love through the noise, set to the tune and narrative of Taylor Swift’s Reputation.

Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film by @hellotailor, @alwaysalreadyangry, eleveninches, febricant, @morgan-leigh

“Heil Hydra,” the enemy agent shouts. 

“Heil this, motherfucker,” says Captain America, shooting off a rocket.

Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

Steve Rogers and the minefields of social media by @cpt-winniethepooh

Steve gets a Twitter account, then an Instagram one, then he gets Bucky back, too.

ThunderIron:

King Of Hearts, Queen Of . . . Nothing by ThatDamnKennedyKid

He was sure that she didn't remember, not with the way she had cried herself into drunken slumber in his arms. That did not mean he forgot. Not anything - not the painful slurs from her father that lingered in her mind, the barely visible scars across her arms and thighs from jumping into adulthood alone before she was no longer a child, how she had blubbered the name Yinsen over and over again like a regret.

I don't Want the World to See Me by @outercorner

Tony has a secret, one that is harder and harder to keep from observant teammates.

WinterIron:

Lines by @treesramblings

“If you want—and feel free to say no, everyone and their mothers know that I’m the queen of offering too much where I’m not wanted—but, if you want…” Toni hesitates, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, and then continues, “well, that’s the longest period of uninterrupted sleep I’ve had since last week, which was also with you, and—twice is a coincidence, but maybe we could test to see, uh, see if it’s a pattern? Only if you want; I’m not trying to guilt you into it. In fact, forget I said anything. This is a horrible idea. I’m just going to leave—”

She’s stopped by his fingers slipping into her palm as he's suddenly standing in front of her. “Okay,” he whispers.

The tension that had built up in her body releases all at once and she looks up into his eyes, the ever present churn of emotion swirling enchantingly, tenderly.

“Okay,” she responds, and his hand glides from hers as he turns away. She aches with the missing weight.

Watercolour Scars by ThatDamnKennedy

Despite fighting against Iron Man, Bucky didn't actually know Tony. Even then, he didn't know how he was the only one starstruck. He couldn't imagine the kind of miracles she must have pulled off before for the team to not even thank her.

Our Shattered Past by Elenduen

Bucky survives the snap, survives to see two-thirds of the universe die, half turning to ash, the others killed because those others turned to ash. He follows Steve back to America and the Avengers compound struggling to try and make sense of everything that has happened. Then Tony Stark returns to earth, broken, sick, desolate. Bucky feels he owes Tony for what he did to his parents, he wants to find a way to make amends and the only way he think to do that is to act as protection for Tony while he slowly recovers from his time in space.

Tony couldn't care less what happens to him now. He failed, Peter is gone, two-thirds of the Universe is gone, why should he care if he lives or dies now? he is determined to help others while he can though and if that means Barnes is following him around then he can help too.

What neither expect is a relationship to blossom between them or the family that blooms out of the ashes of their shattered pasts.

721 Fifth Avenue by Skarla

Tony Stark is a man of many faces; stressed, a little manic, overly fond of smoothies and kinder than anyone Bucky has ever met, although he hides it well. He's not quite sure why no one else is providing the support and companionship that the man is quietly desperate for, but it's no hardship to step up to the plate. He's always had a thing for scrappy underdogs after all.

The Evidence by @striving-artist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

ShieldShock:

MARRY, FUCK, KILL by @sevensneakyfoxes

"Actually, you know, I get it. Rogers would be an excellent MARRY choice. You know that he'd never leave the toilet seat up, would never drink the last of the milk, and would clean the rain gutters without prompting," Darcy says. She's never really considered Steve as anything other than Captain America who is impossibly unapproachable; weirdly enough, the things she finds intimidating about him as a person oddly work for her in a domestic setting. "Ugh, plus you just KNOW Barton would be the type of fucker that would eat the last oreo and then shove the empty box back into the cupboard."

"So what's your list then, Darcy?" Jane asks, turning back to look at the mold, which has done exactly fuck all in the last half-hour.

"Don't rush me! I need to make an informed, calculated choice."

Darcy looks down at her pad, then back up at Natasha. She purses her lips in thought. "You've fucked Barnes, right? How dexterous is that metal hand?"

--

The ladies of SHIELD play a mass game of MARRY FUCK KILL, Avengers edition.

Wherein everyone marries Steve, kills Tony, Jane betrays science and Darcy hypothetically turns Thor into a llama.

WinterShock:

Black Holes and Revelations by @amidtheflowers

The Winter Soldier doesn’t like her much. It doesn’t help when they get thrown in a black hole together.

