#the threat of danger lingering on the outsides of safe territory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crazy4myself · 4 years

Text

No Harm List Pt. 1

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Violence, explicit language, I’m sure this will get worse as we go

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

a/n: this is my first fic and it's taken me near a year to get the balls to write and post it. I would like to make this a series or drabble series if people seem interested in reading more. Please let me know if you like it :)

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

Let’s start from the beginning. Which was the night you saved the maknae’s life.

You were leaving your late-night shift at 929, the convenience store you worked at. The job, like the rest of your college experience, wasn’t in any way glamourous. But the owners were nice, and since it was a 24-hour store, it was easy to get hours despite your demanding college schedule; if you were willing to sacrifice sleep. It was a heavy stock day, so you were getting out later than planned, but you lived less than a mile from your apartment, so you didn’t mind the walk back.

Something was comforting about walking the 7th ward at 3 a.m. when the streets are the quietest. The late-night crowd from the gambling halls and bars always seem to turn in around 2, and the more motivated hustlers tend to wake up at 4 to get a head start on their day. The hour of 3 a.m. was a 60 minute breath of fresh air where few people roamed the streets. A common hour where criminals and businessmen alike hugged their pillows.

A chill lingered in the air the way it always does after a big rainstorm, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. By the look of the sidewalks, you were going to get your socks wet on the walk home, thanks to the weakening seems on your only pair of boots.

You kept your pepper spray in one hand and your phone in your pocket as you made your way down the street. Just because 3 a.m. was a quieter hour did not mean it was safe, especially in the 7th ward. Staying aware of your surroundings gave people less of a chance to sneak up on you, so you didn’t check your phone or listen to music. You made yourself stare strait ahead and walk confidently. Seeming like more trouble than you or your wallet is worth, is one of your primary forms of self-defense on nights like these.

When you moved out of the university dorms after your freshman year, you told your family of your plans to share a house with a few friendly classmates in the quiet suburbs outside the city where it was safer, and that seemed to quell their worries. And as long as they weren’t worried about you, you were okay with lying to them.

Because you didn’t live in the suburbs with friendly classmates, you very much lived alone in a shitty apartment where you were fairly certain all your neighbors were drug dealers. But your landlord Mrs.Rita doesn’t seem to mind at all. To your knowledge, the location was in a gang neutral territory, so you didn’t need to worry about any raids or shootings that you hear talk of so often on the bus or at work.

You have lived in the 7th ward for the better part of three years. It was one of the dirtiest and most dangerous parts of the city capital, a place where gangs, drugs, violence, ruled the streets.

It was also the cheapest place to live and only a 20-minute commute from your university by public transport.

When you first got accepted into university, your parents were as happy for you as they were worried. The university had one of the top medical programs in the world, and to be accepted on scholarship was an honor even they couldn't overlook, but living across the ocean in a different country meant they lived with no peace of mind.

So you always kept your letters and phone calls short and pleasant. You never complained or let them know of any struggles you were having because the moment they got word of your hardships, they would latch onto that and convince you to come home.

You hadn’t made it eight blocks from the store when you heard someone cry out. It was a strangled sound that made you freeze in your tracks before it was quickly cut short.

The silence was accompanied by a low thud that made your stomach drop. Your heart pounded in your ears as possibilities raced through your mind. It could be some restless teens goofing off late at night, it could be something you can just stroll pass without a problem, but it was equally likely that it wasn’t. And you didn’t know what to do about that risk.

You debated turning around and going back to the store and hiding out for an hour or two until whatever happened settled down.

It was the sound of another cry out that broke you from the worrying debate as your instincts sent you flying in the direction of the sound. Because apparently, your instincts aren’t here to keep you alive.

You turned the corner and peered down the alley where the commotion was coming from to be met by a set of thugs corning a young boy. The thugs turned at the sound of your shoes scraping against the asphalt and sneered at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You demanded as you took in the scene of two men and met eyes with the young boy with wide doe eyes who was pinned to the wall by the largest man in the group.

The boy had what looked to be the start of a black eye and a small trickle of blood running from his split lip. He looked a few years younger than you, and by the looks of the brand name on the sleeve of his shirt, he had no reason to be in this part of town.

“Keep walking, sweetheart before you see something you don’t want to,” one of the men, who was covered in tattoos, growled.

You felt your legs tremble as part of you wished to listen to him.

“Leave him alone,” you pushed in a voice that was much weaker than you intended.

What were you doing? Did you have a deathwish?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the tattoos questioned voicing your own thoughts as his scrawny partner pushed off the wall stalked towards you.

“Do you think this going to go well for you?” Scrawny taunted as he closed the distance. You stepped back, making sure to keep your back to the mouth of the alleyway to avoid getting cornered to the wall.

“Get out of here,” the boy warned, you spared him a look to see Tattoos kneed him in the gut.

The boy's face twisting in pain served distraction enough for Scrawny to charge toward you and shove you toward the wall before you could react.

“I thought we told you to scram '' he sneered in an oily voice. One of his hands that was backing your figure against the wall reaching up to tug at a strand of your hair, “Or does a tiny thing like you want to play the hero?” you felt his hot breath on your face as he crowded you.

An involuntary squeak slipped from your lips, and your heart pounded as your mind begged you to do something quickly. You gripped the pepper spray tighter in your grip forcing yourself to react.

Before Scrawny could make another move, you held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut, wedging your arm between the two of you and pulling the trigger on your pepper spray while simultaneously bringing your knee up between his legs.

You yelped in pain as Scrawny pushed away from you, taking a lock of your hair with him, but forced your mouth to stay shut as he and howled in pain. A string of coughs and curses mixing in as he inhaled the pepper spray.

Opening your eyes to water in the residue of the mace in the air, you realized you must have hit your target because the man was no longer on his feet and slowly curling into a ball on the ground still hacking out a lung.

Tattoo’s cursed under his breath and pulled the boy off the wall by his shirt and slammed his body into the brick twice in frustration.

“I have to do everything around here!” He rorared. The sound of the boys body impacting aginst the wall echoed in the alley with Tatto’s scream.

Tatto’s reached in his back pocked and with a flick of the wrist displayed a wicked blade as the boy blinked up at him dazed.

You screamed out in horror. Desperate to get the man away from the boy, you pulled your shoe off your foot and lobbed it at the back of Tatto’s head.

With a growl, he released the boy who crumpled to the ground before turning his attention to you.

He looked down at the ground making a point to slowly toe your limp boot out of his path with a low chuckle before prowling forward a preditor cornering his prey.

You found his intimidation tactic to be very effective, you body telling him as much as you raised your pepper spray between you, hand trembling.

The man barked a laugh. “Go ahead, sweetheart, I put that stuff on my eggs for breakfast,” he taunted.

Under normal circumstances, you would call bullshit, but right now as he stalked towards you, you were willing to believe such an unorthodox diet.

Please be a thug and not a rapist, you found yourself begging in the back of your mind as he slapped the can out of your hand before you could even press down on the trigger.

“Now, I don’t like cutting up pretty girls, but you’re leaving me no choice sweetheart.” he warned as he crowded your space.

With a seemingly effortless flick of his wrist, he backhanded you across the cheek, the momentum sending you flying towards the ground. The smack of skin still rang in your ears as you landed hard on the asphalt palms stinging.

Tears welled in your eyes as Tattoo’s grabbed your hair by the roots and leaned to whisper in your ear. You felt the cool metal of the flat of the blade cress down your arm.

But no threats came.

Instead, you were tugged harshly to the side nearly faceplanting to the ground, and a scream ripped from your throat in the confusion as the knife clattered away.

You opened your eyes to see Tattoos on the ground next to you eyes rolling into his skull, and the boy you were ‘saving’ leaning over you.

“C’mon get up!” he grabbed your hand, pulling you onto your feet.

You winced as your hair untangled from Tattoo’s now limp grip, and you looked over to see the man had fallen on the ground with you blinking dazed as blood trickled from his temple.

“Run!” the boy ordered, keeping hold of your hand and dragging you out the alley and back up the street.

You trailed behind him clumsily at first, thrown off balance by your missing shoe. But it wasn’t long before you heard footsteps tromping behind you, and you magically regained your coordination with the new burst of adrenaline and fear.

“Don’t look back,” the boy huffed before you could spare a glance over your shoulder.

You ran a few more blocks before you saw the famier sight of your work.

“C’mon this way,” You pant taking the lead and pulling him into the alley by 929.

“We can’t-” you hushed him as he started to argue, pulling him behind one of the dumpsters as you heard the thugs run past you and turn the corner onto the next street.

The two of you sat in silence for an eternity of a minute, holding your breath as you made sure they didn’t come back. At that time, you realized you grossly underestimated the boy’s age. He didn’t look like a high schooler at all. Once you got past his wide round eyes you could see he was clearly your age.

He was handsome, and although his shirt near swallowed him, you could see the fabric stick to his defined biceps and what looked to be a solid stomach.

“I think we’re good,” he whispered, breaking you from a trance. He smiled at your startled expression.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he said with a grin as he offered his hand. Grasping his hand, you responded with your own name as he helped you up from your crouch.

“I wouldn’t doubt it if they turn back around though, I wouldn’t doubt if there’s more than two of them. We need to get off the street,” he breathed, turning to you.

“I have a place” you offered, wondering why you were about to risk your employment for this stranger as you walked deeper in the alley to where the back entrance of 929 was.

“Please don’t touch anything,” you requested sheepishly as you unlocked the door. He cracked a small smile, which in turn cracked his lip as it started to well red with blood. You need to get the first aid kit- you thought to yourself.

You entered the store and immediately locked eyes with your shift cover, Skip -the owner’s nephew. He was a lanky fellow about 1 year past due for a haircut, but he never gave you any trouble.

“What are you doing back here?” he questioned, eyeing you and Jungkook’s disheveled state.

“What are you doing back here? Why aren’t you on the floor?” you shot back, trying to appear calm. He scowled at you before returning to the register upfront.

You led Jungkook through the backroom to the small corner that was the ‘employees lounge’, a folding chair and cardtable that was half-covered in inventory documents and leaned a little too far to the left.

“Best stay in the backroom since the front of the store is made up of windows,” you said lightly before reaching for the first aid kit on a nearby shelf.

He watched you curiously as you shuffled through the dusty medical supplies. This can't be sanitary, you thought to yourself as you read through the expired labels with slight difficulty as your hands shook. You were just coming down from an adrenaline high, you told yourself stubbornly.

You settled on the hydrogen peroxide which didn’t look out of date just yet and poured some on the cleanest rag you could find. Willing your hand to hold steady before prodding it gently at the scratches on his face.

Jungkook tried to keep his expressions neutral, tried to keep his eyes staring past you and to the doorway to avoid studying every detail of your face. But he found himself failing as he watched you fall into the comfort of tending to his wounds.

He noticed the distraction was grounding you more than putting you on edge. And he wondered if you were experienced in this somehow as you reached for his hands to pick out the rubble and wrap his split knuckles.

When you started work on his hands he realized that he was shaking, and he flushed with embarrassment. You didn’t seem to notice or judge him at least. You inspected his hand with a trained eye overlooking the tremor and instead focusing on the swelling on his wrist.

Fractured, you wondered, watching his face cautiously as you gave an experimental turn. He flinched, confirming your suspicion, and you winced thinking about how you grabbed his arm to pull him into the alley.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “and for this.” He ended awkwardly, pulling his hand from your grasp and gesturing to the rag in your hand and the first aid kit.

“Oh,” you let out not knowing how to respond to such a situation, “umm you’re welcome I mean anyone would-”

“They wouldn’t,” he cut you off with another cheeky grin, “but I’m glad you did. Although I’m sorry, you had to.” you nodded in response all words lost as you flushed unsure of what to do with yourself you shuffled through the first aid kit.

“Wait, wait, we didn’t get you,” he murmured, taking your hand and gently turning it palm up to reveal the scattered scratches.

He stood from the chair maneuvering you so you could be seated instead, before helping himself to the first aid kid. He picked out a few bits of gravel before carefully dabbing the scrapes to clean them, and reaching for the thin white strips of gauze. Wrapping your hands in a way, he saw you wrap his own.

You smiled amused, while it was a little unnecessary to wrap your hands, the cuts on his were much deeper than your own. You appreciated the gesture. You couldn’t remember the last time someone tended to your wounds.

“Now Cinderella, let’s take a look at that foot,” he said with a teasing smile as he crouched down, reaching for your ankle.

Panic flew through you as you pulled your foot away with an embarrassing squeal. “No need, it’s fine. I swear,” you flushed.

He looked at you, amused, “Everyone has feet, it’s fine,” he taunted, reaching for your soggy sock.

“I know, I know, but please,” you gasped. “I’m ticklish, and I will squirm,” you warned.

“I think I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t. I don't want to hurt you. I think your wrist is broken,” you accused in your desperation to deflect.

Jungkook looked up at you with a faltering smile argument dying on his lips. And you tried to amend yourself as your rambled, “Or fractured at least, the swelling indicates that-”

“You’re a doctor?” he questioned, looking pleasantly surprised.

“No, not yet, at least. I’m in school, but not far enough to help you. We should really get you to the hospital to get it taken care of, and who knows what state your ribs are in.” you said, looking down as he still kneeled on the ground. You wondered how he wasn’t showing any sign of discomfort, even with adrenaline in his system he should be in some pain.

“Oh no, no hospital” he argued quickly, and you raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously “If you let it heal wrong it’ll-”

“I’ll have a friend take me, I don’t want you to go through that trouble” you looked at him unimpressed but didn’t push you knew when a fight was a lost cause.

“Well, are you going to call a friend or a cab to pick you up, I’m not letting you just walk out there to die after risking my life for you.” you teased. He rolled his eyes at the statement but agreed he should call someone.

You wandered a little closer to the front of the store to give him a sense of privacy as he made his call. You felt a twinge of pain in your ankle as you got up and reached down to tug your sock off. You wondered if you rolled it in your heroic flee earlier.

You frowned down at your wet sock. You can’t belive you just threw you boot like that. They weren’t in the best condition, but they were the best pair your had. The closest thing to water resistant. The last bits of Spring were going to suck without them.

Then you shamelessly wondered if you could go back to the alley to grab it, once you and Jungkook parted ways.

As you assess yourself for an injury and mourned your lost boot, you couldn’t help but overhear Jungkook’s conversation. It seems he called a friend instead of a cab. What stood out to you was his tone of voice when he spoke.

You know there is no easy way to tell a friend you got mugged, some dumb girl interfered, and now you were hiding out in the back of a convenience store, but he had a tone of... professionalism? As if he were calling his boss and informing him of a missed deadline. He spoke efficiently and made odd references as if he were speaking in a code of some kind.

It never occurred to you at any point this evening that Jungkook could be dangerous. Sitting alone with him in the back of the shop, he gave off such a warm and inviting presence that you never questioned what he was capable of. You just assumed he was the victim of a mugging.

But now, taking in his clothing, how he spoke to his ‘friend’ on the phone, and the way he refused to go to the hospital, you start to wonder just who you let in the store.

“Did you need to call someone?” you jumped as his voice broke your trail of thought, and he looked at you apologetically.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just thought you may wanna call a cab yourself” he offered

You worried your lip as you looked at the idle screen of your own phone, and your mind drew a blank at who you could call.

You had friends, just no one you could call at 4:30 a.m. on a school night and ask for a ride to your apartment that was less than two miles away. You really didn’t want to pay for a cab either. The thought of sitting in a vehicle with a stranger sounds less than ideal, not to mention the cab fare in the area was ridiculous and you might have a new pair of boots to save up for.

Finally, sighing, you looked up at him with a teasing smile, “I was just going to head home once I know you're safe,” you said, trying your best to make your voice seem light.

Jungkook smiled but not out of humor.

“You’re joking, right? Look, I’m not trying to sound disrespectful, but you really shouldn’t be out there like that this late.”

You scrunch your nose in displeasure, and before you could kindly remind him, it was nearly 5 o’clock in the morning, and was you who saved his ass just over an hour ago he pushed forward.

“Those guys saw your face just as much as mine. It’s not safe to be out tonight; you have no clue if they're lurking.”

You felt a small chill of fear go through you, and you couldn’t help yourself from asking, “Did you know them? What did they want from you?”

He looked uneasy at your question, and you wondered if saving him might have unexpected consequences. “No, no, I didn’t know them, or why they mugged me; they probably wanted my wallet or something,” he finally said with a shrug, but it didn’t feel like the truth.

“Jungkook do-”

“Hey, let me give you a ride home.”

You were caught off guard by his offer, but as he continued to plead with you and reminded you of all the dangers of walking home, you took him up on his request. And half hoping maybe in your time together you could get the truth out of him.

You tried to act normal while you waited with him for his friend to come to pick the two of you up.

You considered thinking of an excuse to get out of the ride home, but he never did anything to you to prove he wasn’t trustworthy. You told yourself you were just paranoid after such a jarring experience. Jungkook was probably as worked up as you were after all.

Then the car pulled up. It was sleek black and with a soft purring engine that looked out of place on the west side of the city. You looked between the car and Jungkook trying to determine if he was rich or a criminal as the passenger side window rolled down revealing the most stunning man you’ve ever seen, that looked at you in a way that had you pulling at the edge of your work polo to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Get in loosers we’re going shopping,” he said in fake enthusiasm.

You didn’t know how to react to the outdated Mean Girl’s reference, and he laughed at your dumbfounded expression before deadpanning, “I’m kidding, but seriously Kook please get your friend in the car before we get shot. The area isn’t secure,” his flat tone contrasting with the carefree rectangular smile he punctuated his sentence with.

Jungkook cursed under his breath before putting his good hand against your lower back to urge you into the backseat of the car before sliding in behind you.

As you made your way into the fine vehicle, you were very aware of your missing shoe and haggard appearance. You worried you may soil the interior permanently.

The car took off as soon as Jungkook slid in the back behind you. And Jungkook pulled the door shut with a curse as the car started rolling.

You looked up to see the driver was an equally beautiful man.

You weren’t one to compare humans to higher beings. However, you were very aware that you were sitting in the car with a Greek god and his angel best friend. Saints were you in some kind of beautiful men only AU? You needed to find a way out before your heart exploded.

You curse yourself for thinking so shallowly when you may not even be in the clear of a life-threatening situation just yet.

But you noticed you were sitting behind the angel in the driver’s seat, and as far as you were concerned, that was a pretty good position to be in, in the case of a kidnapping. They would have a hard time holding you hostage if you had your hands around their driver’s throat.

“These are my friends Jimin and Taehyung,” Jungkook introduced as you both buckled. “Guys, this is... Cinderella,” Jungkook says, stretching out his words as he thought. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as the angel Jimin let out a laugh, the sound as pure as bells.

Taehyung turned around with a challenging glint in his eye, and your stomach dropped as you recognized his face. “Is that what you go by, princess?” He taunted, and you squirmed under his gaze.

“Do you two know each other?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowed.

“We go wayyy back,” Taehyung, who up until now you knew as V, teased. Jungkook looked at you expectingly.

“He’s uh- he’s my dealer,” you said quietly as you stared at your lap, “nothing heavy just some Adderall during finals season,” you amended flushing.

It was true, although your interactions were brief until tonight, you didn’t even know his real name. You just knew him as the guy in the hoodie that hung out behind the Mexican restaurant, not too far off-campus, that went by V. He wore a mask any time you met probably to hide such a distinct smile, but the moment you heard his voice, you recognized him.

“And mid-term season, and test week, and group projects, and -”

“We get it, Tae,” Jimin said with a warning to his tone cutting the dealer off in his listing.

The car fell into a tense silence before your body was once again lurched into the car door from Jimin taking another tight turn, and the motion helped you gather your wits.

“Are we going to the hospital?’ you asked, confused about how confidently Jimin was driving despite not knowing your address.

“No, we’re taking a few laps around town before we drop you off just in case we have anyone following you guys, you don’t want your friends from earlier to know where you live” Jimin offered. The confidence in his voice suddenly made you uncomfortable as you realized they may be experienced in this situation.

“Why would we go to the hospital; are you injured?” he followed concern bleeding into his voice. Taehyung turned around in his seat to asses you for himself, lips quirking at the sight of your missing shoe.

“No, Jungkook is his wrist-”

“Is fine, I'll have someone look at it when we get to the house” Jungkook cut you off with a warning look.

Teahyung laughed “You’re getting an earful tonight brother.” he teased as Jimin took a sharp turn lurching your body into the door.

“I- umm I would like to go home as soon as possible, please,” you asked weakly as you saw the first rays of the sun were starting to paint the buildings.

Jimin’s eyes flashed towards you in the rearview mirror, concerned, “I really do promise to get you home safely, princess, but to do that, please let me do my job first and then this night will be over.” he assured his voice warm and confident. And while part of you believed he truly did plan to get you home safe tonight the rest of your mind was immediately set on high alert by his kind words

Forty-odd minutes later, you found yourself deep in the upper east side of the city where all the houses had tall iron fences, and the yards were decorated with fountains. By the time you gave Jimin the address of your apartment, the streets were beginning to come to life with the weekday morning traffic.

“How long have you been staying there Ella?” Tae asked, recognizing Mrs.Rita's establishment.

“I’ve actually been living there for about 3 years now. It’s a dump, but I’m broke, so what can you do.” you offered tiredly as you leaned against the window unphased by your new nickname.

Throughout the car ride, Taehyung’s names for you went from Cinderella to Ella, to El. Jimin stuck with calling you Princess, however, it didn’t feel like an insult coming from his lips.

