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empty-masks · 1 year

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Book Four, Chapter Eight

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

What a bust. Not only was it a complete waste to extend an olive branch to someone in another division, she ends up quitting in her face, too. This has now become an issue of insubordination, of disrespect— so, she adds Brie’s name to the list. It’s not a literal list, of course, she’s not a compulsive note taker like that idiot she just wanted to help, but the names are engraved on a big plaque somewhere in her mind, no, on multiple plaques on the sort of hanging mounts you put taxidermy animal heads on. Each one’s empty at the moment, and she’s just added another wall mount with the following name etched into its shiny, entirely mental and metaphorical nameplate: Brie.

On the bright side, she still has the crowbar. It wasn’t hard to slink back over and snatch it up once those idiots had gone inside and the feel of her insides nearly getting pulped through sheer force had subsided. That uppity pencil pusher had it coming for abandoning ship, though. So what if she’d been rejected (again)? So what if that stupid, insignificant number cruncher practically spat in her face? She can spit back. She’s going to spit on every single one of them, and her spit is gonna feel much, much worse than theirs ever could. She’s going to score each and every single one of them like crispy skin on a holiday roast, just to drip her venom into their cuts, no matter how shallow.

Standing in front of Thistle’s house, she’s breathing heavy, she’s undoing and redoing her ponytail over and over, each time missing some hay-colored lock that refuses to obey her. After three times attempting to get it all in order she brushes her shoulders off and, finally, glances toward a new car in the driveway. It’s not Thistle’s well cared for beater, that’s where it’s been parked since she left. After all, when she and the others headed out initially the old man was in no condition to be going out and about. Alive, sure, but not in any state to be driving.

This car’s fresh off the lot, just expensive enough to show some displeasure with the lower end vehicles available but not opulent enough to draw attention— and there are no identifying brand markers, not even the manufacturer is visible. Whoever parked here isn’t interested in being looked at for longer than the second necessary for the average civilian brain to log and discard the thing in its totality.

She’s been dreading this. She knows it’s not local, it’s not beaten up or seen enough dirt roads to be local. This thing’s from the city, and if they’re here it can only mean one thing— the cavalry has arrived, because this is yet another issue she needs on her plate. Blondie didn’t need any damned peons, but poor little Piper, she obviously needs a squad of goons to help her get the job done. She didn’t, she doesn’t, but it’s just too late now isn’t it?

Hieronymus T. Thistle is barely conscious, heavily bandaged, and sitting at his own dining room table with four frightening-looking folks that didn’t even so much as tell him their names. Two of them have long guns, one a rifle and the other some kind of fancy, big city shotgun, and another has some absurd looking handcannon of a revolver hanging off her hip. The last fellow doesn’t appear to be carrying anything except for a month old issue of a cooking magazine.

Thistle’s eyes are glazed over. The idiot reading the magazine, “Jack” he thinks he heard at some point, overdid it with the pain meds. Not enough to kill, Thistle knows he’s not dying from this, but he’s gone straight from nearly passing out due to pain into nearly passing out because he’s high as a kite. High enough but still hurt enough that he won’t be having the food that was put out anytime soon.

“Mr. Thistle’s not looking too good,” Jack mumbles, having pulled down his mask. “Should we get him to an actual doctor?”

Between a small spoonful of food and a few comforting, albeit unsettling, spins of her revolver the gunslinger says, “Doesn’t really matter. We aren’t going to be here for long, after all.”

“Get with it. We ain’t here for pro bono work, boy.” To punctuate his sentence, and to get the point across, the Sniper leans his chair back and puts his dirty boots on the table. “Should’ve just killed him.”

The Shotgunner clears her throat before putting a fist against the table. “Flagrant inelegance and unprofessional! First and foremost— get your feet off the table! Nextly, how would we dispose of the body? He’s not only a local, but a coworker, in technicality.”

“Could probably mulch him.” Another spin of the revolver’s cylinder ends her statement. “He’s an organic.”

“Plant man becomes plant food.” The Sniper tilts his head, glancing toward the near catatonic Thistle over the twin mountains in his vision that are the tips of his boots. “Heh, I like the poetry of that. Kill him and gimme an hour. I can get rid of it.”

“Again I must ask how you actually plan to discard it!” The woman with the shotgun’s standing now. “That’s an order!”

Jack sets down his magazine, sighing. “Ms. Nancy, you’re not our boss, and there’s no pecking order until—”

“Until I show up,” hisses Piper, who has been standing in the doorway for the past three sentences. “What is this, a fucking sewing circle? Shape up if you’re going to be dragging me down.”

The four get out of their seats and stand across the table from her. She can gather a great amount from just the way they’re standing, the way they’re looking at her, the way they’re pointedly not looking at each other or at Thistle, whom she is surprised to see is out of bed.

In order stands the woman with her revolver, the Sniper, the one with the shotgun, and then their fourth, who appears to not actually have any real weapon on him. Jack’s the tallest, though largely because he’s one of the only two standing straight. The other’s Nancy, the woman with the shotgun, who’s shorter than him but makes up for it with her presence via some kind of salute and a hearty, abrasive, “YES, MA’AM.”

The shortest is the Sniper, since he’s old and stands all hunched. She can tell that if he stands straight he’d be on par with, if not looming over even Jack. Next shortest is the last of them, the one with the revolver, who if all were standing as straight as can be, would actually be somewhat taller than Nancy. She’s shorter due to her posture involving her lean back and her knees bend slightly, as though near perpetually pressed back by wind. It’s a relaxed, but disrespectful posture, the sort with her head tilted to the side as she eyes you up from down an alleyway.

Piper paces from one side of the room to the other, looking them all up and down before allowing the words “Helmets off,” to scrape out between her fangs. “Names, now. And you know what? Previous work experience.”

Smoothly, each one removes their respective helmets and masks, treating Piper to a small menagerie of oddities.

Beneath the Sniper’s helmet is a face of glass, fractured in places and restructured in others, lacking a nose and much of one cheek. What hasn’t been destroyed looks scraped and sanded with age, as one might expect the look of a scuffed lens left in the sand except everywhere on him, save for his eyes. His eyes are clear enough that were someone to stare deep enough with a good light they might be able to see right inside of his head. His old and shattered face contorts into a smile as he says, “Kranner. Several time marksmanship champion down south. I used to do hits, now I do this.”

Piper turns her nose up at him, letting her eyes drift to Nancy, who pulls off her helmet to reveal sharp, gray features and short cropped black hair. Her ears are pointed, though a bit bent, and her nose resembles that of a vampire bat. Her fangs are snaggly as she bares them in a smile, and with her usual gusto belts out, “Lieutenant Nancy, ma’am!”

Piper rubs her own jaw, considers her for a second, and rolls her shoulders. “A glass man and another fucking Vampire. Am I going to need to keep you two busy?”

Kranner clears his throat, then rasps out, “I ain’t fragile. And she ain’t a bloodsucker.”

“I prefer raw meat, ma’am!” Again Nancy raises her voice, causing Piper to hiss.

“Alright, alright, just quiet down!” Her gaze drifts, then, to the revolver nearby— then up to its owner’s face.

White silver strands of straight hair hang to a perfectly even cut bob, whose lower edge is just against the lobes of her pointed ears. Her eyes are wide, and the cool gray, like morning ice, threatens to draw Piper out of her anger. Still, it takes more than a pretty pair of elfin eyes to quash this rage. Besides, Piper’s spoken for. An uncomfortably gentle smile and a soft voice draw her to reality.

“My name’s Sundae.” In time with the soft and sweet final syllable, her revolver’s cylinder clicks into place. “Shepherd hired me on after I got out of prison.”

“And what did you do?”

“To get into prison or to get hired?”

Piper scoffs. “Do I look like I care?”

Sundae’s smile spreads a bit. “Sorry, non-disclosure agreement.”

“The crime or your work history?”

“Yeah,” she says noncommittally, brushing silver locks back behind one ear. “Anyway, my name is Sundae. How do you feel about civilian casualties?”

Piper’s eyes roll. “Just don’t tell anyone who you work for and don’t overdo it. And who’re you?” Finally, her eyes settle on Jack.

His face is simple and metallic. His jaw is dented somewhat, which adds some character to his tin-man charm. “Jack, Ms. Piper,” he says, hands folded behind his back. He smiles afterward, which, with the dented, slightly skewed jaw, gives him the appearance of a child’s well loved posable action figure. “I once handled a contract dispute with some Gretchin closer to the mountains.”

