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#wip: slow burn government cover up
rascheln · 3 years
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AO3 Fic Masterpost
A list of my (mostly) T-Rated works- the ones rated M are marked! If you’re looking for smut, there’s a masterpost for my explicit works over here.  Please make sure to read the tags/warnings for the fics!
I picked those cherries just for you. (1,3k words) post s3, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort As Steve and Billy recover at the hospital, they bond. 
We’ll Be Fine (1,1k words) future fic, established relationship, crying, h/c, POV Billy Billy’s the crier. It takes him a while to realize Steve’s the one who holds things in till he spills over.
Moving On (981 words) post s3 getting together, POV Steve As Billy recovers after Starcourt, Steve becomes closer to him and emotionally ready to leave Hawkins behind- together.
In Between (735 words, rated M) whump, injury recovery, POV Billy A look into Billy’s head in the throes of recovery.
Cloud Cover (1,8k words) chronic illness, ptsd, established relationship, domestic, POV Billy The not-quite normalcy of living together.
3AM (2,7k words) underage drinking, truth-or-dare, first kiss, POV Steve A drunken bet forces Steve to hold hands with Billy for the rest of the night.
Tinker Bell (1,1k words) Fluff, hurt/comfort Steve and his cat over the years.
Honeyed Wine (7,3k words) vaguely modern AU, baker!Billy, hurt!Steve, getting together, POV Steve While recovering from an injury, Steve works at Robin’s market stall where he reunites with his high school rival and falls in love with his pastries.
Found Hope In Those Dirty Backstreets (1,8k words) cyberpunk AU, fighter!Billy, nurse!Steve, body modification, bamf!Steve, POV Steve Steve patches up people. He's seen Billy numerous times after his fights. This time, he's the one who fights for Billy. 
Raspberry Salt (1,1k words) implied medical experimentation, implied chronic illness, hurt/comfort, POV Steve Steve develops memory issues over time and goes to the government lab to ensure it’s not Upside Down related. Billy picks him up afterwards.
Bring the Brightness (WIP, 25k words, rated M) mystery, horror, ptsd, hurt!Steve, slow burn, hurt/comfort, (implied) human experimentation, POV Steve The more the supernatural takes over Hawkins, the more something deeply buried bubbles up in Steve. As time passes, he and Billy become closer- but so does the Upside Down again.
The Darkest Path (12k words, rated M, warning for graphic depictions of violence) Sci-fi AU, mechanic!steve, security guard!Billy, survival horror, amnesia, getting back together, PTSD, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, POV Steve Waking up injured and without memory on what seems to be an abandoned ship, Steve soon discovers that he’s not as alone- or safe- as he thought.
Travel Companion (2k words, rated M) omegaverse, magic AU, fluff and smut, Alpha!Billy, Omega!Steve, courtship, semi-public sex (in a locked train cabin) After a drawn out courtship, an unexpected emergency leads to Steve and Billy finally tying the (proverbial) knot.
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deiliamedlini · 3 years
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WIP Wednesday
I have been mentally down and writing poorly for a few weeks now, and even my friend was like “oof, yeah don’t post this yet. It needs work” and thankfully has been stopping me from making rash decisions like randomly posting fics to AO3 on a whim.
The WIP below (even though it needs more editing) is the beginning of the new fic I’m going to post next. I’m finally back to the pirates too, which is making progress, but is just slow going because I’m making sure I’m not forgetting plots (which I already have so I am not rushing the chapter but it is in progress finally!).
It’s a Pre-Calamity AU with heavy emphasis on the AU. It’s basically Zelda being forced to train with Link for her safety. Antagonistic-but-not-enemies, to friends, to lovers trope. I want to call it Dance With Me because it’s not really about dancing (I like the other meanings of the phrase), but my friend says it sucks as a title and now I’m rethinking 😂 I’m doing so well! 
~~
When Princess Zelda was seventeen years old, she’d been fully prepared to die.
Ancient prophecies had foretold a Great Calamity that would sweep the land of Hyrule into a great blight and destroy it all unless those chosen by destiny could stop it.
Zelda had been one of those who’d been blessed by the Goddess’s alleged favor: Hylia’s spirit and magic coursed within her.
But the wielder of the Master Sword hadn’t been found in time.
Four champions stayed by the Divine Beasts: Urbosa, Revali, Daruk, and Mipha. And for a year, the five of them waited while King Rhoam of Hyrule went on a mad search for the Chosen Hero and for the location of the Master Sword itself.
Zelda had spent that time relentlessly pursuing the Goddess’ power; she passed out in the holy springs, prostrated herself before Goddess statues for hours at a time, devoted every waking second she had to prayer. But despite her greatest efforts, her attempts were fruitless.
But perhaps the Goddess were showing their favor after all, because despite every prophecy, despite every prediction, wall carving, and palm reading, the Calamity never came, and Zelda was spared a horrific death at the hands of darkness incarnate.
One year after the predicted date, the Champions felt like they could finally move away from the Beasts, ever watchful, but able to maintain some of their daily lives. Zelda stopped spending day and night in freezing water and instead moved to the Temple of Time where the weather was bearable, and the distance was well within reach of the Castle while still spending most of her time in holy grounds.
Two years after the predicted date, the Champions began to lead normal lives again, freely leaving their domains, though they were still ready to return at a moment’s notice. Zelda began to spend more time in the library, sifting through ancient tombs and personal diaries of past monarchs, hoping her answer lied in pages rather than prayer.
Three years after the predicted date, the Champions were harder to find on a day-to-day basis. But Zelda remained steadfast and relentless with her nose in books and her knees in the spring’s water. The Sheikah had to pull her out several times. They had to force her into recovery.
But by the fourth year, the Beasts had gathered dust, and Zelda had utterly given up, instead helping Purah and Robbie with their ancient tech and Guardian research, which—despite the lack of the Calamity—still had other practical applications.
It seemed that everything had been built up for no reason, that there was no Calamity after all.
So, it was only when they’d all gotten comfortable that the Yiga Clan, a cult devoted to the demon lord Ganon, began their relentless assault on Princess Zelda, heir to the Goddess’ devastating sealing powers.
The entirety of that year had been spent with Zelda running from attack after attack, losing her guards, losing Sheikah. She was sent back to the castle where Purah set up protective wards around her room that ran off ancient tech, and she continued working on them so they might be able to encompass the entire castle.
King Rhoam’s royal command had been that Zelda could not touch any Sheikah tech. She couldn’t look at Guardians, or ask about runes and wards. So, Zelda returned to her studies once more until her eyes burned from sitting over tombs in the candlelight.
She had to admit, she’d become proficient in her royal duties, following her father to almost everything she was permitted in. What she wasn’t, he’d fill her in on after.
At this point, a vast majority of Hyrule believed the peace was a sign that the Calamity was never going to arrive. The other school of thought, which Zelda subscribed to, was that the Calamity should be feared far more than ever, its unpredictability keeping the other half of the kingdom in a deeply rooted state of caution and suspense ever since.
Though Zelda had asked her father to let her leave the protection of the Castle more often for experiences outside of prayer, his answer was always the same: “I lost your mother to those cultists; I will not lose you as well.”
“I just want to swim in Lake Hylia,” she’d tried once. “The days have gotten unbearable. Please, father? I’ll take an entire company of guards with me.”
“I’m sorry, Zelda. No. You may go to a spring of your choice. The waters there will likely be a cool temperature. Perhaps try the Spring of Wisdom.”
Zelda was 21, though she felt as though one hundred years had passed. She was tired, bone weary with an exhaustion that had set in so deep, she spent a decent amount of her days simply sleeping. When she was awake, she stared at her hand, waiting for magic to miraculously hit her in the face. Perhaps if she stared long enough, the Goddess would take pity on her patheticness.