WinterShieldShock:

Upon A Hill, Across a Blue Lake by @i-mushi

Fluffy ABO - Darcy has a few run-ins with the police and a couple Alpha Avengers show up to help. She /really/ should have specified to Jane not to send her crushes when she called for help. Steve/Darcy/Bucky Alpha!Steve, Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Darcy

WinterWidowIronShield:

my body is not their bed by @deathsweetqueen

In 1995, the Engineer and the Winter Soldier escape HYDRA and end up, bleeding, on Peggy Carter's doorstep.

This is their journey after. This is the story of their victory march.

#fic recs #juulna recs #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel 616 #marvel 3492 #female tony stark #polyvengers #winterwidowironshield #wintershieldshock #wintershock #shieldshock #winteriron #domesticironhawk #ironhawk #thunderiron #stucky #phlint #irontaser #maria hill x lady sif #maria hill #lady sif #ironstrange #ironmarvel #2021 #2021frc #2021 fanfic reading challenge

[wulvert]

HACK WHEEZE GOOFNMOR NING. IT IS NOT MORNING FOR ME ACTUALLY I HAV MISSED IT BY A LONGSHOT. ANYWAYS HAPPY BELATED PAPERTEETH DAY YOU WON THROUGH THE ILLNESS!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

tw for: discussion of suicide (about avery) nd questions about avery's mental state i guess? if ur uncomfortable with answering the questions here for any reason pls for the love of god do NOT answer. or delete the ask nd i can resend it without this part. theres a marker for when i stop talking about it!

i am. so deeply concerned about avery's mental state. the repeated showcases of such severe self hatred to the point of suicidal ideation is so so worrying i want her 2 be happy. i like exploring nd expanding on it when i write her though!!! complex characters my beloved. was avery. always in this mental state before being turned? or was it. becoming a vampire that triggered it. or did becoming a vampire just like. make what she already had worse? i am. very worried for her

(discussion of suicidal topic end)

um. heres a lighter question: WHY DID SCARLET REACT LIKE THAT WHEN AVERY FIRST CALLED HER,,,WHO DID SHE THINK WAS CALLING,,,IS THIS JUST HOW SHE ANSWERS THE PHONE. IS IT RELATED 2 SCARLETS "FEELS ALONE TO THE POINT OF ABNORMALITY" THING ND SHE WAS JUST RLY EXCITED 2 HAVE SOMEONE CALL? IS IT JUST A FOR FUN DETAIL IM OVERTHINKING. I HAVE 2 KNOW,,,

also. how did scarlet know where avery lives. did she like. ask trisha nd trisha asked her dad/rummaged through his files? asked kelly?

GOODMORNING ITS 5PM! I did it,,,

ok yeah tw: implied suicidal ideation pretty much what lesbian_1sm said:

right so she's def never been this low b4- but she's definitely overall throughout her life been pretty empty, she's never had any control of her own life, its all been what her parents want for her & her brothers- becoming a vampire's the worst possible scenario for her, she under 0 circumstances can fulfill her parents wants in any way whatsoever. so that sucks, cuz she's dedicated every waking moment of her life to that. she's raised to think vampires existing is morally wrong- so she feels guilty for not being dead but she also, honestly doesn't want to die, she's never rly got to live 4 herself but it seems like the only thing ethical thing she can do. so she hates herself a lot, but she also hates herself for not hating herself more. rip. she is gonna latch onto any "excuse" for her to not turn herself in, she just needs some outside thing to justify it to herself with. she genuinely thinks kelly would just kill her no questions asked if she told him even though theyve been friends for like. a gazillion years.

she'll be okay though i think becoming a vampires necessary for her to get better in the long run otherwise she'd stick to that murder grindset for the rest of time

ITSA OVER WE CAN TALK ABT SCARLET AND HER LESS OVERT DESPAIR NOW WAHOO

I THINK SHE'S JUST LIKE THAT NOW. shes not used to people anymore. a spam call is a huge event for her- she has to make them stay to talk for a minute.

she probably asked around, i think vampire hunters like to impose so a few people probably know where she lives- & scarlet probably just said she wanted to check up on her after hearing about the disruption - her desperate intensity probably made ppl think they were close friends (not out of character for avery not to let her friends know where she lives, so whatever) so they unquestioningly gave it to her.

#asks

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Grind

No, not the employment-related one. I mean the grind that seems to come standard with so many video games these days. Because apparently the employment-related one isn’t enough for people.