She looks him up and down, then purses her lips for a moment. “You got a gun? You don’t seem to have one.”

“Didn’t need one then, don’t need one now.”

“Alright.” Piper looks them each over one more time, then lists off each name. “Kranner, Nancy, Sundae, and Jack. Alright. You four better tell me some good news.”

Nancy forces herself straighter than before. “We are here and fully prepared to handle the operation at your leisure! Tell us your plan and we’ll execute with extreme prejudice!”

“Also that guy Gilroy’s got an in-house bounty set up for that other guy, Blondie. So, if we nab him while we’re out you’ll get a really, really big bonus,” soothes Sundae.

Piper smiles. “Good. Okay, that’s all good. I don’t need to prep any of you and that just means more money for us. Great.”

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Kranner interjects with a slightly raised hand, “but while we’ve got means to handle him, we still need to find him.”

For a moment, it’s as though the slowly rising good mood’s been crushed. Jack, Sundae, and Nancy all turn their faces toward Kranner, who doesn’t look any worried over the matter. Piper, of course, is the worst, with narrowed eyes and bared fangs and her forked tongue poking out to extend her softer syllables into small hisses as she says, “What do you MEAN we still have to find him? You idiots have no INTEL?”

“Well, ma’am,” begins Jack, awkwardly and anxiously patting his hands together as his softly glowing eyes scan the room, refusing to make contact with his superior’s, “thing is, we know he definitely headed up this way after an encounter with Mr. Gilroy, but we lost track of him a bit west of Fusillade. He— uh— went off-road. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but we know he’s definitely coming here. Definitely.”

“And why wouldn’t he just fuck off into the Dividends instead?” Piper’s pacing, her tail’s lashing itself about, she’s starting to get taller. All four step back from the table as the fangs press out from between Piper’s lips and the thrashing appendage behind her swipes a table leg, snapping it and sending the entire affair, with all their food, to the hardwood floor— alongside the still largely unresponsive Thistle, whose only sound is a groan.

Nancy clears her throat. “He was very adamant during his conversation with Mr. Gilroy that he has plans to return to work! I was there in the room while they spoke, ma’am.”

“Stands to reason that he’s plannin’ to hit when least expected,” Kranner says. “He could run, but he’d have nothin’ anywhere else. If what snaggleteeth over there heard is right, we don’t really need to find him. He’ll find us.”

Piper’s claws have busted through her gloves and she’s rubbing her face, feeling it grow harder, scalier. It itches, it itches so much. She wonders often if those who grow fur feel better than anybody whose body’s texture changes with this. Those damn dogs don’t know how good they have it. “You not only LOST a big, flaming corpse,” she spits, entire body contorting as she struggles to keep the transformation down, “but he’s somewhere nearby, getting ready to attack? How is this good news? You’re idiots! You’re all morons!”

Jack clears his throat. “He’s after the miners, right? We can probably handle them all at once if we just let him make the first move.”

Piper stops, turning her gaze on him. “And let him tire himself out dealing with them?”

“As I see it,” Sundae pokes in, “seems like a good way to handle it. Great idea, boss.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Piper smooths a claw through her hair, looking down. “Glad I thought of it. Whatever, Kranner and Sundae go get some more gear. Do either one of you know how to outfit a civilian vehicle for a fight?”

Sundae speaks again saying, “No, but I know how to convince someone to.” Piper nods. “Good, get something high caliber on the car y’all rode in on. Don’t touch mine.”

“We’ll get ours and his set up,” Kranner rasps, gesturing toward Thistle on the ground. “He’s one foot in the grave, anyways. Won’t miss it.”

Piper laughs and crouches beside Thistle, looking him over, poking the side of his face with a claw deep enough to draw blood from beneath his thin, but tough hide. “Oh, Mr. Thistle, can we borrow your car? It’ll only get a lil’ dinged up, promise.”

The rest of them laugh too, until the old man on the floor turns his head. It’s a struggle; the command has to go through layers and layers of sediment, like trying to shove his hand through cotton, but eventually he does manage to cast his eyes up at Piper and work his mouth to say a simple, indignant, “No.”

Silence falls, and it looms heavy above them all until shortly, curtly, Piper tells him, “Wrong answer.”

She grabs Thistle by the leg with one large, clawed hand and tosses him into a cabinet nearby, where the finer plates and dining ware had been kept alongside various little knick knacks. The pain takes a second longer than it should for it to register in his body, but when it does he lets loose a croaking, scraping groan.

The only reason the cabinet falling on him doesn’t end it all there is because Piper smacks it out of her way with her tail before she’s on him again, driving the steel toe boot on her left foot hard into his already heavily bruised and somewhat shattered ribs. The sting and burn of fracturing bones and tearing flesh is muffled under the heavy medication, but it’s real, so viscerally real.

He can’t move. What the screwed dosage hasn’t rendered useless to him is occupied by pain and he’s staring to the side. Boots. Black, steel toe boots, all of them are wearing some. On his floor there are shattered plates and wood chips from the cabinet. Stupid little knick knacks and baubles are there too. A small figurine of a cow stares at him from its faux pasture, a little lump of green atop which the black and white ceramic bovine settles.

He can remember where he got each and every one of those insipid odds and ends, but as stupid as they are he can’t help but feel an extra jab in his gut. Surrounded by gifts and small, pointless treasures given to him by people he says he hates, Hieronymus T. Thistle is soaked not only with his own blood, but his tears as well.

After kicking his ribs until they cave, Piper grabs the cabinet again, shrieks, and crushes him with it.

“Stupid old bastard,” she sighs out, rubbing her face, claws receding and skin smoothing over again. She spits out a heavy glob of venom into the blood pooling on the floor, where it sizzles disgustingly. “Got what was coming to him.”

The four are still standing on the other side of the room, each one awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. Piper’s head tilts. “What are you still doing here? Go gear up the cars. Nancy, weapon maintenance. Jack… Honestly I don’t know what you can do. Stand watch, I guess. Patrol, do something.”

They all mask up again and get their helmets back on, then head out.

Piper glances around, and something catches her eye, something glinting just a touch. A small ceramic cow on a pitifully small green lump made out to be a pasture. She picks it up, turns it around, and rubs off the blood with her coat sleeve. On the bottom of the green blob is something engraved, shallowly, as though with a pencil prior to the baking process: “To Mr. Thistle,” in the handwriting of someone young. “From Billy,” it reads after that.

She pockets it. “I can sand that off. Janet’s gonna love you.”

==============================================================

“So,” Olive says, breaking the silence in the living room. Jules and Lucille sit across Samson’s living room from her and Leon, and though it’s clear that Leon doesn’t have much to say to them, seeing as how they had attacked the both of them earlier last month, she feels it necessary to break the ice, especially since they’re being let inside and not being told to scram. “Fancy seein’ y’all here again.”

Lucille chuckles, not a trace of amusement in her voice. “Yeah.”

“So. What’s up…?”

“Waiting for your doctor to patch up that girl so I can get my arm and nose checked.”

Olive frowns. “Y’think it’s broken? Your nose, I mean.”

“I know it’s broken,” she replies, cradling her face. “We’re lucky it's not bleeding all over this nice couch.”

“Ah.” The Owl turns to Jules instead, who has slumped into quite the comfortable position in a recliner. He’s more focused in listening in to the conversations happening in the adjacent rooms, especially the one where Brie’s being operated on. “How ‘bout you, Jules?”

“Oh, you know.” He smiles as he faces her, motioning toward his casted-up body. “Peachy keen. I’ll be in decent shape in a couple days, though.”

“How’d all that happen?”

“That guy who’s been following you, Blondie,” Lucille interjects. “Since he couldn’t find you in Fusillade, he went on a rampage. Nearly got the better of us.”

“Shit,” she suddenly grumbles. She darts from the room, holding her good arm under her nose like a leaky ceiling.

The Vampire laughs a little. “By your faces, I’m guessing you didn’t know the bastard was alive.”

And their faces do tell it all. Leon and Olive look at one another with utter disbelief— the former looking as though he doesn’t actually believe the claim, and the latter looking as though she doesn’t want to believe it, but she can’t help her brain accepting it as true right out the gate.

“You know that fried-looking person who walked in with your doctor and the detective?” Jules probes, holding out his free hand. “They’re one of those Notus. Notuses? Notii? Ah, whatever. One of those folks that comes back to life after being killed with fire. Your boy Blondie? He’s one of them too, now.”

