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catxsnow · 3 years

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I want to see Tim go absolutely feral.

Tim Drake, the guy who always has the right intentions, even with the sometimes wrong means of doing so. The guy that always seems to know what he's doing and is always one step ahead. The guy that always has everything under control because he's already planned everything out from the moment he steps into a room.

It always seems that he's so in control of every situation that nothing could go wrong. It's true for the longest time. Bruce trusts Tim to keep everyone safe on his own. If there's anyone that's going to get every civilian out alive, it's him. Everyone knows that Tim won't ever cross that line.

Until he does.

It was an accident, it really was. Tim had been getting stronger, his moves more agile than ever before. He didn't realize just how hard he could swing his bo-staff and just how precise a hit to the temple could be. Tim didn't realize that he had taken the last breath of a man until it was too late.

He wasn't scared of what Bruce was going to say, or Dick, or Jason - or anyone. That wasn't what he was scared of. It wasn't that he was petrified at how easy it was to kill someone. No, Tim was scared because everything that he had ever done finally clicked into place. Why was he the one that had to risk his life to save the bad guys? Why was he the one that needed to reach the brink of death just so that some scumbag could live and breathe again?

Tim couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't keep putting himself out there when he knew there was a better way. And so he did the one thing Batman refused to do: he killed. Tim broke free of this ridiculous rule that Bruce instilled into him. He was tired of it, tired of coming home broken and bruised.

They were minor at first - criminals scumbags that had no family and no one to miss them. Breaking free of Batman's vice grip of justice to find his own way - the better way. His brother's trying to bring him back before it was too late. His friends were unsure of what happened to their headstrong leader.

Tim got lost in the darkness far quicker than some of their enemies. He worked his way up from petty criminals to the ones that really matter. Boomerang. Calculator. Clock King. Kid Crusader. Mad Hatter. Joker. Ra's al Ghul.

It's Ra's that finally tips the scales. His brother's siding with Bruce on his quest to stop Tim. Cassie and Bart realizing that Tim has completely lost his moral sense of direction. It's Kon that stays with him. Kon believed in his best friend because Tim has never proven him wrong.

It's when he's standing above Ra's dead body does everyone realizes just how far he's gone. The league in shambles, blood soaking his hands, the criminals of Gotham - hell, of the world are starting to fear the Robin that they never had to worry about before. Everyone is scared because Tim's lost it.

Tim's gone completely feral against his enemies because he's so fucking bad at himself for wasting his years bedridden and in pain when he could have been doing this all along. He's pissed at Bruce for persuading him to fall under his moral code and keep everyone alive. Why is it his choice that everyone gets to live?

Why does the Bat get to decide that the people that have killed so many get to keep breathing themselves? He shouldn't have that power. No one deserves to say that people like Joker get to keep living after everything they've done. Tim couldn't stand by anymore - whether or not Bruce agreed with his plans.

So when the day comes that Bruce has to face his son, it's horrendous. It's not very often that Tim has seen Bruce cry. Damian's death. Jason coming back to life. Dick getting shot in the head by KGBeast. There are very few cases that Bruce breaks down. Seeing Tim for the first time since Boomerang's death? That was one of those times.

Tim's bo-staff is blood-stained. His knuckles bruised and scarred far worse than ever before. New cuts on facing from facing his foes like never before. It's not the physicality of it all that makes Bruce like this. It's the look in Tim's eyes that breaks his heart.

The look of someone who doesn't care that they've killed, that takes pride in those that they've killed. Tim's got that empty, horrendous look in his eyes that Bruce has only ever seen that look in the people that Tim's already killed. No one came back once they had that look in their eyes.

It's that night that Tim realizes that he can't have anyone getting in his way - not when the safety of everyone is at stake. Why stop at the Joker or Ra's? Lex, Deathstroke, hell even Darkseid? Why let those people roam free when they can be stopped? Tim has the power, he's always had the power to put an end to it.

It was Bruce's code that held him back before, and now, it was Bruce himself. So Tim gives him the ultimatum - stay out of his way, or become an enemy. If there was one thing about Batman that Tim knew, it was that he was never going to stand aside when someone was in harm's way.

So what was Tim supposed to do? Let Bruce take him to Arkham to miraculously bring him back to his old self? Nothing about him had changed - he was still the same boy he once was. The difference was now his mind had been cleared of all tainting Bruce had cast on him. Tim couldn't lose to Bruce, not when he still had so much work to do.

Tim did what he had to. He did what no one else in Gotham managed to do. He got rid of the Bat, once and for all.

With Bruce Wayne gone, Tim had no one holding him back. No one to try and sway his moral compass that all this killing was wrong. No one to stop him from cleaning up the world from people that didn't deserve another breath. Batman was gone, and it was Tim's turn to be the protector of Gotham - the right way to protect Gotham.

It was at that moment did everyone realize just how far he was willing to go. Clark, who swore that Bruce could bring his son back home. Dick, who was horrified that Tim was able to go as far as to kill his adoptive father. Kon, who swore that Tim always knew what was right, suddenly faltering at every choice he's made.

Kon, who realizes that this whole time that he was back Tim up, that he was only pushing his father and father towards the edge. Killing Bruce, that had been the final push to get him to fall. Tim would never be able to return to that ledge, not when he had dived headfirst off of it. Kon, who realized that he was the one that was encouraging his best friend to become a monster.

Dick, who knows that he has to face Tim for what he's done. Dick, who tries to stand up against his little brother who murdered their father. Dick, who's on his knees, pleading for Tim to realize what he was doing and that he was going too far. He could forgive him for Ra's, JOker, hell all the other petty criminals that had been disposed of. But Bruce?

Bruce who had given them so much had created this life for them when they had nothing else. Dick couldn't look past that, he could never look past that.

When Tim gives him the ultimatum - the same one that he had given Bruce - Dick can't accept. He can't get on board with this, this mad way of justice. Dick lets Tim defeat him because he can't fight his brother, not even after everything that he's done. All he can see while looking up at Tim from his knees is the little boy that was so filled with joy, so filled with hope to make the world a better place.

Dick's broken because how the hell was he supposed to stop someone who he practically raised, that would now go to no end to take out every criminal he could. How is he supposed to take down Tim until he can't get back up when all he can think about was the first time that he brought Tim to the Titan's Tower and seeing the same joy on his face the first time he arrived all those years ago.

Tim falters, only for a moment. He can't take Dick down as easily as Bruce because he knows that the only reason that he's given up is because he is too broken to fight back. Dick has so much hope in him that Tim will realize that this is wrong. He doesn't; he doesn't realize that what he's doing is wrong because he's not wrong.

It's that split second that everything happens so fast that he can't control it for the first time since he started this mission. Dick moving so fast in one last hope that Tim will come back as himself because he sees that flash of hesitance. It's his last mistake. Tim moves out of reaction, not thinking about his movements but pushing Dick so hard that he stumbles towards the ledge of the building they're upon.

Dick grabbing onto the ledge with all his strength with Tim just standing above him, staring at his brother without thinking to help him back up. He gives him the same ultimatum once more. Dick doesn't have the voice to reply, his throat is tight and it feels like claws dragging down it. He can’t breath, can’t think properly. Dick’s destroyed at what’s become of his brother.

He doesn't need a response, it's his release of the ledge that answers Tim's question.

Dick takes a final fall, just as his parents had. The fall that started this whole thing - that brought Tim to where he is now. The fall that ended the Grayson family, once and for all.

another (longer than ten minutes this time I promise) ficlet angst! Because apparently I like making you suffer. Had some help this time with @pricetagofficial @river-bottom-nightmare @screennamealreadyused and @subtleappreciation

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake headcanon #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin headcanon #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #angst #tim drake fic #batfam #dc #dc imagine #batfam imagine #tw violence

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch34: Paper

Summary: Following the events in Siberia, Katie, Steve Wanda and Sam all struggle to adapt to a life on the run. The Roger’s first wedding anniversary isn’t spent the way Steve would have hoped, but as Fall arrives, he finallly gets the call he’d been waiting for from Wakanda.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr and a new part means a new banner!!!! Here we go, into the Nomad/IW years...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 33

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2016

Following advice from Coulson, the group of Outlaws decided to lay low for a few months until interest died down, although Katie and Sam were pretty amused to find out that there had been widespread protests across the US after Captain America had been declared and Enemy of the State, especially when someone (no names were mentioned, but Katie was laying odds on it being Murdock to help Clint and Scott’s very publicised hearings) had leaked to the press details of exactly what had taken place in Siberia, and how they had been treated by the Government. To Katie’s further delight, Ross was facing a public enquiry as well with regards to their unlawful arrests.

All in all, that part of it had worked out pretty well. And whilst she knew Ross would get away with it, the thought of him being pissed off and inconvenienced filled her with a very smug sense of satisfaction.

The place they were living was called the Isle of Lewis, approximately twelve miles away from Stornoway in the northern part of the inter-connected Islands in the Hebrides. Coulson wasn’t lying when he’d told Katie it was isolated, in fact the only connection to mainland Scotland was either a two hour ferry or a half hour flight, so with that respect it was absolutely perfect.

The old farm house was secluded, the land surrounding it sprawling for miles, shielded by a large thicket of trees on three sides and a cliff edge which dropped down to a small beach on the other. There was no reason for anyone to visit or pass their house, bar the odd dog walker they saw treading the cliff footpath. They were always careful when seeing people to greet them politely so they didn’t attract attention by being suspiciously aloof.

The first rule of going on the run? Don’t run.

At first they strayed into town for supply runs only. Katie was surprised just how well she adapted to living with two additional people. At first she had been worried, Steve and her having had their own space for such a long time. Even in the tower and compound their living quarters had been spacious and private, meaning they could hide away from everyone if they wanted to. But in their safe house they didn’t have that luxury. Nevertheless, it was adequate enough meaning they all had their own rooms, even if they were on the small side. And whilst there was only one full bathroom upstairs, so far there had been no squabbles about who used it when.

The large sitting area had been kitted out with a state of the art entertainment system, they had a decent sized farmhouse style Kitchen-Diner, and a smaller sitting room off the back of the kitchen with a smaller TV and a a piano much to Katie’s delight. Practical things like bills etc were coming out of an account belonging to Mr and Mrs O’Rourke, one of Katie and Steve’s covers- the name being Steve’s Ma’s maiden name. Coulson had advised them it was the least suspicious thing to do and would attract less attention than trying to pay cash at a bank. They’d also acquired a ten year old 4x4, bought for cash of course, and it was subtle enough to blend in as a lot of the locals seemed to drive them too due to the terrain and climate of the Island.

But whilst everything seemed to go according to plan and was, when all was said and done, fairly easy, Steve was struggling. He was antsy from the lack of action, and from a purely carnal point of view was missing the fact he could slam his wife up against any surface he wanted to and not worry about them being caught. He hated the fact their room was right next to Sam’s, concerned with the amount of noise they might make after Bucky’s jibe about the hotel rooms, and it wasn’t long before Katie noticed a dramatic shift in his attitude towards her. He was snappy, short tempered and Katie was often the one that bore the brunt of his temper. They bickered, on a much larger scale than she could really ever remember them doing before, over really stupid things as well like the fact one evening Steve couldn’t find where she’d put his favourite cookies in the kitchen. He became less tactile, less handsy and their love life dwindled dramatically, but she tried not to let it get to her, which was easier said than done especially when she was so used to the fact that he basically worshipped the ground she walked on.

The morning of their first wedding anniversary, Katie woke alone, her husband nowhere to be found. After laying simply staring at his empty side of the bed for a moment, remembering he blinked back tears of frustration and headed for a before she wandered downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by Sam and Wanda both sat at the table.

“Steve gone for a run?” She asked, after greeting them both good morning.

“Yeah, I offered to go but he wanted to go on his own.” Sam said, shrugging “Didn’t want me slowing him down.”

“He actually said that?” Katie frowned.

Sam nodded.

“I’m sorry Sam, don’t take it personally.” Katie poured herself a coffee and sat down, taking a deep breath. “Is everything okay?” Wanda asked, looking at Katie “You’ve both been a little tetchy recently. Granted you haven’t been as bad as him, but…” “Yeah, you guys not err…getting enough?” Sam quipped, earning himself a slap round the back of the head from Wanda, the younger woman giving him a glare.

“Fuck off Wilson.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying.”

“Well don’t.” She snapped, taking a sip of her coffee then swiping a piece of toast off his plate. “He’s just not coping well with being cooped up, it’ll settled down. I hope.” She added, biting her toast.

“Look, we know it’s your anniversary today.” Wanda looked at her. “You got anything planned?” “Not really possible.” Katie shrugged. “Thought I might try and convince him to take a walk later, just the two of us but…”

“Well,” Sam looked at Wanda then over to Katie. “We thought we might head into town for the evening, hit a few bars. Give you two a bit of space.” Wanda nodded, eagerly. “You have to do something, even if it’s just cooking a meal and having a bit of you time.” Katie pondered this for a moment and found herself smiling “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I can go to the store later.” Her spirits raised a little as she started planning a menu out in her head. She was jerked from her thoughts when the security system clicked and Steve walked through the door of the kitchen that led to the grounds, the door shutting behind him, the keypad beeping as he typed in the code to lock everything down. His T-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his torso, the pair of dark sweats fitting snugly to his hips.