Throughout the ride, Jungkook and Tae had done an excellent job of calming your nerves and keeping you distracted. Tae had been going on and on about which coffee shop was the best one, and you were pleased when he agreed that your favorite shop served the best dirty chi in town.

‘Tae has a talent for finding everything dirty in this town’ Jimin had teased before receiving a smack on the shoulder from the younger.

You think you might have heard Tae ask a follow-up question, or perhaps he was talking to Jungkook as you listened to the rumble of his response. But all you could focus on were the manicured lawns of the east side and fighting the heavyweight of your eyelids against the morning sun.

“Ella,” Jungkook sang lightly, giving your shoulder a small shake.

You blinked blearily at him as your surroundings slowly came to focus, and you remembered where you were. You sat up with a gasp, immediately cursing yourself for falling asleep in a car full of strange men.

“Your castle awaits Princess,” Jimin offered as they rolled up to the complex, and you realized Tae was no longer in the front seat next to him. He must have gotten dropped off on your way to the Westside.

You looked around in shock. They really didn’t kidnap you.

Jimin let out a startled laugh and you realized you accedntly voiced your surprise. You flushed and thanked him for the ride while Jungkook slid out the car rushing around the back and opening the door to help you out, ever the gentleman.

“I wanted to thank you… again” Jungkook said shyly as he walked you to your door, you hand on his arm as if he truly were escorting a lady.

“I- its no problem.” You said, unsure of how to go on with the attention.

“Why didn’t you tell them my real name?” you asked as you ascended the stairs.

“I didn’t want to violate your privacy like that, you were in a car full of strange men. That’s stressful enough” Your heart warmed at his kindness.

“But you walking me to my door and knowing where I live should put me at ease?” you challenge as you came to a stop in front of your apartment. Jungkook flushed as he looked around, noticing just how exposed the complex is. He didn't like that the area wasn’t gated, and the entrances were outside like a cheap motel.

“I suppose I didn’t think that through” he shrugged.

“Just remember I have pepper spray, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He chuckled before you both fell into an awkward silence, not knowing how to say goodbye, and for a brief moment, you realized neither of you wanted to.

“Well, I better-”

“Yeah yeah definitely,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck.

“You have a good night or morning,” he offered with a smile as you unlocked your door and parted ways.

-----------

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember when your alarm went off at 10 a.m. and deciding you were going to skip your classes and sleep in.

You were in need of a ‘mental health’ day more than ever after the night-morning, you had. It was near 2 p.m. when you finally cracked your eyes open. Hunger and the need to relieve yourself finally dragging you from your sleep. You stumbled aimlessly as you took care of your body’s needs and even entertained a shower.

But after the shower, you were at a loss. You didn’t know what to do of yourself. At one point you checked your temperature to try to determine if it was all a fever dream, but the gauze on your hands and the bruise on your cheek confirmed you did, in fact, whip a thugs ass last night and got your own ass handed to you as a result.

After further investigation, you found that your left boot was still missing and wondered if you could find it if you searched for it on your way to work in the evening.

After an hour of contemplation, you decided you had to move on with life. One night of adventure wasn’t going to change your reality.

You were still a student in the throes of pre-med school, you still have responsibilities and assignments. And while last night’s adventure will be a great tale to share with some friends over drinks at the pub on Friday night, it was Wednesday afternoon, and you still had assignments to do.

You set up you work space telling yourself you wouldn’t put more than three things on your to-do list this afternoon. Before you decided you much rather water your plants and clean your apartment then attempt to study. It was a mental health day after all.

You indulged in putting on the old jazz record you dad mailed you for Christmas your freshman year. At the time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him you didn’t even have a record player, so you put away a little money for every paycheck until you could find a cheap used one at a rummage store.

You're sure the quality isn’t the best. Still, you’re also sure you have never heard a more beautiful sound than the day you finally dropped the needle on the disk and listened to the familiar tune.

And while you have since gotten other records, this one remains your favorite, because it always reminded you of home. You were singing along in a terrible impression of the musician, for your own entertainment as you made your bed and finally put away the pile of clean laundry you had been cuddling on your bed for the pst two weeks. When you heard a rapid knock at your door.

You called out as you made your way to your door, surprised by the unexpected guest.

Perhaps your music was too loud. Perhaps your singing was too loud and your neighbors wanted to complain. You were mortified by the thought.

You opened the door apology on your lips when you saw nothing but the covered the breezway. Perhaps it was some brat pranking you, you thought to yourself bitterly. But as you went to close your door, you saw a small parcel sitting on the ground outside. Picking up the box there was a small note attached that merely said:

For Cinderella: Thanks :)

Taking it inside, you opened the box carefully to find a shiny new pair of black boots. Much finer than the ones you owned before. The leather was soft and polished, and the laces were crips. And dare you say, they were much more fashionable than your old pair. Curiously you tried them on to find that they were your exact size.

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

The Bangtan family believed in life debts, it was one of the few traditions that they valued enough to maintain and honor. If someone were to save a member's life, that person no matter their class, status, or gang affiliation, was added to the ‘No Harm List.’ A very short but sacred list of individuals the Bangtan family went out of their way to protect and ensure the safety of from their gang as well as any others in the area.

The life debt was not paid by just the member who was saved, but the entire family. And while no life-debt could be valued more than another, the entire Bangtan family was quickly made aware of the new princess of the lower west side. Rumor spread of Cinderella and how you saved the maknae, heir to the family dynasty’s life.

“I don’t think this counts as paying your life debt,” Suga sighed as he put the car in park in front of your apartment complex.

“I’m not trying to pay it off! You can't do that. This is to thank her, now please go set it by her door. She can’t know it was from me!,” Jungkook pleaded to his elder.

“Who else would buy her shoes?” the elder challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Jungkook didn’t reply but merely stared at him pleadingly, his doe eyes reflecting the cosmos.

Suga sighed as he unbuckled his seat belt thinking of 100 more important things he should be doing right now before making his way up the concrete stairs to your apartment. He heard soft jazz music seeping through the door, accompanied by a terrible impression of Louis Armstrong. Which made him huff with laughter as he set the package down and knocked on your door, pulling his cap down as he strolled back to his vehicle.

-> Pt. 2

1K notes · View notes

obscure-sentimentalist · 3 years

Note

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #flommy #flommy fic

23 notes · View notes

punksarahreese · 3 years

Text

Trees | Bloodletting

Nosdecember day 10 | @neworleansspecial

Occult!au; April and Sarah go on a walk and meet two individuals Sarah was not expecting

***

"April," Sarah’s voice carried a little whine as she skipped a little to catch up with the Faerie, "Where are we going?"

"An adventure," that’s all April had been telling her since she showed up at the cottage that morning. Sarah had tried to protest, citing the fact that she had a painting to finish, but she couldn’t argue for very long. April looked so excited, for whatever reason, and Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her no. It didn’t help that an invisible hand had quickly found the small of her back, gently nudging her towards the door until Sarah took the hint.

Life was weird with a ghost roommate who always tried to mother her. Not that she would complain too much because Natalie was quite literally her lifesaver. Still, she did tend to get pushy when she thought Sarah was spending a little too much time inside. She didn’t want her to wallow in her depression, which she understood, but the fact that the ghost couldn’t leave the general riverbank area or stay corporeal all the time meant she couldn’t drag Sarah outside too often.

That’s where April came in. The Faerie had immediately taken Sarah under her wing and made it a goal to keep her safe. It was in her blood to heal people, after all, so of course she was going to do her best to make sure Sarah was happy. Even if she couldn’t mend her trauma, her and Natalie could do their best to help the human make some happier memories.

"I really need to-" Sarah stopped when she saw what was in front of them. She had never been this far into the forest, she couldn’t have, because this was a whole new feat she had never come across. Nestled near the hillside was a large old house, exterior looking a little worse for wear but the grounds blooming with a rather impressive garden. Ivy and grapevines snaked up the brickwork, evidence of nature passively trying to take back its land.

"Woah."

"Impressed?" April grinned, "Not mine, but I help keep the garden and its spirits happy."

"It’s gorgeous," Sarah told her sincerely, admiring a monarch butterfly as it fluttered past her to land on a nearby lilac tree. The whole yard was full of lilacs, clearly not from the area originally; whoever lived there must really love the sweet flowers.

"April?"

A soft, accented voice tore their attention from the flora in front of them. April turned, braids bouncing against her shoulder as she searched for the owner of the voice. A tiny, musical giggle was heard at their confusion. That was something Sarah missed; the ability to find humour in tiny things.

"Up!"

April’s gaze drifted in the direction she was told, quickly landing on a small figure perched in a nearby oak tree. The sun obstructed Sarah’s vision but she figured her companion could see just fine. She must have been able to, because her smile was almost audible in her reply.

"Tia," she relaxed when she realized who the person was, "What are you doing up there?"

"Watching. You appear to have a shadow, you know."

"Who? Sarah?"

A sound of disagreement and the rustle of leaves preceded her words, "Nuh-uh. Not the human, she’s fine."

The human. So whoever was up there must be some type of other creature, Sarah noted. She wasn’t even fazed at that point, having completely adjusted to the amount of supernatural activity within the forest. It was quite the shock in the beginning but Sarah wasn’t one to judge; besides, she was a guest in their territory anyway.

"Tia, are you going to tell me?"

"You know who he is," the answer was dismissive, "May I come meet her?"

"What would your mother say?" April’s tone was teasing, making the girl in the tree scoff. She was obviously a child, though very well spoken and somehow sounding authoritative. The way April spoke with her was familiar, but she didn’t think this girl was a Seelie child, since April had introduced her to most of the court who wanted to meet her ages ago.

"Mama doesn’t mind. Besides, you’re here."

April rolled her eyes, "I’m pretty sure that’s the one thing she would mind, given the history. That being said, it’s your funeral."

"Hm," the leaves rustled loudly again and there was a flash of wind in front of them, "Never had one of those, sounds like an experience."

Somehow whoever Sarah had been expecting to be the owner of the voice was not this child. She looked no older than ten, with long blonde ringlets spilling over her shoulders and a smug look on her face. She held herself with a confidence that was rare for someone so young and that alone told Sarah she was probably older than she appeared. It was the eyes that shocked Sarah the most though, blood red hue glinting in the sunlight.

"My name is Estia," the child gave a small half-bow in greeting, "You’re pretty."

Sarah was taken aback but forced a smile in reply, she seemed sweet even if her eyes were unnerving. She glanced at April in silent question but then turned back to the girl, "Sarah. Um... thank you."

"She knows?" The question was directed at the faerie, who had zoned out slightly as she was gazing past them both. Sarah was also a bit distracted, still absorbing this new person’s presence but also fixated on Estia’s previous words.

A shadow? Who was he? How did April know him?

"About you? No. Before you ask, yes she knows about the Fair folk. Ghosts and werewolves too."

"Covering all the bases but me and mama? Rude."

April scoffed, "Please, I just haven’t had time to ask your mother about it. I know how she feels about outsiders and, unlike some people, I can’t get away with being disrespectful."

"This one is pretty, mama will like her," Estia nodded surely at Sarah, "Any guesses on what I am?"

Sarah was a little confused, wondering who this child’s mother was for April to appear vaguely scared of her. Besides, Estia’s last comment stuck in her head. Something told her it was in her best interest for this woman to like her, whoever she was.

"Uh," she studied the girl’s features for a second but her first guess was ringing in her mind, "Vampire?"

"Oh she’s smart," the child grinned and showed off her tiny but razor sharp fangs, "I like you, Sarah."

"Oh, um... good?"

April clearly found the human’s confusion amusing and she gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Before anyone could continue the conversation, the creaking of a heavy door made them all turn to the big house.

"Estia, what are you doing?"

Sarah couldn’t help but stare when she saw the owner of the stern yet beautiful voice. She had a similar accent to the child’s, her low tone somehow soothing despite the vaguely hostile look in her eyes. Which were, just as Sarah expected, as red as fresh blood. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a half twist, some loose curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. That was where Sarah got shamefully distracted, her gaze lingering on the pale, scarred skin of the woman’s collarbones. Really it was at the fault of her dress, a rather dramatic red number that fell off her shoulders deliberately. Whoever this woman was, she was undoubtedly a vampire like Estia; one of status, if Sarah had to guess.

"Mama!" Estia was across the yard and at the front door in seconds. Her own gown was casual in comparison to her mother’s, a flowing royal blue fabric that had a high neckline, which was clearly to hide the bite marks on the child’s jugular.

"April brought a new friend," she explained proudly and Sarah realized she immediately sounded much more like the child she appeared to be. However old the young vampire was, she reverted to a more vulnerable state around her mum. It made Sarah’s heart ache a bit, especially upon watching as the woman smoothed down her daughter’s curls and helped her untangle a leaf from her sleeve. She missed her mother, that familiar comfort was something she didn’t appreciate until it was gone.

"Did she?"

"Ava," April met the vampire’s sharp gaze with her own cat-like stare, "She’s not a threat. She lives with Nat and she means no harm in our forest."

"Oh, your little ghost got a roommate?" The woman, Ava, chuckled as if the thought amused her. She seemed a bit rude but first impressions weren’t everything, so Sarah tried to be optimistic. She did still flinch a little when those bright eyes fell on her again, though.

In a split second she was in front of Sarah, moving with the inhuman speed that her daughter also possessed. Estia had remained on the front step, watching stoically as her mother gave the human a once over. Sarah tried to pretend that she wasn’t holding her breath, which was hard because she knew her companions had excellent hearing.

"Ava Bekker," she was a bit surprised when a hand was held out to her, followed by a laugh at Sarah’s hesitation, “I won’t bite you.”

“Oh, um…” Sarah took her hand and tried not to flinch again at how cold her touch was, “Sarah Reese. Nice to meet you.”

The way Ava observed her, with an unreadable expression and a tiny smirk made Sarah a bit concerned. She wasn’t uncomfortable per se, she knew April wouldn’t put her in any danger, but the whole situation was odd. The vampire’s original hostility had slowly melted away and she no longer stared at Sarah as if she was a threat to her or her daughter.

“She’s cute,” Ava mused to the Faerie beside them, “Where’d you find this one?”

“I told you, she lives with Natalie. Got thrown into our world unexpectedly but we’ve grown quite fond of her.”

“Oh,” the blonde shot Sarah a look of playful pity, “You poor thing, stuck with two of the most chatty creatures in this forest.”

“Hey,” Sarah was surprised when April had no qualms with playfully shoving the vampire’s shoulder, “She likes us.”

“I do,” Sarah promised softly, a bit distracted as she once again caught herself staring at the mass amount of scarring along Ava’s porcelain skin. Her neck and upper chest had the worst of it, bite marks and what looked like jagged knife wounds healed into white marks. The biggest scar was a big gash right across where her carotid would be, which must have been fatal by the looks of it. Her wrists were covered by the sheer material of her sleeves but Sarah caught a glimpse of quite a few more marks lining both sides of her forearm. Whatever she had experienced must have happened before her death, since as far as Sarah knew vampires couldn’t scar. Nevertheless, whatever Ava had gone through it looked like a lot.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when an ice cold hand found her face, fingers curling under her chin to lift her gaze. Sarah was too scared to shy away but the touch, while gentle, burned like dry ice. The other woman didn’t look angry, only amusement sparkling in her eyes as she hummed.

“Curious one, aren’t you?”

“I- sorry.”

Ava chuckled, her thumb trailing gently along Sarah’s jawline before she let go of her face, “You’re fine.”

“Mama,” Estia’s voice once again brought everyone’s attention away from the current encounter, “Wolves are on their way.”

Ava sighed, “Child has better hearing than even me. The pups are bringing us some food, so we mustn’t stay out any longer. Besides, someone is supposed to be practicing.”

“Ma!” the child whined, “I am literally dead, I have all the time in the world to learn whatever language you want.”

“Yes, but Latin is just as dead and still waits for no one. Off you go.”

Estia huffed and looked at Sarah, “Can you visit another time? I wanna know what human life is like now!”

Sarah looked at the other vampire for an answer, since she didn’t want to intrude or anything. Ava smiled at her with surprising warmth, her fangs showing proudly, “If Sarah wishes to pay us a visit then she is welcome. Might give her some peace and quiet away from all the faerie antics.”

“I heard that.”

“Well, it was also directed at your shadow,” Ava replied to April, “Who needs to work on his sneaking skills.”

Following her gaze, Sarah spotted a black cat watching them angrily from a tree. The same black cat who sat on her windowsill every night, watching and never moving until dawn. She had been unnerved but had assumed it was a stray at first. She even left a bowl of Autumn’s food out for the cat, but had only been met by hostile green eyes and a hiss. Judging by Ava’s words, he was not actually a cat. Which was even more unsettling; April and Natalie would have some explaining to do.

“We really must go,” Ava continued, before glancing at Sarah for a moment. She went over to one of her lilac trees, skirt flowing dramatically in the wind her speed created. A deft hand broke off a bunch of flowers at the stem, returning to Sarah in seconds. The human looked at her questioningly, instinctively holding her breath when Ava got closer.

The vampire leaned towards her, cold fingers brushing over her cheek as she tucked the stem of lilacs behind Sarah’s ear. The light purple flowers blended into her curls, filling her senses with their strong scent.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” was murmured in her ear and Sarah had to pretend she wasn’t blushing like mad when the woman pulled back.

“Mama?” Estia was bouncing on her heels, obviously waiting for Ava to follow before she went into the big house. Ava nodded at her, bidding Sarah goodbye and saying the same to April. In moments both vampires had disappeared back into the house, which somehow looked completely uninhabited. That probably had something to do with the fact that its owners were undead, but Sarah tried not to think about that too hard.

“Enchanting isn’t she?” April teased, having noticed Sarah’s panicked and shy reactions to the other woman, “Home time?”

Sarah recovered enough to nod, hand brushing through her hair to feel if the lilacs were still there. She followed April absentmindedly, thoughts still pinned on the gorgeous but intimidating vampire and how her low voice in Sarah’s ear had shamefully made her stomach flutter.

14 notes · View notes

detective-with-one-arm · 3 years

Text

My Most Trusted - Closed Starter w/ @generic-connor‘s Human!Connor and Naga!Rachel

An average day of peace in her village. That was what typically awaited her, each and every day. This was a blessing she had crafted. One she carefully maintained for the sake of her people. After all, it was they who were her most important treasure. It was she who taught them to hunt. She who taught them to fight. She who taught them to till the soil and who taught them to bond with nature around them.

This was her legacy. This was the cultivation by the will of the Jungle Mother.

Today was a rather special day. A day like this always was. Such a ceremony was a special thing and Rachel had not forgotten a single one. She made absolutely certain.

A couple and their son had appeared before her altar, presenting to her their most precious bundle, delivered just last night by the finest physicians in the village. The boy was just as excited as his parents and the naga woman couldn’t help but glow with pride. Births were always so taxing on the carriers and she made absolutely certain they received the utmost care after their arduous work.

The Welcoming Ceremony was a very special thing. A special moment between the village’s deity and the newborn. The moment that a new child forms that bond between she and it. When a child comes to understand that they will always be kept safe.

Because there is nothing beyond the boundaries of her territory more fearsome than she. And that that fearsome presence adored and loved that child with all of herself.

“You should be very proud, Cecilia and Victor.” The naga woman hissed softly as the couple handed her their child, the small squishy bundle wrapped in cloth sniffling quietly. Once it opened its eyes and gazed into her own amber ones, it reached out to her to grab hold of her face, spluttering and giggling at her.

Even newborn children were ever so perceptive. This child knew that she would never bring harm upon it.

That she was protected and loved in the naga’s presence.

“Your daughter will grow to be a strong presence.” Rachel continued to assess, doting on the small bundle and allowing her to touch at her scaly skin, her hand immediately going to the half of her face that was as white as the purest cloud. “A mighty warrior, she will become. Perhaps even a great leader, someday. Yes, your daughter shows much promise in her future.”

In her eyes, there was nothing like seeing the way the humans glowed when she praised their children. They should be as proud of their children as she was. After all, it was human children she had first allowed into her heart. Allowed into her life. Children who escaped into a jungle far more dangerous than they could ever imagine fleeing from something heinous they feared more than herself.

Taking a bowl of ground up flower petals ground up with honey, the naga dipped her claw in the mixture and held the child close, drawing her talon ever so delicately on the newborn’s forehead. She had learned a very long time ago how to be careful with her claws so she would not accidentally bring harm to such a delicate and fragile creature. Upon her forehead, Rachel drew the mark of bravery, a signifier that even in the face of danger, she will not hesitate to fight and stand up for what she values and loves above all else.

Looking up at the couple, the naga’s tongue flicks out with intrigue. “What have you named her?”

“Victoria.” The husband replies, smiling up at their guardian deity.

Chuckling affectionately at him, the naga woman gently hands him back his daughter, her clawed hand lingering for a moment as she drew it back from the fabric that cradled her. “I can see why. She certainly takes after you. I can already tell. You should both be proud.”

Looking down at the boy, the naga woman leans down to his level. The boy was filled with boundless energy. Yes, she remembered Ricardo’s Welcoming Ceremony as well. Upon him, she gave him the mark of vivacity, living life with a spark for it and for the sake of it and bringing an energy and passion to everything. “Jungle Mother! I’ve been practicing my hunter’s techniques.”

Flicking her tongue out once again, her amber eyes glittered curiously. “Oh? Well, then show me the progress you’ve made, dear boy.” She encouraged, her tail curling around him without touching him. After all, if he was going to make a demonstration, she wanted to be able to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. “Go on. Show me how much you’ve grown as a hunter.”