The days when she’d been sent out to pray were now her favorites. She’d found ways to coerce her guards into taking longer routes, stopping for longer breaks.
That’s what happened on the day her father had reached his breaking point regarding the attacks on her life.
She returned to the castle shaken and sore, but his tight arms held her as his body shook with relief. He sank to his knees and held her in his arms the way he’d done the day her mother died, and he realized he needed nothing more than to hold his child in his arms to remember that the world was still spinning as long as she was alive.
He’d told her that when he’d said goodnight to her, standing in the doorway of her room with poorly concealed heartache written all over his sagging body.
“I’m really fine,” Zelda said for the fourth time that hour. She sat on top of her long, blue satin sheets, sliding a bit as she tried to adjust her leg. Something about being curled into herself in some way helped make her feel comfortable as she smiled to ease her father’s mind.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to stop by in the morning, if that’s alright.”
“Sure,” she said, shrugging as if she were entirely unaffected by everything she’d been through. She was good at that façade after five years of stares and whispers.
“Okay. Goodnight. May the Goddess watch over you.”
That was how Zelda found herself in the library before the crack of dawn, perched on a ladder in the top shelves of the restricted section. She had access, of course, but she was reading an untranslated a Sheikah tomb from a former handmaiden of the Princess of Hyrule before her ascent to the throne. That Princess had practically bled power, and Zelda hoped her handmaid noted something of interest.
She tucked the book under her arm and climbed down, crossing the library that was filled with several lifetimes worth of books, and stopped in the government documents. Her eyes trailed the spines for a familiar one with territories clearly outlined. She went to the language section to grab a reference book for Ancient Sheikah. Though she was mostly fluent in that, among several other languages, the ancient variations on words occasionally tripped her up. So she set back up to her room with her pile of books, ready to be confined by her father for her safety once again.
Zelda nodded to several of the guards she passed as they stood at their post. Despite the castle being one of the safest places in Hyrule thanks to all the tech, guards were still positioned in the most well-traveled places on their patrols, while two guards stood at her door and her father’s.
Biting her lip, Zelda craned her neck around her pile to try to find the doorknob, fumbling her hand around blindly, just barely able to turn the handle. And because the Goddess never wanted to cooperate with her, she dropped two of the books, though she managed to cling to the relic with tight fingers. The other two fell right onto her guard’s foot.
“I’m so sorry!” Zelda muttered, bending to pick them up.
The guard was beside her, nearly banging heads with her as he grabbed the heavy translation tomb. Thankfully for her, he flinched away in time; he was wearing a helmet that covered most of his head, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that metal. “Don’t apologize,” the guard said softly, picking up the other book for her. “Would you like me to…” He gestured vaguely to her room.
“Oh, no thank you. Just stack them on top of this one.” He did, and she took a step inside before backing up. “Actually, would you mind getting the antechamber door for me, please?”
He stepped inside and pushed the second door open before backing up respectfully.
“Thank you so much,” she said, about to use her foot to close the door when she looked back. “And again, I am sorry I dropped a heavy book on your foot.”
He bowed his head and stepped back out, so she closed the door and set her books down.
Her father came into her room early, as promised.
“Zelda,” he said with a strained greeting. The corner of his lip twitched, like his muscles had become tired under the strain of holding it up for so long, and his eyes held no joy, no spark. It was forced chipperness, and Zelda picked up on it immediately.  “May I sit?”
“Of course.”
She sat on a chest at the foot of her bed, and he pulled the chair away from the desk to face her. “Well, let’s not beat around the bush. There have been many attempts on your life, but I have felt none so potently as yesterday’s. When they told me you’d been attacked, all I could remember was the news of your mother. And then when you were brought in…” he ran a hand along a bruise on her cheek that she didn’t realize she had until she felt a flare of pain cause her to flinch. “You are my precious daughter, and I love you. I never want to see you harmed. That said, others do. It’s becoming impossible for you to safely leave the castle.”
Zelda braced herself. This was where he confined her to her room or to the palace grounds for the foreseeable future. She folded her hands over her lap so he couldn’t see the shaking grow more visible.
“You’ve been unable to protect yourself with your powers, so we must resort to other means. You’re to learn to defend yourself, starting immediately. We still need you at the springs, so I cannot command you to stay here. You still are a priestess of Hylia. So, given your setbacks, you’ll need to learn.”
Zelda’s mouth dropped open as she let the words process through her mind. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We’ll hopefully have a sword in your hand soon enough, but you’ll be able to defend yourself from these cultists.”
“A sword?”
“It’s too dangerous. We’ve lost too many guards. And you can’t fight as it is. This is the best option.”
“No!” she said, much louder than intended. “Fight the Yiga?” She shuddered just at the word.
“Zelda, we need you to live. Hyrule needs you to succeed, and to succeed, you must survive.”
Standing up didn’t make it any easier to breathe, as Zelda had hoped. “You think I haven’t tried?” Tears threatened her eyes as her voice cracked on her last word. As if years of her life sacrificed to unreturned devotion wasn’t enough for her. For him. For all of Hyrule. She’d tried, she’d bargained, she’d offered up her comfort, her breath, her mind, her years, her time. She was one person. What was left for her to do?
“Do you think I just stand there and watch my knights get murdered? Do I just drop to my knees and pray? Is that what you think I do?”
“Zelda…”
“No! You’re right, father. I’ll lead the Yiga right to the Goddess Spring that you need me to go to again just so I can brandish a sword and strike one down with my prowess! Because, Goddess knows that my Knights have an easy enough time with the Yiga, so it should be a cinch for me!” The sarcasm oozed from her in an unintentional venom drip.
“You’re telling me that I’ve failed! You’re telling me to give up and grab a stupid sword! Give me some armor next time I go to the Temple of Time! I don’t need my priestess garb. I have my sword! Because it will absolutely save me!”
“Zelda, please.”
“Please,” she scoffed, finally feeling a hot tear on her cheek. “You’re telling me I’m going to die! Five years ago, I was ready. I knew I’d failed, but I stood vigil waiting for the Calamity to give my life in the final hope that it might stop Ganon! But now, I was blessed with time, and still I can’t do it! I can’t access her powers. So you want me to fail one more time by using a sword to defend myself? This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I was there when Lady Styla proposed that sham of a fashion show to lift spirits.”
“That’s irrelevant, Zelda.”
From the look on his face, she could tell he was not budging. She tried another tactic. “I-I shouldn’t be near a sword anyway! What if I stabbed myself by accident? Then there’s no way I’ll ever unlock mother’s power. I’ll be dead with or without the Yiga! I already dropped a book on my guard today! That could have been my foot with a knife! And before you tell me that there have been warrior queens and princesses throughout the history of Hyrule, that’s because they never met me. I’m not a fighter! I read books all day! I take notes. I can bore the Calamity to death with a detailed review of the territory lines in Northern Akkala! That might be more effective than a sword, at least.”
“Zelda, you’re not thinking of the big picture…”
“But if I don’t unlock the power because of some silly distraction like learning how to fight, then the world will fall to the Calamity. My time will now need to be spent in that wretched training area with all kinds of sweaty men. Do you want your precious daughter exposed to such a sight? Worse yet, what if I like it and decide to spend all my days there with… shirtless men!” She grimaced and blushed all at once.  
“This is the most absurd argument I’ve ever heard. You leave me no choice but to make that a command from your king rather than a request from your father. Because as much as I love you, I also am obligated to keep you safe.”
“Obligated?” her voice cracked again, losing some of her rambling thunder. “I’m an obligation? Is that how you see your daughter?”