“That’s a load of shit,” Leon says.

“Hey, ask anyone else who just got here.”

“There’s no way. We heard an explosion. We saw. An explosion. How the hell could there have been anything left of that guy to reanimate?”

Jules shrugs.

“He got into a fistfight with a fucking Wyrm.”

“Hah!” he laughs, quickly clutching his side in pain. “Don’t make me laugh like that. God, that’s good, though. Did he really?”

“I didn’t catch most of it, but I think a couple of ours did. He wrestled the Fusillade Wyrm. Got it in a headlock and everything.”

“And it exploded.”

Leon laughs back. “You should’ve seen it. Full mushroom cloud, hundreds of feet into the sky. I thought the world was ending.”

“That was scary as hell! I dunno why you’re laughin’, you certainly weren’t laughin’ at the time,” Olive adds.

“It’s funny in retrospect, Olive,” he says. “We were all trying to ignore it at the time. Couldn’t waste any breath gawking.”

Jules scratches his head. “I think I was still on the road with Lucille by that point. I know we heard a boom, but I don’t remember thinking much of it. Speaking of Lucille.” He leans over in his recliner, and yells down the corridor to where the Maw is only just now getting a grip on her nosebleed. “Lucille! Do you need any help?!”

“Don’t try to walk alone!” she yells back. “I told you to stay put!”

“You want me to get the doctor or something?!”

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?”

Jules turns back to Olive and Leon, grinning like a court jester. “Thank goodness. I didn’t want to walk anywhere anyways.”

“I heard that, jackass!”

==============================================================

Judith, Cherry, and Meat find themselves outside on the back patio, after having been moved out of the makeshift operating room due to space reasons.

“Wait, if you know all there is to know about fire magic now,” Cherry asks, who is having the time of his life grilling Meat for their entire life story— or at least, everything they can remember about themselves up until this point. “Does that mean you could teach it?”

Judith holds up her hands in dissent. “Do NOT teach him any spells. Please. That would be a mistake.”

“Why?” Meat asks.

“Because he’s prone to screwing shit up. And giving someone like that the ability to burn down a house isn’t a good idea.”

Meat turns to Cherry as Judith scowls over at him. “She talk about you like this all the time?” He nods, reluctantly. “That’s kinda shitty, lady.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You think I find it fun?”

“You’re fine putting him down in front of a stranger,” Meat says. “That says a lot.”

“Says what, exactly?” “You’re bitter. I don’t know about what, but you’re bitter.” Judith scoffs. “I’ll admit that. I am a little bitter.”

“What happened, then?” Meat motions to the two of them. “What’s the problem?”

Neither Judith nor Cherry say a word for a moment. But, after being motioned to by the Werewolf, Cherry pipes up. “I caused an accident and made her lose her hand.”

Meat’s skull tilts just slightly. “How does that happen?”

“Mining machinery.”

“He made a water cutter go haywire. He lost control of it, and it took my hand right off. We couldn’t even put it back on if we wanted,” Judith adds. “That’s how bad it was.”

Meat doesn’t respond, instead looking the Werewolf in the eyes for a solid couple seconds. They give her ample time to realize that the kind of person she’s matching gazes with really isn’t the kind she’d like to challenge. Sure, she’s stressed out and sure, she’s got some very understandable beef with Cherry, but in looking into those burning sockets, she sees someone who really, really shouldn’t be messed with. Someone to whom first impressions are everything, someone whose sense of right and wrong is stronger than their capabilities in magic will ever be. Even though all they’ve got is a skull, she can see the experience written into their expression. And, if she’s honest, it’s a little sobering. It doesn’t stop her from narrowing her eyes at them, readying herself. It’s part frustrated and ventless anger, part cornered animal.

Meat sighs. Initially it seemed like a problem to be solved— that idea’s been corrected. “That’s something you two have to work out, then.”

“Agreed,” Cherry sighs, leaning forward on the picnic bench. “But…” he starts again. “About the magic thing.”

“No,” Meat replies, crossing their arms.

“Aw.”

Chapter End.

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[ Table of Contents ]

#empty-mask #b&tsm #writing #oc #fantasy #adventure #serialized fiction #b&tsm-cherry #b&tsm-judith #b&tsm-leon #b&tsm-olive #b&tsm-piper #b&tsm-meat #b&tsm-jules #b&tsm-lucille

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the-firebird69 · 9 months

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Did you have a moment there are several other things in Charlotte county

-you have about 50 pukes per person it's terrible. And that was Tommy f and he said he caught mutivore which is it's a different creature but this is a version of it it's really a venom creature called venom and is taking the form of a shark cuz he eats a bunch of sharks and I was eating orca and he caught it because it went into the muck and got stuck and turned into a petrified wood and it was last week no a few weeks ago and it bit his leg off so he kept following it. And it's impressive is he got it to somehow stop and we think he used his ship so he tried to do it to our son and didn't work he's done trying to hit him in his machine was failing and people wanting him don't do it again and someone hit him and he just get here a few times and he moved so his buddy's saying you didn't do it and he's going on saying you did trying to find someone who cares really though it's kind of something to talk about it's a feat and then it was mad of course and we'll probably get even and in the movie venom he wrecks Tommy F like five times

-there's a huge number of people who are trying to find out what he saw and why the thing is petrified it's going on right now tons of questions and he's becoming famous and he does have a name from it and it's Jonathan entwood and that's not what kills him what kills him is death ray and it's because he hit it with the emitter we think and someone says it's not exactly right on and we agree it is something else so it might not be his name and it's true. Usually they are petrified like Trump in the muck. And that was Trump with him arguing it

-some of the things happening in Charlotte county the head Chiefs are putting up a fight in the front and they are refusing to give up their posts easily and they have decided to fight the oncoming onslaught of macaroni and others they say and they are adamant that people should not join them and help them it's going on right now there's a lot going on but the temperature change is not that rapid it's already 5:20 and it's still hotter than Hades out we see the plume and where it's going it's kind of passing by but it's expanding and a slower rate hours and it will be there in a moment probably 10 or 15 minutes he says it's cooler but not much maybe three degrees now that's about right but boy is still hot and crispy other things are happening here and they're going to watch your attack in about 10 minutes that is going to be very very big strike and we do want our son out of the way but it's already a little bit late and we need to clear it so we're going to go ahead and do it it will heat up a little slower than right away but it's big

-today we had something happen with a stan he began to sell his properties and he sold about 50% of them and in punta Gorda and 20% in Port Charlotte and he is opening a new business now he's closing his businesses shuttering his doors and leaving the area and he's going to meet Sherry and Sarasota and she doesn't want him to. . They always do it and they always follow but she's got an idea and he has to his ships are in limbo he doesn't have any bases or areas to speak of in the moving out on it you're trying to get the idea going and they think that our son could jump start it and her son says he could tomorrow at about 11:00 a.m. right next to the Walmart market come incognito and see if the Chinese can pick up on you and what's going on they said they will and you eat like a pig this is my stomach's big and my bones are big my muscles are big and it's natural I have gigantism and it discriminating LOL so the laughing and say you always ate that much and instead of always been genetically what I am I said what happens to it active I burn it off and they're going to try and do it but he has lost more ships and they're waiting him where he sits 5 million gone 10 million remain they're going after the games but gangbusters to fight Tommy f and they did take over the clan stuff and they are going to take them up there to get out the AI and they did lock the signals and they blocked the signals and Friday antennas and some were very big 100 miles by 10 miles huge antenna and underground so here we go other things happening

-there's a huge temperature change coming here it will cost storms but they'll be a moment and then it will start. And I did ask people. Probably about 20 minutes there will be some storms but he's trying to see if the temperature change it's not really and it shouldn't about 5 minutes so good he'll leave in about 10 minutes it'll be just just inside it

-there are other things happening people are getting fired from their jobs even though we said they're holding it 20 they're still doing it and it's because they're from out of town and their federal employees and they're getting fired from different jobs and different states some are Governor summer lieutenant governor it's all over the place and all over the world and it's going on now there is a huge huge amount of them getting fired from just about every occupation that you can name and including the clergy and including the Vatican and they are getting heated up and they want to start the program you don't they want the empire to have something else to do. All this is happening today and yeah all over the world