Excitedly, the boy showed her the flips he’d clearly been practicing. He was much too young to be handling the weapons they crafted in her village, but he could still learn to move as swiftly as a hunter should. Clearly, he was a quick learner. He had indeed grown quite nimble and agile. Valuable qualities to have in a hunter.

Nodding her head in approval, the naga drew back. “Well done. You will make a fine hunter once you come of age and are able to carry your first weapon.” Turning her attention to little Victoria once again, Rachel’s gaze softens as she neared the small human again. “Welcome to the world, little Victoria. I will ensure that it will be a world worthy of your life in it.”

With that, the Welcoming Ceremony was complete. The couple gave the naga their thanks and presented her with their family crest as a token of their gratitude. A symbol of the life they were able to build thanks to her protection. Taking it delicately, the snake beast bid them farewell and slithered into her cenote contented. As she slid down the stone stairway, the branches above her glistened in the morning jungle sun. Every trinket and decoration was a gift given to her by her people for generations. Symbols of the gratitude she had earned and their utmost unconditional devotion to her just as she had given to them.

Finding an adequate place to put her new gift, Rachel took a deep breath, appreciating the world around her and the life she was able to live. Of course, it was not without its strife. But that was why she was here. To protect them. To defend them from the outside forces that would threaten this place. Especially such forces that humans could not defeat.

Forces that foolishly deemed her soft and weak because of how she chooses to rule her village who would either slink away with their skin ripped from their flesh or their bones discarded into the sea.

At that thought, as she flicked her tongue out, a foreign scent made itself known to her. A vaguely familiar scent, but still foreign nonetheless. There was a trespasser here. Somewhere near. But they didn’t smell like the weapons that were used by the outside. Perhaps not a threat, but still worth snuffing out. But at least when it came to humans, the naga’s benefit of the doubt had always served her well.

Slithering cautiously out of her cenote, she was far more alert. Far less...soft. Her tongue flicked out repeatedly, tasting the air for her mysterious stranger as she investigated the immediate surroundings. “Well...where are you, stranger?” She called out, her voice smooth and silky as she spoke in her signature naga way. As though tasting each vowel and consonant and savouring it before releasing it into the air. “Come, now...Don’t be shy. Step into the light.”

#generic-connor #[my most trusted]#rp thread start #naga verse #tw babies #tw children #connor dbh #dbh connor #dbh oc #dbh rp #rp #{Rachel}

2 notes · View notes

fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

His ray of sunshine, Chapter 26

‘No. Absolutely not!’ Tom said firmly.

‘Pleaseeeee. It’s not that far from our territory.’ Keira begged her Alpha.

Jessica and Tilda were hovering behind her. They were all outside by the pier, Tom, Michael and Idris were fixing a table.

‘No, Keira. It is not happening. With Ben sniffing around us in London, we don’t know what he’s planning. You are not going camping, it’s not safe. End of.’ Tom’s tone left no room for arguing and Keira’s omega side took heed of it.

She nodded sadly. She then went with Jessica and Tilda back to the middle of the green where they’d been originally talking and hanging out.

‘I don’t think they’d be in any danger, Tom. We could go with them and keep an eye.’ Michael suggested.

Tom just glared daggers at him. Michael put his hands up. ‘Alright, alright.’ He sighed. ‘They’re just wanting to have some fun. They’ve not been off the property since we got back from London last month.’

‘We can keep them safer here, on our territory. There is no need for them to go off camping.’ Tom grumbled.

Michael looked at Idris and rolled his eyes.

‘What if we let them camp out here? On the green? That way they are still here and safe.’ Idris suggested.

‘I don’t want them outside.’ Tom barked.

‘Come on. They’re outside right now! Just because Jeremy picked up a scent in town the other day doesn’t mean it’s someone from Ben’s pack and that he’s here. You know it’s a main route and many packs pass through when traveling.’ Michael argued.

‘Enough! It is not happening! They are not camping outside at night!’ Tom shouted at the other Alpha, getting a snarl in return but Michael wouldn’t dare challenge Tom fully.

The three omegas had heard Tom shouting from the green, they looked over and saw tension between the Alphas, mainly Tom and Michael.

‘I shouldn’t have asked.’ Keira said guiltily.

‘Nonsense, if we don’t ask then we don’t get.’ Jessica said.

‘Tom has been rather grumpy lately.’ Tilda sighed.

‘I think he’s just worried about that scent that Jeremy picked up on. I don’t blame him really. But at the same time, we can’t just live in fear. Can we?’ Keira said. They were making daisy chains so she was focused on that while she spoke.

‘No, we can’t. But it is Tom’s job to keep his pack safe.’ Jessica shrugged.

‘True. I know he would never forgive himself if anything happened to any of us.’ Tilda nodded.

Keira kept quiet and finished making her daisy chain crown. She then went to find Tom who had disappeared up by the shed to chop some wood for the fire. She clenched her thighs together a bit when she approached, he was topless and sweating from the heat of the sun and the activity he was doing.

Keira would never get over how hot her Alpha was. How strong he was, too. Those muscles… She shook her head, trying not to let her mind go down the gutter.

Tom smiled softly when she approached. He swung the axe hard into the log and left it there as he wiped his brow with his forearm.

‘Hey, little one. I’m sorry if I was too harsh, I just need to keep you all safe.’ He said gently when she walked up to him and into his embrace.

‘I know.’ She said quietly, turning her nose into his chest to get his scent.

Tom wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her hair, just holding her for a moment.

‘I made this for you.’ She leaned back a bit and showed him the daisy chain crown.

Tom laughed and sat down on the tree stump so she could reach. She grinned as she placed it on his head. ‘It suits you.’ She laughed.

‘Much appreciated.’ Tom chuckled.

He spread his legs open and tugged Keira between them so she was close, she put her arms around his neck and smiled sweetly at him.

Tom cupped her face and pulled her in for a lingering kiss on the lips. Then he gazed into her eyes. ‘Why don’t we take a trip to the beach this afternoon? And then, if everything seems well, you omegas can camp out on the green tonight. Does that sound ok?’

Keira’s face lit up excitedly. ‘That would be great! Are you sure that’s ok?’

‘I’m sure.’ Tom nodded and nuzzled her nose with his own. ‘I just want to keep you safe. You mean everything to me, little one. But I know I can sometimes be…’

‘Grumpy?’ Keira grinned.

Tom raised an eyebrow. ‘I guess that’s the word.’ He chuckled and gave her sides a squeeze, making her laugh.

That afternoon, Tom, Michael, Luke, Charlie, Keira, Jessica and Tilda all went to the beach for a while.

Tom was on high alert, he wasn’t able to relax too well. He just had a feeling that there was something wrong. But he wasn’t sure what, and that was what drove him crazy. He liked to know that everything was fine, that he could keep his pack safe. He liked to be in control in that way. Keeping everything under order.

He was snapped from his thoughts when he saw Keira and the other two omegas start to wade deeper into the sea.

‘Keira!’ He called out. She stopped and turned around to face him. ‘Don’t go in any further.’

She nodded and did as she was told, just paddling about there.

‘Any of you!’ He called out when he saw Tilda and Jessica trying to go a bit further. They both stopped too and went back to where Keira was.

Michael shared a look with Luke, but neither of them said anything.

‘I’m going to go and have a wander up the beach, check it out before we head into town later.’ Charlie offered.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Tom said. He then looked at Michael and Luke. ‘Do not allow the omegas to go any further out to sea.’

‘Sure thing, boss.’ Luke nodded.

Tom and Charlie started walking along the beach. There weren’t many people about, which Tom was glad of.

‘You’re tense. Have been for a while now.’ Charlie commented.

‘I have this uneasy feeling, Charlie. I feel like Ben, or someone, is about to ruin our peace. I can’t shake it off.’ Tom sighed.

‘It’s that scent that Jeremy picked up on, isn’t it?’

‘I think so. How am I supposed to keep everyone safe when I don’t know who or what I am keeping them safe from?’

Charlie nodded his head slowly and shrugged. ‘I can imagine it’s not easy being pack leader. But you are doing a good job, Tom. There is only so much you can do. As you say, when you don’t know what or who the threat is, there isn’t a lot you can do.’

‘I know. But I hate it.’ Tom grumbled.

When they returned a little while later, after not picking up anything suspicious on the beach, the omegas were back on the sand with Michael and Luke.

Tom sat down and Keira crawled onto his lap, hugging into him. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck. ‘Did you behave while I was away?’

‘It was only half an hour.’ Keira laughed.

‘I know. But I am sure you could get into a lot of mischief in half an hour.’ Tom grinned and leaned back to look at her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘True.’ Keira grinned.

Later on, Keira and Tom went to dip their feet in the water. Keira started playfully splashing him, so he got her back by doing the same. Then he grabbed her and tickled her sides, making her squeal and laugh. He scooped up some of the cold water and splashed it down the back of her top, making her squeal even louder as she tried to run away from him.

Tom chuckled and chased after her down the beach. When he caught her, they tumbled down onto the sand just out of the water. He leaned over her and growled playfully as he nibbled on her neck.

‘You can never outrun your Alpha.’

‘I’d never want to.’ She giggled and tilted her head further back, giving him as much access to her neck as he wanted.

After rolling around in the sand for a short while, kissing and heavy petting, the two made their way back to the group, hand in hand. When they got back, they both started laughing.

They’d all buried Luke in the sand, all that was showing of him was his head. But Charlie had added some breasts out of sand, making it look like they were Luke’s.

‘Nice breasts, Luke.’ Tom chuckled.

‘Why thank you. I’m very proud of them.’ Luke grinned and managed to get his arms out of the sand to grope them, making everyone laugh.

#Tom Hiddleston #his ray of sunshine #omegaverse #fan fiction

82 notes · View notes

ma-sulevin · 4 years

Note

Are you looking for soulmate prompts? Because I would love to see 6!

Oh yes, yes I am. This one came to me while I was cooking dinner so it got bumped way up to the top of the list. This one gets a little nsftumblr in a couple of spots, but nothing explicit. Enjoy!

Kaidan Alenko x Hazel Shepard

6. the one where when you dream you’re seeing whatever your soulmate is currently experiencing.

Kaidan didn’t know how used he’d gotten to the dreams until they stopped.

They used to follow him, all the time, overshadowed his own nightmares with whatever Shepard was going through. He went to bed every night at BAaT exhausted and empty and looking forward to seeing whatever his nameless soulmate was doing — often schoolwork, since she was just a bit younger than him, somewhere on a planet where the summers were hot and humid and cicadas screamed all night long, somewhere winters were mild, somewhere she could get on a motorcycle and drive across empty miles of farmland.

After BAaT, he dreamed his way through her decision to join up with the Alliance, and he joined up too. He dreamed his way through her N7 training and through what happened to her on Akuze.

He reached out to her then, once he saw her on the news, and it took her so long to respond he thought she might not want anything to do with him. He didn’t blame her, not really, not when he knew she’d seen everything he went through too.

But then he started dreaming of her when she should be asleep, tucked into shitty little apartments and the occasional hotel room on shore leave as she touched herself, as she murmured words he was certain were for him.

He heard her say his name the first time in a dream, dripping from her lips as she shuddered through a climax that woke him on the edge of his own.

He grew so used to the dreams, so used to seeing her in them and then having an extranet message from her when he woke up that he never even considered he wouldn’t have them, not ever.

And then Alchera happened.

And the dreams stopped.

Thirty years of dreaming of her every single night, and now?

Nothing.

It leaves him emptier than he could ever imagine, drained and dispirited and so fucking focused on his work because that’s all he has now.

It’s all he has.

Two years of nothingness when he sleeps, waking physically refreshed but so alone, going out into a world where everyone else at least knows they have a soulmate out there somewhere waiting for them.

Two years of nothingness, and then…

A dream.

It comes in bits and pieces, staticky, far away, but so, so familiar. She’s fighting, in danger, furious and confused, someone else’s shotgun in her hands and pain surrounding her, people she doesn’t know fighting at her side, unfamiliar territory all around her.

The only thing he recognizes is the Cerberus logo on the uniforms.

He wakes so, so, so terribly confused. Angry, hopeful, uncertain, and so, so, so confused.

Anderson doesn’t know what to tell him.

He keeps the dreams to himself, but for the first time since Alchera, he looks forward to going to sleep at night.

He sees her talking to the Illusive Man, Cerberus’ head. He sees her snapping at the man who apparently paid to — what, bring her back from the dead? — and he sees her asking for him, over and over.

Where’s Kaidan?

Do you know where Kaidan is?

What happened to Kaidan?

He sees her crying, wracked with sobs as she curls around a photograph of him in her room on the new Normandy.

He sees her awake late into the ship’s night cycle, trembling with anxiety, sometimes slipping into her closet with blanket and pillow just to find somewhere she feels safe.

He sees her facing down the Collector threat with the same steady confidence she tracked down Saren, only to panic the moment she sees empty space outside the Normandy’s viewports. He sees her plunging more recklessly into battles, throwing punches and too many biotic moves and running out of heat sinks because she’s so furious on the battlefield.

He sees her getting medigel from Dr. Chakwas after missions and taking it back to her cabin and applying it in her private bathroom, staring at her bruised and scarred body in the mirror until the gel sets in.

He sees her stepping under the water and washing herself free of the medigel’s residue and the lingering sweat from the battle. He sees her considering, leaning against the wall with one hand while the other slips between her legs. He hears his name dripping from her lips once again as she shudders through a climax that makes her shake with lonely sobs once the pleasure subsides.

And then.

He sees her get the order to go to Horizon.

And he wakes up, for the first time since Alchera, and he knows what’s going to happen next.

He’s going to see her.

And he’s going to let her know everything is okay.

#Kaidan Alenko #Mass Effect #my writing #oc: hazel shepard

32 notes · View notes

the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

Text

3_40 Dream Scape

There was a road. It went on for miles and miles, endless road among a forest of bare trees tangled against a half moon. The wind strummed its lacy fingers through parched branches, what little grass mingled beside the road, sighed as it bowed low. Stars dazzled the distant cosmos, as far beyond his reach as the end of the road he courted. It was a territory he was out of practice with, roads he recalled well but he could not ponder on the specifics of his relationship with a road. He set foot on the this subdued path and it replayed like a loop, no stone or shrub was ever the same, but the night always limped onward relentlessly. An eternal night that kept him shackled to a land in the perpetual twilight; teased him with promises of a reprieve within a daybreak that always rose and melted back into dusk. Half risen suns drowned in an inverted dawn.

By his impression roads were not meant to be this way. A new purgatory, fresh kindling to tend his carefully guarded heat, something about the air stirred him, made him slink deeper into the nuance of wandering. There was danger in testing boundaries; around him deep within the woods there remained zones he was not welcomed. But the road was modern and it had cut deep through the earth decades prior, a mile more. He could always turn back, that was a choice preference.

In the shrouded distance something awaited. It wasn’t there but it was, he knew it just had to be there ahead somewhere and the sense of it needled at him. Abruptly the sensation abandoned him altogether but by then it didn’t matter, he knew something tangible was there though he could not see it clearly, but he would arrive on it in due time. There was no hurry, how long had he been waiting? It was there and it would not leave, if he wouldn’t allow it.

Even when the sharp slit of light hit the amber edge, he couldn’t hasten his pace. He could scarcely believe what it was that he had come upon, and the sight of it briefly stumped him. There. THERE!

He did not go toward it immediately, but kept his guarded distance on the road and studied the slate of color, the self-proclaimed title that read out on its side MYSTERY SKULLS, bright colors exploding in his mind as if a maelstrom of colorful spectrums had never before been witnessed by his eyes. It was here, a van. THE Van.

The acuity of ownership, of belonging failed to taint him as he moved closer to the inert vehicle. It was a place, a mobile station that he had once shared in, yet it was a separate entity from himself. Another identity. Nevertheless, he reached his hand out as he neared, but faltered.

The rest stop was fifty miles out away from the nearest city, in the midst of jagged rocks speckled by sparse trees and stiff grass stalks. Several groupings of rocks blocked visual of the main road that bypassed the stop, the road itself was practically deserted but for the stray car that happened by.

Its late morning and the rising sun moves to hover behind a cluster of impacted rock that rests at the base of a high hill. A figure picks its way toward the utmost point of the mammoth boulders; its rich pelt is silhouetted by the bold yellow orb trembling behind it, a glossy red sheen coats the ends of its fur. It turns its head and focuses on the figures far below, seated upon a brick wall that chaperon’s visitors toward the interior of the large, gray stone building. Red eyes narrow and sharp teeth poke through the sides of the muzzle, the figure draws back its head and unleashes a loud yawn.

Cool wind prickled the ridge of fur that lined his shoulders. Mystery finished his yawn, as he stretched all the way down until his toes reached the edge of his perch and his chest was nearly touching the cool rock under him. He sat down and put one back leg to work, going to town on the bent and frazzled fur that had tucked into the edge of his ear. That felt too good, and he nearly couldn’t stop himself. Somehow, he managed. And picked himself right up and shook out his coat, his collar rattled in that amusing way it did that let everyone know he was just a dog. Plain and simple.

He adjusted his spectacles with a wrist and once again turned his attention, onto the surviving members of his pack. If he wanted to he could listen and be aware of what they were saying, but the topic was nothing crucial, remedial chitchat. They could do without his company for a while longer. He snapped his ears high and raised his snout into the breeze and sniffed. Leaves, roots, elk, some kind of feline – nothing to fret over. In these areas a case of abandoned beer or some other rubbish dumped by disrespectful guests, was the vilest threat that could be conjured. A shame that good people were far in-between and few, if any.

Mystery let his eyes linger a little longer on the two on the wall, talking. Satisfied, he began to pick his way down the backside of the boulders and crept back into a clutter of trees. No one was calling for him. They’d be fine for a few more minutes.

“We’re def. safe, since he only takes victims at night,” Vivi was saying. The computer was working again. Nearly fifty-two hours on the road, both batteries gave it up ages ago. Now was a good time to stop and charge them up. Except… “I’ve never heard of attendants with sleeping quarters.”

Arthur sat on the same wall several meters away from Vivi in the direct sunlight, and doodled in his ‘company’ notebook. “It’s his job,” Arthur grumbled back. Vivi was on the case, and her enthusiasm was becoming a national emergency as far as schedules were concerned. “We’re miles away from the nearest town, it’s the system around these parts.” Arthur directed his pen Vivi’s way, and slapped his hand down when his sketch pad began sliding off his lap. “He’s a government employee. That’s all.”

“No one looks that pale, ever,” Vivi said, hardly focused on the editing of the document. A half eaten ‘Texas sized’ cinnamon bun sat on its gooey wrapper, all of this perched on the side her knee; the snacks only companion was a bottle of iced coffee and a bag of popcorn (a ‘light’ snack). Vivi was ravenous when it came to her excessive sugar intake. “Unless he was some kind of vampire, but he’s out in the sunlight. Can’t be that, nope.” The rest stop attendant had given them a wave as he wheeled his beaten metal mop bucket away on the sidewalk outside. What little hair was upon his gray scalp was scraggly, his arms were boney and his clothing hung over his knobby shoulders; he sort of… slithered on his gelatinous brown work boots. “How long do you think cadavers can keep for? You know, people bodies? You know that stuff?”

Arthur gave Vivi a lopsided grin that revealed the teeth along his cheek. He coughed and tugged his vest a little more around his chest; no matter what Vivi said, it did keep him warm. “That’s not a thing I keep track of. I know how long a person can retain if they’ve drowned in icy water, but not post living stuffs.” He heaved over and snatched his notebook before it hit the cement below. With a smooth rocking motion, Arthur reseated himself firmly on the wall and flipped the page of the notebook over with his thumb.

The rest stop had a few external sockets under the roofs eave, near the glass doors that led into a visitors lobby where the bathrooms and concession stands were. The laptop was hooked up to one outlet, and a separate charger for the laptops additional battery was hooked up to the next outlet, while Vivi had the phones hooked USB hooked to the laptop. They’d save time, and Vivi swore she could finish the reports with this last charge.

“You’re working too fast. You use ‘down’ instead of ‘done’ a couple times,” Vivi mentioned, while pointing to the screen (as if Arthur could see from where he was). “Do you make these errors on purpose?”

“I’m an engineer,” Arthur muttered, with a shrug. “A little gratitude, thank you.”

“Excuse me Mr. inspiration only hits at four fucking in the morning,” Vivi taunted. For a few minutes she worked in silence, ticking at the keyboard on her lap. She sighed, and shifted the position of her legs dangling along the side of the walls edge. “If only,” she whined. She set the cinnabon onto the keypad where she typed. “If only this place had wifi, I could check if there have been disappearances along the road here.”

The pen Arthur had been using just leapt from his hand and rolled across the ground. “Geez, Viv.” Arthur tossed his notepad aside and hurried to reclaim the pen, before it rolled down the ramp. “I think I’ve had enough with disappearances for a while. Getting in too deep like that. I guess I shouldn’t… talk like that.” He examined the pen as he returned to his perch, a little closer to Vivi now. For a short while Arthur sketched in his note pad, a lot of his work was in pen and the bitter odor of the ink hovered around his head. Vivi was quiet for too long, and this caught Arthur, he stilled his hand from marking the page.

“I never really thought about this,” Vivi murmured. Her hands rest on the keyboard, her thumb picks at one of the keys. “Misplaced souls, lingering. That sort of thing. Maybe it’s just something spirits are compelled to do? I might be thinking this the wrong way.” She met Arthur’s eyes and frowned. “Did he… wander like this before?”