She gasped when he let the silence answer for him.
“You start your training now. Your instructor has already been informed and will be ready for you.”
“Who?” she asked, glancing at the four guards at her door. Two hers, two her father’s. They were all hearing her shame. How long until everyone knew?
“He’s the most renowned swordsman in all of Hyrule, one of our best fighters, and he’s about your age, so he should be someone you can get along with.”
“The best fighter in all of Hyrule is only 22? No wonder the Yiga are everywhere, if those are our standards.”
“Be kind, Zelda.”
“Is that another order, My King?”
He sighed and crossed the room, stopping at her door. “One more thing. While you’re there, I’ve given him permission to overrule you if you command him not to train you. You will learn to stay safe, whether you want to or not. Now change and go. He’s expecting you now.” He turned his head to her guards. “Make sure she goes to the training yard, and if she refuses, come fetch me.”
As soon as he was gone, she slammed her door and sagged into the wood.
She did consider hiding out, but she knew her father would simply bring the soldier into her room to train if he had to. At this point, with the number of times the Yiga had come after her, she wouldn’t have really blamed her father if he’d locked her in a door-less room and dropped this instructor in through a hole in the ceiling until she learned to protect herself.  Truthfully, the idea itself—in theory—wasn’t the worst. Except for the fact that the Yiga were deadly warriors who trained to kill for most of their lives and slaughtered companies of trained Hylian knights.
Grabbing her most comfortable pants to train in, Zelda slowed as she remembered the event that had started this all.
The Great Tabanthan Bridge crossed the long expanse of the Tanagar Canyon, and she was always careful of the crossing. The fall alone would not only kill someone, but it’d likely flatten them clean out from a drop of that height. So, crossing it was not something that was taken lightly on a good day.
Being that far out there was entirely her fault to begin with.
She’d desired to visit the Temple to Hylia that was at the edge of the gorge, but she’d opted to lead everyone along the scenic route to enjoy some of her free time outside of the castle. The guards had protested briefly, but Zelda was adamant about a scenic detour.
What she hadn’t been able to predict or expect, no matter how much research she did, was that the Yiga were there, lying in wait for her and her guards.
She’d been bucked clean off her stubborn horse, and she’d been left on the great bridge as three Yiga ran for her. Though she’d gone to run, she was caught by one who appeared in front of her in a puff of smoke.
Trying to fight them off of her had been like the great struggle of praying for the Goddess’ powers: utterly futile, and a waste of time.  
Half of her attempts to shake them had been by holding the rope handle of the bridge and throwing herself precariously close so they’d have to follow.
The soldiers eventually reached her and fended the Yiga off, but they’d also recounted the entire incident to her father in horrific detail: how she was winded by the time she’d run halfway across the bridge, how she nearly fell off the great, how she couldn’t fight any of them off and had been overwhelmed, and how her weak strength had caused two large wounds in her palms from where she’d tried to push a blade away from her at one point.
Glancing down at her now-healed hands—thanks to the castle medics—Zelda pulled on her boots and tugged up the laces tight. She wasn’t weak. She just wasn’t… physically domineering. But put any puzzle, any riddle, any impossibility in front of her and she’d find the solution. That’s not weakness. That’s strength. She is strong… just not traditionally.
Her shirt was loose, and she tied up her hair before looking at herself in the mirror for a long time, finally noticing the bruise she’d sustained. She was going to hate this almost as much, if not more, than she hated horseback riding.
Resigned to her fate, Zelda trudged slowly toward the training yard, hoping to be late enough to at least remind everyone that she didn’t want to be there.
Glancing at the sun, she’d determined that she managed to be at least fifteen minutes late. Not bad. She could do worse next time.
The yard was empty of the usual hustle and bustle that went on, and she imagined that her father must have ordered it be kept clear for her private sessions. But it was also clear of an instructor.
She stood in the middle of the training yard and fisted her hands tightly as she looked around. No one. Her eyes narrowed at the empty space, searching for some sign of trickery. But the only others there were the two guards she had brought with her.
“Is this some sort of a joke?” Zelda asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Hello?”
There was no answer.
Shrugging happily to herself, she was ready to leave, but one look at her guards standing near the entrance reminded her of her father’s orders to fetch him if she didn’t go; either she stayed here long enough to prove that she made the attempt, or she’d be embarrassingly dragged back down by her father’s guards, humiliated as they would keep hold of her arms to ensure she followed them right back here. Her father would make sure she was here, no matter what.  
Crossing her arms, Zelda walked around. She rarely went to the training yards unless she was up in the parapets, so being down in the dirt and grass felt like she was in an entirely new world. One she didn’t belong in.
There were training dummies lined up against a wall and a worn dirt track in a wide circle around the outskirts of the otherwise square area. There was a bench. There were weapons on a rack.
And that was it.
She looked at the footprints etched in the dirt, kneeling down to read the story told by the shoe treads. There was a large step forward, and then several overlapping smaller ones as the wearer clearly stumbled back. Then a single skid mark as they were forced back. And then the imprint of a body where they’d fallen.
If Zelda were here under any other circumstances, she’d have smiled and tried to find all the stories in the dirt, but instead, she stood back up and sighed, craning her neck towards the barracks just past the archway. No one was outside, and no one was coming.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself, prepared to leave. But her eye caught on a weapon rack, and she glanced one more time at the barracks before heading to the largest spear. She held it, pretending she was one of her knights. Goddess, if a Yiga came at her, she’d die. Fear first, and then clumsiness, because who could control this glorified stick well enough to kill a Yiga?
She shuddered and put it back.
“You can get there eventually,” someone said.
She spun around to see one of her two guards walking towards her. He removed his helmet, shaking out his blonde hair. Zelda watched in confusion as he set the helmet down on a post and pulled a blue band off his wrist to tie his long hair back.
“But only if you’re not fifteen minutes late on purpose,” he said, not looking up at her. “Princess,” he added with a bow of his head.
Her mouth dropped slightly and her cheeks warmed at the light scolding. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, almost doubting if she’d heard him correctly.
She scoffed at his audacity, recognizing the bright blue eyes of the guard she’d dropped her book on. Did he think that a conversation with her this morning gave a guard the right to chastise her?
He held out his hand, and she instinctively handed the spear back, though in hindsight she wished that she’d hit him with it instead. She’d been too stunned. He returned it to it’s place, and walked across the entirety of the training yard without so much as looking at her.
Her feet tumbled after him as she mentally and physically struggled to keep up. What was happening? Why wasn’t he answering her? Why was he even talking to her? Who was this man?
“Hey!” she finally called. He stopped and turned.
That’s when he looked up for the first time, his downcast blue eyes lifting off the dirt and settling on her green ones.
Pride swelled in her when she saw them waver, because clearly her voice had rattled him in some way. He clearly didn’t like looking her in the eye either. His eyes kept darting off of hers, and he had to keep forcing them back. Her own eyes narrowed, trying to understand this guard. “Who are you?”
“Your instructor.” 
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asthmaticbee · 2 years
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Have an excerpt of my villain!Shouto WIP.
Basically he is ordered to infiltrate the PLF from the inside and kill their leader, framed by the HPSC as a deserter like Hawks and Nagant as a cover. He would have been thrown into Tartarus if he refused and got his license revoked, so pretty much no one knows he is technically undercover for the government, and no one can know.
Everyone works under the assumption that he really did turn villain and he is ordered to do anything necessary for the mission, including murder.
This story is rated M for character deaths, blood and violence.
TW: Torture, Death of a named, canon side character, disassociation of the POV character, mention of past abuse
Ready? Ok, have fun:
Shouto isn’t sure what he expected his “initiation” into a country-wide terrorist organization of villains and madmen to be when Shigaraki had mentioned it, and in hindsight he thinks he should have expected something like this.