“Hey.” She looked up at him. His face was tired but nevertheless she was relieved to see him smile as he walked over and dropped a soft kiss to her head, their argument from the previous night forgotten.

“Happy Anniversary.” He whispered, and she smiled up at him, understanding his gesture to also be an apology of sorts.

“Back at ya, Soldier.” She swallowed back her tears, “You want breakfast?” “I’ll shower first.” He nodded to Sam and Wanda before pausing, and with a playful smile he stole the last piece of toast off Sam’s plate.

“Not cool man!” Sam groaned. “That was the last of the bread.” Steve simply shrugged at Sam’s protest, before he headed down the hallway to go and freshen up. Katie watched him go before she turned to Wanda.

“Fancy coming with me to the store?”

She nodded “Sure.”

***** When Steve came back to the kitchen half an hour or so later he was surprised to find the girls gone.

“Supplies.” Sam answered his unasked question as he was flicking through the television in the lounge, settling on a British Chat Show called ‘This Morning’, easy daytime TV that didn’t require thinking about. Steve made himself a coffee before he sat down next to his friend with a sigh.

“So, first anniversary.” Sam spoke, not looking at him. “Be this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing?” “You can say that again.” Steve mumbled. Just twelve months ago at that exact time he’d been bustling about his apartment on the compound in a fluster getting ready. It had, without a doubt, been the happiest day of his life. But this was not how he wanted their first wedding anniversary to go down. He’d always planned spoiling Katie a little, maybe a nice getaway, somewhere warm, but that wasn’t an option.

“Me and Wanda are clearing out later.” Sam’s eyes remained on the TV. “Give you two a bit of alone time.” “You don’t have to-“ Steve started but Sam cut him off with a snort.

“Man, you need to make some lovin’ on your girl.” He turned to the soldier who felt a flush rise up his neck. “Because we know you ain’t been getting enough, you’ve been a bad tempered bastard for weeks.”

“I have not.” Steve shot back indignantly, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. Steve let out a sigh, knowing he was well and truly busted.

“Look, if you two ever need some space, all ya gotta do is ask.” Sam said sincerely, looking at Steve. “Couples need that time. This is bound to be stressful for you both.”

“I doubt it’s easy on you two either.” Steve looked at him and Sam shrugged, before he smirked.

“Difference is if I wanna get laid I’ll just head into town. There’ll be some sap out there that likes George Fletcher the Geologist from Georgia.”

“You’re terrible you know that?” Steve smirked at him over his coffee mug.

Sam simply smiled back. “You get her anything?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded “We agreed months ago on something paper themed, you know, on account of the anniversary being paper. I had planned to get the lyrics to our wedding song printed and do a sketch of one of our photos to hang up in our apartment but that kinda went out of the window.” “So what did you get?” “A book.” Steve let out a breath “I spotted it in the second hand shop in town last time we did a flyer. It’s a leather-bound complete works of Shakespeare but it was published the year she was born and has all these handwritten notes in it from someone. Just the kind of thing she’ll like. And a couple of albums of sheet music, I know she’s missing hers back home and she hasn’t been playing the piano as much as I thought she would.”

“She’ll love it.” Sam smiled encouragingly “I hope so Sam.” he sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, scratching at his chin “I hope so.” *****

True to their word, Sam and Wanda headed out just after five, leaving Katie and Steve alone. As Katie bustled around in the kitchen, Steve couldn’t help but watch his wife as she cooked, a small smile playing on his face. And then, realising they were truly alone for the first time in months he placed his beer down on the side and crossed the small room, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping his chin to her shoulder, nuzzling at her neck. She smiled at his display of affection, something she’d been aching for, and as the scruff of his almost-beard scratched at her skin she gave a soft sigh.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He said, before he shook his head “No. Not really. Doll, I’m sorry for being so distant. You don’t deserve this.” He sighed. “After the accords, when the dust settled we were supposed to have a normal life, a simple life. I can’t even give you that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute because at times you’re incredibly stupid,” She smiled making him breathe a laugh. “Steve we’re here, together after everything. I made that vow, until death do us part and I mean it. I love you.” She finished simply, shrugging. “So stop wasting time worrying about it. You’re stuck with me, Captain Dumbass.“

Steve looked back at her, before he gave her a small smile.

"Now I know this probably isn’t what either of us had in mind, but we’re on our own, I’ve got a pretty large batch of Mac and Cheese, and an apple pie in the oven, a steak ready to grill so let’s just try and enjoy it.”

“You made mac and cheese?” Steve’s face creased into a boyish smile “And apple pie? What happened to not baking pies unless it’s Autumn?” “Well its September tomorrow.” She shrugged. “And I thought it might cheer you up.”

"Sorry.” He half grimaced, half smiled apologetically back at her. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to be around lately ─”

“Stop apologizing.” She interrupted him again.

He studied her for a second before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss. “I love you.” “I know.” Her hands slid down to his chest and she gave him a quick pat before playfully shoving him away “Now scoot, unless you want me to burn dinner. Go set the table.” Knowing better than to refuse, he did as he was told and it wasn’t long before they were settled down and eating. They talked about everything and anything, drank wine, and to the pair of them they could almost have been sat in their dining room at the compound. They laughed, they joked, they poked fun at one another. It felt normal. Once they had finished eating they cleared their dishes, Steve grabbed another bottle of wine and they headed to the couch to find something to watch on TV.

“I got you something.” Katie smiled when Steve dropped the wine onto the coffee table and she gestured to the small gift bag resting on the table.

“Oh, me too. Hang on.” He bounded up the stairs to retrieve his gift. As he returned, Katie eyed the two wrapped items with playful suspicion as he handed them to her. One was really heavy. She passed the gift bag containing his to him and he peeked inside, and they shared a childish grin with one another before they set about opening their presents.

“Oh, Steve.” She breathed out as she gently ran her hands over the leather of the anthology he had bought her. Flicking through, she smiled as she spotted all the notes that someone had written in the margins. They consisted of opinions on the plays, themes, characterisation plots, all the type of thing she had studied at University and she found it fascinating to read other people’s interpretations.

“I thought you might like it.” He watched her as she looked at him, her eyes bright, before she then let out another sigh of happiness when she opened the two sheet music books as they would give her something else to play other than the stuff she knew from memory.

And her gift to Steve was equally as thoughtful. He positively beamed when he opened the new blank sketch books, pencils, wax crayons and charcoals. All of his art supplies had been left behind and he’d been dying to get some more.

“Well, the sketchbook is paper.” Katie explained softly. “And I know it relaxes you to draw.” “Doll, its perfect” He assured her, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“So, what film do you wanna watch?” She asked, moving for the remote but Steve had no intention of watching a film. Not now. He gently grabbed her wrist and she looked at him.

“Right now, Mrs Rogers, I’d really like to carry you upstairs and take you to bed.”

Katie grinned. “Well that can be arranged, but there’s something I wanna do first.”

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment but when she tapped on her phone and the opening sounds of ‘Only One in Colour’ sounded over the speakers he laughed and stood up, offering her his hand.

“May I have this dance?” He quipped, arching an eyebrow at her.

“Always.” She smiled, allowing him to pull her up.

They moved to the back of the couch where there was more room and he took her in a hold and they simply stayed close, swaying to the music, both of them thinking back to their first dance as a married couple twelve months ago. Katie pressed her cheek to Steve’s chest and he in turn rest his chin on the top of her head, revelling in her closeness. He heard her let out a soft sigh, but this one was contentment, and he gently moved to look down at her. For a moment Katie felt her breath catch, he was looking at her with nothing but unadulterated desire and love, the same way he had on their wedding day, and before the song had even finished, he’d captured her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face. Hers fisted in his white T-shirt and it wasn’t long before the kiss had deepened causing a moan to catch in Steve’s throat. Without a word he pulled back and scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, causing her to giggle, a sound he would never tire of, and quick as a flash he carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He set her on her feet but before he had time to do anything she’d shoved him backwards, catching him off guard slightly causing him to sit down harshly on the bed and he let out a smirk as she straddled him before she kissed him again and he was happy to reciprocate exactly how he knew she liked, firm and gentle, passionate and caring all at once. Katie gently bit his lower lip drawing another groan from his throat as he rest his head against hers, his hands gently gipping her hip.

“You know,” She drew back slightly to cup his face in her fingertips. “I really do like kissing you with this.” she traced her hand across the short beard on his face. She also liked looking at him with it too because, coupled with the fact his hair was also getting slightly longer, it gave him a rugged, harder, rougher look taking him farther and farther away from the Blue-Eyed all American boy day by day.

“I’m getting used to it.” He murmured pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before his head dropped, small kisses trailing up the length of her neck, that precious stubble creating an amazing contrast to the softness of his mouth.

“Yeah, me too.” She gave a soft moan, her eyes closed as she rolled her head back, giving him access to more of her neck. Steve smiled slightly, happy to oblige and just take his god damned time loving his wife. Eventually, his lips made their way up her jaw and then she sat up slightly, grasping at the hem of his T-shirt. He moved to allow her to take it off and then his fingers made short work of the sleeveless button down she had been wearing, shrugging it down over her shoulders before he peppered more kisses across her collar bone and down her sternum as he reached round to undo her bra. Gently, he lay her flat down on the bed, taking a nipple in his mouth, this time drawling a loud groan from her as her hips bucked involuntarily upwards at the sensations spiking through her body.

God it really had been far too long since he’d lavished attention on her like this and Steve made a mental note to tell Sam and Wanda to ‘take a walk’ a lot more often. It was almost two months now since they had last been intimate and, his body was aching for her, desperate to feel her, and from the noises she was making she felt the same. His lips made their way down, nose and beard skimming along the waistband of her jeans before he undid them, sliding them down with her underwear as he shed his own too before he crawled back over her.

Katie pushed on his shoulders slightly so she could roll him over and placed herself on top of him, brushing her lips across the hairs on his face tracing a path across from one side of his jawline to the other drawing a gentle moan from his lips, hands flexing on her hips as she shifted slightly to start taking him in. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ as they both groaned as she slid down him, her hands falling to his chest and once he was fully sheathed inside of her, she began to work him gently. His hands slid up into her hair, as she leaned forward to kiss him and he raised his hips slightly and she whimpered, pushing down harder against him as his hands gently kneaded at her breasts. Her pace was slow, torturously so, but it wasn’t long before she began to move faster, working him harder as she chased her relief. The roughness of his pubic hair was grinding against her spot, the friction feeling amazing as she pushed down. With every push she made, his eyes grew darker, and darker, his hands digging into her hips as he pulled her down, grinding further and deeper.

He sat up suddenly, so they were face to face, the change of angle making her cry out, as he slid his hands round her back, pulling her closer to him as he bent to kiss her neck, biting at that spot whilst he held her still for a moment, gently thrusting upwards, deeply, slowly, savouring the moment. Katie rolled her head back, a louder cry this time tumbling from her lips and he felt her tighten around him, and he let out a groan of his own.

“Good?” He panted, smiling as she managed a broken noise of affirmation, as he pulled her to him harder, hands back on her hips as his rutting picked up speed.

“Stevie…” She mumbled, her eyes locking onto his as her hands slid up his back and fisted into his hair. A few more pushes later and they were both done for, her name escaping from his lips as her walls collapsed completely, and she let out a soft cry as she fell forward burying her face in his neck. He was close behind, letting out a gentle moan, his beard rustling against her ear as he jerked underneath her, clinging onto her as if he never wanted to let her go. And at that moment he didn’t.

After a minute or so he leaned back, his breathing deep as he brushed her hair back off her face before sliding his nose against hers. “Happy Anniversary, Kitten.” *******

Steve thought the fall in New York was gorgeous but that was nothing compared to what it was like where they were. He was feeling a lot more positive about things as well, as post their anniversary, he and Katie had made a pact that they would do something alone together at least once a week, be it a walk along the cliff the beach, or straying into town to one of the local restaurants. His hair and beard now rendered him pretty much unrecognisable and they never got a second glance at all.

Steve’s favourite ‘date’, if you could them that, was the walk they took in the pitch black to see the Northern Lights late one evening. Katie had been utterly captivated by the beauty of the Aurora Borealis and Steve had to admit, it was spectacular. Committing it to memory was easy, and a few days later Katie wasn’t surprised to find a perfect replica of them his sketch book.

Being on the run shouldn’t have been this easy, and they were constantly on edge, waiting for the time they had to split and run, but whilst they could, they made the most of it.

Thanksgiving came, then Christmas, the four friends making it as festive as possible. They got a tree, shared gifts, enjoyed a Christmas Meal, and after several drinks each, Steve wheeled the piano into the living room where Sam and Katie gave a rousing rendition of ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ along with a few other Christmas songs. It was different, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

And then, in March 2017, they had a call from T’Challa. They were ready to bring Bucky out of cryo. Katie and Steve instantly set about making the arrangements to go to Wakanda, but it turns out they weren’t the only ones planning on taking a little trip…

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you all.” Wanda said, the morning they were due to depart. “Please don’t freak out, but I talked to Vision last night.”

“What?” Katie’s voice was quiet as she merely looked back at the younger woman, her face passive.

Meanwhile, both Steve and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in their foreheads.

“Hold on, what do you mean you talked to Vision?” Steve asked. “How? Where?”

“This is going to sound really weird, but I saw him in my dreams,” Wanda carried on with her explanation.

“How do you know that wasn’t just a dream?” Sam asked.