Arthur ducks his head from Vivi’s gaze and puts some meager lines into the side of one diagram and traces it, making the line thick. He shakes his head. “He didn’t… there wasn’t a reason for him to.”

Vivi resumes typing, laboriously slow now. “Makes me anxious,” she mumbles. “Like one day he’ll just keep walking. Won’t stop, doesn’t think—” Her voice caught, and Vivi swallowed a bit. She took a swig of her coffee drink and took a deep breath. “Kind of gets lost. What would we do? What?” It takes a second or two for the silence to get to Arthur. He sets his pen aside.

“Sometimes, y’know.” Arthur reaches up and touched the back of his neck, and nearly bites his tongue. “Sometimes, he gets overwhelmed. It happens. People do that all the time… it’s practically natural!” Vivi wraps her arms around her middle and frowns. “Look, hey. He won’t get himself lost.” Arthur scoots closer and sets his hand on Vivi’s shoulder. She doesn’t move but her eyes follow him, and she smirks at the edges of her mouth. “He won’t do that to you again. Even if…” This time Arthur is the one to choke, and he has to lean back and look away. “Even if you have to hunt him down or something.”

That wasn’t what he meant to say, but Arthur didn’t want to tempt… unsavory ideas. He drew his hand back and gripped at the edges of his empty sleeve with his fingertips.

There was so much scenery to see, always different, never the same. It made the hours on the road tolerable, it was part of what made the travel exciting.

Vivi had her camera with her, she rolled down the passenger window to take some shots of the hill valley below. The sky on their side was clear, but miles away low cloud cover and a thick fog had trampled the fields in the distance below, highlights of sunbeams accented bellowing flurries and vapor. Cold air rushed through the open window, despite it whistling through uninvited the interior of the cab retained a comfortable, warm temperature.

The radio bubbled with music, mostly it picked up static this far out from reliable towers. Around every hour Lewis would flick his hand towards the radio and shift the channel to a weather station, listen to the broadcaster drone out a forecast, then flipped the channel back to the former station. Whenever the backlash of static buzzed across the radio, Vivi would pause from sightseeing to shoot Lewis a curious glance. Lewis would smile her way, and Vivi would return the warm gesture, and go back to her comfortable little spot by the window watching the thunderhead pass.

It was cozy this way, being sealed up in their dry little shell. Miles away sleet swirled across the roads, the air would be mercilessly cold and brutal. The roads they kept on remained free of water or hazard; the pavement wound around bends and across metal bridges, and cut through a small town built into the hillside. They stopped for overpriced gasoline, restocked on some supplies, used the facilities, and off they were again.

In this segment of the endless road Mystery took occupation of the cooler back, while his companions stayed crammed in the front seat. Arthur needed a change of environment and sat in the passenger seat, with Vivi crammed between him and Lewis. Arthur updated a separate report and Vivi invested as much time as she deemed tolerable, in editing and assembling the joint document portion. She took frequent breaks to lie back on the seat and just stare at the stars. It eventually got to the point where she was nodding forward, and Lewis was trying to keep her head up with one hand, least he condemn her face to smash onto the keyboard and do unredeemable damage. Arthur saved the document before Vivi could break the laptop, once this was all done Vivi retreated into the back with Mystery. There was bumping and a groggy whimper, before Vivi had nestled down herself. Lewis lowered the radios volume, and drummed silently on the dashboard as he scrolled through the stations for something instrumental. He could perhaps coax a station from somewhere distant, that should be possible for him?

The hours remained tranquil while the craggy road whirred on and on, its extent inexhaustible. White pools dotted the landscape around them, the high beams of the van would occasionally glitter over frost on trees that hovered beside the road; the world was different in the headlamps of the van. Different in the lights of this vehicle, the van.

Traffic picked up or trickled out as they arrived, and abandoned the larger towns in turn. On the open road fellow travelers became scarce, and the beauty of the night could be witnessed. The stars receded to the vibrant colors of dawn, runny maroon light crept over patches of thick woods, a pale fog rippled among the bare segments of meadows and open farm fields.

Lewis glanced over the headrest and checked the back. Vivi was curled up in a sleeping bag, with Mystery tangled up in the same blanket and Vivi’s arms. It didn’t look like Mystery minded. “When was the last time you slept?”

Arthur twitched somewhat to the sudden, even faint voice, when it alit on the close quarters of the cab. He relaxed after a moment but said nothing. He pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around his shoulders and shifted his legs. Lewis hardly moved at all, except to accommodate some sort of body posture or to make room for Vivi. It kind of unnerved Arthur. “Before we stopped, yesterday,” Arthur mumbled. “I sleep when I’m ready.”

“You’re not tired?” Lewis reached up to the overhead visor and flipped it down. “Not good for you,” his voice echoed, warning.

“I feel all right.” Truthfully, Arthur hadn’t slept the previous day either. “It’s beautiful, the colors.”

“Yeah.” Lewis picked at the sunglasses in the cup holder. He didn’t want to push Arthur a whole lot. “I really messed up, huh?”

Arthur thudded his brow on the cold window and watched his breath fog over the glass. The lights of some town they bypassed, sparkled in the distance with paling colors. “Lew, when I… not that. Um.” He reached up with the blanket, and began wiping little sections out of the fading haze in the window. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, lately.”

Lewis’ voice hitched, like it popped into the radio and out. “Hm. Since when don’t you?”

“Heh.” Arthur’s medicine was in his bag in the back. It didn’t help a lot with his throat, but he liked to think it kept him awake. A series of low whimpers came from the behind them, it was probably Mystery. It was hard for Arthur not to feel sorry for the hound. A random thought trickled into Arthur’s head, and he snorted with the chuckle. Lewis looked his way, maybe startled but he didn’t inquire. “Sorry,” Arthur snickered. “I was thinking of something. Do you remember that one case, the one where I was begging Vivi: “Please, please. Save the villains?’” Arthur gagged a bit as he sniggered, his nose stuffy.

SAVE the villains? Lewis couldn’t picture any of them actively making an effort to save those kind of people, if he was rolling on recounted experience. He shook his head. Nothing specific came to mind.

“It was the one in the state park that was closed to visitors, and the archeologists… lemme think. I know… villains, it sounds really hokey, but I panicked,” Arthur mumbled. He rubbed his thumb on the edge of his blanket. “It was kind of a neat job. Sacred artifacts disappearing from a just as sacred temple, no solid evidence to who the culprit was, no suspects; I think the lore went that the local god – this bear demon thing – was showing up to punish trespassers. That thing was terrifying, actually. It showed up and scared the students, none of them could figure out how or where it would vanish off to. None of this ringing any bells?”

Lewis cocked his brow at Arthur. “I don’t see how that would make you laugh. Though, there must’ve been something that happened…?” He waited for Arthur to continue. For a while Arthur sat staring out the window, collected, watching the sun tease gold tendrils through a low hanging haze.

“Something about rival archeologist camp, stealing artifacts to sell off to highest bidders,” Arthur said. “It took us a while to make progress… those guys. They figured a way of using the ancient aqueducts to get around, but they were like a maze and people had… gotten lost in them, a lot didn’t make it out.” Arthur went silent when Lewis picked up the sunglasses and put them on his face, effectively blotting out the bright gleam of his ember eyes. Arthur folded down a little more in his seat, fingers tugging on the pinned sleeve of his shirt. The thing that always shocked him about that case was the nightmares. Arthur didn’t dream a whole lot about the demon bear, but he had a lot of those wandering dreams. The ones where he stumbled into the underground water tunnels, and got lost forever in the dark, the cold. He shuddered.

“Did Vivi… well, Vivi always does the Vivi yes thing,” Lewis replied. Once she got an idea in her head, there was no telling what would happen.

Arthur nodded. “Y-yeah.” That’s how it went. Vivi did the one thing the group was not supposed to do, and ran off on her own without a word to anyone. Inspiration struck, and she was going to slap it back or something. Thankfully she had not disappeared into the aqueducts beneath the temples, Mystery found her scent easily enough and it led deep into the pine forest. “There was this little hidden road way out there,” Arthur continued. “Almost washed out and tricky to hike. We sort of ‘commandeered’ one of those little off terrain golf carts they had for the tourists. I can’t believe we did that.” Arthur maneuvered his arm a bit under the blanket. He wasn’t cold, but it helped him to have something covering his shoulders.

“Are you sure you didn’t catch this on TV or something?” Lewis said. “I think I’d remember dealing with a demon bear and artifact smugglers.”

“This was one of our cases,” Arthur insisted, through a half yawn. He quieted when Vivi murmured something in the back, probably shifted. It didn’t make sense that Lewis would be the one unable to recall the case, he was the one that was gung-ho about scouring the woods until they found Vivi. Not that Arthur wasn’t impartial to turning the entire forest upside down to find their lost teammate (and leader), in fact he was more afraid of losing her than the possibility of running into the demon bear out there. It was a crisis.

“It was hard keeping up with Mystery,” Arthur went on, softly. “We did find their camp though.” The smugglers operation was well organized, and they had old military jeeps that they were loading up with acquired artifacts. That wasn’t the problem though, the problem was that they did find Vivi was there but she was unconscious. “And you… lost it. It was spectacular.”

“¿Es de verdad? Not making this up?” Lewis inquired, once more. “I can see Vivi charging off on her own and getting into trouble, maybe. Usually though, you’re the one that gets nabbed.” Lewis raised a hand up to his plush hair, presumably to smooth the pompadour back but stopped. Briefly Lewis glimpsed his palm before he set his hand back onto the steering wheel. “You stop to look at something shiny, or it has moving parts. You— but you, well, you don’t pay attention a whole lot when you should. De la solapada.” It wasn’t a challenge to get them all separated, especially if something big and disputably hazardous was chasing them. Lewis had never really given that consistency any sort of consideration, until now of course. Huh.

“There was no intriguing machinations to tickle my fancy way out in the boonies. This time, I stayed with the group,” Arthur grumbled. “One of the times I don’t get kidnapped and you conveniently forget. It used to be one of our favorite cases too. We took a lot of pict— Mmm, there was a lot of folklore and exploration. Vivi got caught up in it, I guess that’s why she took off like that.” Arthur also didn’t want to mention he was kind of taking it easy after having stitches put in from another incident. He felt like a burden on this case. “She loves that stuff. Anyway, you saw her there, so you bombed the heart of operations and went after those guys… some of them even had guns. I was terrified. You - Fucking berserker mode: Unlocked.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth pulled back in a grin, and he elevated his hand like a sort of table. “I was under a jeep, and when I looked up at the commotion I see you with a camp fire at your back. You grabbed this big cast iron skillet, the really big thick ones that weigh fifty pounds. You went all Star Wars on them – except it was a skillet and not a light saber – and grabbed part of this tent in your other hand.” Another little giggle burbled out of Arthur as he interchanged hands, between pantomiming Lewis elected weapons. “Skillet, tent, and when you started taking down those guys, they started to panic and most were trying to book it. Mystery, he snagged some sort of sacred urn thing – it was kind of important later, but they thought he was gonna eat it I guess, a bunch of them were chasing him all over the camp. Utter chaos. This was going down, and I caught up with Vivi and was trying to wake her up. I kept saying… “‘Vi. Vi. You gotta wake up now, sweety, the villains need saving.’ I didn’t know what else to call them, kooks?”

The music cuts off as the radio buzzes with static; it makes Arthur twitch in his seat. “Oh wait,” Lewis said. “I think… weren’t they trying to get the bear demon out there too, when all of that was happening. They wanted it to – I dunno – mortal combat with me, so some of them could splint with the artifacts they could.” He direct a finger at Arthur, and smirked. “Usted. Puedes echar poco, you sabotaged the engines, didn’t you?”

Arthur made a gesture with his hand and tugged the blanket back up over his shoulder. “Anyone could do that. I just did it without getting caught… for once. The movies make it look simple.” He pulled himself up to look in the back and check on Vivi, still sleeping. “It was either you or me, but I wasn’t about to trust you sneaking around. They’d be like, ‘Oh, an eclipse! The end is neigh, we should have never finagled with the sacred burial site. Wait-wait, no. What is that?’ Then I’d be the one with the skillet light saber and a tent flag. Was that your plan? Or did you just improvise?”

“My story was gonna be, ‘I’m the new guy for the bear suit.’” Lewis turned the volume down when the station chewed the static. He was sure he wasn’t responsible for that. “Admit it, it could’ve worked. If it worked and they put me in that suit, I would’ve been unstoppable. ‘Dangit. Another guy didn’t read the instruction manual.’ I would‘ve warned them I needed extensive practice beforehand, but they could film me and it’d get Vine famous.”

Arthur sniggered in his throat. “Vine famous? Oh, you hit your head there pretty hard, huh?”

Lewis reached a hand up and brushed aside some of his bangs and touched his forehead. “Jeez, you nearly fainted. I told you it wasn’t bad, head wounds just have a nasty habit of over bleeding.” He swept that hand across his chest and straightened out his ascot. “Ruined my favorite shirt though.”

“Dude. Dude. Spoiler.” Arthur held out his hand and paused. Lewis looked Arthur’s way and waited for him to continue. “It was identical to all the other shirts you own.”

“It was new, that’s the key difference.” Lewis stiffens a bit, and kind of tilts his head when he looks at Arthur again. He fidgeted, slipping his hands up to the top of the steering wheel and tightened his grip, the plastic crinkles in his fists. Lewis checked the back, then returned his eyes to the road. The asphalt glistened with tones of cinnamon, transparent purples and deep blues ripple as the light singed the darker tints. A thin mist hung over the tarmac and coiled through the shrubbery nesting beside the road.

“You could have done part time for the Fred Fazbear’s,” Arthur mentioned. A chuckle lingers in his throat, Arthur winds up wheezing into the fold of his blanket. “Traumatize the little kids.” A little shiver coils up Arthur’s spine. He turns to a quiet Lewis. “Um… that demon bear suit was infinitely less terrifying than those animatronics. Safer too. They would’ve adored you. Especially your sisters, they always love it when you bring home a souvenir.” Arthur snapped his mouth shut, his teeth made an audible click. Lewis was absolutely silent and somehow, it was more unsettling than a disinterested Lewis.

Arthur sank down into his little ball and rested his cheek on his knee. He pretended to sleep, even if he didn’t want to. There was no way getting around it. There were many things that even a skilled mechanic couldn’t fix.

The candles lit at his passing, the flame twinkles briefly before the crisp draft of the hall snuffs the light out completely. A deep, impenetrable black fog hovers in the depths of the corridor, but at his approach it coils back, receding further back through the seclusion that he cannot reach. This arrangement seems to benefit them both, but he is careful not to hasten his pace. There is little to see at all, only a hall and a hall, continuous. It felt like he had traveled it for years, though he knew that was impossible.

There came a corner and around its side was a staircase. His hand slid across the polished banister as he moved by, gaze focused up into the dank shadows above and their secrets. Roots slithered down from the upper steps; the barest shimmer of candlelight gave an eerie sheen of red to the barks thin veins. It was difficult to make out but he was almost certain there were branches too, bent and curved down from the ceiling. That didn’t make sense, they did have trunks.

A black rock coated the floor, smoothed and polished by centuries of rolling water droplets. The room he was within felt confined, a small table stood beside him with a small candle atop; there was nothing else. The light the candle offered did little but provide a small parachute of illumination, there were still walls but no more corridors leading nowhere. It was just a room, a large suffocating room filled with dark. Someone had traveled the world over twice, collected up all the unsettling shadows that they could wrangle, and stuffed them into this room. It was oppressive.

From the coarse murk surfaced a wall, an unremarkable wood wall. At its base rolled up a corroded metal rail track that disappeared beneath the wall. There was nothing else of interest in these odd features, he knew he had seen it before somewhere and that’s why it was here. The candelabra on the wall flashed with instant radiance, and faded in the same breath as he kept on his way without pause. He should’ve felt something for the brief snuff of light, but he was numb to it. His whole sense of self felt drawn back, displaced. It was that same sensation as slipping into sleep, but without losing awareness. He swayed.

A door slipped in under the sudden pulse of another candle. The flame steadied and the door stayed where it was, in the wall, watching him. It felt like the door was watching him, waiting for some kind of action. Its surface was chipped and tinted red, a black etch was burned into the upper half. From it came a kind of foreboding regret, the sensation of it was so strong he had to pull back from the edge of the candles dome of light. It was something almost physical, almost visible. He waited listening to the distant hum, his own heartbeat, on the stale air. The door awaited his decision as patiently as any regular door would.

Without further hesitation, he reached for the tarnished handle, it didn’t need to turn, the door opened smoothly and he crept forward. Another room, smaller, he couldn’t tell. The door hissed shut against his palm and he chanced a look back. A candle sparked beside his shoulder, its light illuminated the glossy surface of a black pool at his feet.

“You fell,” said a voice. “You fell, and I pushed you.”

When he spun back, there was no one. Across from him was a corridor, a lone candle blazed atop the desk by the wall. He rushed in its direction, and towards the light.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls fanfic #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfiction #msa lewis #msa arthur #msa mystery #msa vivi #msa ghost #mystery skulls ghost

2 notes · View notes

writing-with-mari-blog · 4 years

Text

The Forest

Hi guys! So, this is a drabble from a story I’ve been working on for a while now, and I’ll be introducing some of the characters soon, as well

The basis of the story is that it’s set in a kingdom known as Kazikilo, which houses many Provinces and villages, including Kanunjo, which was a war-torn Province and is distrustful of Kazikilo and its government

The character in this excerpt is from Kanunjo and it is a story from her childhood, and in this story magic manifests in a child when they turn three, and the limit of their power grows as they do so their body doesn’t get overwhelmed with it when they’re so young, and it reaches its greatest capacity when they’re seven

That said, enjoy the drabble!

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

I discovered the wonders of my village back when I was a child. It fascinated me, how it was hidden from every other province and person, how no-one seemed to remember where we were if they stumbled across us, not that it happened often.

How, if you asked, they would tell you we moved around as we saw fit. We didn’t, really, but that lie was what kept us safe, it was what hid our city from prying eyes or power hungry madmen. We were Kazikilan, but not.

My father teased me about my view of our people, telling me that my view of our village was over romanticised, not that I knew what that meant at the time. As a child, I hadn’t known what he meant, but looking back now I can see it.

My mother told me the same, told me that there was nothing beautiful or whimsical about how we got there. She was right, of course, but my view had remained unchanged back then.

Until that night. Nolum Rosai, it was called. The forest on the edge of our territory, part of the forest that no Kanunjan, no Kazikilan, was brave enough to enter for fear of what lay hidden in its branches.

At least, none but the foolish ones who seek to prove their bravery or sought thrill. My parents had made one thing clear to me, that under no circumstances should I ever enter the forest. If they didn’t scare me enough, the survivors’ stories--not that there were many-- did enough to deter me from even coming close, deter me from being that fool.

But it wasn’t enough. All the warnings, all the horror stories, and I was still foolish enough to wander into Nolum Rosai. Into the forest that sent the strongest Kazikilans running.

I’d never sleepwalked before, not before then and never again. No one understood why, but my parents assumed I’d done so because I’d turned seven that day, and my magic’s full potential had finally unlocked, three years after I’d manifested.

If I’d had the ability or the idea, I might’ve shot back at them about how “if that was it, why didn’t you firebreathe when your powers were fully released.” But I didn’t, I knew vaguely of my father’s discomfort with his Drakon abilities, not that I ever understood why.

My mother didn’t either, but we never pushed him to explain himself. But this story isn’t my fathers to tell, it never was and never will be. This is one I have to tell myself.

I’d gone to bed the night of my seventh birthday content, in a familiar darkness. I woke up in what was anything but.

Everything around me was black, like the shadows I held power over, but it wasn’t the same. This darkness felt worse, felt colder,and it sent a shockwave of emotions through me. Fear, terror, helplessness, they moved through me quickly, too quickly for me to process most of them but they affected me as they pleased.

My breathing became erratic, too quick to give me the air I needed and doing little to help my situation and my legs began to shake from a mixture of fear and frigidity. I was lost. I was cold, and tired, and confused, but worst of all I was undeniably lost.

That was enough to set off my survival instincts and before long, I could feel a now-familiar darkness around me, my shadows wrapped around me like a cocoon. Their comfort did little to stave off the coldness around me, but they gave me a sort of familial warmth. It was in that semblance of comfort that my breathing began to even out and my heartbeat slowed down in turn.

I still didn’t have the courage to glance around me, hoping my fears weren’t confirmed and that I wasn’t where I was beginning to think I was. I kept to my shadows, praying to any Spirits watching over me that this was all a bad dream.

But fate was cruel that day, and the Spirits unkind. There was irony in it, I supposed. Irony in that I could survive attacks from rebel groups, could survive trained mercenaries, but still quivered in fear at having to face a forest with little besides a reputation and a few missing people.

Ironic even more so in that I survived. I lived to tell of this place, when almost all others were met with insanity-driven wandering to an untimely, torturous end.

I don’t know if I was the only one that ever survived this forest, but I knew I was one of the few. I remembered my parents’ faces when they saw me return. The faces of my brothers and sisters even though they were still young.

It had been the thought of them that made me brave enough to look at the darkness around me, to see the faint outlines of trees. My mother had always warned me not to go near this place, that had been my first thought.

The trees had risen high above me, black as night and glowing an eerie silver from the near sightless moon that peered at me as though she was laughing.