-there's a few more things happening Mac Daddy found out that he's unnotice and he needs to get his brain fixed they told him and he forgot and people have been reminding him even our son is and he's moving out pretty soon he's going to try and get it done and they have this game and they're going to play it and I think it'll work he thinks it's the movie and a lot of people do and I said nailed it and he forgot already he said that's westboro and it wasn't there ever so he gets it and feels better and it's not a great symbology for our son because it says they ruined back there and they're going to fix him but really they put her son in there and it didn't really help him and there's no real way to fix it by putting him back in there see what we're saying and it was reform school so we don't like what they're doing and that smells really bad and it doesn't taste good and it's not really just the max other people doing it there wasn't really an accident it was Tommy F and it and it reeks so we're going to stop him there's other things happening they're not as big but they are interesting

-people running around and giving themselves body piercings and getting infections getting earaches and not treating them and getting sick they're getting sick and getting sicker and spoiled and they're not going to the doctor and they are treating themselves and it's not working they're using old medicine and getting sick and they're dying and there's a lot of natural causes deaths because the doctors are simply not treating them and they turn them away and it's horrible they can't help it they hurt so many of theirs and it's happening day and night here and it is tough for our son he says it's okay though

-it's a huge number of people who feel bad about how they treated her son and they should they treated him like s*** and they still are and it's going on all the time they keep doing it and doing it and they're not stopping so requested this morning a list of individuals who refuse to stop harassing and and we test the coding to it and some of them were brought in questions and they said they assumed it was okay anyway and it was going to equipment center completely be lying and all the stuff about why they're doing this live it's a lie. They found out that the morlock are doing it as a plan and it is to be smirk the max and to see that they're in the horrible ones and if they're the ones with the paper closed and then they're the ones who are holding the money and all this stuff and our son says you are sincerely and absolutely absolutely a waste of your own time and I said why I said I can't use the money it's coded the reason why I can't use it is you guys don't have a countercode it does anything and you can't figure out what to do and is it by holding on to the money and that's her style so Dan turns around and he says would be smirking ourselves because we are saying that we're the ones who are doing it but in fact we don't know what to do about it except for what we're doing and he says it's not it's not what you doing it's what Max Max what you do they don't want you doing anything with it at this time and they flicked out and they say that we can't stand it anymore why are you talking that way so go ask the max I've been saying this for months and recently to Dan a few times and he gets it and some others get it and he's horrified and he got into trouble with me and that's why. They ran around today asking some of them figured it out he said I'm in trouble cuz I figured it out he said if you figure out how to make this secret stuff I think someone's going to be after it and they said yeah I was very similar so I figured that out too and it is on they said and so forth and it's going on now that tons of people are figuring it out and yeah there's some storm clouds and I figured out that it just is not as easy as they said and these guys were in our mind and they couldn't get the Intel and still can't and they interview and it doesn't work and you're not asking any questions it's complicated but the code is everywhere so they decide to try and do it a certain way because all the people can't figure it out and bja said to him is working but in the end DJ did not figure out the code himself and really a big piece of it too late and yeah the clouds are coming in and the cold is not and sometimes that happens it's not that bad but it's being held out by the heat it's going to be pushed aside in a few minutes but then the clouds are going to move in real quick he thinks and probably so more shortly Thor Freya Olympus Zeus Hera

And us Nevada Ariana and we're working very hard and diligently and we deserve that it's going to rain

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crispy-art-on-fire · 4 years

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@swap-hlvrai made me feel things so I had to

#WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #MOMENTS THAT KILL CRISPY NUMBER-#QAQ #gordon feetman #gordos freeman #hlvrai #swap au #roleswap au #swap hlvrai spoiler #spoiler

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Locked up Christmas - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

happy holidays everyone!! this is the first one of my two christmas fics, the second one coming tomorrow, giving you well enough content to keep you busy when you’re not stuffing your belly or enjoying your time with the fam haha. let me know what you think!

word count: 5k

masterlist

Fishing your keys out of your purse you curse a little as your eyes fall on the big double doors. This is not how you planned to spend your Christmas evening, but you are desperate to earn that promotion in January so now you have to make sacrifices, such as leaving your family home, come into the office and smooth out some things your boss emailed you about a few hours prior.

“Who the fuck is working on Christmas?” you mumble to yourself as you try to find the right keys on the chain. The woman is completely nuts, you’re not even sure how she was able to score a husband because the woman lives in the office.

“Think about the money, Y/N,” you tell yourself. It just gonna be a solid two hours in here, you’ll be out of the building by nine and make it back home to watch Home Alone with your nieces. They begged you to stay and your heart was breaking when you had to leave instead of playing board games with them, so now you are desperate to get it done as fast as possible.

Unlocking the double doors you walk through every damn morning, you walk inside and lock them back up behind you, not wanting any creeps to scare the shit out of you, entering the building while you are in here.

You are so busy cursing your boss out that you almost don’t even notice the lights on upstairs in one of the offices, but when you do, you stop in your track, knowing well whose office it is. Taking a few steps closer you see the tall guy walking around, searching through his shelves with his hands on his hips.

Harry Styles has been working two offices down from yours this past year and you’ve had the fattest crush on the dude ever since he smiled at you on his first day, introducing himself. From his magical green eyes, through his several tattoos he tries to hide under his shirts, to his luscious curls, the guy is a walking, talking perfectness, making you turn into a stuttering teenage girl every time he even looks in your way, let alone when he comes up to you to talk about anything.

Standing in the open area of the cubbies, you debate whether you should say hi or go straight to your office, and though your nerves would appreciate the second option, you know it would be rude to just ignore his presence when it is literally just the two of you. So shoving your keys into your bag you head towards his open door, hoping you won’t make a fool out of yourself.

Just as you are approaching the entrance of his office, his eyes fall on you and you can’t just not notice how adorable he looks as he raises his eyebrows at your arrival.

“Y/N? What are you doing here on Christmas?” he questions, a stack of paper in his hands as he stares at you, a slight smile playing on his pink lips you’ve daydreamed about way too many times at work. You notice how he is wearing a simple white t-shirt, a brown, knitted cardigan and jeans, something you have never seen him in, he is always wearing stylish suits and crispy looking shirts, making sure his appearance is spotless. But you kind of digging this loose, casual version of him.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckle tilting your head to the side. “I uhh—Samantha emailed me about one of my cases, so I have a few things to go over.”

“But couldn’t it wait?”

“I’m really hoping to get the promotion in January, so it couldn’t.” Harry nods in understanding as he glances down at the papers in his hands. “What about you?”

“Oh, I came in this afternoon, but I kind of got stuck, so now I think I’ll just finish it anyway.”

“You’ve been here all afternoon? Didn’t you want to spend the day with your family?”

“Well, my family lives in the UK. My mum got a cruise from her boyfriend so she is on the Caribbean sea right now and my sister is working through the holidays as well, so we agreed to have Christmas a little later this year.”

“Oh, I see,” you softly say, feeling a little bad for the guy to be stuck here at Christmas even though you know he is gonna see his family, just a little later. “Alright. I’ll just—I’ll be in my office then,” you mumble motioning down the hallway and he nods with a soft smile.

“Sure, sure!”

You jump right into work, eager to finish as soon as possible, and for your biggest surprise, you find yourself breezing through the case faster than you expected. Maybe it’s the emptiness of the whole building, the complete silence or just the will to leave finally, but you manage to finish everything before half past eight, putting you half an hour earlier than you expected to be done. You quickly pack everything up and shut your computer down before grabbing your coat and bag to head out. Just as you step out of your office, Harry emerges from his, wearing his black coat and a backpack hanging from his shoulder. Your eyes meet and he chuckles softly, waiting for you to catch up with him so you can head down together.

“Finished everything?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. How about you?”

“I think I’m like two weeks ahead now, but at least I’ll have a breather after the holidays.” He politely lets you ahead as you step out of the office area, into the stairwell, the two of you walking down the stairs shoulder by shoulder. “Heading back to the family?”

“Yeah, promised my nieces to watch Home Alone with them.”

“Classic.”

“Uhuh, very fascinated when you’ve seen it a thousand times, but it’s their first time,” you chuckle shaking your head.

“I feel like everyone is complaining about seeing it so many times, but deep down, we all know we’ll keep watching it till the end of times,” Harry smirks and you nod in agreement.

You step to the exit and push your keys into the lock, trying to turn it, but it doesn’t want to move, just stays stuck in it. Wiggling it a little you start to feel nervous, thinking how Harry will see you as a complete idiot who can’t even open a damn door, but no matter what you try, the key stays stuck.