“Because it wasn’t,” Wanda shrugged “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it was him and I know it was real. I think we are connected somehow, because of the Mind Stone and because I was thinking about him before I went to sleep, it made some kind of telepathy possible.”

Steve pondered it for a second, thinking to himself how ridiculous that sounded until he realised they were talking about an enhanced human who had gained certain telepathic and telekinetic powers due to experimentation with the Mind Stone and an android that now carried within his synthetic, vibranium-mesh body said gem.

When you put it like that it seemed fairly logical.

"What did you talk about?” Katie asked after a moment.

“Just stuff, how I was, how much we, you know, miss one another” Wanda bit her lip. “We talked about actually meeting in person in a few days.”

“Okay, hold on,” Sam held one of his hands up, his brow furrowed. “How do we know this is not a trap? Like, I don’t know, Tony getting Vision to talk to you to get us back into the Raft?”

As soon as Sam said it Katie shook her head. Tony could sometimes be a jackass and he may have been hurt and mad at her and Steve, but she knew despite his stinging barb in Siberia, he wouldn’t want them all thrown in jail.

“He wouldn’t do that,” She looked at Sam.

“How do you know?” Sam pressed.

“Because Tony has way better tech than us, and there’s no accounting for what Vision can do with that Mind Stone.” Steve backed his wife up. This was something he had been pondering on for a while now too. “If anyone can find us, it’s them, yet we’re almost ten months down the line now since Leipzig and so far, there’s no sign of any one, so Tony’s either no longer working with Ross, or if he is, he’s dragging his feet deliberately.”

“Exactly,” Wanda nodded emphatically. “And Vision would never do anything to hurt me, not intentionally. I trust him with my life, but it’s more than that.”

Taking a deep breath, his mind made up, Steve turned to Wanda “You’re not a prisoner here Wanda. If you want to go then we can’t and we won’t stop you.”

“Do you want to go?” Katie looked at the younger woman who was wringing her hands together.

“I do but, well, I kinda feel like I’m fraternizing with the enemy.”

“He’s not the enemy. None of them are. Not Vision or Rhodey, Not Tony, none of them.” Steve ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the long strands back off his face. “We all wanted the same thing, to do good in this world but we disagreed on how best to make it happen. Doesn’t make us enemies.”

“But we’re on the run because…”

“This was always going to happen.” Katie cut her off, shaking her head “Ever since SHIELD collapsed and Fury stepped away there was a power vacuum. It was only a matter of time before the Government tried to step in to oversee us.”

“And let’s face it, I was always going to be considered a rogue threat the moment I refused to comply” Steve said, a wry smile on his face. “We all were.”

“Just be careful.” Katie looked at Wanda. “And whilst we’re away just make sure you check in once in a while? And the first sign of trouble, well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Well if Wanda’s being granted shore leave so to speak, I might take a bit of time too.” Sam chipped in as the idea came to him. “There’s an old RAF pal of mine, based near Liverpool that I aint seen in a while. He’s cool,” he anticipated the next question, “I saved his life on a mission so he won’t sell me out.” Steve took a deep breath and then shrugged “You know the risks, Sam. If any of us get caught then…” “Back to the Pokey.” Sam shrugged “Yeah, I got it. And don’t worry, I wouldn’t rat your location out.”

“Me neither.” Wanda added.

“I don’t for a second believe you would.” Steve shook his head.

“I suppose, to be fair,” Katie bit her lip, “we’ve been here for a long time now. It won’t harm us to disappear for a while, regroup in a few weeks. And we’ll draw even less attention apart as they won’t be expecting it.” And so, for the first time in ten months, the four went their separate ways. ****** True to his word, Steve was there when they woke Bucky up. Once he had come round the two greeted one another with the same love and affection they always did. Suri’s scans showed that the programming was no longer present in Bucky’s brain, but there was one last thing they had to do to make sure.

Say the trigger words.

Which was why Katie, Steve, a one armed Bucky and T’Challa were now heading to the underground fort of the palace. Katie clutching a rifle, Steve was unarmed bar his super strength, whilst T’Challa was in his black panther garb, the party flanked by two members of his Kings Guard.

As they were about to enter the underground cell, Bucky grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her to one side.

“What the hell Bucky?” She almost yelped, and he let go of her arm and held his finger to his lips.

“Listen, Doll Face, I got a favour to ask. If this hasn’t worked…” He took a deep breath. “I want you to end it.”

“End what?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Me.” He replied simply “Steve said you’re a good shot. I want you to put a bullet in my head.” Katie blinked, and then burst out laughing. “Whatever.” “I’m being deadly serious.” Bucky looked at her. “I can’t and I don’t want to live like that anymore.” He shook his head sadly. “I’d rather die that know that what they’ve done is still in there.” “Bucky,” Katie frowned, “you’d be safe here, you know that, no one would trigger you.” “No, we don’t know that.” He shook his head. “Please Katie, I’m begging you. You owe me.” “So you save my life and you want me to take yours?” “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You’re an asshole, James Buchanan Barnes” She hissed, glaring at him before shooting a glance over his shoulder at where Steve was stood, talking to T’Challa. She shook her head sadly. “I can’t. It’d kill Steve and it’s wrong, you don’t…”

“Listen, I’m asking you because I trust you to do it.” Bucky cut her off, looking over his shoulder to where she had been watching Steve. He was now stood observing the pair of them and they both smiled at him. Katie took a deep breath, looking into Bucky’s steel blue eyes and gave a sigh. She knew how hard this was on him and she could fully understand where he was coming from but still, asking her to do it, especially when she knew Steve would be besides himself made her feel sick.

“I’ve written him a letter.” Bucky said quickly, as the Super Soldier was now making his way over. “It explains what I’ve asked you to do. So please, give me your word.”

She looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod before her eyes flicked to Steve as he approached, a frown on his face.

“You two alright?”

“Yeah, Katie was just asking me how I was really feeling.” Bucky looked at his friend.

Katie shrugged and smiled at Steve in what she hoped as a convincing way “Wanted to make sure he was alright, that’s all.”

Steve studied her for a moment, and she smiled again before he turned to Bucky. “It’s gonna be ok.” Steve assured his friend, clapping him on his shoulder, shooting another glance at his wife who was nervously chewing her lip. He frowned again, but pushed the suspicion to the back of his mind and then nodded. “Come on.” “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Bucky mumbled.

Steve and T’Challa stepped into the room which was sealed whilst Katie took up her position on the other side of the one way glass with Suri who pressed the microphone to talk into the room.

““I don’t know why you are all worrying, brother, it is like you do not trust me…” the young woman scoffed. “Take no chances Sister.” T’Challa shot back. “You know this”.

Suri made a noise in her throat and then spoke again “Ok, I’m ready when you are.” She held the red book in her hand that they had recovered from Zumo. T’Challa engaged his helmet whilst Steve stood stoic as ever, throwing a glance over his shoulder to the glass he knew his wife was stood at the other side of.

“Ready Buck?” he asked turning back. His friend nodded, taking a deep breath.

T’Challa signalled to Suri who, after a little hesitation, began to read, each word punctuated by a pause.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace…”

Katie watched intently and saw Bucky was clenching his teeth and suddenly she started to get a little bit nervous. She wasn’t the only one that had spotted it either. Steve moved slightly, adopting a little more of a battle stance than he had been as he clocked his friends reaction.

“Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car”

The last words hit Steve like a truck. It was depraved that Hydra would use those words. Bucky had plunged from a train car to his supposed death. There was no randomness to that at all, unlike the seemingly obscure nature of the rest of the words, nor was it any accident it was the last trigger they would use. There were the final words because they signified the death of Bucky and the birth of the killer Winter Soldier.

Sick bastards.

Bucky’s chest was heaving, his fist was clenching, and for a split second Steve feared the worse. But when his friend looked up, he saw the blue eyes of Bucky Barnes looking back at him, and not the icy glare of the Winter Soldier.

“Buck?” He asked gently, his voice cracking slightly. Bucky looked at him, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“Nothing.” He croaked, and Katie let out a soft sigh of relief, her hands sliding down her face to cover her mouth. “Nothing.”

T’Challa threw a party of sorts that night which consisted of a bar crawl through the city. Katie and Bucky dubbed it a ‘Fuck HYDRA’ party much to Steve’s chagrin. But he couldn’t bring himself to care that much, as at the end of the day, if anyone had as much right to stick their middle fingers up to HYDRA it was them. There was still something troubling him though, so when T’Challa left the bar they were sat at for a few moments, he turned to Bucky and asked him outright what had been going on with him and Katie outside the cell before. Bucky hesitated before he hung his head slightly and peered up at Steve from where he was sat next to him, a tumbler of some kind of Wakandan alcohol in his hand.

“I asked her to kill me.” Bucky admitted, swilling the liquid round in the glass “If it hadn’t worked I asked her to put a bullet in my head. She didn’t want to but I told her she owed me.” Steve felt himself blanche. “You did what?” “You don’t know what it’s like.” Bucky shook his head. “Living with the fact that at any time someone could mutter a string of words and…” He shot back the alcohol and slid his empty glass back to the Bar Tender to top up. “I didn’t want to live like that.”

”You put that on her?” Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, “Damnit Buck, you should have asked me!”

“Would you have done it?” Bucky countered. Steve took a big sigh, knowing he was caught “Exactly.” Bucky scoffed. “And besides, you’re the one that said she was a dead shot.”

Bucky eyed his friend for a while before he slid his empty glass to the man behind the bar, gesturing for another top up. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant now because here I am.”

“That was still a shitty thing to do.” Steve frowned before he reached over for his glass, giving a little shrug. “But yeah, here you are.” T’Challa chose that point to come back and he settled at the bar next to Steve.

“So, Sergeant Barnes, we’ll have to see about getting you some permanent lodgings.” The King smiled “Maybe a private hut. There is a quiet tribe, not far from the river, unless you would prefer a post in my Kings Guard.” “I’m done fighting.” Bucky shook his head as he took another drink from his glass. “A hut sounds mighty fine. Maybe I can get some goats.” “Goats?” Steve looked at him.

“I like Goats.” Bucky shrugged “Do you remember the one in the petting zoo near School?” “Yeah, it set my asthma off.” Steve snorted before the pair of them descended into laughter.

Across the bar, Katie was stood with Suri and one of T’Challa’s personal guards, Okoye. She instantly warmed to Okoye, the woman reminding her a lot of Natasha. They stood chatting for a while before a loud roll of laughter caught their attention and they turned to see T’Challa, Bucky and Steve howling at something, as T’Challa gestured for the bar tender to top up their glasses whilst Okoye excused herself to head over to speak to her husband.

“Oh dear, they’ve broken out the Wakandan Spice.” Suri muttered, eyeing up the men.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“The only thing that gets my brother drunk!” Suri snorted “That stuff could knock out a rhino.”

“So it should have an effect on Super Soldiers?” Katie grinned.

“Let’s go find out!” Suri nodded, a cheeky grin on her face. They made their way over and Katie could see instantly the woman was right. Steve had a glazed look in his eyes and Bucky was leaning back in his chair, a pink tinge to his cheeks.

“Hey, Beautiful” Steve smiled up at Katie, pulling her into his lap, his hand trailed up and down her spine, lazily. “Where you been all evening?”

“About ten meters away over there.” She smirked, pointing. Suri was reaching over to steal a bit of the liquor from Bucky’s glass and T’Challa slapped her hand. “You are not even old enough to drink.” He glared at her.

“Tssk hush brother. Just because you are now well into your thirties. You always seem to be so bitter about me being much younger than you.” At that Bucky barked out a laugh.

“Don’t know what you’re snorting at old man.” Katie glanced at him and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Not exactly a comment I’d expect from someone who’s married to a hundred-year-old man.”

“Ninety-eight.” Steve corrected.

Katie leaned back in her husband’s lap to peer at him, her right hand running through his hair. "Doesn’t look a day over twenty five.” She grinned.

“Hey brother, why doesn’t your power stop your ageing?” Suri quipped.

“Shut up.” T’Challa glared at her. “Before I carry you back to the palace”

As the two siblings began to quibble, Katie glanced at Steve. “Been talking about the good old days?” “In a fashion.” Steve smirked.

“Anymore good tales of your misspent youth to tell me?” Bucky shook his head. “Sure Steve’s told you enough already.”

“I never told her about the time you set up a double date for us and then forgot to show up.” Steve looked at him, his arms tightening around his wife.

“That never happened.” Bucky shook his head.

“It absolutely happened. Caroline O’Hara and Deborah Smith”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, yeah. Brunette and a red head. A curly red head.” He grinned.

“Yup. Double date to the theatre, only you never showed up.” Steve looked at him, accusingly “And little old me was left to explain to Debbie why you had stood her up.”

Bucky smirked into his glass.

"I thought she was gonna kill me.” Steve mused, turning to look at Katie. “She kept hitting me with her purse. And then Caroline started, asking where the hell he was and why he thought it fit to stand up her best friend and try to fix her up with some kind of joke.”

Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes. “You weren’t a joke.”

“Thanks, Honey.” He grinned before he turned to fix Bucky with a glare. “And do you remember why you didn’t show up?” Bucky was now shaking with mirth, as he looked at Steve, his eyes bright with tears of laughter. “Go on, tell her Buck.”