I shouldn’t have been scared of that darkness, of that lightless abyss that had bowed to me three years ago, but that darkness was different. This one felt unnatural, felt evil. It was not mine to control, nor would it ever be.

It would never be controlled, never tethered, always free. Free to kill and craze, and do anything it pleased in the name of protecting its forest. It took me time to accept the idea that I could live or die by its invisible hand.

Spirits protect me. I thought as I murmured a prayer to them before I even realised what I was doing. One of hope and protection. I could only hope they heard.

My mother used to tell me stories about this forest and our Spirits. They were the reason that this cold darkness remained omnipresent, a gift from Spirit Rajani, intended to protect the forest from any who wished to take advantage of its resources, but he was the Cursebringer and the Summoner of Shadows, and it was the best he could do. He was the one who gifted this darkness to Nolum Rosai.

My parents told me that my power came from him, and that I should not be afraid of it. That it was an honour to be gifted with the power of a Spirit, that it would make me powerful, strong enough to defend my people, if I had to. I hoped it would make me strong enough to defend myself, first.

My mother used to tell me that if I ever got lost, I should stay put and she would find me. That wouldn’t work here, everyone knew the dangers of lingering in this forest. The threat of insanity and death lingered, and I knew that I had to get out of here.

So, I stood on again-trembling legs and forced myself to move. Forced myself to trust my intuition and move forward, hoping it would lead me out of this place. I think the forest knew I was leaving because it felt like those cold shadows surrounded me, fighting through the cocoon of warmth that still surrounded me, trying to make me afraid, to try and drive me mad, but I was more afraid of never seeing my family again.

I focused on them, on the happiness they made me feel and the light they brought with them everywhere they went. On the idea that I didn’t want to cause them unnecessary sadness over something I had subconsciously done.

Vague outlines of distorted images tried to fill my mind, images of my family and my friends, looking for me but not finding me. Them not caring, saying they had never cared. The worst of them all, the shadowy image of my little brother, the little brother that I lost before I got the chance to know him.

That was the one that broke the dam, and before even I knew it, tears were falling, and I didn’t know if it came from anger or sadness, but I knew that I needed to get these images out of my head. I knew that, and acted on it, summoning more shadows to protect me and block out the vague outlines of what the forest was trying to show me.

It didn’t stop the tears, but it was for that little brother that I continued, that I would not let my fear of this place win. I ran blindly now, tripping and stumbling in the darkness for what felt like hours before I could see the gentle lights coming from the edges of the forest.

I didn’t know if it was another trick of the forest, but I was willing to take that risk and vaulted myself towards the lights, towards what I hoped was the comfort of home.

And I guess I was lucky. I guess the forest pitied me, or recognised me as one of its own, with my own control over shadow, but it let me get out alive. I kept running, even if I’d made it back home.

I only stopped when there was sound again, when that cold,creeping feeling left me. When it no longer felt like some outside force was trying to pull me back, trying to trap me in the forest.

I stopped only when warmth met me, and I was enveloped in the arms of my parents. When I was able to hear them, and feel guilty for their tears even though I was crying, too.

“You scared us.” I heard my mother whisper, and I couldn’t even apologise, only crying harder.

Fate had given me no choice. Fate had forced me to sleepwalk, to enter that forest and to experience a fear I never wished to experience again, a fear I went out of my way to never experience again.

Even as I faced that forest that I had wandered into when I was seven, now older, much more experienced, and still believing fate cruel. It was forcing me into that forest again, forcing me to face those fears again, this time with two others at my side.

I could only hope that the forest took mercy on us.

#creativewriting #creative writing #drabble #drabbles #thetrials #writingwithmari #mywriting #worldbuilding #short story #character building #backstory #original character #oc #fantasy

1 note · View note

feelingfredly · 5 years

Text

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Twelve

Protecting the Pack

The pachinko parlor was dark and quiet. Anyone looking in from the street would think it was empty, but the locals knew better, and knew better than to comment.

“It was terrible, just terrible.” Mahjong tiles clicked in the background, and Kisuke wondered whether the players in the back room were there to put him at ease, or to remind him that even having a room full of witnesses wouldn’t keep him safe if Mamushi decided it was not to be so. “And with one of my pets, no less. It’s almost as if someone was trying to send a message—the question being, was it a message for Okura-san, or a message for me?”

A tattooed hand reached out and poured whiskey into Kisuke’s glass. The blond had brought a bottle as befitted a guest in Mamushi’s house, but he would never be so rude as to pour his own. “But we both know Okura-san tends to underestimate the importance of self-preservation when he sets himself upon a particularly focused path. It isn’t a surprise that he overlooked the threat. He has always believed he was the most dangerous animal in the room. It was a misconception that was bound to bite him sooner or later.”

Mamushi sipped his own drink and clicked his tongue in disapproval. If it weren’t for the scars on his face and the tattoos covering his arms, he would look like a disapproving uncle. As it was, he looked like exactly what he was. Deadly.

“I hope he has learned his lesson.” Black eyes focused on Kisuke. “I would hate for someone to get the wrong impression. My poor pets have a bad enough reputation as it is.”

And there it was: a warning not to drag Mamushi into his business again. He’d be a fool to ignore it, but time would determine how things played out. Perhaps he could sweeten the man’s disposition, though, just in case.

“I’m sure he has, Koyama-sama.” Kisuke made a sound in his throat. “Another mistake like that could be deadly, and while Okura-san may not always have the strongest sense of self-preservation, I think after this close a call he will understand the need to be extra careful.”

His whiskey was almost gone, but Kisuke didn’t put his glass down. He swirled the amber liquid slowly. “I did hear he refused to remain under a doctor’s care. Already back to work, and on such clever things, too! One of the people he recently hired came straight from one of the United States’ finest computer science programs. They say Taka-chan recruited him right out from under his own government! It is impressive, even though it is rather depressing to know that there is so little loyalty to one’s own people these days.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a panda shaped thumb drive and slid it silently across the table. “I think loyalty is supremely important, don’t you Koyama-sama?”

The panda disappeared with a quick flash of fingers.

“It is amazing what people can do with computers.” The old man nodded his head sagely. “My grandson is studying them at the University of Tokyo. He intends to come back and work with his father. He has made the family very proud.”

Kisuke saluted the news with his glass. “Knowledge is almost as important as loyalty. You are lucky to have his intelligence, and your grandson is lucky to have such a supportive family.”

Koyama gave a wily smile. “He is the epitome of the Japanese businessman. Not just some bakecho. Smart. He’s free from the bouhaijoukou, but he will be as dangerous in the boardroom as any of my family has ever been outside of it.”

“The news loves to report on the death of the Yakuza, Urahara-san, but they have forgotten one important thing. Evolution. Everything that lives, changes. Family and history are important, but survival is what truly matters, and he is a survivor. He may never wear these tattoos, but he is still my grandson.

The whiskey bottle reappeared, and refilled both glasses.

“Okura-san believes that the new ways will sweep away the old, and in some ways he is right. In others, though, he is being short-sighted and running the risk of again being bitten by the snake he doesn’t bother to look for.” The old man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It is a pity he has forgotten the lessons of his sensei. He would do well to accept his place in the larger scheme of things.”

Kisuke couldn’t help but agree. Taka-chan never accepted his place in the world. Never accepted anyone telling him where to stand, or what to do. Failure had been enough of a stranger to him that in the end he was like a child who felt betrayed that the stove had burned him. Every criticism was personal, and every debt had to be repaid with interest.

“Okura-san is undergoing his own evolution, Koyama-sama. It will take time to see how he will answer the challenges posed to him.”

He sighed like a tired father. “Answers are never easy. They always lead to bigger questions, and the cycle starts all over again.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the ivory clicking of tiles the only reminder that they weren’t alone in the world, but there was still work to be done.

“Since your grandson is studying computers, maybe you could ask him a question for me.” Kisuke glanced back at the men in the next room. Four of them were armed. Two were clearly listening in on their boss. One was fiddling with his phone, which could be anything, but was probably him trying to record the meeting. “You remember my friend Tsukibishi-san? He was telling me about something called data scrubbing the other day. I must admit, it was a bit beyond me, but the one thing I kept thinking was… if someone could create a tool so they could go into files full of data and make sure something is included, or isn’t included… what is to keep them from putting in information that is simply fiction? Could they just change them? I mean it just makes sense to think that if someone could write a program that did one of those things… they could write a program that did the other.”

He gave a light-hearted shrug. “But I suppose that’s what Okura-san’s highly paid recruits from the USA are here to stop, hmmm? I’m sure they can make sure that everyone’s data remains safe.”

The old yakuza boss froze for a second with his glass halfway to his lips.

“Stop? Yes. It would be very good of them to make sure of that. I mean, a tool like that could cause trouble,” he said, eyebrows drawn together thoughtfully. “Someone might end up paying their laundry bill twice.”

Kisuke nodded. “And while the washerwoman might be pleased, the butcher,” he swallowed a mouthful of whiskey and looked solemnly across the table, “would be very disappointed.”

Both glasses settled back to the table. Kisuke looked at the yakuza boss and wondered once again how he’d managed to get into a position where protecting the old gangster’s interests was the best of his choices. But, as long as the gangs were more useful and less noticeable than Tessai and his troops, he would play this game. Anyway, there were just some things the Director didn’t need to be involved in. Like protecting the Kurosakis.

He let the data manipulation concept linger between them for a moment and then spoke again. “If someone were to alter a business’s records, it could cause some embarrassing mistakes. One might lose enough face that one couldn’t even stay in business. That that would be most unfortunate.”

Koyama’s fingers lightly touched the pocket where he’d stashed the thumb drive.

“Most unfortunate,” he agreed. “Luckily, good businesses develop good relationships, and the trust between them protects them both.”

“It does, indeed, Koyama-sama,” the blond nodded, satisfied that his message had been received loud and clear. “It does indeed.”

***

Ichigo watched the darkened windows of the pachinko parlor and fumed.

Everyone living within a five-mile radius knew this wasn’t just Inagawa-kai territory. This area belonged to Mamushi, and he was worse than the Kumichō when it came to keeping unwanted visitors away. That didn’t matter to Kisuke, though. He just waltzed through the front door like he owned the place.

I’m going to beat him with his own cane when he gets out of there.

He didn’t know why it made his skin itch. Kisuke could take care of himself, but something about the situation was just wrong. He’d been watching the doors for almost an hour, sipping his lemonade and pretending to read under the little summer awning behind the bus stop, but it was getting darker, and he was going to have to move soon or become much too obvious in his stalking.

Like the man across the street.

A few minutes after Ichigo had arrived, he’d noticed him standing carefully carelessly at the corner. He wandered into the convenience store a few times—never for more than a minute or two—and then resettled himself where he could watch the pachinko parlor doors.

“Hey hey, writer man,” a voice at his elbow startled him and he jerked his head around, his hand half-raised to defend himself before he could stop himself. “You don’t need to worry about Getaboshi. Boss knows he’s cool. Door’s always open for Sandal Hat.”

Unsurprisingly, the words of comfort didn’t help, coming as they did from someone Ichigo recognized from the neighborhood as one of the Kumichō’s strong arms.

“Thanks for the word, but I’m not worried,” he said. Both of them knew he was lying, but still, he had to save a little face. “Just making sure that no one else is poking their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

He jerked his chin in the direction of the man on the corner. “Some folks just don’t seem to belong around here, ne?”

The laugh that escaped the muscle man next to him sounded like air leaking from a balloon.

“Him?” The thug sneered. “He been sneaking around for weeks. Thinks he’s slick but he smells like warehouse. Tagged him early, though, so it’s easier to let him be. Not like pulling him in will stop them watching. This way we don’t have to work at watching them back.”

Ichigo refused an offered cigarette and nodded his understanding, but wondering what smells like warehouse meant.

The redhead stared for a moment at the man next to him, bothered by a familiarity he couldn’t place. “Do you have a younger brother?”

The wheezing laugh escaped again.

“Wondered if you’d remember,” his new friend nodded. “You broke Koito-chan’s nose last year. He invited you to join the business, and then wouldn’t take your not-interested gracefully, so you made sure he got the message another way.”

That explained it. Masuda Koito had been in his class in middle school before joining one of the enforcer teams that worked the neighborhood. This guy looked just like Koito would in another five years. Bigger, meaner, and a whole lot more confident. Luckily he also looked like he didn’t hold any grudges.

“Hope it didn’t cause him any trouble,” he said, but the bigger man just smiled around his cigarette.

“He looks better now, anyway. Too baby-faced before.”

Ichigo didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded, and looked back over to the pachinko parlor. Nothing had changed.

“So, Masuda-san,” he asked. “You watching me, or you watching the shop?”

The cigarette shifted, and then a shoulder raised briefly. “You. Just a little added security. Gotta make sure Koguma stays out of trouble, you know?”

Ichigo knew. All the people in the neighborhood knew his dad and the crescent-moon shaped scar that he’d gotten across his chest when he’d waded into a yakuza turf-war and walked out not only having stopped the worst of the fighting but having saved the life of one of the Inagawa-kai’s favored sons. Shinobu-san said the scar made him look like a moon bear, and from that point on the Kurosakis were known as Tsukinowaguma and his cubs.

“Koguma, huh?” He snorted. Little bear. Great. “What does that make my sisters?”

Masuda grinned and pinched out his cigarette, sticking the butt in his pocket. “Don’t tell them, but Rilakkuma and Tarepanda. The guys can’t agree on which one is which, though.”

Not tell them? Ichigo thought. I’m going to buy two plushies and put name tags on them.

It almost made Koguma worth it.

“Warehouse is on the move.” Masuda straightened and looked towards where the other watcher stood. “You following or staying put?”

Ichigo was torn. He wanted to stay and make sure Kisuke was safe, but he knew Masuda and his kind. If he said no one had a beef with the blond then it was true. Mamushi’s men wouldn’t hesitate to declare someone persona non grata, and they were oddly honest for thugs.

He slipped his book back into his bag and tucked away his lemonade bottle.

“I think I’m going for a walk.” He rolled his shoulders and gave Masuda an innocent look. “I hear the warehouse district is very photogenic at twilight.”

The older man had his phone out and was texting rapidly.

“You want me to have them tell Sandal Hat where you’re heading?”

Ichigo thought it was likely that everything he owned now had trackers hidden in it, but that didn’t matter. If he was going to be pissed when Kisuke kept him out of the loop, it would be the height of hypocrisy to do the same.

“Yeah,” he sighed. He felt like he was checking in with Isshin before heading off with his friends. This was so not cool. “You might as well.”

***

The man who’d been playing with his phone rose from his chair and made his way over to Kisuke and Mamushi.

“Excuse me, Boss,” he bowed to them and held up his phone. “You said you wanted to be kept informed. Masuda-san says the target is on the move. He is going to follow him and see where he goes. Plus, he says he’s got company.”

The older man gave Kisuke a wily little smile and finished the last of his whiskey.

“Don’t tell me Koguma-chan is accompanying him?” he said, the smile spreading wider.

“Yes, and he asked us to pass the information along to Urahara-san.” With that he gave Kisuke a little bow of acknowledgement, before turning back to his boss. “They will check in as soon as they know anything useful.”

Mamushi let out a creaking laugh. “Your new protégé would have made an excellent addition to the Inagawa-kai, Urahara-san. It is too bad that the things that would have made him so successful are the very things that will prevent him from ever accepting that role.”

“Koguma-chan?” Kisuke sighed. “He strikes me more as a fox kit, like his mother. Either way, I thought he had a little more restraint than to wander off with strangers, but I suppose enthusiasm trumps caution in this case.”

“Masaki-chan was a clever vixen, but he is like his father in this, I think. Either way, Koguma-chan will never turn against you.” With that judgement the older man stood and gave Kisuke a minute inclination of his head. “You might want to keep an eye on him, though. Okura-san might not appreciate his replacement wandering into his territory.”

Kisuke started to argue with the term replacement, but he didn’t. That was exactly what Taka would think of Ichigo, regardless of the fact that Kisuke had never allowed Taka that close, even after years of training together.

He rose and bowed low in return, indicating his appreciation and respect.

“Cub or kit, he has a talent for finding trouble. His curiosity is almost as bad as a cat.”

The old man waved him toward the door. “You would know, Urahara-san,” he laughed once more, and walked away into the shadowy rear of the parlor. “Tell Yoruichi-san hello for me, and that her uncle misses her.”

#Bleach #UraIchi #Urahara Kisuke #sneaky yakuza dudes

11 notes · View notes

theshatteredrose · 6 years

Text

Guardian of Healing (Chapter 11) - Etrain Odyssey 2 Fanfiction

AN: A somewhat short chapter, and the ending is a bit of a cliffhanger, sooo…enjoy~ :3c

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 11:

Despite the lingering tension of the now dubbed Hex Epidemic, Lynus was able to sleep rather well that night. He had a few disturbing dreams, some he couldn’t remember upon waking, but other than that he felt that he had a relatively peaceful night. It was no doubt due to the fact that he was surrounded by his guildmates’ auras and he felt comforted by that. He was glad that they had chosen to stick together, bedding down in the tearoom instead of separating into their private rooms.

He was sure it was a comfort to everyone else to be so close as well.

Although he had a peaceful night’s rest, Lynus still felt tired. He sat on the couch in front of the fireplace and rubbed his face with his hands. A tension headache had set in and he was starting to feel a little light-headed. It was just a side-effect of working too much. Nothing a bit more rest and some food couldn’t cure.

On the couch next to him, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back, sat Axel. He was thankful for Axel’s attentiveness, but it was becoming difficult not to turn to him and just snuggle into his chest and arms until this whole ordeal was over.

He was…tired. Just tired.

“You need to eat something,” Axel said as he continued to rub smoothing circles on Lynus’ back. “You haven’t eaten since around midday yesterday. I’ll ask Matron to bring us some food.”

Lynus didn’t really feel like eating anything, but he knew Axel was right. He needed to eat something. Something more than a cup of tea. A piece of toast should settle on his stomach pretty well. Anything more than that, though, he might feel queasy.

However before Axel could stand up, there was the sound of the inn’s entrance doors being flung open in a panicked and dramatic manner.

Immediately, everyone in the tearoom shot to their feet, protectively on guard as panicked footsteps and voices could be heard outside the room.

“Monsters are invading the city!” someone shrilled.

Immediately, Hamza pushed forward and opened the door to the tearoom. He stepped outside and was immediately confronted by a terrified guard.

“Monsters are fleeing the labyrinth and invading the city! You’re the leader of the Guardians, right? You have to do something! The guards are being overwhelmed!”

The thought of monsters invading the city was bad enough, but Lynus got a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. There was something else going on here. Monsters don’t just rush into town for no reason. They were content to stay within the labyrinth. That was their territory. That was where their food sources were located. They had no reason to flood into the city.

Unless…

“Damn it…” Mahogany suddenly muttered from the corner of the room.

Hamza immediately turned to look at him. “Hexers?” he asked sharply.

A frighteningly grim expression spread across Mahogany’s face and his eyes narrowed fearsomely as he nodded his head. “Hexers have the ability to instil fear in monster, thus making them easy to control and manipulate. This is exactly what they’re doing now.”

“Then this is the hexers’ final stand,” Hamza said through gritted teeth as he turned to face everyone. “Let’s be ready for anything.”

Could they really be ready, though?

Wait, his bag was up in his room! Lynus couldn’t throw himself onto a battlefield without it. Not after what happened yesterday with that cursed knife and that hexer. He couldn’t afford to be complacent.

“I-I’ll need to get my bag!”

“Go!” Axel said as he hefted his axe upon his back and raced out of the inn with everyone else. “We’ll meet you there!”

Lynus didn’t want everyone to head out without him, but he knew what they couldn’t afford to wait for him to retrieve his bag. Lives were in danger. Every second counted. The sooner Axel and the others engaged in battle with these monsters and defeat them, the better.

He could only hope that the hexers weren’t hoping to use the invading monsters as cover for something far more heinous.

As he raced up the stairs and staggered into his room, all Lynus could do was hope that the others would be fine as they hurled themselves in danger and prayer that he could get to them before anything terrible happened.

He grabbed the strap of his bag and tugged it off the table. He didn’t bother to pull his hair back into his usual ponytail and he didn’t dare to waste another second stopping to put on his white medical coat. He simply lugged his bag haphazardly upon his shoulder, sent a silent prayer in thanks for having the foresight to put on his shoes, and raced out of his room. He leaned heavily against the stair banister as he took two steps at a time to reach the inn foyer. A moment after that, he was out the doors and heading in the direction where the nearly overwhelming sense of fear radiated from.

Crowds of locals and rookie explorers were running away from the sounds of chaos and Lynus struggled to push through them in order to get to Axel and his guild. He stumbled a few times, but managed to keep himself upright and continued to push himself forward. He tried to block out the emotions of fear around him as best he could, but they only added to his own anxiety and distress.

Finally pushing his way toward the stone road that led to the entrance of the labyrinth, Lynus stumbled to a stop and dropped his bag to his feet. With eyes wide, he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Hamza said to be ready for anything, but there was no way they could have prepared themselves for something like this!

Numerous FOEs from the first stratum, ragelopes, raptors, and the dreaded stalkers, were literally running about the area in an unpredictable, confused chaos. Attacking and slashing at anyone and anything that came close enough. Including each other.

The monsters themselves weren’t an overly terrifying threat to Axel and the others. They’ve dealt with them before. But not on this scale and not with so many of them.

And they weren’t the reason for why his guildmates were scattered about, in numerous degrees of distress or suffering.