“I uhh—It’s not opening?” you anxiously say, glancing over at Harry. Furrowing his eyebrows he asks if he could try, so you step aside and let him make an attempt to unlock the door.

However, the key stubbornly stays the same, as if it was cemented into the lock. His grip tightens around the metal, his other hand holding onto the handle of the door, shaking it in hopes it’ll magically open up, but that’s not the case at all.

And then you hear the snap. Your eyes widen when you see that the top part of the key stays on the chain and Harry holds it up just as shocked as you are, the other part still in the lock, broken and totally ruined.

“Please say we didn’t just lock ourselves in and broke the key into the lock on Christmas,” you mumble, shutting your eyes, hoping that when you open them it’ll all just go away and Harry will be holding the door open for you. But then your eyelids flutter open and your gaze is met with Harry’s anxious eyes.

“I uhh—I wish I could say that we didn’t, but we did.”

Letting your head fall back for a moment you take a deep breath, contemplating what you did that made the universe turn against you, but you don’t remember killing babies to earn this, so you are left with your boiling rage.

After a moment of mess you realize it’s time to pull your shit together and figure out the fastest possible to get out of this building as fast as possible.

“Alright, we-we need to call someone,” you breathe out, pulling your phone out of your pocket, trying to figure out who you should be calling in this very specific situation.

“Should we call Samantha?” Harry asks, still holding your keys in his hands.

“It’s not that we need another key, she wouldn’t be able to get us out. We need a professional, right?”

“Yeah, good idea.” Harry is quick to pull his phone out as well, opening up Google to find a locksmith that could free the two of you.

A few minutes later the both of you are frantically calling numbers of businesses you found online, but most doesn’t even answer and though you know it’s reasonable, since it’s Christmas, but you’re mad that with each passing moment the feeling that you’ll be stuck in here all night grows. The two of you are pacing around in the hall as all calls go to voicemail or just simply stay ignored, making you desperate.

When you are about to give up to find just one locksmith in the area who could help you out, the ringing finally stops and a voice answers your call. The old man doesn’t seem delighted to be disturbed at such time, but as you describe the situation on your hand, he quickly realizes his help is much needed.

“Now, Miss, I have some bad news,” he tells you and you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“And what would that be?”

“The soonest I can get there is around midnight. I’m out of town, but I could leave right now.”

Closing your eyes you inhale sharply. It’s not that bad, you tell yourself. At least he can come, that’s all that matters.

“Alright. It’s fine, we really need you, Sir. And again, I’m really sorry to bother you on Christmas.”

“I’ll pack up and leave now. Will contact you when I’m there,” the man tells you before you hang up and meet Harry’s anticipating eyes.

“He is coming, but he’ll get here around midnight,” you tell him and he immediately checks the time on his phone.

“So… we are stuck here for three more hours?” You nod, pressing your lips together. “Alright,” he sighs, hands on his hips. “Could be worse, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you nod, trying your best to see the best side of the situation. You might be missing Christmas with your family, but you are stuck with your work crush for three entire hours, so yes, it definitely could be worse.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, nodding to himself as if he is acknowledging the situation, and the turning to you, he smiles softly.

“There are some leftovers from the Christmas party on Wednesday. You hungry?”

Soon enough the two of you are seated in the kitchen, roaming through everything Harry found in the fridges, from saggy fries to fried chickens and veggies, you are sure you won’t starve to death until the locksmith arrives to rescue you.

At first, you both are just eating in silence, kind of still processing that this is how you have to spend the evening. Harry reaches over to get some more peas onto his plate and his cardigan rides up on his arm, your eyes falling to the several tattoos and before you could stop yourself, you speak up.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

His eyes flicker to you, then follow your gaze on his arm and he smiles softly. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck for a moment, his smile is so enchanting. He has to know the effect he has on females for sure.

“A lot. Don’t even remember the exact number if I’m being honest.”

“Really? Can I ask where else you have? I mean other than your arm.”

“Well, I have the most on this arm, then just one on the other. Some on my chest, my upper stomach, above my hips and a couple on my feet and leg,” he explains and your eyebrows raise at the amount. You figured he had quite a few, but it really sounds like a lot. You push down the urge to ask if you could see them, though your imagination is soaring right now, thinking about all the different inks splattered across his body.

“All planned or were some impulsive?”

“Most of them were random,” he chuckles shaking his head. “Do you have any?”

“I do,” you shyly smile, glancing down at the plate. “I have… well, I have one, but it consists of three parts.”

“Oh!” he breathes out and waits for you to elaborate.

“I have the sun, the moon and a few little stars on my back along my spine. It’s not big either, so you won in the tattoo game,” you chuckle.

“But I’m sure yours is way more sophisticated and planned out.”

“That I’m sure of,” you nod laughing and he joins you. “Would have never though you have so many under your suits,” you admit and his eyes jump up to you, a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

“Well, I didn’t think you had any under your pretty dresses, if I’m being honest.”

Now you are sure you are blushing hard, something in the way he said it making your hormones act up in a blink of an eye. Has he been thinking about what’s under your dress or did he just phrase it weirdly?

“What else is there you think is unlike me?” you find yourself asking and though Harry seems slightly surprised by the question, he leans back in his chair, looking at your intently, as if he is trying to read you like a book.

“I think that… the way you dress at work is far away from your real style,” he states, eyes glaring down at your current outfit that doesn’t give a lot away about your style. You were already in your pj’s when you decided to come into the office, so you just threw on a black t-shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans. You can’t hide the smile that curls up your lips at his statement. “Am I right?”

“I guess you are.”

“So what are you like when you are not wearing your colorful blazers?”

You choose not to comment on how he noticed that you have a collection of blazers in basically all existing colors, so you always have something to put on with your dresses and pencil skirts at work.

“What do you think my style is like?” you challenge him tilting your head to the side. Pursing his lips he takes a few moments to think over his answer.

“I think it’s a lot of vintage jeans and shirts, oversized jumpers, tiny hoop earrings… maybe some turtlenecks, but the funky types, nothing serious. You seem like the type of person who likes to be cozy but also fashionable.”

“That was very specific,” you chuckle softly, but you are also impressed by how spot on his description was.

“Was I right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But add some loose maxi dresses. I love them too, especially with sneakers.”

“Fits the picture perfectly,” he smirks as you both continue your feast.

You have never been alone with Harry for this long and you feel like you cracked the code to stop feeling nervous around him. Yes, you are still quite anxious about doing or saying something stupid, but the more you talk, the easier you find it to be around him. He is great company, an amazing listener and an even better story teller. Once you start sharing tales about your childhood and teenage years, Harry opens up about what it was like growing up back in the UK and he tells you all about the little pranks he and his mates did through high school.

“You had such a baby face!” you beam when he shows you a picture of himself when he was just fifteen. He is definitely recognizable, but he was lacking that hint of manliness back then, a rounder face and smoother lines made him appear very youthful, while now he is definitely a charming, mature man.

“I know, worked hard to lose that,” he chuckles leaning onto his arms on the table. “Alright, now you have to show me one too,” he says locking his phone once you give it back to him. Chuckling you unlock your own phone, looking for a photo you could show him, though you don’t have many to choose from.

“This one was taken on my sixteenth birthday,” you comment sliding the phone over to him, a picture of you shown on the screen from your birthday where you are sitting on the couch, hugging the puppy your parents surprised you with as a gift. Back then you had longer hair and a bare face, free of any makeup since you didn’t start wearing any until you were eighteen. You had a few pimples and spots on your forehead, but overall it’s not a disastrous photo.

Harry takes his time examining the photo and you see his smile grow wider with each passing moment.

“What?” you question him.

“Nothing, it’s just that… If we knew each other back then I just know I would have crushed on you hard.”

Your lips part at his blunt answer, you were definitely not expecting him to say that and it’s making you feel some kind of way for sure.

The two of you pack up everything left from the food, cleaning up after yourselves and as Harry washes the plates you two used, you check the time, seeing that it’s only quarter to eleven, leaving plenty of time still until the locksmith arrives.

“It’s so damn quiet in here, I’m not used to hear… nothing,” you tell him as you follow him out of the kitchen. Harry turns to you with a sly smirk.

“Wanna have a private party? I know for a fact Jim has a Bluetooth speaker somewhere in his office.”

“I’m absolutely in,” you grin as the two of you head towards the corner office.