“I was with Maggie Dougherty.” Bucky smirked

“Yeah, you were.” Steve pointed at him. “That was the night you got caught sneaking out of her room and down her fire escape by her dad who beat the crap out of you.”

“Worth it though.” Bucky snorted. “She was hot. Strawberry blonde waves, pretty face, nice ass.” “Yeah.” Steve nodded and Katie slapped the back of his head.

“Oww!” He looked at her as she glared at him. Grinning he reached up to give her a soft kiss “Not a patch on you though, Darlin’”

After another hour or so, Katie left them to it, heading back to the palace with Suri. She’d had enough, the alcohol she had drunk had lulled her into that happy place here she felt warm and fuzzy inside, and ready for bed.

Steve woke her up when he came crashing into the room a few hours later.

“Shit.” He mumbled, as he banged into the chair by the dresser. “Shhhh”

He staggered over to the bed before face planting straight down. Katie grinned as he peeked up at her.

“I’m drunk.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She giggled and scrambled out of the duvet. “Come on, get in bed.” “Promises, promises.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal. I doubt very much you’d be of any use in this state.”

“Hey.” He pouted rolling over so he was on his back, turning to look at her as she moved to climb out of bed. “That’s my shirt.”

“I know.” She dropped to the floor to take off his suede boots.

“I like you in my shirts. I like you better out of them.” Steve grinned, grabbing hold of her as she stood up.

“How much have you had?” She laughed as he pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck.

“Enuff.” he spoke back, voice muffled. “You know you’re the prettiest gal in the whole world?” He peeked up at her and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.

“Arms up.”

“I like it when you undress me.” He grinned and Katie gave a chuckle, shaking her head. Eventually she managed to tug off his shirt and his jeans whilst he made some other reference to sex, before he pulled her back down onto the bed next to him, giggling like a school kid.

“Bucky told me.” He slurred.

“Told you what?”

“That he asked you to shoot him.” Steve hiccupped “But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

Katie chuckled to herself “Me too.” “And now he’s all better.” Steve sighed. “Good, isn’t it?” “It’s awesome.” Shhe smiled, reaching up to bush his hair off his face. “You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow.” He responded with shrug. “But I do love you. So much.”

“I know and I love you too. Now you gonna get into bed?”

He pushed himself up before beginning a monumental fight with the duvet to get underneath it, the whole thing a great source of amusement to Katie. She’d seen him tipsy from the Asgardian stuff Thor gave him before, but not flat out shit faced like this.

“Are you gonna puke?” She asked, stroking his head as he sighed, nuzzling into her chest.

“No.” He assured her, then paused, before he hiccupped slightly. “But I think I need water.” “Alright, wait there.” Katie climbed out of bed. She grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge near the door but by the time she had turned back, Steve had his face buried into his pillow and made nothing more than a noise when she offered it to him, not looking up. Deciding she couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, she gently placed the bottle on the night stand next to him, and ran her hand through his hair one more time before she crossed to her side of the bed and settled down with him.

“Night, Soldier.” She smiled softly, kissing his cheek.

“Night, Princess.” He slurred into his pillow.

**** Chapter 35

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ask-ivory · 4 years

Text

RWBY Random Rant #2!

What villain is the best? (Cinder vs Roman)

Second rant everyone! This one may be a bit longer than the first, so if you don't have time but find this interesting, then I suggest reading this later. If you have infinite time on your hands and your board, then this might help depending on your interests. So let's jump into today's rant!

So, the world of Remnant is a big place. There, you'll find friendly people, weird people, mean people, and people who are just flat out crazy. But today, we're looking at a certain group of people: Villains. Now before we jump in to the blender of craziness, this post is an analysis that can be used for predictions and plot lines. I may be wrong, but I'm writing this off of what I know.

Anyways... Let's start with the basic question, What IS a villain? A villain (or for the more technical term: antagonist) is a character who is trying to stop the hero (or protagonist) from accomplishing his or her goal. Either this, or they're trying to get something and the hero is trying to stop them because what the villain wants is wrong. This is the loosest definition, so you can imagine that this goes way deeper than you think.

There are some things that you need to ask and have answered before you confirm who is the villain in a story. Some of which includes the following:

Who is this guy? (Basic background)

Why is he or she interested in this scenario? (Could this benefit to their cause?)

Why are they doing this? (If so, then why?)

So if we take this and try and apply it to the "villain" we can tell if this is a VILLAIN. Another important thing to note is the quality of the character. What sort of events cause the villain to act like this, and why?

Well, when we're talking RWBY, then villains come in different shapes and sizes. Some villains are immature, and others have experienced enough pain and defeat to know exactly what will work to achieve their goal and/or stop the hero. Then you have the peeps in the middle who aren't as overwhelming as the big baddie, but have enough common sense to know what's going on, what needs to be done, and why they're doing it.

So I'mma gonna start at the bottom of the rainbow and work my way up to the best colors. I'll also be rating these characters on a scale of one to ten. I won't do everyone. Let's start with the entire fandom's LEAST favorite character.

Cinder Fall

Stars: 0/10

Now if I was a writer for the show, I think the most interesting thing that could happen to Cinder is if she just dropped dead. That's how bad she. Literally. Now, what makes her so disgusting? There are two answers.

She did horrible things. Like hacking the communication towers (With help from Watts, of course), making the people at the Vytal Festival Tournament doubt the leaders of Vale, and, to top it off, KILLED Pyrrah and Ozpin.

But these are the actions a normal villain would do, so what really makes her Terrible? The second answer has the reason.

2. She's a poorly written character with a lack of depth are perception.

I have no idea what made the writers want to make Cinder a hated character, but whatever did worked really well. Honestly, it's like Roosterteeth did the opposite of what Disney did to Cinderella. But when I say she lacks depth, I mean there is nothing that makes her character any good. She's also one of the biggest mysteries in the show, and I don't mean that in a good way. Here are some of the questions that I often ask about her:

Why does she want power?

Does she want to rule the world?

Why does she wear an outfit that's guaranteed to help her freeze to death?

Does she want to kill Salem?

Why doesn't she learn from her mistakes?

WHY THE HECK DOES SHE EVEN EXIST?!?!?!

Well, after some examination, I found out something shocking. She is just a plot device. She may talk and act evil, but in reality, she's just there so that the characters have something to worry about. She has nothing that makes her good, or relatable. To add to that, she's like the Grimm, all she does is attack and kill and if she loses, she DOESN'T reflect on her actions, and she DOESN'T try to fix her mistakes. She just goes back into the fight with the same strategy as before. If the main protagonists studied Cinder's basic movement, then they would be able to take her down, no doubt.

Can Cinder be saved? The answer is no. I bet that, judging from the road she's going down, her strategy will be her ultimate end.

Hazel Rainheart

(I may have spelled his name wrong. Sorry.😁)

Stars: 2/10 ☆☆

Now Hazel is a bit more interesting. Unlike Cinder, he has a reason he's on the side he is now, but like everyone, he has his flaws. He lets his anger get the better of him, and he's quick to judge. But the real reason why he's not so good is because of his reasoning. His sister died on a training mission because SHE chose to become a huntress. But Hazel takes all of his anger out on Oscar and Ozpin just because he (Ozpin) was the headmaster of Beacon, and let her into the school in the first place.

And I gotta say, this reasoning is understandable, but it's still dumb.

But there is something that makes Hazel a huge threat to the heros: his semblance of pain nullification. This gives him the ability to block out pain. And I kinda get where it comes from.

When his sister died, he was broken. She was probably the only family Hazel had, and when she was killed, he wanted to block out the emptiness, the grief, the pain. Thus his semblance was unlocked and he could no longer feel pain. This ability is probably how his aura charges up so quickly. If pain can block aura from charging, then he has the tools to be a force to be reckoned with. The only downside is that just because he can't feel pain doesn't mean that he's not hurt.

Can Hazel be saved? Maybe. But if he goes on a redemption arch, then he will probably die. But that doesn't mean that he's a lost cause. There's still plenty of things that can be added to Hazel's character to make it better. But at the present, he could be better.

Adam Taurus

Stars 2/10 ☆☆

This character is relatively horrible. In fact, he's worse than Hazel!

But the thing is, he's like Hazel in a special way: he has a tragic past. Certain events that wreck a kid's childhood can scar them for life. Adam was discriminated for his faunus traits, and this set him on a path of revenge that would be his bitter end.

He was a threat, but small compared to the real one. His semblance made him very dangerous, but it also makes sense. To be more specific, his semblance is, what I like to call, absorption of impact (or for the EruptionFang version, moon slice). This gives him the ability to absorb any damage done by the enemy into his blade, then release it back at a more powerful rate. This can cause devastating damage to both the enemy and the environment. As for why he had this semblance is pretty basic once you think about it.

Adam desired to get back at those who mistreated him. He wanted them to feel his pain, but a lot more extreme. He wanted them to feel what he felt, but worse.

Adam had a lot of potential, but, well when you get stabbed in the back, it's not easy to get back at your enemies. Over all in terms of writing, the thing that would've made him better was a better understanding of what he went through.

Tyrian Callows

Stars 4/10 ☆☆☆☆

If Adam wasn't crazy enough for you, then Tyrian's your go to guy.

I think that Tyrian is insane enough to join Salem, but has enough sense to know how to kill. He's kinda tough to figure out, but thanks to some much needed information in Volume 7, we now know a bit about Tyrian's past.

Tyrian was a mad man killer on the continent of Anima but was captured. He was then rescued by Salem and her Grimm. Since he's mad he owed his life to her ever since.

He's mad, so there's no bad excuse. And to add to that, he is flat down dangerous. His semblance is the ability to cut through aura, making him a hard to beat.

Can Tyrian be saved? Not really. The only way to kill him is for someone to fall victim to him while another strikes the killing blow.

Doctor Aurthor Watts

Stars: 5/10 ☆☆☆☆☆

Alright. Here we go!

Watts is very interesting. That's saying alot. Now that we have more information on him, it's easier to see why he wants to screwer Ironwood.

He was an Atlasian scientist who went against Pietro in the effort to make something great for Atlas. While Watts helped write the Atlas security code, Pietro found that the best inspiration is found inside. That was were Penny was created. Watts was disgraced and faked his death. Then Salem found him and he joined her group to get both revenge on Ironwood and respect from Atlas. Though he is clearly unaware of what Salem's true plans are.

He is a wiz when it comes to technology. Besides that, I believe he has some experience with combat. His semblance could have something to do with technology, but we're still figuring that out.

Can Watts be saved? Writing wise, maybe we can get more details about Watts in the final episodes. He's not a lost cause when it comes being a more interesting villain.

Story wise though? He's a dead man.

Salem

Stars: 6/10 ☆☆☆☆☆☆

Yes, I didn't save her for until the end.😼

Now from the writer's point of view, Salem's backstory has been completely fleshed out. It's pretty complicated so I won't go into details. But from that alone, Salem's actons make sense. As a prisoner of life, she yearns to be free. She wants to die. And she believes that the only way to do this is to divide humanity and summon the gods in there darkest hour. Then the gods destroy the world and Salem is free. She doesn't care about the people she is hurting. She hates humanity and wants to destroy everything. But above all, she wants to get permanent revenge on her ex Ozma (or Ozpin or Oscar). She wants him to die and stay dead when millennia ago she made great sacrifices to try bringing him back from the dead.

Now she has nothing to show for it except endless years of war, hatred, and suffering. There is some relation that one can have with Salem. If anyone who is reading this tried to do something for someone you cared about, but got nothing to show for it in return, then that's what Salem would be feeling. And this has caused her to spiral into madness. She is the purest definition of crazy.

Can Salem be saved? It depends at this point. Story wise, most likely not.

Emerald and Mercury!

Stars for them both 7/10 ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

These two are going to be paired in honor of their beloved ship: Emercury.

Both characters have tragic pasts, so that gives them some common ground, but both are looking for something different. Emerald is looking for love, the one thing that she never had in her entire life. Mercury is looking for a purpose in life, a way to make himself Worthy of greatness. He claims that Cinder recruiting him was just destiny.

Both of these peeps are incredibly good at what they do. Both can fight better than the members of team CFVY.

Emerald's semblance is Perception manipulation, which makes perfect sense in her case. In a very special case, her semblance is similar to Adam's. She wants others to see what she sees, Emerald wants people to see how alone she is, and just how much she needs family. Her semblance is an incarnation of her desire. And she uses it to make people see what she wants them to see.

Mercury's semblance is currently unknown at this time. But we do know that his semblance was stolen by his father. After killing him, Mercury probably got his semblance back, but lives under the illusion that it's still gone.

Mercury grew up in an abusive household, under the guard of a murderer. He was tortured everyday by his father.

Emerald grew up on the streets.

Basically, these characters are well written, and both have great potential as well. There's even some hope of a redemption Arch for these two, and possibly some romance.

Can Emerald and Mercury be saved? Writing wise, yes. More trauma and info can definitely help. Story wise? Hopefully, yes.

Roman Torchwick

Stars: 9/10 ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Time for the classics!

This charming young schemer has been the first character in the actual show. Fans everywhere love him, and will often mark him as the best villain. Honestly, I have nothing against it. But for the sake of this post, let's break down this lovely character and examine his awesomeness.

Roman's origin is currently unknown, but maybe we'll get some light cast on it with Neo's backstory as well. Many believe that he is somehow connected to Brunswick Farms, and it's still a possibility that has yet to be ruled out.