After all, there was no one in the PLF who was not a murderer.
Part of him, he thinks, might still have been stuck in the hero mindset, when that was irrevocably behind him, when the HPSC had ordered him on a suicide mission and blocked off his way out.
Shigaraki was leaning against a wall, and somewhere in the rest of this dark and shady room that was so different from the rest of the main building the other upper ranks stood, waiting.
Waiting for him to crack, to blow his cover.
Shouto never had the luxury of a cover to blow. Not like Hawks.
Burnin’s orange eyes blink open and she groans, and a part of Shouto thinks she must be concussed, her eyes not focusing right. She frowns, head tilting to one side as she tries to gain her bearings. “Where am… Shouto?” The blood leaves her face as her brain catches up.
“Been a while.”
She moves, her hands cuffed behind her and to the chair, her flaming green hair dull from the suppressant cuffs, Detnerat’s best. Her eyes flit around the room, then back to him, the gears turning in her head. “You don’t want-.”
“You don’t know me,” he grits out, only partially an act. “You babysat me and saw the fucking bruises, Burnin’. But I guess cowtowing to fucking Endeavor was more important than an abused child.”
Shouto knows why they chose Burnin’. The moment he found out the HPSC had known about the abuse, found out Dabi was Touya, he knew the PLF was just waiting to test him, see how much of it was true.
How far gone he was.
How much he was like his brother.
If Shouto had truly given up on being a hero.
As if he ever had a single choice in his life.
“Shouto, listen-,”
“No, I don’t think I will.” He doesn’t want to hear more from her, be reminded of her parents, of her ailing sister, of her boyfriend of five years. It’s all too much.
It’s not enough.
He tilts his head. “You know, ice can burn, too.” The words make him sick to say. He could do it so much less painfully, just suffocate her with smoke, flashfreeze her, anything but what he knows the PLF expects. They are all psychos, serial killers, sadists - nothing but a slow, torturous death will satisfy them, convince them.
The average human can survive second degree burns on 70% of their body, 50% for third degree burns.
Shouto also knows that he can make it much more painful and drawn-out with his ice, taking his time to avoid damaging her nerves, her pain receptors.
The edges of his vision gray, and he feels empty.
He places his right index on her thigh, locks his eyes on hers. “Ever felt a frozen bone splinter inside your flesh?”
Orange eyes widen, and an inhuman scream tears from her throat as her left leg freezes from the inside, turns to ice, her nerves untouched.
Shouto has always been precise like that.
Nothing but perfection from Endeavor’s golden child.
His world is black and white, and he feels as if submerged in molasses.
Burnin’s screams have quieted to sobs, and they are worse than the screams.
Shouto’s left hand moves to her throat and all he can think is shut up shut up shut the fuck up-
It’s blissfully quiet, and his world is black and white and fire red.
Shouto blinks, and color comes back to him, his left hand still clenched tight around a charred throat, right hand holding the remnants of a shattered, frozen wrist. He looks up from Burnin’s throat and meets unseeing orange eyes.
He steps back, blood rushing in his ears, and thinks bile is coming up his throat, but what spills past his lips is something else entirely.
He laughs.
Shouto had always been broken, after all.
During this morning’s commute civilians found the mutilated corpse of Burnin’, sidekick at the Number One Hero Endeavor’s agency, frozen to the windows of the agency’s thirtieth floor, her throat showing signs of a fire Quirk. Preliminary suspect is former pro hero turned villain Entropy, civilian name Todoroki Shouto and son of Endeavor. He has been confirmed to be responsible for the destruction of HPSC archive as well as a series of terrorist attacks alongside prolific members of the PLF. If seen civilians are ordered to evacuate-
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I know most people who follow me do so for my zutara content (and I'm definitely not done making zutara words) but recently I've been in my wlw feels and some sukitara has been the result. I wanted to share some bits from the WIP I'm working on which actually combines these two ships...
An excerpt from the currently Unnamed Suki/Katara & Suki/Katara/Zuko Love Story
(chuck it a like or reblog if you enjoy it ;) )
-Prologue-
Katara knows she’s in trouble when she changes her whole day just to make the new yoga instructor’s 7a.m. class. Or maybe it was before that, when she hung back half an hour after the late class Suki covered just to chat with her and complement the asanas she’d chosen. Really, it had begun as soon as she’d walked into the studio, headphones blaring with some podcast about new government restrictions on the not-for-profit sector, and seen the wiry, muscled woman in the khaki crop and jet black tights with the charcoal eyes and messy bob pulled back in a quickly escaping bun and damn those tights were really doing her a lot of favours and—
Footsteps, muffled by socks on the hardwood studio floors but familiar enough by now to make her nerves fizzle, interrupt her daydream. She doesn’t shift out of her child’s pose until she finishes her breath sets, not even when the footsteps pass close by.
When she does press her palms into the mat and slide up to sit back on her heels, Suki is watching her with that smile— the one that promises she’s thinking more than she says. ‘Well, hey, Katara.’
‘Suki.’ She’s not her quickest this early in the morning, not even close. This is why, until recently, she’d always take the night classes, preferring to roll out of bed each morning with just enough time to get her top half presentable enough for the first Zoom calls of the day. She’s not her quickest but, for once, it doesn’t bother her. It’s been obvious for weeks that there’s something here, something mutual between them; each morning it only winds tighter.
Katara gives her yoga instructor a slow grin as Suki sets down her phone and bag by the front of the room then sits cross legged on the front of Katara’s mat. ‘You’re early this morning. Did you sleep okay?’
‘Like a baby.’
‘Aang let you in?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Good.’ Suki pulls her hair free of its knot atop her head, shakes it out, peers at Katara through the tangle of wavy locks. They don’t come far past her chin but every time she does this, Katara’s brain goes queerly blank with white noise and the sole desire to run her fingers through it. ‘You’re gonna want to be well rested for this morning.’
Katara raises a brow. ‘Why’s that?’
Suki winks. ‘Kundalini asanas.’
Well shit. ‘You want us working up a sweat today?’
Behind them, the studio door opens and suddenly they aren’t the only two in the room any longer. Suki hasn’t looked away, in fact, that same poker grin spreads across her face. ‘Tell you what, beautiful, if you work yourself into a sweat today, I’ll buy you a coffee after class.’
It’s instant, the burning that replaces the blood in Katara’s veins.
She tilts her head to one side, breathing out through a smirk. ‘I can do that.’
‘I’ll be watching.’
Suki stands and with a final toothy grin, she wanders over to greet the new arrivals.
---
Katara worked harder that class than she had in years.
Suki bought the coffee and offered to take her to dinner.
And breakfast, if things went well.
They did.
They went really well.
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lurkerwithcomputer · 3 years
Text
WIP Monday?
So I know it's not Wednesday but I don't care. I churned this out for a healer!Monoma fic and I'm proud of it.
"Is it a wise choice to attract the ire of what is left of the Commission, with your current act of defiance?"
His girlfriend isn't wrong, of course - bless Yanagi Reiko. And yet, his defiance has always been part of him. To become a Hero despite his Quirk, which can't do anything without someone else. That only works by taking. A ghostly echo, pale as his face without the makeup he once wore.
"Wise? Absolutely not. Something I have to do, because it will haunt me forever if I don't? Absolutely yes."
"Then, Neito, my love, how do I help you get away with being foolish and defiant?"
He contemplates that for a moment. Reiko has a varied and versatile array of skills, after all. Infiltration, extraction, stealth. Ranged combat, diversion tactics. A limited but generally sufficient knowledge of sedatives, Quirk-suppressant drugs, and other poisons. Telekinesis is a good way to silently deliver a loaded dart, or pick locks without being seen crouching at a door, or pick pockets without ever being near someone.