Harry was right, the Bluetooth speaker sits lonely on Jim’s desk and you don’t hesitate to borrow it for your entertainment in this absurd situation. He connects his phone and sets it down on a random desk outside where the cubbies are.

“Alright, what’s your song request?” he asks opening up Spotify.

“Guess what kind of music I listen to,” you challenge him arching an eyebrow and as his eyes meet yours, he smirks back confidently before he turns his attention back at the phone in his hand. You watch him scroll for a while before his finger stops on a song and after a moment of hesitation he taps on it at last.

“Don’t come at me if you don’t like it,” he warns as the song starts playing through the speaker and you immediately recognize it. I Feel It Coming by The Weeknd and Daft Punk flows through the empty office area and you can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips. “Did I do good? You like it?” he asks with bright eyes.

“You did. I do like The Weeknd and it’s a fun song,” you nod and Harry throws a fist into the air in victory.

“Yes! Alright, you guess next,” he tells you handing you the phone and you need a moment to think about what he might like. A specific song pops into your mind and though you know you’re taking a risk with choosing it, but something is telling you he is the kind of guy who appreciates this kind of music. You patiently wait for your song to end before starting the one you chose for him.

You intently watch his reaction as Juice by Lizzo starts playing through the speaker and the moment you see the corners of his mouth curl up, you know you guessed right.

“It’s one of my guilty pleasures,” he admits, his head immediately bopping to the rhythm.

“No need to call it guilty pleasure. It’s a great song,” you tell him handing back his phone and with each passing moment his body gets into the rhythm more and more until he is full on dancing.

You let out a laugh, watching him sway and move around, enjoying the song and you can’t stop yourself from joining him. Jumping around, the two of you make the whole place your dance floor, moving around between the desks and cubbies, letting loose as the song fills the whole place.

“It ain’t my fault!” you hear Harry sing from across the room and you can’t hold back your laugh. Seeing how funny you find it, he makes his way towards you, swirling and moving his hops around. He is not a bad dancer, in fact, he is perfectly on beat with his movements, but he is definitely not a professional, though you find it quite adorable, while the way he doesn’t care to dance carefree is making him incredibly hot.

He dances around you, relentlessly singing the lyrics that he seems to know by heart. It’s quite the sight to see him like this, so unlike but still… very much like him. This version is even more attractive and you wish you could see him like this more often.

One song follows the other and the two of you absolutely let loose, putting on the show of your life, forgetting about everything else, it’s just the music, Harry and you. He shows you his favorite songs and you do the same, feeling a special connection through the process, because in a way, he is baring his true self to you through the music that’s closest to his heart and you are happy to be the person to see him like this.

“What’s a song that turns you into a rockstar?” Harry asks, panting a little from all the dancing you two have been doing in the past hour. You stop in motion thinking about what he just asked.

“A rockstar?”

“Yeah, you know, one that makes you sing and dance and perform like you are in the middle of your sold-out show at Wembley.”

You love his specific descriptions of feelings. Smiling to yourself you don’t have to think long about what song it is for you. After searching it you add to the queue and put the phone down to the nearest desk as you turn to Harry.

The starting beats of Plastic Hearts by Miley Cyrus start playing and you immediately feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You’re ready to completely change right in front of his eyes. Grabbing a chair you push him down to sit as you walk away from him, snatching an abandoned bottle of water from one of the desks, using it as your microphone before starting your performance. Hooking a finger into the elastic in your hair you pull it out and let your hair fall to your shoulders as you start singing along the song, sending him a seductive look over your shoulder.

“Hello, the sunny place for shady people, a crowded room where nobody goes…”

You know every line by heart and the fact that you’ve been listening to it on repeat the past few weeks just helps your case. You are able to put on quite the show for Harry.

Dancing around the desks, even hopping on one and lying down as you sing into your pretend microphone, you truly make yourself believe there are thousands of people watching your performance.

“I’ve been California dreaming, plastic hearts are bleeding!” you shout the chorus, completely letting loose, dancing towards Harry who is watching you in awe, lips parted, eyes bright as they follow your every move. “Keep me up all night! Keep me up all night!”

Right in front of Harry, you drop to your knees, whipping your head around, your hair flying with it before you straighten up and look straight into his eyes. Hunger fills his eyes, raw passion and you see how his knuckles are turning white as he is gripping the sides of the chair he is sitting in. You can’t push down the satisfied smirk that tugs on your lips.

He stays put as you live out your wildest rockstar dreams, turning the whole office into your stage. With a heaving chest and heavy pants, the song ends and nothing follows. Turning to face Harry you see that he turned the music off so no other song started after your performance. Now he is standing, eyes burning down on you and the tension is thicker than ever.

It’s about to happen, you feel it. He wants you just as much as you want him. Is he gonna act up about it? Will he finally break what’s been building up between the two of you?

All your questions get answered as soon as you see him leap towards you, your body starts moving at the same time and just when you are about to meet in the middle in the hottest kiss you’ve ever gotten, you jump back hearing your phone’s ringtone on a desk near you.

“Fucking—“ you hear him mumble under his breath as you rush over, seeing that the locksmith is calling.

“Hi!” you pant into the phone and immediately realize how ambiguous you must have sounded.

“Miss? I think I’m here. Can you come to the door in question?” you hear the man.

“Yeah! We’ll be down in a sec! It’s the front door.”

Ending the call you turn to see Harry standing behind you, his green eyes burning a hole into your head and you can tell he shares the same thoughts as you and though you’d love nothing more than to continue what was about to start, but you can’t make the locksmith wait.

“Come on, we are getting rescued,” you chuckle grabbing your stuff and Harry follows you downstairs.

The old man is standing with a bag of tools at the entrance, he sends you a small smile when he notices you.

“This one right here?” he asks through the glass and you nod. Harry stands beside you as the two of you watch him get down to work. Though the tension is still there, you can feel it radiating from the both of you, you still manage to hold yourself back.

It doesn’t take long for the man to get rid of the ruined lock and the door finally opens up, letting you and Harry out of your prison. He quickly fixes up a new one and gives you the keys. You already know Samantha won’t be happy about having to copy a new set of keys for everyone, but there was not much you could do.

You obviously pay a fortune for the guy for everything he did tonight, he surely was a hero. It’s way past midnight by the time you say goodbye to the man and watch him drive away, leaving you and Harry standing in the parking lot.

The sexual aspect of the tension between the two of you has definitely fallen back, but something is still there and you really don’t want to ignore what was about to happen before the locksmith called. Luckily, it seems like Harry thinks the exact same thing.

He runs two fingers over his lips, clearly trying to come up with something to say, and then he finally speaks up.

“Listen, about what happened in there—“

“Want to come over to mine?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself, clearly surprising him. Then you feel a wave of awkwardness about how blunt that was, so the urge to fix it a little takes over. “I-I mean you could come over to my place for the night if you want, and since you-you don’t have family here now, you could just come to my family tomorrow for lunch, it’s always so much fun, we play board games and stuff. B-But I get it if you don’t want to.”

Harry smiles widely at you, finding your word vomiting quite amusing and cute if he is being honest.

“You sure I wouldn’t disturb if I joined for lunch?”

“Of course not,” you smile warmly. You already know your nieces would be all over Harry if he came, wouldn’t even let him alone for a second for sure.

“Then… I would love to go. And… to your place as well,” he adds, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Okay, then follow me?” you chuckle nodding towards your and his car parking near to the other.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling wide as you both head to your own cars. You have to bite into your bottom lip to stop the excited squeal when you unlock the doors. Right as you are about to open up the door on the driver’s side, someone grips your wrist and turns you back around. You gasp a little, but immediately melt into Harry’s arms when his lips press to yours, holding you tight in his embrace.

His lips taste like French salad dressing and mint after the feast you had earlier and the gum he chewed on afterwards. They fit so perfectly with yours, moving in sync as you let your hands wander over his upper arms and broad shoulders until they come to a halt at the base of his neck. He is such an amazing kisser and you just know that whatever happens between you and him after this, you’ll surely have a hard time looking at him at work and not think about how he tastes on your lips.

When he pulls away, he pecks your lips one more time before his arms fall from around you.

“Sorry,” he smiles nervously, even though he has no reason to be. “I just… had to do it before we leave.”

“Glad you did,” you smirk and kiss his soft lips one last time before sending him away to his own car. He shoots you one last charming smile before you both get into your cars and head straight to your place.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought about it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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electricopolis-net · 2 years

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S02E06: The Game Show Killer (Part 5)

5. Crash

"Now, for those of you just tuning in, let me explain a couple things!" Bob Sparker wound a finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging it outwards. Sweat glistened on his flushed brow, and his lips were pulled back in an ever-present grin.