Roman is a good fighter and a master mind behind the underground crime rings of Vale. By himself, he is a relatively good fighter. Though his semblance has yet to be determined, he has his own Roman candle.

Another aspect of this character that won the hearts of fans is his charming personality. I mean, who can blame him? Though his death was sudden, and unfair, his handsome face will live on in the hearts of many.

Neo Politan

Stars: 10/10⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The star of the show, folks!

Neo made her big enterence in Volume 2 episode 4 Painting the Town, and ever since has been one of the most popular characters in the entire show. If you break down Neo's character based on what we know, then it's actually really interesting. Let's scoop ice cream!

Neo's backstory is unknown, but we're hoping to have some light shed on the subject. Based off of the song "One Thing", we can tell that Neo's backstory is tragic in some way. She lost everything except for Roman. And she is willing to fight to protect Roman from the death. How do I know?

Her semblance is called illusions by many, but Unicorn of War calls it Mirrors, which I think is the most accurate. Her semblance gives her the ability to reflect her opponent's attacks upon themselves, and she can change her appearance right down to her hair and eye color.

What does any of this have to do with protecting Roman? She will use Any means necessary to protect what little she has left, and to her, that one thing is enough. She Will change her identity as many times as possible, and she often gets away with it. But she is so fierce in protecting that during a fight, any pain that the enemy can dish out to her dumdum would make her determined to kick her opponent's butt. She would give them a taste of their own medicine and literally reflect their attacks upon themselves.

She is a reflection of protection. And like that reflection she represents, she says not a word, but shows people how exactly they can hurt the one she loves.

After Roman's death, Neo Politan is determined to reflect her loves justice upon the true enemies. If you can't face yourself, then you can't face Neo.

So, there you have it, villains everywhere.

Be sure to reblog if you found this interesting!

If you have questions, then ask away!😁

#RWBY Random Rant #RWBY #rwby villains #cinder fall #hazel #rwby tyrian #tyrian callows #doc. Watts #Salem #rwby salem #more historical data that doctor oobleck would faint if he saw it all #emerald #Mercury #Roman #neo politan

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els-imagines · 5 years

Note

Can I get Mad Paradox changing class to Boom Bringer, eventually Dominator? OwO

niki took this >:P

“Boom bringer” ….. sparky sparky boom man// SHOT- mod sei

WARNING: This is quite long. Could be somewhat AU. It’s also a mess…

(Changes, as always, are brought about by a catalyst.)

(His comes in the form of the dimensional witch, Metamorphy.)

Metamorphy is probably the closest to an equal he will ever have.

It’s different from the monstrous potential that has wrought the El Search Party tragedy again and again. Having absolute control over unmaterialistic concepts such as time and dimensions are a matter on a scale beyond one’s comprehension.

It’s chaos. It’s madness. It’s death.

(Death is but a mere concept now, to the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox.)

Coming to a point where everything is coming to an end, where he finally looks and sees no end to the tragedy that Mad Paradox has become (that Mad Paradox causes), he meets her again.

The very sight of her makes his breath hitch, as the otherworldly flow of her powers gather like a hyperactive cocoon all over her.

Happy, beautiful, unbroken Metamorphy, who can command the very dimensions as if playthings, who has no need to use it like he does because she’s happy, this is her home.

She’s… not exactly fine (none of them have been since the start of their journey) but she. is. happy.

Looking at her makes something that might have been bitter, ugly envy pierce through the fog of obsession and longing, and wraps around his half-missing organs tightly. The very sight of her beaming smile makes his Mana flare in agitation, the cracking telltale of his power trembling and forming the beginnings of an aggression, before they are stilled again.

(There is a reason, after all, why this very timeline - the root of his pain and madness and tragedy - still exists. There is a reason why Mad Paradox, in other timelines, grants more mercy to the counterparts of certain people than he ever granted himself.

He didn’t stay his hand - they weren’t THEM - but their deaths were painless and quick. That’s more than could be said for other people.)

It still hurts.

(Envy. Jealously. Longing. Obsession. Hatred.)

Mad Paradox ignores her calls and curls into himself, tugging his hood completely over his head in a clear statement of “Leave me the fuck alone”.

Metamorphy’s smile, to those who knew her, fades a little. “So… a failure again?” She of course knows of his exploits. Knows of his dream.

She also knows of how terrible he is, what a monster he has become.

Metamorphy didn’t care about that though. (It’s been a long time since she has cared about the death of strangers, since she has felt grief and guilt.) Add had stopped going with them after obtaining his power, and left the Party in search of his timeline, but that hadn’t stopped the bonds and fondness nor the left out space always ready whenever the brooding, maniac time-traveler came back.

He’s different, Metamorphy thinks as she squats down with her skirt tucked in. She ignores the way her power prowls dangerously, behind the façade of bubbles and sparkles and happiness (wHo HurT OnE oF hEr fRIenDs?).

She doesn’t know what answer she expected (what enemy she was supposed to crush), but somehow, she’s surprised when Mad Paradox, after a long moment of heavy silence, curls into himself further and, with an air of despair and hollowness, tells her:

“It’s not working.”

Metamorphy’s smile cracks.

“I can’t find her at all. I can’t go back. No matter how much I travel, how much I destroy, it isn’t working. It’s been so many years since I started and it isn’t working at all.”

Ah.

She knows this voice. She knows this body language. She remembers it.

(All of them are broken, shattered; deadened shadows of the happy children they used to be.)

Add starts trembling, violent shivers wracking his tiny, vanishing frame, which starts breaking apart.

Metamorphy’s pupils dilate.

“I’m so tired.”

In front of the visage of one of her (tentative and most likely unwilling) friends, Metamorphy’s heart, for the first time in a long while, starts pumping for something other than excitement and joy.

(What is this feeling? What is this emotion? It’s not nice. It’s unhappy. It’s bitter. I must do something about it.)

She doesn’t hesitate.

“You punched me.”

“Haha funny abo-”

“You punched me.”

“…Yup~ It actually felt sort of good. You’re SO squishy-”

A pissed off Mad Paradox finds himself forcefully dragged off by a cheery Metamorphy off to some unknown location, his cheek still retaining cracks from where the taller woman had promptly punched him after witnessing his NOT-breakdown.

Metamorphy expertly ignores the death glowing in his eyes and whoops excitedly as they reach - somewhere. Glowing rocks, the el’s power brimming in the spiritual veins of the earth, ancient buildings…. There’s even weird machines on wheels, large constructs of wood, and other weird things.

“We are in one of the places where the dimensional rifts are the weakest. It’s not so bad like with the Demon Realm, but I often play around here.” Metamorphy explains. “All that junk are things that fell from the rips I randomly opened here. They are interesting, aren’t they~?”

A sane person would be worried over how Metamorphy was casually playing around with dimensional rifts. Mad Paradox is not a sane person.

Mad Paradox, momentarily distracted from his despair by his anger, narrows his eyes as Metamorphy goes rummaging in one of the buildings and pops up again with a bizzare doll of straw.

No, that wasn’t straw. It looked more firm. Wood? Gum? An analysis confirmed it to be a material which had been bathed in different clashing energies.

“Punch this,” she says.

Mad Paradox stares blankly.

“Punch this,” she repeats and shakes the object in his face, her beaming smile particularly attracting the urge for one to punch her. “You were– bored, right? Well guess what~ It’s time for you to partake in new stuff~~”

“I’m not a barbarian like you,” Mad Paradox says loftily, scathingly.

“You are a noodle,” Metamorphy smiles blithely against his blistering glare. “C’mon, children need start early-”

“I’m not a fucking child, brat.”

“-to build themselves up into healthy young men. Now punch this, use your science stuff to help you with your punches, if you can’t do it-”

Here, she pauses. “If you think you’re too tired, then…” Her smile widens, “Why not take a break and try something different?”

Predictably, Mad Paradox takes none of her shit.

Also predictably, Metamorphy takes none of HIS shit.

(Metamorphy is probably one of the worst possible matches for him. The line between timelines and dimension is so thin, really.)

Both of them are stubborn, bull-headed people (monsters), but Mad Paradox is a tired and broken creature, and Metamorphy’s determination drives her to further heights. It doesn’t take long for Mad Paradox to give in and bend his rage on that poor, unliving thing.

“Are. You. Satisfied?”

“Nope.” Metamorphy tsk’s as the wormholes between time shears apart the training dummy (which had been glorified as Number One). “I said punch it. With your fists. Not… THAT.”

Sadly enough, no matter the terror that he inflicted as Mad Paradox, he had never quite gotten over the fragility of his physical state, and his body being reduced to half-constructed shards had only worsened that.

It’s manageable, since he has always had his powers. But Metamorphy is one of the few people who can counter him. She cannot shut him down, nor really suppress him (likewise to her, to his consternation) but she proves an annoyance and hinders him, like a fly.

(A fly he can neither crush nor bat away,)

So, Mad Paradox turns to the science and technology that he hasn’t touched in a long time.

(Nostalgia. Rememberance. Awareness. Has it really been such a long time since he started?)

It feels alien, with the difficulty of someone who hasn’t practiced in a long time. He had thought he had given up on his Nasod Research when he finally grasped the coordinates of timetravel, but somehow…. somehow looking at all the machines dumped at his feet by Metamorphy, looking at the codes that appear in his mind’s eye…

Something… stirs, inside him.

(Not yet. It’s not strong enough. Try again.)

He builds again. He constructs. And soon enough, the beginning prototypes of what will become the Nasod Armour are tested against the dummies (and Metamorphy herself, because Mad Paradox is a bitter son of a bitch).

He doesn’t particularly enjoy the activities forced upon him at first (but anything else than that empty madness is better), but soon, he can see why Metamorphy has taken a close approach to combat with her magic.

The crunch of Not-wood beneath the pressure of his technology, the way he watches it break, the way his prototype improves day by day, at an insane speed that is forged on by his obsession for perfection.

(It’s bizzare. It’s weird. It doesn’t eat at him, it doesn’t take pieces of him and swallow them whole. It’s… steady. Safe. Humane, almost.)

(Soon enough, Mad Paradox is not satisfied with just humane.)

But what cements his acceptance of this “hobby” of his is when the demons start arriving in this world, when the Henir cult starts stirring chaos, and very familiar people arrive in search of Metamorphy.

The fallen Prince. The Nasod Queen. The Brat #1.

For all he occasionally calls Metamorphy a brat, Elsword Sieghart has forever merited the main title of Brat in his head.

(The rips are opening in frequency. Dark El. Henir worshippers. Elrianode’s awakening. The chaos wrought by the rifts between Elios and the Demon Realm.)

(Are you coming with us, Add? The Brat asks, easy going smile plastered on his face. There’s no judgement in his eyes. There’s something in there, though, that makes Mad Paradox’s spine shiver and oh, oh, he now remembers why he left so hurriedly then.)

(He agrees.)

(He’s not doing it for anyone. He needs samples. Experiments. Living bodies.)

Attacking a breathing, comparatively alive creature is different from hitting the objects of Metamorphy’s stash. It’s significantly harder, but- but…!

It’s addicting.

Isn’t it curious how armour and crystal gives away to soft flesh under his attacks? Isn’t it fascinating? Isn’t it amazing?

He starts with the weaker test subjects, he starts improving his Armour, and starts relying less on his power of time travels (variables were unacceptable in his science).

Watching destruction bloom underneath his fists and lives disappear with just a mere CRACK! is different.

Mad Paradox learns. Mad Paradox improves. Mad Paradox starts to live.

And soon enough, the shattered creature that is Mad Paradox becomes known by another name, in this timeline that had given birth to him.

Doom Bringer, is what they will call him.

(He’s still broken. His body is still half shattered. And the mark of the Mad Paradox will never, ever disappear.

But this… this is acceptable.)

Ever since he was a child, long before he became a slave, Add had always been particularly thirsty for knowledge.

That thirst for knowledge had become buried underneath the obsession for a past long passed, had been pushed aside in favour of unleashing destruction underneath the prompting of the Dimensional witch. That thirst wasn’t a thirst so much as a want for perfection, for control, for a way to defy fate in a way his battered, physically weak body had not been able too.

He is not weak anymore, but he hasn’t succeeded yet.

After the war with the Demon Real calms down (heavy casualties and destruction and a war-torn Elrios left in the aftermath), Mad Paradox Doom Bringer is faced again with the obsession that had plagued his entire life, with no insects or experimental subjects to take the brunt of his rage and madness.

The war is over. The demons have retreated. The El’s barrier is up and again.

However, after years of fighting in a timeline with the technology he had seemingly surpassed as Mad Paradox, he has been forced to reconsider the role of Nasod Technology in his goal.

The perfect Nasod Armour thrums within him, filling the cracks where organs and limbs are missing in an array of complicated codes that holds his body together.

Maybe, he thinks, he has been going about it the wrong way.

Nasod Technology (and physical combat, but he was loathe to admit that to Metamorphy’s smug face) had helped him in various ways. It had solved most of his problems.

Maybe, just maybe, it could also take him–

(Because Doom Bringer is Mad Paradox and Mad Paradox’s obsession is the past and not even death will change that.)

Doom Bringer, with no war to fight and no enemy worth enough to stand against his bloodthirst and full-on lunacy, throws himself fully into Nasod Research, like he had so long ago, in a blurry time when he had been a child who fell in the prison of the Ancient Library.