But no. What he needs is plausible deniability for this. It won't do for a Hero student to be seen sneaking off to rub shoulders with questionable people in questionable neighborhoods. More specifically, it won't do for him, who has given the League of Villain a helping hand before - and nobody in a seat of power cares that it was under duress - to be seen sneaking off to places where villains may dwell.
"How do you feel about being my alibi, Reiko?"
"I'd do it gladly, but please elaborate."
"Someone is very sick, and I have just the Quirk in my cache of copies to heal them up. I just need to appear to have never left the campus. If I look like you, and you've been here the whole time, I have cover, however flimsy."
"In short, the only downsides I'll suffer is having my blood drawn and being forced to socialize? Acceptable. Please take me out for dinner this week."
He bends to kiss her hand with a flourish.
"But of course. And I will be, ahem, 'asleep in my room' tonight," he says, winking as he looks up and meets her eyes.
Reiko changes into a simple, casual and practical outfit, but still one she would be willing to wear while out on the town, as it were. It's best that their outfits match, after all - to go all in with their body-double act.
He swabs alcohol on her arm, snaps on the rubber band, slides the needle in. Swallows the vial while it's still warm, savoring the salt-sweet and iron tang as it slides down his throat. He runs his fingers over a bracelet of blonde 'thread' - or that's what he pretends it is. He wonders if he owes liking the taste of Reiko's blood to the power that flows from the hair into his skin.
It's only fitting that this gift will help him save the donor of the hair, he muses, as his flesh roils and twists, and hot-cold goosebumps squirm up and down his spine. He shifts his stance to accommodate for his new distribution of weight - for all that he now has a lower center-of-mass, he's also unused to balancing Reiko's ample chest.
A sling backpack that belongs to Reiko is thrown over his disguise - complete with fake clothes. In it is a change of Neito's own clothing, a first aid kit, a surprisingly reliable amateur-medicine manual, a weighty bottle of water and a pack of Reiko's favorite cookies.
He leaves Reiko's room after a farewell kiss, soft and almost chaste, if it weren't moist and on the lips.
Determination boils in his borrowed veins, lights a fire in his borrowed chest as he slips between the trees to the place where UA's vaunted, government-funded security is weakest, the defenses and surveillance thinnest. Defiance, breaking the law, and something borrowed - Neito's never related to Midoriya more than this moment.
Himself, determined to be a hero even with a Quirk that can only ever be a pale imitation of someone else, and an equally pale face, that polite society won't accept without makeup.
Midoriya, reckless and determined to be a Hero, even with an ancient hand-me-down power that must be passed along before it kills him, burning the candle at both ends. Midoriya, with his unapologetically visible scarring that eyes and cameras shy away from.
The train ride is slow and the train ancient, jerking and jolting over every nick and dent in the rails. It sways like a ship at sea, and it's not difficult to imagine a dark night and stormy swells beyond the windows. He takes in the graffiti that litters the inside of the car - lovers' initials carved into metal, glass or plastic. Nicknames in marker. A few "I want you in my pants" or "Call this number for a good time" here and there.
A train car in which he can feel life and living, so removed from UA's polished halls.
His stop, too, has a lived-in station, perhaps somewhat literally. Gum-pocked, stained tile and cracked brick. Buskers in patched and mismatched clothing, plucking the strings of fifth and sixth-hand guitars. Neito lightens his wallet as he passes each one. He'd stay and listen, if the clock on his borrowed flesh wasn't ticking ever onwards like the clack-clack-clack of shoes on tile.
The doorbell is cracked, but he hears the chime from within.
"Nurse copycat!" he announces himself.
"You don't look like yourself today," snarks a familiar voice.
He meets the red eyes of a familiar death, as the door opens. The reaper's white hair frames eyes pinched around the edges with worry and a neck scratched and scabby. Neito can hear the sound of retching from further into the dumpy apartment.
"I needed a disguise and she was willing," he replies, "More to the point, is there an empty room to change? I need this guise to last while I'm out."
"Use my room," says one Shigaraki Tomura - and the entire concept is like an electric jolt.
Shigaraki Tomura just offered his personal space so that Neito can change clothes. He pointedly tries not to look at the room itself, energy drink cans and news clippings and bags of trash, as his body gives shuddery twists and needling tingles, and his borrowed skin melts off him.
He steps out as himself, medical supplies, manual, and water bottle in hand.
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writerforfun · 3 years
Text
Underwing Challenge Day 6 + Day 7
6. What does your portfolio look like? Talk about as many other WIPs as you’d like here.
I have to be honest here, I never understood portfolio. I mean u understand what it is and its purpose but I never understood how to make it for myself.
But either way I guess I do have certain things I worked on.
Starting of with Collection.
1. Collection: Story 1: Mirror Defect: (DONE) (Sorry no cover)
Not all is as it seems.
Not all can be explained and even when the truth is out not everything will make sense.
"I just lost my brother, I can't lose her."
What can you do when you lose trust in those around you? When grief holds you too close?
When lies are hidden all around you?
When nothing is real?
Can you trust your own eyes? When all goes wrong who can you trust?
"Experitment 1034, you are next"
Is anything real? Are you real?
**Warning: character death, graphic description of the deceased character.**
I SUCK AT SUMMARIES.
The story was originally done to scare my uncle. I was going to send him this other story, which R.L. Stine wibe to it but sadly I lost it.
So here we are. Now this story features Mark, who despite all that has occurred, is trying to fix his broken family, even if it means destrying himself but is this family real?
You can check it out here
2. So, A Deal?: (DONE)
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Met with death she has no choice but to let death consume her.
"No, I can't leave like this! Not like this."
There is no other way, or is there? But is she ready?
"What do you want? Does your soul not fill with rage, anger and despair? Pushing you to the core of vengeance? Don't you feel like a ghost? Dreading you will disappear? You know you are nothing but a ghost, and eventually, you will have to fade."
"I have seen the face of affliction brought by my reality, I'm tortured by the future of things that cannot be, haunted by visions of yesterday."
Her sin is great, but her desire greater. Will she survive the burn?
This was something I did for my school wrok once. Although it is quite different than the original work. I'm quite happy with the last chapter. I honestly just posted it out as a test to see if others would like it.
It took quite an effort and I enjoyed doing the last bit of it. I really want to make a sequal to it, get it going, but not really sure if this is going to go well.
You can check it out here.
3. Solar Elements: (DONE)
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Avatar: The last Airbender inspired.
A lot can happen during a lifetime, faultless rotating to flaws, heroes into villains, a lifetime of destruction smiling in your wakes.
A lot can be lost in a lifetime.
"Wolf is going overboard,"
"We do not have time to wait."
"Surrender now and we shall show you all mercy."
"No, we will never yield to you"
"Then so be it."
"You are not prohibited to address better yet conduct such disgrace." "We are still alive!"
"Love you, Son"
A lot can happen during a lifetime, faultless rotating to flaws, heroes into villains, a lifetime of destruction smiling in your wakes.
"And so she has finally awoken."
I had done this for a story contest once, sadly I was unable to win. But I have to behonest, if I had I would have been so annoyed, it was awful, so awful. I won't talk much on it, as I still don't like this too much.
This feature elemtnal magic and time twist you can say, where a character, reborn must choose to either repeat history or change it completely.
4. Pirates tale: (WIPs)
Had this in for a while, been working on it but didn't have a plot till now.
The ship has no name, no crew, nothing. But if you see it, it's already too late.
Legend says they're ghost, some say they are cursed, others....... others don't live to tell the tale.