When I first played Dragon Age: Inquisition, I was trying to do it spoiler-free, and ended up flailing so very hard that I missed out on a lot of stuff. Some people I needed to talk to didn’t get talked to, some side quests didn’t even trigger... Let’s just say it’s a really good thing that the Trespasser DLC wasn’t out at that point because I entirely missed Bull’s loyalty quest the first time through. (Though I am still annoyed that they sold us the actual ending as DLC later; so tired of shit like Legacy and Trespasser ripping out stuff we really need to understand future games and then selling it back to us for more money. It’s one thing when a game comes out in chapters; at least you know you’re buying the next installment when it’s chapters. But of course they’re not going to tell us, “Oh, by the way, we’re not giving you the real ending until you pay us more, and there’s a whole bunch of stuff you might need to know about for the next game to make any sense that you can only get if you pay us even more.” It’s ... kind of disgusting.)

Anyway. Point is that when I first started playing Inquisition on the very first run, I had no idea exactly how completionist you had to be to get the entire story. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed until I played a second playthrough with spoilers and walk-throughs and all manner of other shit. I don’t think that should be necessary, y’know? I don’t think you should have to go through the Wiki or be a completionist of the highest order just to get through a game, and I sure as hell don’t think you should have to hack through ninety-eight thousand miles of sweet fuck all in order to get through everything. And yet, that’s exactly what you have to do most of the time in Inquisition. A friend of mine put it best - I like the game that’s buried under the busywork. It just means I have to really be in the mood for the busywork before I can pick up a playthrough again, so it generally takes months to finish one, because I set it aside for weeks on end until I feel like pushing through.

Suffice to say that I finally finished most of a playthrough with an elven mage, something I haven’t really done since my nearly abortive first spoiler-free playthrough when it first came out. In that one, I didn’t get half the loyalty missions done, I never locked in the romance with Cullen I was after (which I think meant I was one of the first in my Tumblr circle to discover that Josephine turns up to offer a friendly shoulder if your Inquisitor’s single during that whole thing in the Winter Palace) ... and Trespasser wasn’t even a thing at that point. I’ve finished Jaws of Hakkon and Descent (I always do that before endgame, even if I don’t want to bring Solas, because I like being heavily overlevelled when I kick Corypheus’ ass - I KILLED HIM ONCE AS HAWKE AND REALLY RESENT HAVING TO DO IT AGAIN; FUCK’S SAKE, COULD WE PLEASE HAVE FINAL BOSSES STAY DEAD?!? DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE END OF ABSOLUTION), and I’ve only got Trespasser to go. I don’t know what the Fade sections of that look like for an elven Inquisitor ... and I hear rumours about a Cullen wedding before everything goes to the “Dead Qunari” place. I loved the Sera wedding, and I will admit to loving the whole thing where, at the end of the main game, the advisors bow and then Cullen is, “Okay, don’t care if we’re supposed to be dignified and official, I AM HUGGING YOU NOW”, so I’m looking forward to the culmination of that ... even as I hope he’s still surrounded by mabari puppies. (I may dislike Greg Ellis immensely, but I’m not taking that out on a very well-written character who Ellis just happens to voice.)

Honestly, I am still of the opinion that Dragon Age 2 should have been the open world free-for-all and Inquisition should have had a similar (if at least slightly less copy/pasted) structure to Dragon Age 2. I would have been happy to traverse ninety-eight thousand miles of sweet fuck all with Hawke because frankly that’s what Hawke was about, particularly in the first act - trying desperately to make ends meet in Kirkwall as a refugee. Hawke’s story was a sprawling thing where they ended up in the right (or wrong) place at the right (or wrong) time to be pivotal to changing the world, and wandering around doing random grindy shit is part of that. Whereas an Inquisitor should be getting letters at all hours telling them to go to a rather less huge area to fix a thing. Isn’t it funny how, while Dragon Age 2 was the rushed game of the two, Inquisition is the one that leaves you spending a lot of time poking through the turnip and wondering where the meat is, and being told you can’t  have your dessert until you eat at least most of said turnip? DA2 just has the higher story-to-faff ratio, when it feels like that should have gone the other way.

I have hopes for DA4. (No, I am not calling it that idiotic name; Dread Wolf is two words anyway.) I don’t know how high they are, but I have them. There’s the meat of a good game in the stew that is Inquisition, once you get through the turnip. I just hope they fix the story-to-faff ratio in DA4, is all.