A result of such research is further improvement upon his Dynamos, which haven’t been used to shatter timelines in a long while. The new Dynamos are comparatively tame, less prone to death, but deadly all the same. They are configurated according to his whims and necessities.

An example is their individual fighting capabilities. Immersed and busy with his research, fighting has lost its catharsis to him and while he still thrives in the pleasure of crushing his enemies physically, he is far more conserned with research, thus he has no time to deal with small fry.

He eventually creates Apocalypse for this same purpose, but that is further into the future.

With his powers of timeline (defective, failure, dissatisfying), he bids (a very rude and violent) farewell to his original timeline and starts to gather knowledge everywhere in an attempt to craft a correct path.

It’s improvement, he is pushing forward and it’s- it’s better. It’s working.

And of course, it fails.

(But of course, fate seemed to not want him to return to Mother no matter what.)

If there’s a terrible effect caused by his immersion into THIS, then it’s probably the state of his mind. Without madness, grief, hatred and rage clouding his mind, he realizes too late (again, again, again) of a miscalculation in his research.

It’s fatal enough that it promptly destroys all the other calculations.

He snaps.

It’s been a long time since any timeline has crumbled underneath his madness. When he comes to himself, his insides are lurching as the Nasod Armour tries to keep up with his body’s destruction.

Looking at the remains of a destroyed timeline, he can only feel numbness spreading through his entire being, a familiar madness and bitterness taking a hold of his mind as his Dynamo and Apocalypse rampage and destroy the physical representation of his failure.

However.

He recalls something.

(”Why not take a break and try something different?”)

He blinks slowly, as the memory of the witch flows through his head.

Try something different?

Becoming Mad Paradox had given birth to obsession and endless time paradoxes.

Becoming Doom Bringer had smothered it with lunacy and bloodlust and war.

What could he do, this version of him that wasn’t consumed by neither madness or bloodlust?

His Dynamo and Apocalypse stop without him saying a word, and fly to his side as he stares out at the endless abyss that surrounds him.

Slowly, but surely, life starts coming back into his expression. (It might have not been a necessarily good thing, all things considered, but who cared?)

His shoulder start shaking, trembling.

Then, he starts laughing.

“Kuhuhu… I get it… I get it now…!”

In the end, where did the error started and where did it end? Was it when he became a slave? When Aster started his experiments? When he became Diabolic Esper? When he put aside his obsession to rampage through a wartorn field of corpses of demons?

Perhaps the error lies in his obsession itself.

He is tired and done. No matter what he does, he is never able to travel back to that happy timeline. No one can understand time paradoxes better than he, and with a mind that isn’t completely fogged over with madness and possessing knowledge wrought by his research, he has no choice but to admit it, admit that he can never return, admit that his happy timeline has forever ceased to exist for him.

In that case…

In that case, wouldn’t it be better to create a whole new world himself?

His own perfect little universe, crafted from his own hands.

“Kuhuhu…I won’t give up… I will create my own world of perfection…!!”

Doom Bringer Dominator covers his face in an effort to stifle his not-quite-sane laughter, but there is no mistaking the wide grin spreading across his face.

Mod Niki: It took me hours to write this I’m Dead.

#els imagines #mod niki #elsword #add #Mad paradox #doombringer #dominator #aisha #metamorphy #immortal #elboi #gen #time travel #AU #plot bunny #my back hurts #my neck hurts #*endless scream*

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vmheadquarters · 7 years

Text

What Goes Around... (Part 27a)

This is PART 27a of a story that is being told in segments by twenty-seven different authors, campfire-style. Each author will take over the story with no prior planning and then pass it on after putting their own spin on it! Expect the unexpected! :) You can check our vmhq campfire tale tag for all of the previous installments or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Part 27a is written by @cheshirecatstrut

[Part 26]

PART I: REUNION

VERONICA

“Oh SHIT,” Veronica whispers, meeting her father’s gaze. “Wei’s in on it with them!”

She takes off speed-walking towards the lying SOB, who’s wandered away from the group—to do what, she’s not sure, maybe berate him until he cries, because how DARE HE? But Dad grabs her arm.

“You can’t,” he warns. “Wei doesn’t know we know, and right now, that’s our only advantage. He’s the one who called these cops—we might be witnessing a cover-up right now, not an investigation.”

She reverses direction, but he doesn’t let go…instead, he draws her away from the crowd. “Veronica, you can’t tell Logan either, he’s still set to transmit. If ALL the background chatter in Wei’s earpiece falls silent, the guy’s bound to get suspicious.”

V nods reluctant agreement. Logan’s currently holding Lydia so Norris can cuff her, while discussing antidote-formulating techniques with Mac (using analogies to Powerpuff Girls). “So when Wei mentioned he killed a cop…do you think he meant LEO?”

“Honey…” Keith sighs. “I’m sorry, but we have to assume that’s true. This whole situation is much graver than we realized. We can’t trust the information Wei gave us, except the part about a corrupt Neptune PD, and we have very little other data. We need the help of more reliable authorities.”

“And what would motivate reliable authorities to work with us?” She frowns as a Neptune deputy wanders past. “The enemy’s taken charge already--I’m sure they’re erasing leads as we speak.”

“Can you trust me?” Keith gives her the patient look she dreads, unconsciously checking his shoulder holster.

She crosses her arms. “I already hate this plan.”

Gently, he untucks her hand, places the remote in it, and curls her fingers around. “I’m armed, I’ve got my wits about me, and we still have the element of surprise. Plus, Norris Clayton hasn’t left; and whatever his faults, aggression-wise, I’m sure that young man isn’t crooked. He’ll help me put Wei, Jeff and Lydia in jail where they belong. You and Logan should take the antidote back to Wallace, then get him to a hospital.”

He’s right, Veronica knows he’s right, but that doesn’t make leaving him behind easier. Flinging her arms around his neck, she murmurs, “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, honey,” he says. “And don’t worry so much. No lowlife’s managed to best me yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” she reminds him, but manages a smile. “I’m a grown-up now, though, and a full Mars Investigations partner. Tough moments like this one come with the territory.”

She kisses him on the cheek, turns, and strides confidently to Dick’s SUV. Makes a point of not looking back.

KEITH

“When COULDN’T you handle the tough moments?” Keith murmurs, watching her retreat. “With aplomb, even?”

He pats his gun once more for luck as Logan’s ‘What’s wrong?’ is abruptly silenced—darling daughter’s no doubt filling her boyfriend in via Morse code. A moment later, Dick Casablancas’ SUV squeals away… en route, full speed, to save another underdog.

Keith’s never completely trusted the Echolls kid, despite his Navy-facilitated turnaround; he’s got a better soul than Aaron, but fronts with the same practiced smarm. Logan would undoubtedly take a bullet for Veronica, though…and tonight, that’s company Keith wants his only child keeping.

A quick look around verifies Breitski’s across the lot, discussing ways to keep this fiasco out of the news with an apparently-crooked deputy. He’s got his back turned, so Keith pops the hood on his Camry, saws the alternator belt almost in half with a pocket knife, and quickly plants a tracker. Then he closes up, and goes hunting for Norris Clayton.

The over-competent former juvenile delinquent is easy to spot. Not only does he tower above everybody else on scene, he’s the only guy doing his job. A morose Jeff and a stridently-yelling Lydia are cuffed in the back of his cruiser already, and he’s doggedly filling out paperwork.

“Got a minute?” Keith asks, gesturing with his head to beckon Clayton away from the perps. To his credit, the kid doesn’t hesitate. Just tosses his clipboard into the driver’s seat and obligingly saunters closer.

“Problem?” Norris asks, with typical bluntness. Faintly, Keith smiles.

“You could say that,” he agrees, rueful. “Breitski’s dirty on a Federal scale, and so are most of your co-workers. He plans to run off with your bickering perps under pretense of booking them, and you’re the only person I can trust to help stop him.”

“What do you need me to do?” Clayton asks, watching as Breitski pats his pal on the shoulder and approaches.

“Just follow my lead,” Keith says. “And make whatever face is your version of a bland smile.”

“Mr. Mars,” Breitski calls, adjusting his fedora as he approaches—Keith should have known he was a jerk from the start, wearing a hat like that. “I need a favor. Can I commandeer your car to take the Van Vliets to San Diego? The Sheriff’s too busy to arrange transport, and you live close enough to call a cab.”

“Sure,” Keith says easily, handing over his keys. “Anything to help the course of justice run smooth. Just have someone drop it at Mars Investigations when you’re done?”

“You bet!” Wei winks and grins—Keith half-expects a tongue-click and finger-gun. “And please, convey my thanks to your daughter, will you? This case has been a bear. Without her assistance, no way could we have caught these masterminds.”

“Veronica’s impressive,” Keith agrees, allowing his hand to be shaken. “I’m biased, of course, but many impartial sources agree.”

Wei transfers the suddenly-subdued Jeff and Lydia into the Camry, takes off with a finger-to-hat-brim salute. Keith waits until they’re out of sight, listening with a faint head shake to Lydia shrieking because Liam Fitpatrick tried to murder her. Wei tells her Liam’s been handled, and she should be glad she’s not in jail.

Then Keith pulls a bug tracker from the pocket of his overcoat, checks to make sure it’s working, and gestures for Norris to join him in the patrol car.

“Follow that dot.” He suctions the tracker to the dash and points at the interactive map. “And stay far enough back Breitski can’t spot us—he may be unethical, but he’s no fool.”

“You want to tell me what, exactly, this Federal conspiracy is?” Norris asks, once they’re driving through the dark a half mile behind Wei. “Or wait, let me guess…it involves that new drug making people pink and violent. It’s been pouring out of Orange County lately. A minor Fitzpatrick died all popsicle-colored in lockup, about two weeks ago. I was warned off asking for details.”

“Good instincts,” Keith says. “Apparently this substance makes people strong and fast, but it’s also highly toxic—the one victim I’ve seen is in bad shape. Brietski’s wearing an earbud he’s not aware is transmitting, and it sounds like a coup against Liam Fitzpatrick, the mastermind, is in progress.”

Clayton nods, impassive as always--Keith frowns and focuses on eavesdropping as Wei answers a call. “Yes, I hear you, the alarm’s going off soon. Keep your fucking pants on. I’ll head right over, as soon as Jeff and Lydia are squared away.”

“Are you sure Fitzpatrick’s in charge?” Clayton asks, interrupting Keith’s mental run-down of possible alarms. “Because I realize back in the Van Lowe days, he had some sway with the Neptune PD. But the Irish mob is on the downswing lately, influence-wise. And I got the impression, based on the vehemence with which I was chased off, that someone rich and powerful is pulling strings.”

Keith holds up a hand for silence as Wei’s earbud picks up the sound of an engine, coughing and seizing. Winces, hoping his Camry doesn’t throw a rod. “Something’s wrong,” Wei says, accompanied by a grinding noise as the car stalls. “Shit, shit, shit, I need to hitch a ride.”

“Who in their right mind would pick us up?” Lydia screeches, her voice making Keith wince. “We’re both handcuffed, I’m covered in gasoline, and my shoes exploded along with the warehouse!”

“Good point,” Wei says, and follows up calmly with two gunshots. Keith gasps and grabs the dash for balance. “Guess you’ve both outlived your usefulness. Consider that your pension.”

“I think Breitski just shot Jeff and Lydia,” Keith tells Clayton, who kicks on the sirens and floors it in response. He reports a possible homicide over the radio as they surge full speed up a hill.

Just past the crest, their headlights splash over a male figure, braced in a two-handed gun stance mid-road, sidearm aimed. Clayton--spurred, maybe by the simmering aggression that once earned him a stint in juvie--speeds up in response, and Keith braces grimly for impact. But Breitski just shoots, creating a spiderweb of cracks in the bulletproof windshield, then JUMPS, higher than the most sought-after NBA draft-pick could manage. And lands on the hood of the cruiser with a thud.

Norris goes into a skid, tagging the Camry’s bumper as he slides by; his muttered “Holy…” is interrupted by a fist smashing through the windshield. Bloody fingers grab the jagged edge, yanking the whole rectangle loose, and the half-shattered sheet flies off into the night. Breitski reaches back in, catching Clayton by the shirtfront while he fumbles for his gun, and hauls him out, too.

Keith lunges for the wheel, manages to turn the car and stomp the brakes before they crash into roadside woods. Watches, horrified, as Breitski hurls Clayton against a pine trunk. Keith’s only ally slides bonelessly to the ground, and stays there, prone.

He opens the door to run for it, but is lifted out before he can…hoisted full-arm’s-length by Breitski, who’s standing on the hood. He dangles, held by the lapels of his coat; the blue-and-red emergency lights strobe Breitski’s face as he smiles.

“Not all the super soldiers are pink and dumb, I’m afraid,” he says, and gives Keith an admonishing shake. “The secondary formula’s for a specific purpose--it’s designed to be IN-effective, and eventually terminal. Now, I need you to nap while I jury-rig your alternator belt—a battered cop car won’t blend on the road to the winery. Say goodnight, Gracie.”

His other fist swings up, fast as regrets, catching Keith square in the temple. Shortly after which, everything goes black.

STORYLINE 2: WEEVIL WALLACE

Weevil loves his bike a lot—it’s a guilty, rebel-youth pleasure he thought he’d never enjoy again--but road-trip monotony is a bitch.