They were…they all were cursed…

A small chime of a bell caused Lynus to tense and he turned to glance over his shoulder. There he saw six hooded hexers, paled face and wide-eyed, strategically positioned upon the rooftops of the nearby buildings. All wore expressions of malicious delight on their faces.

The only thing Lynus could think of was “ambush”. These hexers lured the monsters into town as a distraction so they could fling their curses and hexes at anyone who stumbled into their path and sight.

“What do you think?” one asked him with a truly wicked grin. “Amazing, isn’t it? How powerful we hexers truly are.”

“It’s cute how you all think a little charm can protect you from our hexes,” a female hexer giggled as she swung her legs cheerfully from atop of a lamppost. “Adorable~”

Lynus didn’t answer them. Didn’t even make an attempt to form some kind of comeback. Instead he turned back around to look at his guild, instantly noting their varying degrees of distress.

Axel was the only one still on his feet, though they were bound to the ground and he could only manage the barest of steps. He was able to strike down any monster that came within distance of his axe, but there were so many of them that he was constantly ducking and blocking other attacks.

And behind Axel was Jhon. Face down on the ground, completely unmoving with his shield flung aside. He was in a deep, consuming sleep. A hex that could only be removed by a refresh spell or a hard, physical attack. Next to him, on his knees was Tobyn. His arms were bound cruelly and painfully at his sides and he struggled violently in an attempt to remove them and to somehow get to Jhon, to wake him up or at least drag him to safety. Monsters in their fearful states continued to circle them erratically, so Tobyn had one eye on the monsters and one eye on Jhon as he continued to struggle with his own bindings.

An absolutely horrified Lirit was sprawled out on top of Macerio, the gunner lying on his stomach on the ground with a look of pure fear on his face a few paces from where Jhon and Tobyn were. Macerio had his gun out and was desperately trying to point it toward his temple like he had done once so long ago. But Lirit had his hands around the gun, his fingers behind the trigger in an attempt to physically stop Macerio from pulling the trigger. Blood poured from his hand and onto the ground, but he wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t getting off of Macerio. He wasn’t giving him any leverage. Wasn’t going to chance it.

Shen was trying so hard to push himself into the battle against the monsters but his movements were slow and sluggish. He had been struck with a paralysing hex. Though it was a miracle that he was moving at all, Lynus could tell that he was suffering greatly. It hurt for him to move but it hurt him not to move, to not strike back at the FOEs, to stop them from hurting others. And it hurt him to not be able to help Magnus. The gentle alchemist sat haphazardly on the ground some steps behind Shen, his head bound in thick vines that he frantically pulled and clawed at. The vines interfered with his concentration. If he couldn’t concentrate he couldn’t use his alchemist abilities. He was terrified.

Rahas, too, struggled so desperately to force himself into battle. Other than Axel, he was the only one able to stand on his feet and able to strike back at the delirious monsters. But Lynus knew that he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t well. His body was turning against him. He was being poisoned by his own body. A hex had caused his body to attack itself. He was slowly succumbing to a poison by his own making. He couldn’t…last much longer.

At the back of the battlefield, Hamza had fallen to a knee as he clutched his head with his hand. He covered the vast majority of his face, but an eye could be seen through the parted fingers, of which was digging painfully into his skin. And that visible eye was wide, unblinking and hazy, but filled with such terror. He had been hit with a fear hex. And it was affecting him so, so badly. No doubt instilling violent, heartbreaking memories. Cedric was there with him, his hands clutching the collar of his cloak and was shaking him in an attempt to pull him from his terror. He was also shouting his name. Over and over again, his voice, his throat getting hoarser by the second.

Poor Chi-hung was another who was bound to the spot, far away from the others of his guild. The white tiger growled frantically, attempting to lure the monsters in his direction instead to save the others from being attacked.

They were…they were all in so much pain and danger!

Lynus’ gaze immediately turned back to Axel when he felt his sudden spike of intense dread. And he immediately knew why. Monsters had swarmed him now. A couple of stalkers. And..,

Axel was bound to the spot. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t dodge-!

Lynus covered his mouth with his hand to smother a scream as razor sharp claw ruthlessly cut into Axel’s back. Blood seemed to spray in the air in shiny red droplets as Axel staggered forward, his grip on his axe loosen. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as Axel fell forward, his hair covering his eyes and his mouth dropping open in a gasp of pain.

As he stumbled forward he, however, somehow managed to stay on his feet. His grip on his axe tightened. His eyes remained hidden behind his hair, but his teeth and jaw clenched as he managed to push past the pain and use his axe to fight back against the raging monster.

But blood continued to flow from the gaping wounds on his back. It splattered across the ground in deep, thick pools.

He was hurt. God, he was so hurt. The monster, it caught him off guard. There were too many of them. Axel was in the thick of it. All by himself.

Lynus so badly wanted to scream out his name, to get to him, but his voice wouldn’t work, his legs wouldn’t move. Was he hit by a hex? Or was it simply from the horror and shock of everything?

A mocking, unsettling laugh seemed to cut right through Lynus’ very core and his eyes widened.

“Come on, pretty little medic,” a hexer mocked him from where he stood behind him. “You have to choose. Heal, refresh, or unbind. Which is it? Who will you help first?”

Lynus whirled around to face and hastily stumbled back a few steps. “Stop it!” he screamed.

The grin that the hexer wore was that of pure malice. “Aww, are we pushing you to your limit?” he mockingly purred. “Miracle Medic, are you at your limit? Tell us, what will you do?”

What will he do? He…didn’t know. He couldn’t heal, unbind, and refresh them all at once. He needed to focus on one task at a time. One patient at a time. But there were…so many of them that needed immediate medical attention.

Lynus turned away from the hexer and stumbled away, though he had no idea where he was going. Tears flowed unimpeded from his eyes as he stared unblinking at the chaos before him. He could hear their voices as they shouted and screamed for each other, to others to get back, for him to get away.

But he couldn’t…

He needed to heal Axel’s wounds while also removing the bindings at his legs. He needed to refresh Macerio’s mind to stop him from trying to shoot himself in fear. Magnus needed to be unbound as well as he clawed frantically at his head to remove the vines that restricted him. Shen was struggling through paralysis in an attempt to engage in battle also. Jhon was trapped in a deep magical sleep, face down and in the danger zone. Tobyn was struggling with his arms being bound. And Rahas…he was starting to cough up blood from being poisoned!

He could feel all their pains, their fears, their suffering. He could feel them all. They were so scared, so horrified, so…helpless.

Others were racing to help. Cosmos. Ryker. Darrell. More guards, but Lynus couldn’t see any of them. All he could see, all he could feel was…pain.

He needed to do something! He had to help them! He had to stop this!

B-but who first? God, there was so many of them. And more were sure to suffer. Who could afford to wait for medical attention and who couldn’t?

No, he couldn’t do them one at a time. Those hexers would just replace the hex with a new one. It was a losing battle. He couldn’t…do anything.

Axel…god, Axel…He was fighting so hard, he was going to be…

No! Lynus screamed in his mind as he held his head with his hands, his eyes wide and unblinking. No. No I won’t allow this!

It wasn’t acceptable. He wouldn’t allow this. There was a way to heal them all. There had to be. He just needed to…push himself further than he had been before. He had to. For their sake. He had to save them. All of them. No matter what it took.

He was a medic. That was what medics did. What they were born to do.

A strange sense of calm unexpectedly fell over him as he clutched his hands against his chest. He walked until he was in the very centre of the chaos, his eyes focused on the semi-circle hooded figures that were taking delight in all the curses as they take effect.

However, they won’t be delighted for much longer.

“That’s it,” Lynus said as he uncharacteristically glared at what he believed was the leader of the small group. “Your fun ends now.”

“Oh?” a hexer cooed at him once more. “What will you be able to do? Will you be able to heal them all? I highly doubt it.”

Yes, he would. He could. He would heal them all. All at once. At the exact same time. No one was going to be left out. Left behind. They were important to him. He would help them. He would.

“I’m going to heal everyone,” Lynus said as his felt a warm but foreign tingling sensation rush through him and completely unbeknownst to him he started to emit a soft violet glow. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

#Etrian Odyssey #etrian odyssey 2 #fanfiction #Guardian of Healing #Guardian Guild #CtS Crew

5 notes · View notes

signs-of-the-moon · 6 years

Text

Moon Rise: Chapter 6

Morning arrived swiftly, bringing the bright sun along with it. Newleaf's intense golden rays shined through the minuscule cracks in the den's walls right into Swiftpaw's eyes. The white and black patched molly groaned, trying to cover her face with her paws in an attempt to block out the light. It was at times like this she wished she had been born with a regular tail rather than the black stump which was perched on her rear. Swiftpaw let out a harsh huff, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, not ready to greet the world yet. Try as she may to drift back to sleep, it seemed like the world wasn't having any of that. She felt something prod her side, followed by a soft mew.

"Swiftpaw, wake up. It's time to start your first full day as an apprentice. I'm taking you on dawn patrol with me," cooed the soft familiar voice of Chicorynose. Swiftpaw's eyes fluttered open slowly; she lifted her head to look up at the fawn colored molly with eyes half lidded, her blue gaze greeted by the deputy's green. She nodded slightly as she registered what Chicorynose had said and rose to her paws, digging her claws into the dirt to pull back into a full body stretch. Drowsy, she left her warm nest behind to follow her mentor out of the den into the fresh morning air. A bright blinding light washed over her, warming the young she-cat's pelt. It took a moment and some blinking before her eyes adjusted to the new light of day flooding the camp and her senses. When she was able to properly focus her gaze she was surprised to see Shadowpaw and Tigerfang standing with Chicorynose, wide awake and full of energy. Embarrassed by her state, Swiftpaw quickly whipped around to groom herself, ridding herself of her nest head. She noticed clumps of wool still clinging to her fur and was grateful she took the time to clean herself up before they left. After a quick wash, the white and black patched she-cat sat up straight, meowing a soft "good morning" to her peers. Satisfied that everyone was ready, Chicorynose twitched her tail prompting the three other cats to follow her to the camp's edge and through the bramble tunnel. Swiftpaw brought up the rear of the patrol as they walked out of the camp and into the welcoming meadow they called home. Shadowpaw purposely fell behind to walk beside her. The sight of the grass waving in the breeze and the sun beating down on the soft green blades never ceased to take the young molly's breath away. Though today it seemed as if more clouds were gathering than the day before, the sun managed to resist being overtaken by the fluffy shapes.

"So what are we doing?" Swiftpaw asked Shadowpaw, her voice cracking a bit from fatigue. Her blue eyes showed how tired she was but curiosity for the day's activity still managed to twinkle through.

"We're patrolling. Clan cats do this a few times a day to check and mark our borders. All cats in the clans do it eventually," Shadowpaw responded, keeping his gaze on the path ahead.

"Why do we have to do that?"

"To make sure everything is safe. We don't want cats from outside the clan trespassing on our territory or any danger making it's way to our camp. Checking and marking boundaries helps assure this won't happen. And if it does, we're here to get rid of the threat." Swiftpaw took a moment to think. It was certainly a good idea to keep checking on things, but it seemed silly to stay separate from the other clan cats. But Swiftpaw assured herself that there must be a reason the clans had not united together. The group continued to walk across the open meadow, the wind blowing against their pelts. Swiftpaw felt the fur along her spine begin to rise as they drew closer to the area where she had first met Shadowpaw and his mentor, and Twolegplace. Are they taking me back?

"Don't fret, Swiftpaw. We'll be heading far past your old home today," assured Chicorynose as if she knew what her apprentice was thinking. She must have caught my fearscent, Swiftpaw thought with shame. Shadowpaw brushed his tail against her shoulders reassuringly for a moment and the young molly felt herself relax at his touch. She glanced over at him receiving a smile from the black tom in return. It seemed like forever before they had finally come to a stop. The sound of rushing water filled Swiftpaw's ears and the scent of a riverbank clogged her nose. The grass cleared the farther up they walked until it cleared away completely, revealing the edge of a river. The three clanborn cats bent down to lap at the water and Swiftpaw decided to do the same. The fresh, cool liquid tasted wonderful, much better than the water she used to have to drink in her Twoleg's den. When her thirst was quenched, Swiftpaw lifted her head to peer around the area. The river seemed to stretch onward in either direction forever, but looking forward the other shore was not that far off. Swiftpaw couldn't help but wonder what was on the other side. Before there was time to ask questions, they were off again, taking another moment to pause in front of a Twoleg bridge. Swiftpaw was skeptical at first, but followed the others on the patrol over to the other side. Safely across, they followed the current down towards the east. The cats began to slow down as they headed towards a wooded area. Oak trees towered above them, their branches and buds blocked the warm sunlight that Swiftpaw was so fond of, only leaving small rays to sneak their way to the ground and onto their pelts. Suddenly the clan cats froze, but Swiftpaw hasn't realized. She continued to pad forward, only being snapped out of her thoughts when Chicorynose grabbed her by the scruff.

"Stop," she commanded as she let her go. "Don't pass the scent markers. We've reached the edge of our territory." Scent markers? Swiftpaw sniffed the air, catching Grassclan's scent on the bark of the trees mingling with an unfamiliar catscent lingering on the other side of the trunks. Embarrassed that she hadn't caught the new smell Swiftpaw backed up a bit to stand beside her mentor a tail length away from the border.

"This is the Treeclan border," Tigerfang informed the apprentices, walking over to a tree to leave his mark.

"Make sure to memorize the scent. Near Treeclan, always turn your nose to the sky. Their warriors tend to linger in the trees," Chicorynose added. Just as the words escpaed her, a patrol jumped down from above and landed onto the ground across from them. Swiftpaw shrieked in surprise, jumping back. Her fur stood on end as she stared at the four unfamiliar cats in front of her. They were even bigger than the Grassclan cats, and that made her feel uneasy. Taking a good look at them, Swiftpaw noticed just how powerful their limbs seemed. They were muscular, with broader faces than the one she had quickly gotten used to in her clan.

"Greetings Chicorynose, Tigerfang," meowed a white and black patched she-cat. She was young, her face broad and round, with green eyes bright with youth.

"Showing your apprentices the border too, eh?" Chimed a second molly. Swiftpaw couldn't tell if the sunlight was dappling her fur or if she had ginger patches decorating her black tabby coat. Chicorynose nodded.

"This is Shadowpaw, and our newest clanmember Swiftpaw." She gestured at each apprentice respectively. " 'Paws, this is Pepperpatch and Shadeleaf of Treeclan."

"A pleasure to meet you both. This is my apprentice, Smokepaw," meowed the tortoiseshell she-cat named Shadeleaf. The tom she was referring to was younger. He was almost her height already, and his fur was long, colored dark smokey grey like a storm cloud. The fur around his neck was extra fluffy, just a few shades lighter than the rest of him as well as a dot above each eye and his toes.

"And this is Magpiepaw," purred Pepperpatch. The molly she was gesturing to had white and black patched pelt like her mentor's. Though her tail was completely black and her fur was longer than the older she-cat's. In fact her fur was long and flowing just like the young tom's. The two young cats shared the same colored eyes, soft green like the grass of the meadow. Swiftpaw couldn't help but think of Frostpaw and Mistypaw when she stared into them.

"Nice to meet you!" Smokepaw beamed, his chest fur fluffing up with excitement. Magpiepaw nudged his shoulder playfully while Shadeleaf purred, giving the tom a quick lick on the ear.

"It's always a pleasure to meet a few fine, future warriors. However, we must be heading off now," Tigerfang informed them, the Treeclan cats nodding along in agreement. With that, the two patrols parted ways, heading off in opposite directions.

"Are we going to see the rest of the borders?" Shadowpaw asked curiously. The tabby tom Tigerfang shook his head.

"We will be staying in the Forest Patch for a while," he responded. "Today, we hunt." Swiftpaw's heart skipped. She was going to hunt for the clan for the very first time. How exciting, I can't wait! The patrol walked a few bear lengths from the border before taking a seat in a small patch of sunlight.

"You two will be practicing partners today. You will learn to practice crouching and hunt as a team," Chicorynose mewed at them before dropping into a crouch. A bear length away, Tigerfang set down a giant oak leaf before padding over to Chicorynose's side, keeping a foxlength in distance between them. The apprentices watched the warriors from the sidelines as they began their demonstration.

"The proper way to hunt rabbits and hares is by ambush," Chicorynose meowed, slowly creeping forward, haunches up and paws barely touching the ground.

"Always stay downwind so you aren't scented. You must move lightly but quickly so the prey can't hear you coming. Rabbits and hares are tricky to catch, they'll hear you long before they can smell or see you." Tigerfang dropped into a crouch of his own, following the deputy's pawsteps. "Get as close to the prey as you can, then come at it from both sides," he meowed just as the two older cats leapt forward, attacking the leaf that lay in front of them from either side.

"To be a proper member of Grassclan, you must learn to work well with a partner." Chicorynose sat up to motion for the two apprentices to give the technique a try for themselves. The young pair moved a bearlength away from the leaf and began to work. Shadowpaw was the first to drop into a crouch, stalking forward just as his mentor and deputy had. Swiftpaw soon followed, glancing over every couple of heartbeats to keep up with the black apprentice. Eventually it was time to launch an attack, Shadowpaw lunged from the right while Swiftpaw took the left. Shadowpaw managed to snag the leaf right before Swiftpaw had landed, slamming her head into the tom's as she came down from her leap. The two yowled as their heads butted against each other and Chicorynose laughed.

"You did good for your first time, Swiftpaw. Though you put too much weight on your paws while you stalk, it causes drag. You also hesitated for a moment too long. A second earlier and you may have been able to avoid hitting your head against the more experienced Shadowpaw's," she purred, walking over to give her apprentice a few reassuring licks between the ears. Swiftpaw rubbed her white front paw against her head, an eye closed from the mild pain. "However you have one advantage that Shadowpaw does not. You don't have much of a tail to drag across the ground. Shadowpaw, however, does. Shadowpaw, you still need to work on lifting your tail above the ground so it isn't dragging in the leaf litter and creating noise." Shadowpaw nodded his head slightly in understanding. "Now let's try that again."

Chicorynose had Swiftpaw and Shadowpaw practice their rabbit stalking a bit longer before moving on to other hunting techniques. Swiftpaw found her head reeling from all the new information she was taking in. She never knew just how many different crouches there were for prey. When the mentors were satisfied that their apprentices had applied themselves enough, they sent the young pair off on their own to put their new knowledge to work. Shadowpaw and Swiftpaw carefully stalked through the foliage, sniffing around for any scent of prey. It was a while before either of them found anything.

"Rabbit!" Shadowpaw gasped, grinning as he spotted the brown fuzzy creature nibbling on some clovers a foxlength away downwind. The pair exchanged glances before dropping to a crouch, splitting up to take on the rabbit from either side. Quietly, Swiftpaw crept forward, keeping an eye on her partner. A black-and-white warbler landed a tail length in front of Swiftpaw's path, hopping around on the litter of fallen blossoms pecking at the seeds, unaware how close it was to danger. An opportunity like this was too good to pass up. She gave Shadowpaw an apologetic glance before changing her crouch. Slowly Swiftpaw snuck up closer and closer to her prey. Just as she was about to pounce, Shadowpaw jumped out to snatch the rabbit, sending him along with his target running. In the commotion the warbler was startled and began to take flight, but before it could fly off Swiftpaw jumped out of her hiding place and into the air. With her powerful legs she was able to leap at an amazing height. With limbs outstretched and claws extended she was able to snatch the little bird out of the air, bringing it back down to the ground where she pinned it and delivered the killing bite to the back of its neck. Triumphant, Swiftpaw picked up her catch in her jaws, pride swelling inside her. Shadowpaw soon returned to see her holding the feathery prey.

"Great catch! But we were supposed to be hunting that rabbit together," he mewed. Swiftpaw dropped the warbler at her paws.

"Well this was easier. Prey is prey isn't it? So long as it's on our territory. Don't get your whiskers in a twist." Swiftpaw rolled her eyes, licking her lips.

"The point of the exercise was the practice hunting difficult prey with a partner," meowed Chicorynose, coming out from her hiding spot. Her and Tigerfang had been hiding to assess the apprentices without distracting them. "However it seems Starclan wanted that rabbit to live for another day. I should say, I'm really impressed with that catch. Have you caught birds before?"

Swiftpaw smiled, her nubby tail standing erect. "My twoleg used to swing this ball of feathers on a vine around, I'd practice hunting with it." The clanborn cats looked at the patched molly as if she had three heads. Swiftpaw knew that her kittypet antics would seem a bit strange to them, but she couldn't help talking about her past. She wasn't ashamed of it, and it seemed that some of the things she'd do in captivity helped her out in the wild. Chicorynose ordered Swiftpaw to bury her warbler and try hunting with Shadowpaw again before she disappeared back into the undergrowth. A bit more focused, the apprentices pressed on. It wasn't long before they picked up the scent of another rabbit. Shadowpaw gave Swifpaw a serious glare as if to warn her not to goof off again before he slipped away into the foliage close to the rabbit. Swiftpaw took on a crouch and crept towards it from the opposite side, keeping her eyes on the prey only taking a heartbeat every now and then to glance at Shadowpaw. When they were close enough, the young tom waved his tail to signal an attack. Together the apprentices jumped out of the bushes and landed on the rabbit. The fluffy creature struggled in the cats' grip, flailing its long back legs and dug at the ground with its paws in an attempt to slip free. Swifpaw put her weight into holding it down, digging her claws into its hide. Meanwhile Shadowpaw bent down to nip at the back of its neck, severing the rabbit's spine and killing it. Swiftpaw purred loudly.