#Thess plays video games #Thess liveblogs Dragon Age: Inquisition

[munchflix]

FRIDAY THE 13TH TIER LIST

Munch: There's like....12 of these movies. This is gonna be long. And none of them make sense but that's okay because the plot is basically the same for every single movie. Jason shows up and wrecks some bitches and then he "dies" and gets resurrected by some magical means in the next movie, not unlike his counterpart Freddy Krueger. 

Biscuits: I probably know these movies significantly better than Munch, sort of a role reversal of the last one. I'll preface this by saying I like most of the Friday the 13th movies, but are they good cinema? No. But most of them are enjoyably corny. Not all of them.

M: I think they gave up trying to be serious at some point. Maybe we can figure out where. PART THE ONE. A group of camp counselors trying to reopen a summer camp called Crystal Lake, which has a grim past, are stalked by a mysterious killer. But SPOILER ALERT it's not really Jason, it's his ma, Pam.

B: It is kinda boring. The first two are not like insanely bad because this early in the series they were still trying to take the movies seriously. It's probably a mid tier movie. I'd put it in B tier because we're gonna need room for the trash. M: We gotta rank it against ALL the other Friday movies, so I'd put it pretty high. It did have a couple novel things for it's time, the whole killer POV kills were really novel at the time. It did invent a lot of the tropes we now see. I'd go B as well.

B: It did have Kevin Bacon. 

M: PART THE 2. Five years after the events of the first film, a summer camp next to the infamous Camp Crystal Lake is preparing to open, but the legend of Jason is weighing heavy on the proceedings. Jason comes back with a bag on his head but at least he's doing the murdering now. I don't remember what happened in this except how he died. But not really because he's implied to still be alive. This was the one with Crazy Ralph tho!

B: The harbinger! They had that whole mommy roleplay in the end where the main chick pretended to be Jason's mom in order to kill him. The second movie is kinda boring too. C tier? It's not the worst thing ever. It does introduce Jason as the killer.

M: Okay, C tier. PART THE THREE. Jason Voorhees stalks a group of friends who's just arrived to spend the weekend at a cabin near Crystal Lake. All these imdb blurbs are the same. Jason kills people. I have zero recollection of this movie. After reading the synopsis I still barely remember it.

B: It's got the weird guy who wanted to be Franklin from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre but wasn't and the who kept playing pranks on people. He was really annoying and they gave him too much screentime. There's also a weird side plot with a biker gang that never comes to fruition. He does get the hockey mask.

M: I've seen every single one of these and this one is leaving the least impression on me so I'll say D tier. PART THE FOUR. After being announced dead and taken to a morgue, Jason Voorhees spontaneously revives, escapes from the hospital, and stalks a group of friends renting a house in the countryside near Crystal Lake. Jason dies for real but not really.

B: This is the one with Tommy who does cool things, and all the weird campers. Also Crispin Glover's incredible dance number.

M: Why is there a skinny dipping scene in like every one of these? Even the remake has one. 

B: They don't need a good movie if they got female presenting nipples.

M: Tommy dresses up as Jason in the end though and then like hacks him in the head.

B: I don't know why so much of the movie follows that one horny guy.

M: They were stretching for plot, okay? Rank?

B: C tier? It's better than three.

M: PART THE FIVE. Still haunted by his past, Tommy Jarvis, who, as a child, killed Jason Voorhees, is sent to a secluded halfway house in the countryside, where the killing of a young man triggers a brutal series of murders in the area. Tommy gets another movie.

B: It's not actually Jason though it's a guy pretending to be Jason who's killing people because it was his son that got killed in the beginning. I actually like this movie, I know a lot of people don't because ooh it's not actually Jason but its high tier.

M: It was one of the better ones, despite it's lack of technical Jason, the plot is fairly cohesive and it actually has a plot unlike most of these. Is it as good as the first one? Better?

B: Better, A or S tier. It also has that really good Psuedo Echo song in it. M: S tier then. PART THE SIX. Tommy Jarvis exhumes Jason Voorhees to cremate his corpse, but inadvertently brings him back to life instead. The newly revived killer seeks revenge, and Tommy may be the only one who can stop him. So this one is amazing, he somehow like leaves a shovel in Jason and lightning strikes it and Jason comes back and Tommy is like 25 now. And the sheriff doesn't believe anything he says even though like 10 people are dead. And then he drags Jason to the bottom of the lake with a boulder and a chain and he's dead but not really.