He’s been driving through the dark for half an hour; Fennel’s groans have subsided ominously into silence, broken only by the engine’s growl. Today’s already featured ten hours under car hoods, a fight about visitation with his soon-to-be-ex, and of course, the usual Mars nonsense. He’d pay a grand for one of those sugar-bomb Starbucks coffees right now, some pumpkin spice seasonal bullshit, followed by a couple stiff drinks. But instead he’ll be napping in the CDC waiting room, and roll home just in time to open the shop.

Faintly, at the horizon, he spots red-blue strobes flashing, and curses under his breath—if a cop’s burning to pull someone over, a pink guy duct taped to a biker will make his night. But there’s only one road, and Fennel needs help, so Weevil clenches his teeth Veronica-style and keeps on going.

As he approaches, it becomes obvious something’s wrong; the car’s slewed sideways blocking traffic, windshield shattered ten feet away, driver door hanging open. There’s blood splattered on the hood. Something ugly went down, and Weevil wants no part of it—he’s tightening his fingers on the gas when he realizes fleeing’s impossible.

Norris Clayton, Veronica’s deputy friend, is crawling slowly along the asphalt towards the radio, bleeding from the back of the head. His face turns sideways, slo-mo, to watch hopefully as Weevil slows. “Nav…ro,” he manages, barely audible over the bike’s idle. Then, gathering himself to try harder, “VerONica.”

“I can’t help you, man,” Weevil calls, frustrated. “I can barely dismount unless you cut me loose. I’m duct-taped to Fennel, here, and he ain’t doing so hot.”

“Yeah, he’s…pink,” Norris observes, managing to sit up and fish in his pocket. Locates a switchblade, which he holds out. “This big enough to saw through?”

Wallace rouses, babbles something incomprehensible, and Norris adds, “Veronica found the antidote. She’s on her way back to the winery now…might already be there.”

Shit. “She couldn’t call?” Weevil asks, rhetorically, putting the bike in park as close to Clayton as possible. He lifts with his legs to hoist himself off, Fennel dangling limply. Accepting the knife with a smirk, he adds, “You know, other than the uniform, you haven’t changed much.”

Twisting sideways painfully, he begins to saw at the tape--Norris crawls behind him to brace Wallace. “Learned to control my temper,” Norris says, and Weevil can just see him gingerly prodding the back of his skull. “Fucker threw me against a TREE. Breitski—he’s on something strong. Haven’t seen Keith since I woke up, either…odds are good he’s a hostage.”

Weevil cuts the last of the tape, and between them they get Wallace prone on the roadside. The guy looks bad, head thrashing, foaming at the mouth. The sideways glance Clayton flashes says he agrees.

“Can you stand up?” Weevil asks. “Get yourself in the passenger seat? I can lift Fennel into the back, he’s a little dude, but you gotta weigh like two hundred pounds.”

Clayton braces his hand on the fender and pushes upright…tumbles sideways, catches himself. “Dizzy,” he says, rueful. “I’ve got a bitch of a concussion, but I’ll live. Put him in the car and go hide your bike. We’ll discuss how deep the shit drowning us is on the way to Van Vliet’s.”

“It’s a LAKE, man,” Weevil warns, but obligingly hoists Wallace. “I’m actually disappointed for once you can’t fight. Tonight, those fists of fury of yours would come in handy.”

VERONICA

“Well, if this was Gilligan’s Island, we could solve the whole problem with extract of coconut,” Mac is saying, buckling her seatbelt as V climbs into the SUV. “But since it’s REALITY, there’s actual science involved in producing a cure.”

“If this was Gilligan’s Island,” Logan drawls, fishing for keys, “the events of the day would be an amusing misunderstanding, thanks to Gilligan falling in a vat of papaya juice. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure Wallace…” he frowns as he notices V’s expression. “Hey, pumpkin, what’s wr…”

She slaps a palm over his mouth, gestures for Mac to hand over the iPad she ripped off from the winery. Pulls up the word processor and types, “Wei’s dirty, and he’s listening to everything you say. Your stupid earbud’s set to transmit.”

Logan’s eyes widen in understanding. “Wow,” he improvises, smacking his lips like they’ve been kissing. “We’ve only been apart two minutes. I guess it really is true what they say about danger being an aphrodisiac.”

Mac gestures for the tablet, and says as she types, “Your fault, for running around with no shirt all day, acting brawny and heroic. Although please, next time? Have some respect for my innocent eyes and take it outside.”

She hands the pad back, and V and Logan cluster together to read. “What should we do? We can’t trust the Neptune PD to help, and Wallace needs that antidote ASAP.”

Veronica types, “Dad and your new boyfriend Norris will handle Wei. We’re making tracks for the winery, and trying to breathe through stress.”

Logan winks, starts the engine, and says, “I could really go for an In-and-Out burger, you two game? Mac, do their fries pass muster in vegetarian circles?”

He pulls out onto the highway heading back towards Van Vliet’s. Mac’s reply--“I’ve been cheating death all evening. I’m willing to ignore a little lard,”--is interrupted by the chime of Logan’s cell.

Pulling it out of his pocket, he registers the unknown sender and lifts his brows at Veronica. She shakes her head, pointing at her earbud; frowns as Wei says something about an alarm going off. A dig through her bag confirms she’s also received an unknown call, so she holds up a finger and retrieves the message.

“Veronica?” Leo D’Amato’s voice filters thinly through, poor connection with a side of mechanical beeping. “Listen, I hate to leave important stuff on voicemail, but I keep calling down your list, and the only person I can reach is Dick. I just need you to know Brietski’s in with the drug runners—and I’m sure of this, he shot me in what would have been my heart if I hadn’t ducked. Also, the shenanigans at the Van Vliet’s are a bigger deal than I thought, when I sent you to dig for the missing safe. I’ve just had a visit from some pissed-off military brass. So just…contact Bob Dillen at the San Diego PD if you need rescuing, he’s definitely honest. And stay away from the winery--not to mention anyone lurking there who might be…pink.”

No can do, Detective, she thinks, hanging up. I owe a dose of antidote to my best friend. But I’m glad you’re not dead because I failed to smell a rat.

Logan smirks as the sound of Brietski’s car stalling is conveyed by the earbud, mouths “Sabotage?” at Veronica. She grins— Dad likely frayed the alternator belt—then jerks in shock as gunshots ring out.

“What the fuck?” Logan mutters over the squealing, skidding, and shattering glass. “Which road did they take? Do you think they’re behind us?”

“You guys, what’s happening?” Mac asks from the back seat. “I’m not wearing an earbud, there weren’t enough in my bag! You guys!”

Veronica grabs Logan’s forearm, fingernails digging in, as Wei’s speech to Keith is followed by a wet thud.

“Oh shit,” Mac says, pressing fingertips to her lips. “DID WEI DO SOMETHING TO KEITH?”

A frantic head shake from Veronica makes Mac realize she shouldn’t have yelled, but it’s too late. A stream of curses erupt from Breitski, followed by, “Very sneaky, Veronica Mars, switching me to transmit. No more spying, though, or you might hear something you REALLY won’t like.”

His earbud emits a loud squeal, consistent with being crushed, goes silent. A second later there’s another squeal, no doubt Keith’s unit. Veronica closes her eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” Logan asks, voice low and reassuring. “Keep heading towards the winery, or turn around and search?”

“You know what? I can track Keith’s cell.” Mac reaches down and fumbles in her bag of equipment; pulls out an electronic module and rapidly types. It lights up, processing, and she says, “They’re on the PCH, not this road. It will take us longer to backtrack and locate the accident than it will to meet them there. Wei must be headed back to Van Vliet’s, right?”

Clenching her jaw, Veronica opens her eyes and nods. Logan entwines their fingers, then floors the gas.

It’s a thirty-minute drive, but they make it in seventeen. Logan cuts up the service road, which runs twenty feet in the direction V DIDN’T walk this morning, right past the bird-infested clearing.

“That’s where they dropped me.” She shakes her head as they pass at her navigational failure. “There’s the bike Ruby supposedly rode in pursuit.”

“Ruby’s full of it.” Mac peers out the darkened window. “Leaving aside the impossibility of keeping pace, that’s a kid’s bicycle. She’d never fit. My guess is, it’s Katie’s, from before the accident that left her paralyzed.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Ruby to drive you here herself,” Logan says. “Or to hide in the back of the truck and attempt rescue, since that would earn my gratitude. Hate to break it to you, babe, but she wants me BAD.”

“Thanks for the news flash.” Veronica elbows him as they pass the guest house, grateful for the attempt to keep her spirits up. Watches him wince as the still-smoking remains of his beloved BMW hove into view. Then frowns, because it looks like the front planters have been smashed, and the door’s…ripped off its hinges? “Jesus, what HAPPENED while we were at the warehouse?”

They pile out of the car, but Logan holds up a hand to halt his companions’ progress. Kneels to study the ground. “Bare feet and motorcycle tracks. Feet head through there,” he points at the hole where the door used to be, “tracks go around to the side. Anybody notice a Harley carrying a naked passenger, at any point in the proceedings?”

Veronica lifts her brows and he grins, standing. Wipes dirt, futilely, off the grungy knees of his jeans. “Military survival training,” he explains, with a faint smile. “Don’t look so surprised. I can built a yurt out of sticks, too, if need be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She bats her lashes and beckons to Mac, who’s standing on crushed snapdragons, examining a shattered picture window. “The only biker I know who would turn up to help me is Weevil, but I don’t remember calling him. And surely if Dad had, he would have said so?”

“To be fair,” Mac contributes, “there’s a lot you don’t remember. And Weevil definitely drives a Harley. Maybe he went in through the patio?”

They check, but the French doors are locked; through the glass, Veronica can see someone’s stuffed a chair under the knob. A quick circuit of the house shows all other doors in the same condition, and nobody’s visible through the windows. “It’s like they prepared for a siege,” she says, thoughtfully. “But someone had the brute force to break in anyway.”

“In which case, either they hid, or were taken,” Logan says grimly. “We’ll have to enter through the front and search.”

“I’m calling Dick.” Mac pulls out her cell, listens, groans. “No joy. You wouldn’t happen to have anything resembling weaponry in that bag, would you?”

Silently, Veronica hands over the taser, then loads Jeff’s golden gun. She offers it to Logan, because he’s actually not terrified of firearms, but he waves it away—then steps in front, to precede her through the broken door.

There’s debris in the hall, mostly splintered wood; the coat closet stands open. Frowning, Logan indicates bloody footprints and says, “They were planning to wait in the library, right? Because it looks like whoever made these came from, then went back to, that room.”

“Could there be another Pink Hulk?” Veronica wonders, studying the prints as they pass. “That would explain the discrepancy in size and aggression between the guy that initially chased us and poor Wallace. These feet are big--and if he took off his shoes before getting in the coffin, I’d guess he chose to be there.” She taps her chin with one finger, thinking. “But if there ARE two of them, where was this guy…altered? The barn’s only got one pod, and Wallace was in it all day.”

“Could be more hidden somewhere else.” Logan follows the trail, alert and focused in a way that’s…really smoking hot, though this is not the time to dwell. Pushes the library door open and scouts before beckoning them in.

“Or someone took Hulk One out in order to pinkify Wallace,” Mac says, holding the door. “He theoretically could have wandered around smashing stuff all day.”

“The floor’s been cleaned.” Logan points at a black-stained towel on the rug. “But that was used to wipe up grease, not blood. And footprints criss-cross the room, like Harvey the Rabbit was searching.”

“Why do I smell urine?” Veronica wrinkles her nose. “And why is there a crushed bouquet of flowers on the desk?”

“The phone lines are out,” Mac announces, setting down the handset. “We’re completely cut off. And frankly, I think whatever went down here is long ov…”

A howl in the distance interrupts her mid-sentence; Logan cocks a brow. “You were saying?”

“Jesus, is something rabid out there?” Veronica wonders, shivering. “It sounds like a coyote only…whinier.”

“Maybe we should try the barn,” Logan suggests, taking her hand. “If the phone lines in the house aren’t working, and our friends managed to escape, they’d look for another landline. Shit, that reminds me—I got a call while we were driving.”

Veronica waves him off before he can pull out his cell. “It was Leo,” she says. “I gave him a list of emergency contacts, you two are numbers one and three. Apparently, the military’s at the hospital asking questions--he’s the cop Wei tried to murder.”

Logan tilts his face up to the ceiling. “If I get court-martialed for meddling in top-secret business, I’m gonna be pissed,” he mutters, before leading the way out to Dick’s car.

They drive in silence to the barn, where Logan repeats his kneel-inspect-frown routine and Veronica frets. Eventually, he finishes Grizzly Adams-ing and saunters back to report.

“Motorcycle tracks and large-vehicle treads lead that way.” He points down the service road in the direction of Neptune. “Looks like Weevil left, and whoever dropped you off here gave chase. Size-twelve Vans prints and very small butch boots head towards the woods,” he points in the opposite direction. “My guess is, Dick and a woman. I got him unicorn Vans as a gag Christmas gift, and he wears them twenty-four-seven.”

“Well, at least Dick can tell us where Wallace went,” Veronica says. “I hope. What’s the status on Dad?”

Mac pulls the tracker from her messenger bag. “Stationary. Same direction as our unicorn-loving friend. But question, before we follow…if the woman’s Ruby, can we trust her? Just exactly whose side is she on?”

“Logan’s.” Veronica smirks, poking his side, and he rolls his eyes. “As long as we’re in this guy’s studly company, we’re safe as houses.”