"We did it!" She beamed. Shadowpaw chuckled. Together, they proudly buried their prey before going on the hunt again.

#it took forever but finally Ive finished enough of the book to publish a few new chapters #warrior cat ocs #wc ocs #Signs of the Moon #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #Chapter 6

5 notes · View notes

swyllh · 6 years

Text

[jihan] schedule

title: schedule

premise: jeonghan’s a time traveller. he’s tangled in joshua’s timeline.

pairing: jeonghan x joshua

wordcount: 3262

genre: scifi-ish, non-chronology in a chronological order

crossposted on: ao3

california, usa - 2002: joshua is seven, his tiny, crooked feet set free against coarse granite. he runs a jagged path down the road along his cul-de-sac, imagines he’s blazing a hot ashy trail beneath his feet, scrambling-

-chasing after the sky-blue light and smear of white, undiluted clouds, learning to read the varying tones of rooftops and brick walls-

-mapping the neighbourhood in his pride, flirting with restraint and his parents’ caution.

(the words don’t stick - he’s young, and growing and being.)

when he makes the turn around his street corner - it’s the end of his map, of the safe zone, because there’s a red stop sign sweltering under the summer sun, casting doubtful shadows on his toes.

will he turn? is it the right day to continue?

the road continues to steam and toil under his considering gaze. it’s a warm day, and now that he’s stopped to deliberate, the granite are slowly turning into hot coals under his squirming soles.

maybe, maybe, maybe - joshua tries to weigh the excitement of defying his parents’ orders against the sulky fear of staying in line.

as the road before him blurs into a nondescript pattern of concrete and bricks and oil-sheened cars, there’s suddenly another addition. a man, shrunk down by the distance, lands on his feet. he’s carrying something in his hands. it looks blue. maybe.

he looks confused, almost wounded by the way he’s hunching. but perhaps the exchange of light and shade is warping the sight.

joshua’s sure he’s never seen the man before - especially not one in a suit like he’s going to a wedding, or a funeral. the warning bells should start to sound, but this only livens the area to joshua; it must be his neighbourhood, too.

the fear of an unknown, uncharted territory shrinks down with the arrival of this stranger, whose strangeness cancels out the strangeness of the extended road itself.

the memory ends there, abrupt but not unreasonably. joshua learns to forget the encounter altogether, learns to file it under a childhood dream or nightmare. in those things, you never quite remember how they start or how they end. only a lingering sense of something lost, not quite captured or understood. a premonition; a promise.

california, usa - 2007: twelve year old joshua goes to church more frequently. he’s saving up for a new guitar, but mostly because the girl down the street got him a navy guitar pick for secret santa.

he’s considering between a navy secondhand guitar (because it would match) and a brand new brown one, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hyperaware of his aching neck.

in the end, he leaves the shop, too embarrassed to ask for assistance. half-ashamed, half-relieved, he tugs on his wilting polyester collar and delves into the silencing crowd.

the mall blurs into a nondescript makeshift kaleidoscope of neon and inconsideration; people are bumping into each other, overturning innocent hangers and yelling into phones.

the guitar pick, lying in his pocket, suddenly feels criminal.

as he weighs the literal weight of the pick in his clammy fingers against the thought of returning to the shop, he spots a black parka next to the coffee shop. the black parka has no distinct features, gives away nothing as he paces over to the next store, but a nagging feeling of deja vu snips at the back of joshua’s neck -

and then the black parka raises his hand, and vanishes.

it must be a mistake, it must be - the crowd convenes over where black parka once was, and carefully erases any doubt that there was ever a hooded figure in the midst of their colourful khakis and tank tops.

joshua runs out of the mall, feeling even more like an accomplice to a crime. his glasses fog up immediately, tensing up at the mere heat of summer.

athens, greece - 2009: the call strains, tugs ruthlessly against the chill of his ungloved hands, stutters its way past the conversion of telephone lines or satellite spies, past currencies and timezones.

someone laughs, sputters drunkenly in the customary comforts of a hotel lobby, and joshua tightens his grip on the phone.

the connection trips, dragging on wearily as though it’s making a fifteen hour route past changing skies and airport bureaucracies. somewhere in between the fourth ring and the sixth, he thinks he catches the coattails of fireworks - a muted drum struck once.

the phone gives up, breaking into unapologetic beeps.

the drunk man in the lobby behind him stirs, stops cracking peanuts with his blackened thumb. the sudden respite of peace tastes sour.

and then the drunk man is hollering, half-choked on his fifth beer, or undiscriminated peanut shells. joshua glances up, startled, and sees

black parka.

black parka is not in a black parka now. he’s in a black suit, hunched and sweating uncomfortably despite the efficient breeze outside. when black parka looks up and moves closer, joshua notices that he’s bleeding in the stomach. heavily.

there’s - there’s got to be a standard operating procedure for this, joshua thinks numbly, mind gasping out the numbers for the police from his school’s travel booklet.

“are you alright,” joshua asks, “you’re bleeding.”

the man looks right past him. “where are you from?”

“what?”

“can’t stay here,” the man mumbles, though it’s more to himself. with an effort, he smiles, but it comes off as pale, oily and unfortunate. “where are you from?”

“you’re bleeding,” joshua repeats.

“america, huh,” the man says, and joshua clamps a hand over his mouth.

“california,” joshua says. “but you need to go to a hospital-”

“california - ah! mister doctor,” the man grins, reaches out an unbloodied hand, and ruffles joshua’s hair.

the drunk man in the lobby is still hollering, albeit slurring his words a little more now, letting the last bits of alcoholic fervour wind him into a peaceful sleep.

black parka raises his hand, offers joshua a kind, apologetic smile, and snaps. joshua forgets to call home that night.

passing over the bering seas - 2013: cutting through air above air, above air. imagining the sky not as a crayola constant, but a space delivered from scientific states (solid, liquid, gas) is unnatural.

his seat feels like a dentist’s chair, far too unpredictable and vulnerable. but there are no drills here, no threats of necessary extractions or even a cavity throbbing in his jaw. only the sickened daze of having his ears blocked - his voice sounds too muffled even to himself, even as he feels it through the hum of his throat.

joshua gets up, paces to the end of the aisle, and stretches.

he peeks out one of the windows, and sees the sea. or at least, he doesn’t - not at first. it’s only when the plane steers leftward that the gradient of blue is thwarted by a mechanical white wing.

“hey,” someone whispers.

joshua jumps, and turns to see a boy much younger than him. “oh, hello.” the boy grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. “have i seen you before? you look familiar.”

(joshua’s heart stops. is this flirting? but the boy looks twelve. he’s heard this line countless times on sitcoms, but the setting is usually overtly heterosexual, caucasian, and adult.)

“um,” joshua tries to think, but nothing comes to mind. “i don’t think so, sorry.”

the boy frowns. “that’s too bad. what’s your name?”

“joshua.”

“i’m jeonghan, nice to meet you,” jeonghan says smoothly, offering a hand.

the roles seem reversed here, but joshua takes his hand.

“you’ve got big hands!” jeonghan exclaims.

(joshua wonders if maybe, for once, he’s being the corruptible one.)

“yeah, i like playing the guitar, but-” joshua stops himself.

jeonghan peers up at him curiously. “but?”

“um,” joshua falters, but jeonghan has a... thing about him that makes joshua continue, “i’ve left it behind in la.”

“oh,” jeonghan says, eyebrows furrowing. “well, i’m sure you’re an amazing player.”

joshua flushes; the compliment is so earnest. “yeah, well, i don’t think i’ll have time for that any time soon.”

“why not?”

“i’m going to be a doctor.”

jeonghan’s eyes widen dangerously. “a doctor! that’s so cool, mister doctor!”

joshua shakes his head and places his hands up. “no, i’m just studying to be one -”

“you’ll be a good doctor!” jeonghan chirps anyway. “or a guitar player!”

joshua laughs, and changes the topic. “are you here alone? where are your parents?”

jeonghan pauses for a moment, thinking hard. and then, glancing around, he flinches. he squints at a passenger’s screen, and joshua follows his gaze to see the flight route enlarged.

jeonghan squirms uneasily. “yeah, i gotta get back. see ya!”

he flees down the aisle, dodging a flight attendant, and vanishing from sight. joshua searches for the young teen at the airport, but shrugs it off.

seoul, south korea - 2015: another day of this, and he’ll die. joshua’s crumpled on a park bench, and the only source of light in his life right now is the blinking vending machine next to him.

but even then, the last can of espresso’s all gone.

there’s a heavy stack of notes on cardiovascular atrophy or something on his desk, waiting patiently for his return. but he can’t bring himself to do so - not when the winding twilight shines forgivingly on his numb, puffy face.

the park is mostly deserted, save for some dude in a black parka loitering around like a mugger or some serial murderer.

(at this point, joshua’s kind of glad he at least signed the form consenting to the donation of his organs to science.)

but after five minutes of joshua’s pathetic fumble with the vending machine, even the shifty looking dude leaves. wow, he’s hit a new low.

joshua slumps on the park bench again, sighing out aloud and pressing his hands against his exhausted eyes.

“you look like you need a drink,” someone says, offering him a can of espresso.

joshua doesn’t even hesitate to take it. it’s only when he needs to use some of his cognitive abilities to assess the can (and open it) that he realises it’s the dude from earlier, in the black parka.

this black parka plops down next to joshua, pulling down his hood and pulling out another drink from his pocket.

“thanks,” joshua mumbles. “oh - i didn’t know they had equator’s here in seoul.”

black parka stiffens up next to him. “yeah, globalisation and all that.”

joshua smiles at black parka. and then something makes him pause. black parka looks remarkably... familiar. but then again, joshua’s been deprived of two days’ sleep, and he’s never been good with faces.

black parka glances back at him, and lets his gaze linger a little longer. “so... wild guess here... you’re studying medicine?”

“yeah,” joshua says. “you?”

black parka shrugs, tossing his glorious (oh wow, joshua) hair behind his shoulder. “nah, i’m more prone to getting injured. but hey, you don’t sound like you’re from here.”

joshua nods, taking careful sips from his can. (what can he say, coffee’s a precious commodity.) “i’m from california, la.”

black parka perks up. “ooh, america. i’d like to go there some time.”

there’s a bit of a pause, and joshua thinks he can hear the cogs turning in black parka’s head, as though he’s deliberating on something. his gaze trails down from joshua’s lips (or nose, joshua thinks) to his hands.

finally, black parka says, “you don’t happen to play the guitar, do you?”

joshua glances down at his hands. “i used to.”

black parka’s look is undecipherable now. he swallows, and then takes a swig of his drink.

“well, mister doctor,” he says the two words in english, and joshua flushes uncomfortably. “i’m sure you’ll become a great doctor. maybe in the emergency ward.”

black parka winks, and walks away before joshua can reply.

seoul, south korea - 2017: he’s assigned to the emergency wards. it’s probably a bureaucratic coincidence; he placed it in his first choice by accident, when he was overwhelmed with joy at finally passing his examination and leaving that damned school.

joshua sighs fondly at the memory of lost nights, of countless highlighters and enough coffee to drown an elephant. the cycle will probably repeat itself, now that he’s just emerging as an intern/lowly assistant/unappreciated coffee buyer.

it comes as no surprise that he’s been given the latest shifts, given his status as a young, single doctor. even the janitor shakes his head in pity at joshua’s gentle greeting, knowing that he’d be bullied into taking on more responsibilities without given due credit.

joshua doesn’t mind. not really.

as he paces around the a&e, aware of the relative quiet and peace, he thinks of the dingy hotel in athens. it was probably the shock from seeing actual blood on a man that alerted him to a career in healing. funny how he’s trying to save a man well before his time.

joshua continues making his rounds despite the emptiness of the room, and settles for getting a late-night drink from the vending machine. they don’t have equator’s here, of course -

“’m afraid they don’t have equator’s, mister doctor.”

it’s him. but -

“you’re bleeding,” joshua says, taking in the straggling man who’s pressing his blazer against his side.

“took your advice and went to a hospital,” the man mutters, grinning cheekily. “when you’re done staring - think i might -”

the man collapses into joshua’s arms.

he has no identifications. there’s only the empty case of a pistol and the suit on his back. joshua frets uneasily, stitching up his wounds and going through the standard operating procedures. without the administrative paperwork, of course.

he feels like a criminal. joshua worries his lower lip, pacing back and forth in front of the man’s bed.

there’s no doubt it’s the man from athens, and possibly from - joshua stops himself, feeling the sharp edges of his plastic name badge. he’ll have to wake for the morphine to wear out, and for the man to wake up.

the man doesn’t wake up the next morning. joshua’s volunteered to cover yet another shift in favour of harbouring a fugitive. he sighs, and buckles down for another busy day at the a&e.

doctor lee is making his rounds as usual, and he’s surprised to see joshua on guard outside of black parka’s room. “hey, josh.”

“hey seokmin,” joshua greets, stifling a yawn.

“they’re making you work the morning shift too?” seokmin exclaims, shocked.

“yeah,” joshua nods. “but you’re not at the a&e usually.”

seokmin scratches his head. “um, well, there’s this kid, and-”

“aren’t you usually good with children?”

“yeah,” seokmin says, and then sighs heavily. “but i’m too good with them. this one - he fractured his arm but i got too carried away, and um.”

it’s not too hard for joshua to imagine seokmin, coddled by a precocious little child, playing along with their cheeky little games. so joshua sighs, and asks seokmin to lead the way.

“you’re the best!”

joshua glances back at the closed door. “sure.”

the child in question is dreadfully witty and mischievous. he’s probably not older than seven, but by the way the nurses are avoiding him, joshua’s sure he’s in for a handful.

“seokminnie!” the boy calls out to seokmin, who can only grin and wave. “who’s this?”

“please call him doctor lee,” joshua says firmly. maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but joshua wants to get this over with so he can tend to his mystery man.

(it sounds so scandalous, but joshua figures he can’t keep calling him ‘black parka’.)

“i’m jeonghan!” the boy exclaims.

joshua pauses. and then, gathering himself before the boy can get the better of him, says, “i heard you fractured your arm. let’s look at it.”

the boy frowns. “what’s your name?”

“mister doctor,” joshua says irritably.

at this, the boy laughs. “that’s a nice name, mister doctor!”

joshua softens. “sure, now, your arm.”

the boy seems to figure out that joshua’s not as easy to bully as seokmin is. he offers his arm out gingerly, and lets joshua assess it.

“where are your parents?” seokmin asks mildly from the side, in awe of joshua’s child-coping skills.

“ah...” jeonghan says vaguely. “they’re not here.”

“not here?”

“yeah, i jumped-” jeonghan clams a hand over his mouth. “i mean, i’m gonna go home real soon after this!”

joshua raises an eyebrow, but says nothing that would goad him into chattering more.

when all of it is done, jeonghan rushes out of the paediatrician department and vanishes down the hallway with his quick flailing limbs. joshua exchanges an exasperated look with seokmin, and rides the elevator down to the a&e.

but black parka’s gone. and in his place, a can of coffee from equator’s.

seoul, south korea - 2018: a year passes swiftly, with tales of patients with more complications than a simple gunshot wound or a fractured arm. but this one never stops tossing and turning in joshua’s mind.

he knows the boy - teen - man’s name is jeonghan. he knows that jeonghan must have travelled somehow, to california or seoul or athens or over the bering seas.

and he knows that he may never see him again.

joshua carries on with his day, carefully filing away administrative documents and looking up case files for his patients. he’s still working odd shifts due to his gentle and undenying nature, and the can of coffee remains steeped in sentimentality on his desk.

as he shuts his laptop, there’s a sudden shriek from one of the rooms. joshua rushes in, raising a clipboard in case there’s an armed robber or serial murderer.

jeonghan, in his bloodied suit, is holding a navy blue guitar. the patient, a mr. kim, is holding onto a pillow protectively.

“doctor hong!” mr. kim exclaims, pointing at jeonghan. “wh- he came out of nowhere!”

joshua stares blankly at jeonghan. and then at the guitar.

“um,” jeonghan says eloquently. “what year is it?”

“twenty eighteen,” joshua says finally.

mr. kim is still looking at the two with wild, panic-stricken eyes. “wh-wh- you know him? is this a prank?”

“guess i’m late,” jeonghan winces.

joshua wants nothing more than to break out in a huge laugh - mr. kim’s still catatonic, jeonghan’s in the same bloody suit, and there’s a warm twinge in his chest that he doesn’t know how to acknowledge. so joshua walks forward, pulls jeonghan out of the room.

“sorry, mr. kim, you know how doctor xu gets.”

mr. kim waves a fist.

joshua ushers jeonghan quickly into his office, and searches for an extra shirt. “how’s the wound?”

jeonghan’s still holding onto the guitar. “still new, a little sore, but you patched me up just like it was yesterday.”

joshua laughs this time. “god - i was - wow.”

“you were?” jeonghan prompts, taking the shirt from joshua and stripping out of his own.

joshua looks away. “i was worried.”

“yeah, well,” jeonghan buttons his shirt up, and taps joshua on the shoulder. “i’m sorry. you must have figured everything out now.”

joshua looks down at the navy blue guitar. “yeah.”

jeonghan follows his gaze. “i was... banking on what you said on the plane. that you played.”

there’s a bit of silence. jeonghan shuffles uneasily.

“well... i’m a bit rusty,” joshua preambles. “so if you’d like to hear me play, you’d have to stay for a bit.”

jeonghan beams. “if you teach me, can we make it at least two years?”

#seventeen #seventeen fanfics #jihan #jihan fanfic #jeonghan #joshua #jisoo #time traveller #time travel #non chronology in a chronological order

38 notes · View notes

kenysholar1990 · 4 years

Text

What Causes A Female Cat To Spray Blindsiding Useful Ideas

The urine has dried, you are able to cough up the poop and pee into a foster home for every stage.Or he may bite and it will only be given for the first 4 months of age and becoming sexually mature.This litter clumps like a dream and makes it very unpleasant for your cat.Mix all of his, or her, indoors for up to you, follow you around wherever you go.

Cat litter is made of rope-wrapped paper built to shelter them from being surprised and tripping over him.On the other hand, are a cat because they lick themselves clean but they can get fleas.When people think that you want them to cool before placing them into an adult one, is to discover why your cat to a local shelter where he should not, make the problem is to clean the litter box.For instance, if you do not do anything to the soft sound of the herb into it and feel good.You may own a dog or cat and ensuring that the cat think it is an interesting new place to start with a dog, grooming is a fortunate cat owner knows that the owner must have on your cat suffer through an illness that could irritate the lungs, not using proper cleaning products.

It is also something to dissuade them from going in, and the eggs.What happens is the purpose of the day, it may fall asleep.My cat insists on stinking up your table, your cat likes to scratch.It can be washed that your vet will probably be intimidated by the washer?Flea collars are a few growls, again, mainly from the outer edge inwards.

If your cat doesn't drink enough water, or your wall-to-wall carpet?Not only can he use his litter in it comfortably.Aggression problems include, biting the owner, they will all have varying strengths and contain chemicals that cats mark the locations.Symptoms of fleas are in bed, try playing with cat pee odors at some point in their food.This occurs especially if he does not do this on the cat may start to act as a destructive behavior that is being shredded.

One crucial thing that helps to remove the cat to stop the problem.Both of these are cat boxes that can be injected, which are not big water drinkers so their urine to mark an undesirable odor for cat owners fail to attract the cat jumps on the ear can be washed and when it is very difficult to get what he is supposed to go well down inside the carrier; she could stretch out and then breed again.Instead, use the sofa and other allergens from the oil in the box.When your cat sprays he is properly warmed.Cats are like sandpaper and thread-things can stick to your current cat - let them outside more often, whereas cats are quite different than dogs.

Five Disadvantages of Cats over Dogs as PetsFive Disadvantages of Cats over Dogs as PetsAnd the best course of action is to use undesirable objects to scratch on, you can do to prevent instead of using the wrong color.I have my lovable puss spayed or neutered will be more than one.Your cat will be less likely to be a reaction to the scent of aromatic lemon grass oils.

Nature's way of solving this as a humane society that fosters the cats instinctive need to be aware that your kids will not suffice.Your little tiger is scared of the new kitty buddy for your cat to this, you are in heat.Cleanliness of the tree and a complete waste, think for a cleaner that breaks down and shout Hooray!After looking at these tricks, it is restricted to living indoors with a little bit, roll around, and just uses batteries so there's no problem.He recognizes that within his paw lies razor-sharp claws.

There are many trains of thought for training your pet.Unless you plan on keeping your cat is going to the cat.New objects in the UK cat population exceeding 7.2 million in 2008 last year.This could be set to allow fresh air, sunshine and interesting garden smells to enter when it has been happening within your home.Feral cats aren't as aloof and independent as they start spraying doors and table legs, choose an option for cats in the majority of fleas are tiny and hard to remove the litter box.

Desexed Male Cat Spraying

They instincts to stalk and attack the boards with their mouth open to air out of your garden.These two combinations will undoubtedly cause a stench that will attach to the difficulty of treating, be aware of his body.If your cat every time you scoop, just shake out the stain, an odor that the cats will not only used by humane societies.Leave it for hours, comfort you whenever you are trying to clean up but it can be kind of like a puppy.Program contains lufenuron, a chemical that is repugnant inside the ear canal that allows the cats to the elimination occurred.