It was inspired by a prompt I saw once. Hoping to make these pirates cured to be vampires, hidden from all and only visible at night. They are insearch of their first crew captain, the one who must break the cures. Problem is, Captian dies 30 years ago.
Guess, his hidden daughter must be placed instead.
This is dumb, so dumb, but hey, I'll work on it.
5. The Basement: (WIPs)
Another school work.
This one feartures students sneaking into their school's basement. Each with their own story on why the basement is forbbiden.
If only they had listened and not followed through, then maybe they would not have encountered, the hidden dark past of the school.
This has a gay couple, lol I actaully send it to my teacher but I don't think she noticed :(. It needs alot of work though, so this may take a while.
6. To find the Truth: (WIPs)
This one seems to be liked a lot by you guys. Many seem intrigued.
In the dystopian future, when the world government collapsed, when humans fell and the virus took hold, out rose a series of mutants. Their genes mutated by the virus released when a power plant went nuclear.
These mutants, blessed with powers beyond their control, have taken leadership. Smart, strong, powerful and undefeatable. They hold power over the weak like you and me. But I won't let them stop me. I won't let them come in the way.
They are sloppy, weak and useless. The world is filled with criminals, danger and people in need. This world needs justice, it needs help and they won't help, so I will.
"They'll take you away. They take people like them away"
"I won't let them"
I worked up a lot on this in the past few day and have actually most of the plot down. Well the main chracter's backstory at least, even how the virus started and why these mutants have taken over.
I just need to start it out and get it going. I have done that and I was thinking of adding bits and pieces on how the world is after every sub-story, like telling the tale as the story progress.
Was also hoping to give this story, a big reveal as to who these mutants are and how they came to be, why they take other's like them and how they find other's like them.
7. To Sacrifice or To Live? (WIPs)
Still working up on the name here, but the story goes like this.
Two wedding decades a part, each holding nothing but tale forgotten.
An evil entity hanting them both. A power over both familes, readdy to demolish them whole this time.
Will the scarifice work?
Ok, before you turn away, here me out here.
Two weddings, one in the 1900s and the other in 2000s. Both familes trapped in a curse long active, each must work to find a way to break the curse. One failed, made it worse, will the new bride make it? Or will she suffer worse?
8. Collection: Haunting Memories (WIPs)
Jenny doesn't know how she did it but she did. She didn't mean to. She really didn't. But Nina is dead now and it's her fault. She did it.
It's her fault.
Then why do they blame Jake? Jake is sweet, kind and caring. Sure he was the one with the blade, covered in blood and coming to kill Jenny next but it wasn't Jake. Because she saw.
Saw him kill her. Push the blade through Nina, watching as the girl fell. Her blood turning the ground crimson. She saw as the life left Nina's eyes. As the killer slumped to the ground, the control over him wearing off.
Jenny knows because she killed Nina. Then why does no one believe her? And why do her memories differ from Jake's?
“I am telling you what happened.”
“All you are doing is wasting our time.”
“Then be patient, this is all I have. Please just hear me out.”
“We are busy people here. We don’t have time for stupid tales, girl”
“This is not a stupid tale. If you could just listen.”
“We are listening. Listening to you for the past 10 minutes, all you have done so far is tell us useless things. We have things to do.”
“Everything I mention is important. One thing missed and you won’t understand. Please. I need your help.”
“You have 10-”
“15”
“Fine 15 minutes.”
This I hope to work and get done by at least in the next month. It need a lot of work and must be quite slow yet fast paced. I need to make the plot a bit more than just what I have written.
8. Trick? No, I'll take the Treat (WIPs)
Halloween themed. Done quite long ago.
What will you do when your Halloween turns into a nightmare?
I have nothing much on it at the moment, but will update this soon.
7. What kind of partnership are you looking for in this event? Friendship? Somebody to bounce ideas off of? Something else? What sorts of people are you hoping to meet and adopt?
Honeslty, I did a lot of research in the past few days and boy do I ned a lot of work done.
For starters, I need someone who can actually tell me how my work is going, just how kuch of an effort I have out in and how it seems to others.
I need harsh, quite harsh feed back so I know what I am doing wrong, what I should improve with and what interests the reader about the book.
I also say wish to meet and know other writers here. Would love to meet them and get to know them.
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kaimiiru-creations · 5 years
Text
Birdcage Chapter 1
Ch1: Far Sky
Ch2: WIP
Premise: An au where Umino doesn’t detect Senichi while the bird club is brainwashing Kinoko
Time taken: ... 5 days lol, but that was mostly figuring out the plot and also writing a rough draft of the second chapter, too.
Warnings: None... but there will be some eventually.
Characters: A lot, but with a focus on Eishi.
Key code:
Hey. = thoughts
“Hey.”= tweets
“Hey.”= Eishi’s tweets
“{Hey.}” =Bellwether tweets
Closing his eyes, Inspector Senichi could hear the thunder of wings echoing from the rooftop above where he was hiding. His breaths were soft, his heartbeat slow. He was adept at hiding and finding out secrets. That’s why he was an inspector.
Dress shoes tapped down the staircase, and Senichi opened his eyes to find Kinoko walking past him. She was swaying a bit, and rubbing the side of her head in an exhausted manner.
“Did you have a nice chat with the seraphim?” Senichi asked politely, nearly making Kinoko trip as she faced him, her eyes slightly wider.
Kinoko quickly composed herself. She leaned on the opposing wall, crossing her arms, looked down.
“There’s no way we can catch the seraphim. They won’t bargain with us at all if we don’t let them go where they want freely. Not even Eden’s usual method will work.” Kinoko looked up, frowning a bit, as if dazed, “I came here to meet them becau-”
“No, no, don’t try to defend yourself. Go back to headquarters. You can report to Kyo-san there.” Senichi interrupted her. Briefly, Kinoko frowned more deeply but turned to briskly walk down the steps. Senichi’s eyes wandered thoughtfully, before a small smirk grew on his face.
There was something off about what Kinoko said after her meeting with the seraphim, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He pulled out his phone.
“Security? I want you to keep an eye on Karasuma Eishi’s whereabouts. I believe the seraphim may have done something to Kinoko-san.”
-----------
A familiar crawling sensation burned within Eishi’s back, and his eyes shot open. Lying within the warm covers of his bed, he slowly sat up, took control of his breathing, and scratched idly at his back. He closed his eyes. He remembered white, remembered Takayama’s outstretched hand towards him, remembered reaching for him, but not much else. It was like a dream, after all.
He got up, turned off his clock’s alarm before it went off on its own, and went into the bathroom. He got ready for school, and the tingling in his wing mark gradually calmed on its own. Letting his wings out would relieve the sensation, but he wasn’t keen on doing so when his mother could walk in.
Back in his room, he examined his school uniform in his hands.
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This is… the last day I’ll go to school, probably. He thought as he changed his clothes, I can’t continue to live like this. The seraphim around the world are increasing and it’s only a matter of time before Eden closes in on our lives… Even what we’re going to do tonight is just buying us more time.
He fixed his tie in a well-practiced movement, but his mother’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.
“Ei-shiiii!” Her voice was worried, a bit strained.
Another lecture about how sneaking out at night is bad? Eishi wondered as he walked down the stairs.
He stopped on the steps. Other than his mother, three people were at the door: the Eden agent from before, Senichi, and two police officers by his sides.
And Eishi was plunged into a deep, deep, dread.
They must have found out about Umino! He thought, frozen on the spot. His mind quickly switched gears into overdrive, and he kept his face carefully fixed into a neutral look as he forced his feet to go forward, Wait, wait, let’s not jump to any conclusions without more proof-
“Karasuma Eishi,” Inspector Senichi called, “Would you mind coming with us to answer some questions?”