“Did you just suggest using me as a honeypot?” Logan drapes an arm around her shoulders. “So much for romance.”

She grins. “I’ll bet Ruby would be MORE than glad to romance you silly.”

The shriek comes from closer this time, off to their left among the trees. “RONKAAAAAAA!”

“Did that coyote call my NAME?” V disentangles from Logan’s embrace; her hand clenches around the butt of the gun, sending a tingling sensation up her arm. “Could that be WALLACE? Did he lose it and go fully pink, trash the house? Are his feet just way bigger than I remember?”

They all stare at each other, appalled, as this possibility sinks in. Then, in tandem, they turn and run straight towards the screams.

DICK

“Okay, Rubes.” Dick surveys the cell-tower cement house with all the disfavor his euphoric state allows. “If I was a phone that didn’t need a code to dial out, here’s where I’d be--this place HAS to have a switchboard or some shit inside. But that fence is, like, super-tall and topped with razor wire. So basically, we’re hosed.”

“Really, Dick?” Ruby performs an eye roll so massive he’s surprised it doesn’t hurt. “Could you BE more of a wuss? I thought you were some kind of surfing badass.”

“Chhh-yeah,” he scoffs, as she hands him her bag, then goes up the fence like monkey. “This bod’s a finely-tuned machine. ‘S why I don’t want abdominal scars.”

“But scars have MYSTIQUE.” Ruby does some hardcore, upper-fence handstand that makes him suspect she’s taking Pole Cardio with Madison, then vaults lightly over. She lands, rolls, and pops up dusting her hands. “I’ll bet LOGAN’S got TONS of scars.”

“Logan’s got everything ladies want,” Dick calls after her, as she opens the cabin door and disappears inside. “He’s been pulling any girl he smiled at since we were like twelve. I think it’s cause he acts all vulnerable and shit. Turns the wahines into jell-AY.”

She emerges with a pair of bolt cutters, chops the chain in half. “Everybody’s vulnerable, Dick,” she says, swinging the gate wide. “If pressure’s applied to the right spot.”

He follows her into the darkened room, gawking at wall-to-wall machinery performing functions he can’t name. This place has got power at least—lights are blinking and flashing on various gauges—but he sees nothing that looks remotely like a telephone.

Ruby goes to study a wall of…whatever, arms crossed; Dick wanders, trailing a finger through the dust on a table. Something knocks lightly against his leg as he passes and he bends to find a cardboard tube stashed beneath.

“Check it out,” he calls, setting down her purse, as well as his wig, gun and the wine bottle he found again, lying abandoned on the path. Removes the tube’s cap, and unrolls the blueprints inside. Spreading them out on the tabletop, he squints through the dim light to read. “Dude, CALLED it! Those tunnels DO go farther than we thought. It’s like an ant colony down there, all over the freaking property.”

Reaching past his shoulder, Ruby taps a small square upper-left. “We’re here,” she says. “And a branch of catacombs leads straight down from this location. So somewhere in this room, there’s another secret door.”

She rushes off to look; but Dick figures he’s not smart enough, even post-Super-Dope, to solve that particular puzzle, so he keeps studying the map. “Wonder what this room’s for?” he muses, tracing a round underground chamber drawn to scale with the main house. “My guess is, housing whatever they’re shipping, ‘cause it looks huge.”

“Aha!” Ruby crows, as her efforts to shift a red lever cause groaning and creaking. Dick moves to help. Slowly, a section of computer swings aside to reveal stone steps, going down.

“Rubster strikes again.” He high-fives her, grinning at her flushed excitement, then moves to gather his shit.

She rolls her eyes again, just as theatrically, and rummages in her bag. Produces one of those ecologically-conscious grocery sacks, green and labeled ‘Whole Foods’, holds it out. “It can be your man-purse,” she says, with a smirk. “Your murse.”

“You know, you have a LOT of gear and skills for a karaoke impresario, or whatever it is you do for cash,” he observes, filling and shouldering the murse nonetheless. “It’s kinda hot, but I’m also slightly intimidated.”

“Join the club,” she breezes, donning her own bag, and leads the way, practically skipping, down the stairs.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of our round robin! Check back next Saturday for the second half of Part 27 also written by @cheshirecatstrut!

#veronica mars #vm fanfic #vmhq round robin #vmhq campfire tale

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fawneverwould · 7 years

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PHYSICAL !!

1. Describe the character’s height and build. Is she heavyset, thin, short, rangy? I’d say average. She’s 5′5. 2. How old is she? Sixteen. 3. Describe her posture. Does she carry herself well or does she slouch? She carries herself pretty well. 4. How is her health? Is she fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities? She’s in decent shape, no disabilities. 5. How does she move? Is she clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid? Pretty graceful and softly. 6. How attractive is this character physically? How does she perceive herself in the mirror? She’s very pretty, I think. She thinks of herself as average. 7. Describe her complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred? Light and clear. 8. Describe her hair: color, texture, style. Wavy. It falls a little past her waist, an orange-brown color. She considers herself a redhead even though her hair is more naturally brown. (Shh, don’t tell anyone.) It looks like this or this but a bit longer. 9. What color are her eyes? Amber. 10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features? A light dusting of freckles. 11. What are her chief tension centers? Her neck. 12. What is the character’s wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does she have six of the same suit? She dresses in a lot of warm colors. Pretty casual. She likes sweaters, boots, leggings, jeans best -- but in California she obviously doesn’t get to rock those much.***** 13. Do her clothes fit well? Does she seem comfortable in them? She likes slightly oversized shirts sometimes. But for the most part, yes. 14. Does she dress the same on the job as she does in her free time? If not, what are the differences? She has to wear her high school uniform but she wears what she wants to volunteer in or on a usual basis. 15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando? Briefs. Sometimes boxers.

SPEECH !!

1. What does this character’s voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse? A tiny bit raspy. Sweet but mature. Soft. I mostly hear Debby Ryan* with a bit of Fawn* in my mind. 2. How does she normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does she talk easily, or does she hesitate? Soft, evenly, easy. She gets to rambling excitedly sometimes and talks faster or louder. 3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics? None that I can think of. 4. What languages does she speak, and with how much fluency? English fluently. 5. Does she switch languages or dialects in certain situations? Nah. 6. Is she a good impromptu speaker, or does she have to think about her words? She is okay at impromptu. 7. Is she eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change? I’d say closer to eloquent. Less so when she’s feeling hyper/eager.

MENTAL AND EMOTIONAL !!

1. How intelligent is this character? Is she book-smart or street-smart? Fairly intelligent. A mixture of both. 2. Does she think on her feet, or does she need time to deliberate? She thinks on her feet. It gets her in trouble. 3. Describe the character’s thought process. Is she more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical? Intuitive but she can come up with some good ideas. It depends on the situation. 4. What kind of education has the character had? She’s a junior so that’s it as of now. 5. What are her areas of expertise? What, if anything, is she interested in learning more about? Anything that comes to animals. Especially pets or woodland creatures. She’s thinking about looking into veterinary practice. 6. Is she an introvert or an extrovert? Extrovert. 7. Describe the character’s temperament. Is she even-tempered or does she have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven? She is fairly even-tempered and usually happy. If she learns of an injustice, that’s a different story. Cheerful and driven. But also laid-back at the same time...? 8. How does she respond to new people or situations? Is she suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic? Enthusiastic. 10. Which is her default: fight or flight? She doesn’t back down. 11. Describe the character’s sense of humor. Does she appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks? Pranks, for sure, but she isn’t picky about what makes her laugh. She loves jokes. 12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does she deal with them? She doesn’t have any. 13. What moments in this character’s life have defined her as a person? I’m not sure that any specific moments have changed who she is. She’s always been a passionate, nurturing, rebellious person. 14. What does she fear? Not being able to make a difference. 15. What are her hopes or aspirations? To make a difference, and own as many pets as possible. 16. What is something she doesn’t want anyone to find out about her? Fawn is a pretty open book. She isn’t keeping any secrets.

RELATIONSHIPS !!

1. Describe this character’s relationship with her parents. Fawn has always had a good relationship with her parents. She’s been daddy’s little girl from day one, as a child she was almost always in his arms. She is a lot like her mother. Both of them love, support and accept her the way that parents should and they are proud of her for being someone that takes a stand. They are what she misses the most about home, other than her fur babies. She doesn’t blame them for sending her away, their hands were tied, she just hopes they know she loves them the same. 2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like? No, and she’s happy with her life how it is -- she’s the center of her parents’ worlds this way. But it might’ve been cool to have a brother or sister to torment with pranks and braid her hair for her. 3. Are there other blood relatives to whom she is close? Are there ones she can’t stand? She doesn’t see her mom’s family much. She has a lot of uncles, aunts and cousins on her dad’s side. They come around for holidays so just a few times throughout the year, but she loves all of them. 4. Are there other, unrelated people whom she considers part of her family? What are her relationships with them? The Pixie Hollow girls are her sisters. 5. Who is the character’s best friend? How did they meet? Tink, Vidia, Iridessa, (probably Rosetta) and Silvermist, obviously. Also Oliver is a pure bean that she adores. She met them all at Walt. 6. Does she have other close friends? Does ‘every animal she meets’ count? 7. Does she make friends easily, or does she have trouble getting along with people? She makes friends easily. 8. Which does she consider more important: family or friends? Both. 9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has she been married more than once? She is single. The only boyfriend/husband she had was in elementary school when the kids paired off. 10. Is she currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse? She is not. 11. Who was her first crush? Who is her latest? She’s not crushing on anyone as of late, and I don’t think she’s had very many lasting crushes in her life. She might see a boy holding a puppy and think “wow he’s cute” but then she gets distracted by the puppy and forgets he’s there. 12. What does she look for in a romantic partner? An animal lover. It is very important that the person she’s with cares about having pets and lots of them. If not, it is not going to work. Sorry. Other than that she only wants to have feelings for the person and for them to be reciprocated. 13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does she relate to them? If no, does she want any? She doesn’t, but she’d love to be a mom one day! 14. Does she have any rivals or enemies? Not anyone right now. 15. What is the character’s sexual orientation? Where does she fall on the Kinsey scale? She is most likely heterosexual. A zero or a one. She would never be against being with someone solely because of gender but she’s only ever been attracted to/crushed on males. 16. How does she feel about sex? How important is it to her? She isn’t ready for sex right now. She’s only sixteen and she has no love interest. It isn’t something she thinks about all that much. She will worry about it when she’s in a relationship -- a long term relationship -- and she feels safe and comfortable with someone and wants to take that next step. 17. What are her turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits? Heck if she knows.

BELIEFS !!

1. Do you know your character’s astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does she fit type? She’s an October baby, born on the third, so she’s a Libra. I think there are other signs that would fit her better. 2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in her life? She’s Christian. She used to go to church on Sundays and the occasional Wednesday back at home, but she was shushed a lot for talking during service and for awhile known as the girl that chased a rat throughout the pews. It’s important to her to believe there is a God and an afterlife but if she’s being honest, she’s never read the bible and she has no immediate plans to. 3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it? Help those that cannot help themself. Be kind. Live your own life. I don’t think anything could change those. 4. How does she regard beliefs that differ from hers? Is she tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent? As long as those beliefs aren’t hurting people, she’s tolerant and curious. 5. What prejudices does she hold? Are they irrational or does she have a good reason for them? She’s prejudice against people that do not like any kind of animal. How can someone not like animals?

DAILY LIFE !!

1. What is the character’s financial situation? Is she rich, poor, comfortable, in debt? Average. Her family gets by. 2. What is her social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected her? She’s not necessarily popular but she is friendly and outgoing. She has never had to worry about where to eat lunch or who to walk with in the halls, here or at her old school. 3. Where does she live? House, apartment, trailer? Is her home her castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does she share it with others? Her dorm, and she has decorated it in warm colors with photos of pets and family and she has those little lights strung around her bed and it’s all organized and cozy and cute. She loves it. I love it. The dorm of my dreams. 4. Besides the basic necessities, what does she spend her money on? Helping animals in need. 5. What does she do for a living? Is she good at it? Does she enjoy it, or would she rather be doing something else? She’s a student right now. She’s good at some classes, others not so much, but she does more than enough to get by. When she isn’t doodling cat faces all over her test pages. 6. What are her interests or hobbies? How does she spend her free time? She likes to volunteer at animal shelters. She enjoys reading and decorating, doodling. But for the most part if she’s got free time on her hands, she’s going to be outside climbing trees and talking to birds. 7. What are her eating habits? Does she skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods? I think she has average eating habits. She probably eats healthier than most teenagers, opting for fruit over candy bars on a normal basis and snacking on veggie straws over chips. She doesn’t drink alcohol. Most of her meals she either makes herself because they are simple or orders from town.

ASSOCIATIONS !!

1. Color? Orange. 2. Smell? Puppy breath. 3. Time of day? She’s a morning girl. 4. Season? Spring. But she’s partial to Fall too. 5. Book? Because Of Winn-Dixie. 6. Music? Alternative rock, indie pop, she isn’t picky. 7. Place? She’s a Georgia girl at heart. 8. Substance? Lemonade. 9. Plant? Sunflowers. 10. Animal? All of them.

EVERY * LEADS TO A PICTURE !!

#watask #it's about dang time i complete this #tasks.

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