B: I didn't find this movie very interesting, apparently, because I didn't feel the need to record it in my memory. I've seen all of these movies. I know I have. I remember most of them just not this one.

M: It's still not great though. I'd d tier that shit. I was already tired of the Tommy fuckin' storyline at this point.

B: I guess it's not quite as vividly, explicitly terrible as some of the other ones. C tier.

M: Okay. PART THE SEVEN. Jason Voorhees is accidentally freed from his watery prison by a telekinetic teenager. Now, only she can stop him. I love this plot so much.

B: This one is weird because they just introduce a girl with psychic powers and then forget she ever existed. Tommy is gone and they just stopped caring.

M: This plot is so out there though, it's one of my favorites of the series. She's being manipulated by her therapist and he's making her think she's hallucinating and she brings Jason back to life with her FUCKING MIND. It's batshit insane. There was the whole thing with her father too where she telekinetically kills him.

B: How are we gonna rank this movie?

M: On enjoyment? I liked this one.

B: We're obviously not ranking them on cinematic merit, are we?!

M: A tier. It's batshit insane, it's fun. It's not S tier but....

B: Okay. I liked Part 5 more.

M: PART THE EIGHT! Fuck yeah. Jason Voorhees is accidentally awakened from his watery grave, and he ends up stalking a ship full of graduating high school students headed to Manhattan, NY.

B: Jason takes manhattan but he spends most of his time on a boat. He's covered in LUBE the entire movie. It has that guy who looks like Dacre Montgomery for some reason. There's this girl and her uncle who looks like Bill Nye tries to inject her with drugs. Jason literally punches a guy's head off, he breaks a porthole with his head, he walks through a glass door, it's great.

M: The sewers are filled with toxic waste that fucking MELTS Jason and he roars like a dinosaur, it's fucking FANTASTIC.

B: This is my favorite of the series, personally. It's peak Friday the 13th. The filmmakers were like - we don't really need to try anymore do we? S tier.

M: Absolutely S tier. PART THE FUCKING NINE. Serial killer Jason Voorhees' supernatural origins are revealed. Yeah okay.

B: Jason is body jumping and there's a guy eating hearts and Jason turns into a weird little slug thing and crawls into a woman's vagingo. It does have the greatest 2 second scene in film history though, where a guy's head is "smashed" into a car door and it's so obviously just a bunch of blankets wrapped around each other and there's no blood or anything. It's hilarious.

M: The slug thing is a real thing that happens. This movie is batshit in all the wrong ways. It's gross and weird and fucking...what. I don't know. It makes Jason X look coherent. D tier. F tier. Z tier.

B: Toilet tier.

M: PART THE TEN. Jason Voorhees is cryogenically frozen at the beginning of the 21st century, and is discovered in the 25th century and taken to space. He gets thawed, and begins stalking and killing the crew of the spaceship that's transporting him. This one is also insane. Jason is frozen in space and they bring him back and they kill him again but not really.

B: They scan his brain and it's the size of a pea so they insult him and he falls on their magical healing table and gets upgraded. It doesn't take itself very seriously at all.

M: The fx are really amazing. The android girl gets beheaded and they just have the actress on her knees with someone's arm wrapped around her neck and the camera at arm level.

B: Some of the jokes do land, there is the hologram scene. There is one part where they make a joke about Jason's dick.

M: David Cronenberg makes a cameo in this movie though so bonus points there.

B: He should have directed it, that would've been amazing. Like all of these were done by different directors.

M: So were the Nightmare movies, except the first and last ones were both Craven. I kinda love Jason X though. It's way better than Jason goes to Hell.

B: It's significantly better than Jason goes to hell. I'd put it in A tier.

M: I'd vote B tier but I'm willing to compromise. PART THE FREDDY VS JASON. We already kinda did this but how does it compare to the other Friday the 13th movies?

B: Probably B tier in this one too.

M: It has better production value than most of these. Jason at least looked cool. PART THE REMAKE. Ugh. I hated this so much. It's so boring. It's so bland. All the attempts at humor fall flat, the acting is dull, it's just a mildly spiffed up rehash of everything we've seen. It's better than Jason goes to hell but barely. I'd still D tier this shit.

B: It's not that good. Jason is barely in it. That's kind of a trend in a lot of these. Not enough Jason. Low C high D tier. It's not good.

M: I think C tier is too much credit for this rehashed nonsense. I'm going D. Fuck that shit.

#friday the 13th #jason #jason voorhees #horror #tier list #review #voorhees #kevin bacon