Eishi turned to the kitchen and walked inside, ignoring him. There was breakfast- some eggs, bacon, and toast- on the counter, and the TV drawled with the morning news. A normal morning, if it weren’t for Eden literally knocking on his door.
“I’m so sorry about him,” His mother apologized to Senichi, and then called again, “Eishi, they’ve found out that you’ve been sneaking out late at night, past curfew! I told you sneaking out with your friends would have consequences!”
Eishi stuck a piece of bacon in his mouth. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed something. He wasn’t sure when he’d eat next. Concentrating, he tweeted out, ”Everyone needs to get up now. Eden’s trying to take me somewhere. What’s everyone’s status?”
”I’m fine! There’s no one here trying to take me anywhere... Are you alright?!” Rei was the first to respond, immense worry dripping from his tweet.
”Nothing’s going on here! Need some help?” Umino chirped.
”Kamoda and I are good here.” Irene replied.
”Ei-chan! I’m coming over to help!” Kamoda declared.
”No. Stay where you are. Their snipers are probably watching the skies…Worst case scenario, they might have found out what we did last night,” Eishi took the buttered toast from the table, but was too deep in thought to bite it.
”Catching the leader is a good way to lure out the leader’s followers.” Irene advised grimly.
”Exactly…” Eishi paused, “Irene… should I go peacefully?”
”Did they get the police involved?”
”Yeah. They must have successfully bargained with the government.”
“Eishi, come here when you’re done! Don’t leave the police men waiting!” Eishi’s mother called again.
”Well, kiss your normal life goodbye.” Irene sighed.
”... I’m going to go with them. They should all focus on me if I do… and in the meantime you all can escape.” Eishi decided.
”Ei-chan! I’m worried…!” Kamoda called.
”I’ll be fine. It’s just to buy time.” Eishi bit into the toast, his mouth dry. But he wasn’t shaking. His eyes were clear as he walked back to the front door. He barely registered his frowning mother, and had a bit of trouble really focusing on Senichi’s expression as he listened to his friend’s tweets.
”Hey! Let’s all meet up somewhere?” Umino suggested.
”The usual place on the sky tower!” Rei declared. There was a chorus of agreements.
”Be careful.” Eishi told them, taking another bite of his toast.
“Karasuma-kun?” Kenichi asked, smiling at him knowingly.
”Worry more about yourself, Karasuma.” Irene warned.
“You’re Senichi-san, right?” Eishi asked.
“Correct. Come, we’ll talk more in the car.”
As Eishi reluctantly followed Senichi outside, he ignored the two police men falling into line besides him and looked at the sky. The sunrise was too beautiful, painting the clouds in a pink and red array. It never had looked so far away before. Eishi brought his gaze back to the ground, a dull ache blossoming in his chest and tingling in his sleeping wing mass. Senichi opened the door of a black car for him.
“I’m not being locked up in a police car, a gun to my head?” Eishi asked with a dry smile.
“There’s no need for that, is there?” Senichi asked, smiling back as his eyes glinted in a too-amused way. Eishi could read that hidden warning but didn’t give the inspector the satisfaction of a reaction. He simply ducked his head inside the car. Senichi closed the door behind him, and walked around to sit in the driver’s seat. The policemen outside were talking to Eishi’s mother, or going back to their own police cars.
“Does Eden not have enough funds to pay drivers to transport inspectors?” Eishi asked, putting his foot on the armrest between the two front seats and tapping his toast leisurely to get crumbs over the backseat. It served Eden right for basically kidnapping him. He didn’t bother with his seatbelt.
Senichi didn’t seem to mind, only chuckled and adjusted his rearview mirror to meet Eishi’s glare. “I wanted to talk to you personally. About what your group did, and what will happen from now on.” The car started moving.
“What did we do?”
“You and your group did something to re-program Kinoko-san’s mind.” Senichi said, “Which means there is a Linker in your group. Which one of you is it?”
Eishi frowned deeply as familiar surroundings passed by the car.
”They know what we did last night. They that one of us is a Linker.” He tweeted out.
”Damn.” Irene hissed. Umino made a worried sound.
”What can we do to help?” Rei asked.
”You can help me by not falling into their trap and staying away… I’ll keep you updated. Right now I’m in a car with that inspector, Hai.”
”Okay.” Rei replied solemnly.
”Oh, that nasty guy! I hope I get to beat his face in!” Irene hissed.
“Did you honestly think you can stay free like this?” Kenichi asked, “Brainwashing the minds of humans, refusing to own up to your own actions…”
“Yes. We never meant any harm,” Eishi replied, his tone flat, “It was you who made the first shot by threatening our freedom.”
“I see. What I said back then was merely a warning, but now, your retaliation has... startled Eden.”
Startled? I’m terrified by what you’ve had to make us do to protect ourselves. Eishi thought bitterly.
“And so we’ve had to bring you in more forcefully than we would have liked,” Senichi continued, “So we can separate you from your group. Even if you don’t tell us, we’ll find out who the Linker is eventually.”
”They’re planning on isolating me from the rest of you, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t using me to bait you out. They don’t know who the Linker is.” Eishi tweeted out, shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth and chewing.
“Don’t worry. We’ll put you in a much better environment, even if it may seem like we’re clipping your wings.”
Eishi sighed, disliking the metaphor greatly. “To ‘manage’ the birdmen in China and Europe, right?”
“That spares that explanation. I’m sure that leading a large group is where a Bellwether like you can flourish.”
Eishi didn’t reply. He did have plans to go to the out-of-control birdmen, but doing it on Eden’s terms left a terrible taste in his mouth…
“What does Eden want with a Linker?” He asked.
“A Linker is the ability that Eden wants the most. They would help us to further understand Seraphim directly.” Senichi replied.
“And by understanding, you can be less afraid of us?” Eishi asked. The silence ticked on, and it soon grew obvious he wasn’t going to get an answer, “I am not telling Eden who the Linker is.”
“Would you rather have Eden take all of your group away from their daily lives?”
“Don’t act like Eden doesn’t already want to kidnap all of us the first chance that you people get.” Eishi scoffed, “We just want to be left alone.”
“I see.”
They parked in front of a tall building downtown.
”I’m at... Some sort of EDEN secret base, most likely.” He tweeted as Senichi turned off the car.
”A tall building between a bakery and a bookstore?” Irene asked.
”Yeah, seems like the place.”
”That’s their headquarters alright.”
”I can’t take this lying down anymore!” Kamoda suddenly burst out, ”Isn’t there anything we can do?!”
”I said, stay where you are and don’t come after me. Don’t try to save me, worry about yourselves.” Eishi replied, ”I’ll find some way out on my own.”
There was silence for a moment. Kenichi opened the car door.
“Are you ready to go?” Kenichi asked.
”No! I won’t have you take all of this on yourself again!” Rei was next to say.
”Yeah! Come up with something! Or else we’re going in now!” Umino cried out.
”With my ability, I’ll slice through that building like it’s butter!” Even Irene had been sucked into the determination of the rest.
Listening to their hopeful tones filled Eishi with equal parts warmth and trepidation. They… really cared for him, didn’t they? Eishi would have given everything to fly away with them, but he had to keep his face blank, his breaths normal. He had to...
“Karasuma-kun, are you ready to go?” Kenichi watched Eishi expectantly, patiently.
”I’m asking you to stay back. Do you want me to use my bellwether ability?” Eishi’s tweet became dangerously close to activating his ability, ”If you want to stay free, please fly away as soon as you can. Takayama’s somewhere in Germany… I’ll escape and find all of you eventually.” He paused, looking away from Senichi to hide his face under his bangs, his voice sincere now, ”I’m sorry I can’t protect you further than this… Irene, what do they do with captured seraphim?”