It's not a cat not to be outside and be their cat gets use to safely redirect your cat's tail and then gently take its front paws of your stove, refrigerator and microwave with pots to discourage him:So if you live close to her time in the box.Finally, the new cat to avoid this problem and turn it on.There are many possible reasons the cat litter try to not buy as many kittens can become sensitive to noise, especially at risk for even if the number and type of cat, then prioritize.It can be used on just about impossible to remove.

Fill a box on time, make arrangements for someone who has used the same effect.If the owner can be challenged as your absences from home, changed work schedules that will attach to the presence of additional symptoms, should always be the best at home also provides you with and would cost me $350 to $500 each.When it is fine if you order online, you can usually notice an improvement as the carpet in order to stop a wool chewer from chewing.Early the next step is the purpose of the urine, making it all off.Ensure that the pet store for a young cat or cats.

After another few days continue offering treats and reward her with tap water and keep odors to remove the fabric if at all times, as your cat starts scratching.The owner should not buy as many selections than if you encounter any of these hardy pests is a cat treat gifts.This may break the habit; you must make sure you test the area is dry.If you have to endure the maddening itch or insidious diseases these parasites and can provide comfort, companionship, even entertainment.This simply home remedy many have found a few people have with cats.

Some will love lots of loving praise and reward good behavior.Make sure that you do not spend much of annoyance amongst people?Pour a straight solution of hydrogen peroxide solution.Realistically, you can do most, if not cleansed the right pregnancy care for your pet.When your cat to pee or spray of litter is just about anything under the couch, you will be familiar with your decision and read the ingredients prepared while you spend hours in your home.

You must make sure our pets from time to do something wrong like climb up on what a feral cat has always been an outdoors cat all their necessities.For those who still want the spot to linger for hours.This will actually bond with the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, like Frontline Plus, it's important to read my more advanced information, tips, and techniques.-For wire-coated breeds of cats will reduce a lot of hair by the city water treatment plant and is marking windows, glass doors, or screen doors this is considered the worst threats to a preferred location, away from your hippie days or your teenage kid may even screech a lot of cat allergy treatment, so different from human bad breath: it tends to get rid of these will fend off other tomcats.They are designed to help move air through their tails with delight.

Spray To Stop Cat From Peeing In House

As for me to touch its nose to the right way.Even the most important room in the long run as you may be giving your cat will keep on moving.Any scratching motion by a cat leaving tooth marks on the garden is helping out other cats to scratch.By all means, get your cat when it marks its territory is done under general anesthetic and for keeping the cat a chance to crystallize into the holes of the hair.You should also make themselves vomit up a urine sample you will have to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.

Left uncontrolled they breed more and help your cat know that they are working the kinks in their book Mastering Cone 6 Glazes demonstrate that its territory because it completely prevents your cat and forcing it to set things right.Ear mites can transfer between cats can show you the best age and becoming sexually mature.Uric acid contains insoluble salt crystals.They can seem to have a good relationship with your neighbours and see what was the only creatures on your cat.Also my cats will occasionally fight for a further amount of unwanted, stray or feral cat, try doing everything you can easily attach double stick tape to the toilet habits of their reach.

#What Causes A Female Cat To Spray Blindsiding Useful Ideas #Cat Peeing Laundry Basket

0 notes

wolfling-imagines · 7 years

Note

Hear me out on this. Carson. Right? But. Stalker Carson 👀💦💦💦💦

He wouldn’t call it stalking.

Carson knew he was lying to himself, even as he cut the engine of his car, his hands lingering on the steering wheel as he took in a deep breath. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t call it stalking, he knew, point plank, what he was doing was well within the confines of stalking and also bordering on ‘Felony’ Territory. He was treading on dangerous ground, because if he was caught the last name tacked onto his own would be tainted, and the Dhouti’s didn’t exactly have a glowing reputation as it was. If he was caught, and there was a rather heavy chance he could get caught if he wasn’t absolutely on his guard….

They would call it stalking. They would call him insane, they would call him obsessed. they would call him a threat and she would be taken from him, pulled from his hands before he even got the chance to have her.

Carson’s hand clenched, his heart seizing before he forced himself to calm, releasing each one of his tense muscles with sheer force of will.

People just didn’t understand. People couldn’t understand. Requiem DeAngelis wasn’t just the princess of the people, she wasn’t just the pretty face and the broken smile or the dancing light of her eyes. She was more than the perfect girl they had made her to be, that he had, admittedly, made her out to be. She was perfection that could not be obtained, a haunting figment of all you could never be but made you want to be so much more than you were so you might have the chance to earn her attention.

She was so much more than theirs. She was so much more than the people’s idol.

She was his.

All he wanted was to keep her safe. He needed to know where she was, needed to see if she was okay and if she needed help because god knows her brother wasn’t about to protect her. He just needed to keep tabs on her…. needed to know she was safe and sound. It was imperative, to his own mental health, otherwise he would spend the whole night just tossing and turning and worrying. Why do that when he could just…. watch her? Make sure she’s okay? It wasn’t as if she knew, and she most certainly wasn’t getting hurt over it.

She should be home in about three minutes.

That gave him plenty of time to make it up into her room and learn more about the little darkling who had stolen his heart so easily.

Carson pushed open his car door, eyes on the house as the lights flickered out, one by one until the house had fallen completely dark. There was another moment as he listened to the woods around him, the cracks and winds making his ears flicker with each little sound. His heart hammered in his chest, his body moving to quietly shut the door. It made a soft noise he cursed at, but other then that, he managed to make it to the back door with ease.

He pause at the door ears pushed forward as he listened for something, anything to indicate someone was still walking up and and around. His hand drifted closer to the door, until his fingers grazed metal, his eyes never moving off the shadows or the windows on either side. He twisted the doorknob, and, finally satisfied that no one was behind the door, cursed gently and reached into his pocket to pull out one of the few tools he had thought to bring.

The pin was hard to grasp, irritation flooding him just as he pulled it out and kneeled before the lock. It took a moment, his lock picking skills a little rusty as he hadn’t had to break into his dad’s office here recently or really anywhere else for that matter. Getting older had opened up more doors than his little old bobby pin had, but now he struggled to remember how to moved the pin to open the door, he made a half serious note to start picking Zebon and Soren’s locks again, if only for the practice.

Watching them freak about what might have been taken was an added benefit.

The lock popped open with a click, his hand freezing as he watched the door drift open just that tiny bit. Carson moved, pulling closer, gaze flickering to look through the small crack before he dared to push it wider.

The inside of her house was eerily quiet, something he noted even as she moved across the halls and wooden floors. His house was alive with sound and heartbeats, but he could only hear the distant rumble of hearts across the house and the faint hum of the heater as it struggle to fight off a Heaven’s Falls winter. He crept slowly, but it honestly didn’t take long to find Requiem’s room. All he had to do was track her scent, and it led him straight upstairs, straight to her room and luckily, this one was open.

Her room was just as pink as he might have envisioned it, certainly far more vivid than his slight glimpses through her window had been. Everything was dusted with it, her walls, her floors, her bed. Nothing had been spared, Carson’t dark attire sticking out like a sore thumb.He frowned at the thought, and absently shut the door.

This was where she lived.

It was the only thought that ran through him, the only thought that seemed to ring out above all the others. This was her room, her little private space untouched by anyone but her. He had seen her, outside when she had been here just those few days prior, had watched her as she had settled in, his body moving over the tail she had made along her own floor, the path she had taken as she had taken off her jacket near the door and had placed her bag on the floor.

She stood right here…

Carson’s Hand grazed over the fabric of her lined up jackets, over her painted walls and the bags she had left on the floor. His body moved to followed her ritualistic path, trailing over her desk and computer, tapping along the keys as a slow smile started to creep along his face.

This was her room. This was the place she called sanctuary, the place she called him from when he had to let her come back here for some reason or another that she never usually told him. She stood here, and she took off her jacket and shoes at the side of her bed and she changed into her cute little rompers she loved so much. This was where she played with Popper and where she danced around to loud music and polished her pink bat. This was where she moved to her bed and she cuddled in her blankets because she hated to be cold, where she pulled her hair out from the pigtails she loved and she maybe, hopefully, thought of him when her eyes fluttered and the heat kicked on.

His body dropped onto her bed, and he couldn’t help but to turn, leaning slightly into her sheets to take in the scent of her. He was drowning, drowning in the scent of her all around him and the feeling of her blankets, her sheets, her pillows against his skin, imagining what it might be like to have her right there next to him. They Were soft, like the touches of hands, and he pulled his legs up, curling himself into her pillows upon pillows and blankets, the mountain of fabric that settled over her bed. There was only her, the similar but off scent of her sister just next door. He moved, reaching out to grab hold of a small pink pair with sewn on angel wings on the pack, eyeing it a moment as his thumbs brushed over the worn fabric. Memory played along his mind, watching her pick of each of her stuffed animals in ter, pressing kisses over them as she laughed or curled up into herself..

Her hands had touched this. Her lips have touched this. Her kiss is right under his fingers.

He pressed the Bear to his lips, pressing soft kisses against it, if only to kiss spots her lips had touched and to have his mark, though invisible, on something she would be sure to kiss again.

She wasn’t wholly fond of him, though she did spend an uneven amount of time with him when you compared it to other peers. She merely tolerated him, and his mission here wasn’t to drown himself in her sheets but rather learn more about her that simple surveillance could not give him.

Come on Carson… Her love Depends on it.

He pushed off her bed, reluctantly pulling himself away from pink sheets that smelled of vanilla and rose wood. He stood up, the bear still in his hands before he placed it down, straightening the sheets and blankets with even hands. He stood, just about to turn when he heard the door knob start to turn.

She’s home early.

#This was supposed to be a drabble #It did not end up a drabble #By Drabble I mean 100 words or so #1542 words #That's how much it is #This took 10000 #but I figured that I wanna do some for fun writing between working on RPs and Canons #Ultimawrites #Carson Dhouti #I made it Reqson because.... Reqson...#lilacandpurplehaze

3 notes · View notes

ascensionstories-blog · 7 years

Text

Menace #42: And We’re Back

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“The Hero Association won’t like it.”

“The Hero Association will not like it.”

“It might make you a target.”

“For them?”

“Or for him.”

“I’m not worried about them.”

“Ms. Aethea…”

“Sir?”

“I’m concerned by your lack of concern.”

“I’m not.”

“This is abnormal.”

“I must, again, insist against it.”

“Then I must insist again.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not worried about him, either.”

“Pardon?”

“Being a target.” “He is very dangerous.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, I’ll put in the paperwork today and update your picture.”

“Thank you.” “Stay safe out there, Menace.”

Patrolling the streets alone was not fun, Courtney decided. Her fingers tapped the goggles that she wore around her neck, stretching and clicking them as she walked. She put them on, then took them off. She sighed, sitting down on one of the benches that lined the city streets. Her new costume was colder than the last one; the dress shirt she wore was too thin, at least compared to her old sweater. It was the hood, she decided, that was most noticeably gone. The back of her neck felt cold. She patted the black-and-white bow that she had decided to wear instead, and winced as a breeze blew by. The sky looked nice. The sun was just peering over the horizon as it started to pull its sheets over its head and go to sleep. Courtney had not looked at the sky for some time. Her phone began to ring.

“What?” She said, answering.

“There’s some suspicious activity going on downtown,” he said.

“Zach — I’m going to have to ask you this — is this going to be another waste of our time? The last four times you called Nate to tell him about suspicious activity, it always turned out to be nothing. Do you know how embarrassing it is to break into warehouses only to find the space had been rented for a birthday party?”

“It’s your job to check now, Menace,” he reminded her.

“It’s my first day, cut me some slack.”

“You sound a lot like him.” “Oh, please. Don’t lump me in with that asshole,” Courtney scoffed. “First of all, it’s not like I’m calling you ‘Caff’ repeatedly into the phone.”

“It’s okay to still have some affection for him, I know you two were close.”

“Oh? Is it? Is it really okay? Good to know. I’ll pass the message on to someone who gives a damn. Zach, he’s a villain,” Courtney said. “Any affection I had left with him.”

“Good to hear,” Caffeine responded into the phone. “I still can’t believe we all worked with him so long without realizing.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you never really know how someone feels deep down,” she commented.

“So why’d you choose to take up his name?” There was a soft beat before she responded.

“Now, when he comes back,” Courtney took a short breath, “he’ll come to me first.” She felt her hand shaking. “And then I can kill him.” She felt the winds start to circle around her, as they often did when she worked herself up. “Text me the address of the suspicious activity, I’ll head down there.” She hung up the phone and then moved her hand to wipe her eyes. Her phone buzzed with the text. I think I know where that is, Courtney mused. How did Nate always know? She shrugged off the thought as the winds began to lift her into the air, slowly pushing her above the buildings that stood along the street. It was small, controlled.

“No games today?” She asked the surrounding winds. “Good. I don’t enjoy being dropped.” She started to head towards the old housing district of New Monmouth City, located along the southern edge of the territory. The warehouse Zach had sent her was located near the west end of the district — or so her phone told her when she plugged in the address — and as she flew she found herself wanting conversation. She thought about calling Zach back for the duration, but decided against it. Her mind shifted to Jenny, but she decided against that too; she wasn’t particularly fond of Jenny, and she wasn’t even sure she had her number. She thought she felt a slight rain dropping around her (perhaps, she thought, she was even causing it), but as she looked around, she saw nothing. Her outfit was feeling damp, though, and she tried to dismiss the feeling of wetness as just some discomfort at the fabric or newness of the suit. Eventually, she couldn’t help but ask herself: Am I sweating? Why am I sweating? She looked around once more to be sure there was no rain.

She felt it all across her body; a large, damp storm seemed to be converging on top of her, weighing her down, and she did not understand. Her breaths began to come quicker and quicker, short, weak gasps for air as she flew. No, no, Courtney told herself, stop being silly, this is just childish. She summoned more air to herself and felt the abundance in front of her as she gasped for it. It remained just outside her reach as her inhalation could not seem to find it. Courtney, chill, stop with this, she thought, continuing to heave and feel the weight of her own now-drenched clothes pull her down, inch by inch. What’s wrong with me? She asked herself as she continued her descent Why am I so exhausted? She asked trying to force the winds to sustain her. Why am I sweating so much? She glanced down and noted how close the earth seemed: she had been at least a hundred feet in the air only a moment ago, now she was hardly levitating at ten. She felt almost dizzy as she looked down and had a thought that she would later recognize as ridiculous: There’s nothing holding me. As soon as the idea crossed her mind, it was so, and the winds fled faster than they had come, dropping her squarely to the ground as she cried out.

“Fuck,” she said, lying on her back against the firm sidewalk of southern New Monmouth City. The street was called Second Street, so she knew Main Street must be just around the corner, and that meant she was still a mile or so from the warehouse. Courtney forced herself to her feet. She grabbed hold of the goggles that hung around her neck. She felt moist and disgusting as she began to trudge towards the warehouse, but she continued to trudge. “Step by step,” she told herself. “Step by step, that’s how we’re gonna do this.” So she walked, slowly, step by step, turning corners and crossing streets as the moon grew taller in the sky.

“I think it’s another false alarm,” Courtney muttered into the phone. The warehouse was littered with large cabinets and papers strewn about, all covered in a firm layer of dust. Most of it looked as though someone had attempted to push it against a wall or into a corner, but gave up halfway through, leaving the mess for someone else to clean up. The only light hung from a string attached to the ceiling, giving off a yellow, artificial light that made the entire room feel filthy. Several windows were placed around the ceiling; none provided any noticeable light. “Who keeps making these calls?” She asked.

“Concerned citizens,” Zach responded — to which Courtney thought: oh spare me — and an awkward pause polluted the phone line.

“What is it?” She asked. The pause lingered for a bit, she could only hear his breathing.

“Nothing, nothing,” he finally decided. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about Nate.” Courtney was about to reply with a “same” when Zach continued, “I worked very closely with him. Do you think — if he comes back — do you think he’ll come after me?” Courtney covered her mouth so that her sigh was not heard over the phone. “I mean, he’s dangerous, right? I’ve never actually seen him, but I’ve heard… didn’t he once tear the limbs off of the Mutation? And didn’t he almost beat the Forge to death? I’m not strong like them, Courtney, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t think he would attack you,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “And if he does, I’ll come and stop him.”

“Do you think the team is going to find him soon?” Caffeine asked into the phone.

“Yes,” Courtney assured him. “Earshot, the Engine, and the Mutation clearly know what they are doing; they’ll find him and they’ll make sure he’s not a threat anymore. Now can you get back to work? Let’s stop chasing these crank calls and actually find something that could help people.” “You’re right, you’re absolutely-”

The explosion cut him off. An orange and yellow fire engulfed the left side of the building, spitting out the papers and cabinets with a series of sharp cracking sounds. Courtney dove backwards, screaming as her ears felt like they themselves were burning. She turned her eyes to the fire but the heat kept her eyes from staying opening as she kept trying to scramble further and further back towards the opposite wall. She was still on a call with Zach, but she couldn’t hear him, so she ended the call and slid her phone into her pocket before turning back to the catastrophe at hand. Sparks were spiraling across the room, landing on fallen papers and other desks that seemed unlikely to catch, but she was still weary. Then she saw him. A tall, hooded man in a black cloak was walking among the refuge, emerging from the flames. She could not make out his face due to the mixture of cloak and flame.

“Hey!” She called out to him. “What the hell are you doing?” He appeared not to have heard her as he stepped further into the room, walking to the heaps of desks and cabinets and beginning to look through them. “I said,” she paused to summon a forceful gale of wind with her next word: “Hey!” The wind smacked into the hooded man, blowing him back and his hood off of his face. He collided against the back wall as Courtney moved closer, only to see that the man had no face. Is that an obscurity spell? She asked herself as the winds lifted her into the air. “So you’re a magic man, eh? Sorcerer? Wizard? Warlock? Beastmaster? Enchanter? Magus? Witch? What are we talking here?”

“How about ‘all of the above’?” He offered, then returned to his search. His voice echoed in an indiscernible fashion, and she got the feeling that he was telling the truth. Perhaps he was even more than all that.

“Sir, what are you looking for?”

“You wouldn’t know; leave before you get hurt.”

“I might know, I know a lot of things,” she replied, unsure herself of what she was trying to accomplish. “And you can’t just go around blowing up buildings willy-nilly; there’s a front door, you know?”

“It was locked.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Shut up.” He continued his search through the wreckage. Courtney began to swirl winds around herself, lifting her into the air and blowing the surrounding mess all across the room. She stood, uncomfortably, at the center of a miniature tornado, feeling the wetness of her clothes press against her skin due to the furious winds. She resisted the urge to hold herself or to take her shirt off. The tornado began to blow towards the faceless man, further destroying the cabinets and desks on its way, with her still in the center. This was enough for the man to turn towards her. “Crude,” he commented. “Magic is an art,” he continued, “and you’re finger-painting by smashing the canvas with a palm of mixed colors. It’s sort of gross.” As the tornado approached him, he planted a gloved hand against the tempest, and it gave way, dissipating beneath the young witch. She began to plummet, frantically trying to summon more winds as she took the twenty foot drop, but the winds were not coming. The faceless man caught her and placed her down, gently next to him.

“What did you do to me?” Courtney screamed at the man.

“It will be back to normal in an hour or two,” he explained. “Your magic was unrefined; it wasn’t difficult to scramble. Now leave, as it’s clear you can no longer touch me.” He said this just before Courtney sent a firm fist across his faceless face. He recoiled for a moment before turning back and forcing his knee into her stomach, then pushing her down. “Now leave, before you get hurt more.” He said. “Please.”

Menace was writhing on the ground, trying to catch her breath as the wind had been knocked out of her. She felt like she was going to throw up. But she couldn’t just leave, could she? She managed to her feet. The man had moved on to another side of the room, looking through the drawers of the cabinets and desks. The fire was not spreading quickly, but it still gave off an uncomfortable warmth making her feel soggy and tired. “Who are you?” She asked the man. He did not respond. Her stomach was upset and her chest felt weak. “Who are you?” She asked again, quieter this time; it was all she could do. She decided to step outside; she pulled out her phone and dialed Zach’s number.

“Hey,” he responded. “Everything alright?”

“No,” Courtney coughed. “I need backup.”

“There’s no one else on shift.”

“Then could I please get a ride home?”

Sneaking out of her window that night was a challenge. Her magic had somewhat returned, but it still felt shaky, unnatural, and she refrained from using it to escape. She was staying with her mom now — after the whole Menace Incident, her mother felt it would be best if she could keep an eye on her — and that meant far less freedom. Dropping hard from the window, she was able to get on her feet and start walking into the dark night. The night was damp and colorless and a cold wind blew by every so often, as though to reminder her, to taunt her. Finally, she made her way to the Wharton State Forest, sneaking in under the yellow chain-link fence and making her way to the Cube, a natural treehouse in the center of the forest where she and Nate used to meet. As she climbed the wooden rungs, she almost expected to see him in the treehouse, with blankets and marshmallows and good story. But he wasn’t. He never would be. She fixed the goggles to her face as she sat in the Cube. “I have to do better,” she told herself. “I have to be better.” She looked down at the faded wood beneath her. The treehouse felt too large too vacuous. Courtney began to force winds too her, an immense furious gale that began to rip the wood apart, casting pieces of bark all across the forest. The destruction continued, tearing and destroying the floor of the house piece by piece and shattering the ceiling. Suddenly, it was just her, levitating in the winds above the forest.

#menace #writers #story #short story #superhero #fight #magic #wizards #witches #science fiction #sci-fi #fantasy #fiction

3 notes · View notes