"We have here Mr. Game Show Killer himself…" He grabbed Samuel Gale's hair and forced his face up. His contestant squinted into the spotlight. "...or Samuel Gale, as I know him," Sparker explained. "An old buddy of mine...or he used to be, before he nearly killed me twice!" He let go of Gale's hair and wiped his hand on the breast of his jacket. “This one goes out to all you bullied kids out there!" Sparker cackled. "Revenge is a dish best served crispy, folks! Time for high voltage shock number one!"

He turned, grabbed a lever on the wall, and pulled it down. There was a buzzing sound, and the very air itself seemed to crackle with electricity. Gale's fingernails dug into the arms of the electric chair as he sat straight up. It was a moment before he could hear Bob’s voice over the ringing in his ears, and feel the wiry grip of his hand on Gale’s shoulder.

“Sturdy fellow, isn’t he?” Bob snickered. “You know, Sammy, it’s a real shame. I kind of liked you, before you spent all your time bullying me and trying to get me killed!”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Gale wheezed, still bent over. “I didn’t…”

“You pushed me in front of a car!” Bob exclaimed, grabbing the arms of the electric chair and leaning over into his face. His eyes were wild, and his hair seemed to float, full with static electricity. “And then you tried to choke me! If I weren’t such a live-wire, it might have worked, too!”

“Because you wouldn’t listen!” Gale yelled back.

Bob wheeled away from him and slammed the lever down again. The second shock ripped through Gale’s body. “That’s right, I didn’t listen!” Sparker hissed. “Why would I listen? Why would I care about you? Always needling at me, insulting me, acting like you were my friend…”

“You...you did care,” Gale retorted weakly, bringing up his gaze to stare at the other man, his eyes sunken. “You always cared. You were always there.”

For just a moment Bob’s face became blank--his eyes wide in something like confusion or, perhaps, terror--but it quickly turned to rage as he lifted the lever up and slammed it down again, again, again. Gale’s limbs stiffened, his eyes fluttering wildly, as the world became white at the edges and his body sang with pain. At the end of it, his head lolled, his lips moving.

“What was that?” Bob asked, tilting his head and leaning over to listen.

Gale’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but the microphones picked it up. “Code red,” he breathed. “Code red.”

Bob pulled back, laughing. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You want to call it quits now, huh? Too bad! You wanted to be on my show so bad, you’re gonna stay!”

“Code red!” Gale raised his voice as much as he could muster. He looked over one shoulder, then the other, searching for the presence of someone he couldn’t see. “Code--”

At that moment, the sound of ripping drywall and buckling metal rang through the air. Dust billowed into the studio. As it cleared, the silhouette of Speed Demon’s car could be seen, its fender looking worse for wear. An unsteady Margaret King stepped out of the passenger seat, coughing and waving away the dust as she covered her mouth. The cameras turned to focus on her, the car, and the giant hole that they’d made in the wall.

“That’s enough,” she finally announced, after catching her breath. She stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. “Speed Demon, go get that guy out of the chair! I’ll deal with Bob!”

Bob stared, and then burst into a cackle. “Well! How about this, folks? Miss Margaret King, the princess of Electricopolis, makes a mess of my studio and then tells me my game is up! Now, now,” he said condescendingly, waggling a finger at her. “I’m the star here, not you, and I say the show must go on!”

“You think I’m gonna just stand here and watch you kill a man?” Margaret responded. “I don’t want to have to fight you, but…”

“Fight me!” Bob laughed. “I’d love to see you try--and I bet the audience would, too! But first…”

Speed Demon was still struggling with the belts of the electric chair. Bob shoved him away, cleanly pulled the straps off in a few smooth motions, and hefted his contestant up out of the chair. “Sorry, Sammy,” he hissed. “I’ve gotta borrow this for a moment.”

He threw Sam Gale onto the ground nearby. Several technicians scurried forward to pull him offstage. Bob Sparker whirled around, sat in the chair, reached back a hand and gripped the lever. “Now remember,” he said, winking at the cameras. “Don’t try this at home, folks--I’m a professional!”

“Wait!” Margaret yelled, stepping forward. “What are you doing? You can’t--”

He yanked the lever down. There was a flash of light, the smell of smoke and, rising above the gasps of the crowd, the sound of crackling and Sparker’s high-pitched, maniacal laugh.

Margaret shielded her eyes, blinking away the brightness. But from within the cloud of smoke and dust, a hand darted out that raked sharp nails across her cheek. She yelped and stumbled backwards, and soon the rest of Bob Sparker lunged from the cloud, nearly knocking her down onto the floor.

Margaret caught herself on one of the painted lightning bolts. She steadied herself and forced her head upwards, taking in the form of the man she used to call her best friend.

He looked like a monster. His green suit was ragged and spiked at the shoulders, and his lips were pulled back in a grin so extreme she could hear his teeth grinding together. His eyes darted back and forth madly before landing on her, and his voice was strained, like his vocal chords were too tight. “Sorry about that pretty face of yours,” he remarked, flexing his hands, his fingers stiff and tense like the claws of an animal. “I was aiming for your throat!”

“Bob, stop this!” Margaret protested. She weaved back and away from another swing of his hand. As his nails passed close to her neck, she could feel a tingling, like static electricity jumping from his skin to hers. “Gahh!”

“Oh, you felt that, huh?” he taunted. “That’s just a little taste, sweetheart! Lay a hand on me and I’ll light you up like a Christmas tree!”

“Fine!” she said, exasperated. “Then I won’t lay a hand on you, that’s all!” She stepped backwards out of the range of his hands, once, twice--and then brought her foot up to slam the toe of her rubber-soled shoe up into his chin.

He went flying, hit the side of the set and crumpled to the ground in a groaning heap. For a moment there was silence in the studio, and then the audience burst into a flurry of cheers, whistles and applause.

Margaret stood there, panting, and then turned to the audience. She could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. “You shut up!” she spat, waving a hand sharply. “I can’t believe you people! Not a single one of you did anything to stop him! And you,” she said, jabbing a finger towards the tech crew. “Turn off those cameras! This show is over!”

#electricopolis #the game show killer #bob sparker #margaret king #spoiler in the tags ahead (sort of)#sam gale

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verytiredblob · 3 years

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My reviews on Manhwas

Alright so, recently I've began to fall into the great Manhwa hell, as if I didn't have enough fandoms.

But I neither have friends to chat about this with, nor a Discord chat where I can fanby about it, so I just decided to throw it in here.

These are both Manhwas I recommend and my opinions on them. If there are any spoilers, They will be striked through and in blue for anyone that wishes to avoid them (if anyone even reads this lol).

1. The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass (악녀는 모래시계를 되돌린다)

Premise: Aria was a terrible person and was sentenced to dead by being beheaded. In her final moments, she discovers her step sister, Mielle, actually manipulated her during her entire life just so she could get Aria killed. She then is beheaded, and wakes up in the past, in her child body. So now, she must work to both survive and get her revenge on her sister.

Lovely story, and my first Manhwa. The art is simply stunning, and all the characters are very flashed out and developed. Aria (MC) is the pettiest person alive and I'm here for that.

Also, I noticed a trend where, even though the manhwa has "Villainess" in the title, the MC is usually a total angel. Well, not here. Aria is egotistical and a total Diva, she has her goals and one of them is her revenge and by all that is sacred she'll get it.

Mielle is a great villain, she has grown a lot in her own pettiness and tactics since she was a child, and I really like that. Also, watching her suffer for being a terrible person is delightful.

The Male Lead (Asher) is also really cool, I like how he's both witty and friendly, and how much he truly admires Aria and her achievements.

The side characters are also pretty good, and they get a lot of focus because of their interactions with the main cast.

Again, The art is S T U N N I N G. Look at this:

Literally all panels are drawn like this or better, I'm in love.

All in all, an awesome read, 10/10, I love this a lot.

2. The Monster Duchess And Contract Princess (괴물 공작가의 계약 공녀)

Premise: Leslie's life was terrible, and always centered on her big sister, Eli. After a failed attempt of her family to grant Eli her sister's skills and knowledge, Leslie searches for the feared "Monster Duchess" in an attempt to survive.

Another one with incredible art AND incredible characters. Leslie is an absolute angel, and seeing her grow as a person is awesome.