”I imagine they’ll give you a checkup, and then put some tracking device on you before locking you up somewhere.” Irene replied quietly.
”Okay… I’ll keep you guys updated as long as you’re in range. Please do the same on your end.” Eishi replied.
“Are you talking to the rest of the seraphim?” Senichi asked, “Asking them to save you, perhaps?”
Eishi looked up at him and smirked, blinking the red in his irises away. “That would be convenient for you, wouldn’t it?” He paused to take in Senichi’s own surprised smile, but his smile soon dropped as he found no satisfaction in it. He got out of the car. “Lead the way.”
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Teaser for S3 fix it!
(Untitled, WIP, BAMFcroft, BadMary. For @superwholocklmt who won't stop feeding me ficfuel so I'm posting this as a snack. And @imrisah who's art inspired BAMFcroft and it the Only reason I had to write The Rescue)
It had been six months since Sherlock jumped and John was still drowning so when Mycroft called about a piece of Moriarty's network that was sniffing around he was only too happy to return to the war. The mission was not what he expected though, "Mary" was under orders to befriend him as well as monitor him for signs of Sherlock being alive and John had laughed bitterly at Mycroft's explanation but agreed that Sherlock would find it amusing to be bluffing their agent. So John took the mission and it was surprisingly easy as Mary was pretty, and kind in her cover story. She was always eager to listen to stories of Sherlock, probably trying to gain information but it helped his own grieving to talk and as months turned into a year he moved in with her as an expected progression to the relationship.
There was still movement in Moriarty's web but when cells rapidly started going dark Mycroft asked John to step closer to the target. It had been two years since the fall when Mycroft suggested that John propose as a final test of Mary's orders... but he’d then buggered off for a few weeks afterwards so John had had to make his own plans and this is how he ended up at The Landmark with an overpriced ring and sweaty palms when a thinner but otherwise normal looking Sherlock Holmes appeared on the scene, and it had been a scene. John was furious at Sherlock for not telling him and at Mycroft for not warning him so they knocked about the streets for a while and John knocked Sherlock about a bit too. He was so hurt and just so done with the bloody Holmes brothers as he went home with his assassin almost fiancé… and how fucked up was his life that he breathed a sigh of relief when their front door swung closed on the world.
He was not shaving for Sherlock Holmes and he was not going to see Sherlock after work, he was going to see Mycroft and tear him a new one before they rearranged their whole plan because Sherlock was alive and that changed everything, the network had been quiet for ages but that meant nothing while he shared a bed with Mary. Would she make a move for Sherlock or one of the sniper targets, would she kill John in his sleep... He had no idea so he just went to work.
(The Rescue MycPoV "flashback")
Mycroft had prepped in short order as contrary to his brothers opinion he was in fact in condition and up to date on the tactics and protocols for field work agents. He had started the process with the commencement of Lazarus and it had been the only part of the plan that made his brother smile but now he had to go undercover, learn Serbian, find his brother and get them out alive. He had not informed Sherlock of Mary as there were more important things for his brother to be doing and John had his mission well in hand. The plane would land soon so he checked his uniform, firearms, grenades and marched off the plane to collect his sibling.
It took almost a day to gain fluency in the language which was more guttural than lyrical, the last few years in the office were starting to show. Getting in had been easy as authority moved and stood in the same way in every country and watching that simpleton beat his brother had been necessary to endure but getting out was becoming another story. He had his injured baby brother in tow and these idiots just did not understand that Mycroft Holmes CBE was leaving the premises! He pulled the second uniform shirt he had been wearing over Sherlock's wounds before settling him in a safe corner and pressing a light hand gun into his shaking grasp. The brothers shared a nod and Mycroft left to Unleash Hell. He could still hear the echo of his brother’s pained cries as he walked away from the crumpled form of his sibling so there was no reason for these people to keep breathing.
The pin slid out of the grenade like it had been oiled and a second one followed it through the double doors before Mycroft brought his gun to bear on the screams in the mess room, it was a mercy really the food was terrible in this place. He had already set a small storage room alight intending the small blaze to draw emergency responders before the main event and on cue a while later there was a resounding percussion through the compound as they lost a good portion of their firefighters and medics, the burning bodies had already been dead though.
He put two bullets into the head of the last man who was choking too slowly on a throat full of shrapnel and slammed in a fresh magazine while turning to go but he spotted Sherlock, never one to stay put, standing in the door way long haired like his Uni days and it was only the bruising and pained stance that stopped Mycroft from smiling. Sherlock was staring disbelieving at the bodies and Mycroft bit down on reminding him that he had passed MI5 training with the higher scores and just got a gentle arm around Sherlock instead. The car was where he left it and Sherlock had slumped into the passenger seat at once, Mycroft found getting himself into the car was easy now that he was no longer wearing large amounts of ordinance, the grenades were spent and he had dropped the first two guns when they ran out of ammo, magazines were annoyingly bulky after a while too.
He pulled away from the compound and barked a seat belt reminder to Sherlock before locking the belt himself and shoving his cap at Sherlock to hide his curls. Belgrade airport had enough bustle that two extra uniforms would hardly stand out and the military struck enough fear in the general population that they would not be questioned. He bullied the ground staff through a barely efficient flight check and the chartered plane took off in short order so Mycroft began first aid as soon as they were in the air. They were due in Slovakia but if money could not turn the plane to Italy the gun would, he would fly the damn thing himself if he needed to. Italy would see proper medical care for Sherlock before they drove home via France to avoid detection, the emergency supplies they’d collected from boot of the car would ensure that they fit in and Mycroft was looking forward to returning to a first world country after weeks hunting for his precious cargo.
The Italian government was only to happy to assist Mr Mycroft Holmes, Commander of the Order of the British Empire, in aiding the injured and nameless MI5 agent in his care and smiling eyes met as the brothers remembered Mycroft accepting the knighthood and Sherlock's endless teasing, they shrugged in unison. It came in handy now though as they settled into a hotel room, knowing her Majesty would pick up the tab and that a few nights billed in a hotel would hardly be noticed. Mycroft had a long hot soak before he made calls for clothes and simple foods, Sherlock had been starved and would need to take things slowly. He had never been good at that and Mycroft wondered if bringing John along would have helped, he was the only one who ever got Sherlock to simply slow down.
Sherlock stared at the tomato and pasta his big brother had brought to his bedside, Safe, Food, Clean. It didn’t feel real, he was going to wake up at some stage but for now he ate like his brother told him and lay down as instructed. He had learned that following instructions helped so he closed his eyes and waited for it all to start again…
So much for Safe, and Food, and Clean. Sherlock shook in his brother’s arms, they were in his dreams waiting for him. The simple pasta marinara had been ejected but he couldn’t figure out if it was because it was too rich or because of the night's terrors. The sweat was the worst of it, it clung to him as a tangible reminder of that horrible place in his own skin. He had scratched frantically trying to get it off but Mycroft had climbed onto his bed and restrained him like he was a child again, having the old nightmare of fire and digging. He leaned against Mycroft hoping that those nightmares did not return as well and he missed John; unfamiliar medics had attended him with cold professionalism where John would have had something to say, or mostly likely would have scolded his annoyance affectionately at the state Sherlock was in, John would understand the nightmares too but he was dead to John Watson and the comfort of his friend.
Mycroft didn’t think Sherlock knew he was crying but he wept and mumbled about the Italian doctors not being John Watson. Mycroft had checked in on John's mission with Anthea who confirmed that everything was on track and that John had forwarded an impressive invoice for the ring.
(End of flashback)
*EDIT* Part 2
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