The gender envy I feel with the Duchess is unbearable, she's utterly perfect. And the entire family is so dotting and loving and sweet, my little grinch heart can't take it.

She's perfection, really.

The plot keeps getting more and more mysterious, and I'm here for it!

I love each of the main characters a lot, and even the villains are well done and fuel your hatred.

Also, Eli Sperado and her Dad can choke on those black flames for all eternity.

Another 10/10, although I must warn anyone that wishes to read this that the translations sometimes are very spotty and messy, so it can be a bit annoying.

3. I'll be the Matriarch in this Life (이번 생은 가주가 되겠습니)

Premise: Firentia was a girl that died in Korea in her past life, and was reborn into an influential family as the illegitimate daughter of the third son. Her life was pretty terrible, with in the end, her family ending up in poverty and disgrace because of her uncles and cousins, while she was exiled from the family. After another accident, she wakes up in her past, now with a goal: Become the Lombardi matriarch and stop the other family heirs from bringing it to ruin.

Awesome art and Awesome plot number 3! This is so good, genuinely. Firentia is such an awesome plotter, and her goals and actions are very well developed.

The Male Lead is my baby and I shall protect him, and the side characters? Utterly stunning.

The twins are the cutest fucking shit, seriously. Like, look at these two?? I'm dead. Although, all the children are very, veeery cute.

I like how Firentia subtly manipulates things around her to get what she wants. It's similar to Aria, but she's much more mature and knowledgeable, and has a much less petty goal.

Guess what? 10/10. Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at grading, sue me.

4. The Twins Siblings' New Life (쌍둥이 남매의 뉴라이프)

Premise: Arien and Arjen were a pair of twins that died in Korea, and were reborn again as twins and as the Emperor's illegitimate children. Now, with only each other to trust, they must do their best to survive.

My current obsession. I really like this one. The art is not on the same level of pure Awesome like the ones before, but it's pretty good nonetheless.

The plot is pretty nice, but I must warn you: DO NOT expect them to act like adults. Honestly, just forget they're meant to be reborn in this world. They're just normal children and that's it. They act like children, and they think like children. Honestly, I think the author just wanted to make this story about them as children and their producer went and said to make them reincarnates because that Isekai shit is popular nowadays (And to justify they having memories of their newborn days). Seriously, just ignore it, the experience reading will be much better.

Other than that, the story develops nicely. The characters are all very good and the plot is very mysterious. I am holding myself back to not spoil anything, aaaaa.

There is also only one another thing that disappoints me: Arien is very clearly the MC. The story is told by her eyes and we only know what Arjen thinks or feels when he says it 9 or by subtext). I really wish it was more balanced, because they're both different people and have different perspectives, and also I really like Arjen.

I have absolutely no idea where this plot is gonna go, and honestly? I like it. It's very rare when I don't know how things are gonna develop because of other stories, so it feels very fresh.

The brothers are freaking awesome. I was so scared they were going to hate the twins and be petty, because of other manhwas that are like that, but they're so loving and sweet?? All hail these idiots. Also, Daddy is the biggest dumbass of all, this poor clueless man.

An 8/10, because of the complaints above. Still a good read, and I really like it, even with it's defects.

4. I'm A Stepmother, But My Daughter Is Just Too Cute! (계모인데 딸이 너무 귀여워)

Premise: A seamstress dies of overwork in Korea, and wakes up in the body of Abigail, the vain Queen, and the evil stepmother to the princess Blanche. Yes, It's like she stepped into the world of Snow White, and she must now do her best to live and.. Dote on Blanche with toys and dresses as much as possible?

Again with the awesome art and nice plot. Why are there so many manga with awesome art?? I'm so envious.

May all hail this crispy, delicious art.

Abigail is a whole mood, and I enjoy how she is inserted into the life of someone who had already lived and had a reputation. Her actions baffle a lot of the characters, as do her motivations, and I'm here for it.

The King has also an amazing backstory that's very tragic and yikes. I enjoy it, really. Not something you see in men's backstories that much.

Also, I'm kinda saddened by the fact the MC and the king are bound to become an actual couple. They would be such good platonic friends stuck in a political marriage. I was robbed, y'all.

Abigail greatest ambition is to get to design a dress for Blanche and have her wear it, and you know what? Good for her! Sometimes, it's good to have an MC that is not plotting against world at large.

Also, her mirror? Verite is simply perfect, I love this guy. I non-jokingly ship him with Abigail more than her with the King.

Blanche is a sweetheart, she deserves to be in my "adopted children" wall.

For now it's more of a Slice of Life than anything? But I also don't know what happens in the novels, so I'm just going to wait.

For the current lack of a grater plot, this gets a 7/10. Still pretty good and entertaining, especially for when you just don't feel like trying to understand deep plots with lots of elements.

5. Beware of the Brothers! (그 오빠들을 조심해!)

Premise: Another one of those "I lived my life and then wake up in the past." Hari was adopted by this family after the death of their only daughter, and although her parents love her, her 3 older siblings very much don't. She lives a miserable life in their hands, and when it's the night before she is to get married and finally escape her brothers, she wakes up in the past, and has to deal with them all over again.

Another nice art one, and the background characters are very nice, as is the MC.

But for me, it has a big problem. And that problem is the main ship. It's Hari with her eldest brother, Eugene. Even though they are not related and yadda yadda yadda, they were raised as such, and thus it bothers me. Also, Eugene is as plain as white bread and just as generic when seen as the Male Lead.

I ship Hari with Johan, even though I know it's not gonna happen, Ugh, the pain..

For me, the main point in this is Hari's relationship with her other siblings and the other background characters. I'm here for that wholesome sibling interaction. Her relationship with Erich, specially, is awesome. I love these two so much

It also kinda lacks a plot? Other than the relationship development and their story as a family, but again, I have no idea how they will develop this.

Also, pet peeve? Why do they keep using Oppa instead of translating it properly as brother? I get honorifics and stuff, but it's so annoying.

I give it a 6/10. Good characters and good relationships outside of the bloody incest thing, and it's a good enough way to pass the time.

There are two more that I've read, buut it's like 4am and I'm sleepy as all hell, so I'll just add it in a reblog or attached post later, and I plan on doing this for other future manhwas as well.

Do you have any recommendations or comments or just wanna talk about any of these manhwas? Hit me up!

#The villainess reverses the hourglass #the monster duchess and contract princess #i'll be the matriarch in this life #I'm a stepmother but my daughter is just too cute!#Beware of the brothers!#manhwa #webtoon #manhwa recommendation #isekai

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charming-charlie · 3 years

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Tornado Warning

Title // Tornado Warning

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Panic attacks, I guess? Also fear of tornados. This is a clean, wholesome little story.

Summary // There is a tornado warning and you are freaking out. Guess who you call for comfort.

Word Count // 1.5k

Marshmallows, check. Rice Crispy cereal. Check. Stove ready. Check.

Your head went back and forth from the television to the spread of food on the kitchen counter. You were not much of a cook but decided to try your hand at something simple. Rice crispy treats were about as simple as it could get. Unfortunately, you didn’t realize just how messy such a simple treat would be to prepare.

You were watching a cooking show and following along, taking breaks during the commercials to assess your job so far. You used far more mixing bowls than you needed, bought three bags of marshmallows, and broke one wooden spoon. This was not turning out as well as you thought it would.

Suddenly, a loud noise. It was a shrill, piercing alarm. You jumped and the spoon you were using clattered to the floor. The noise was coming from the TV, interrupting the cooking show.

You walked over to the TV and stared at the words as they flashed across the screen. There was a tornado warning in effect. You felt the bile in your stomach rumble, threatening to come up. Your heart raced at the white words against the red banner, flashing brightly enough that it made your eyes hurt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Panic rose inside and you abandoned your mess in the kitchen. Immediately, you started searching for your phone. Your hand patted every surface until you found it, hidden under a bag of unopened marshmallows. Your hands were shaking so bad as you tried to pull up his number. He was one the recent contacts you sent messages to, so he was easy to spot since he was near the top.

If it wasn’t for Evan Buckley, you wouldn’t even be in Los Angeles. He was one of your longest and bestest friends. The two of you went to college together and met through a couple of classes before taking separate career paths. However, that didn’t mean the two of you lost touch. It was the opposite, really.

And it helped that he was a first responder. He could calm your ass down in a heartbeat.

You texted him quickly, fumbling over the letters. In the end, you sent him a message that said town ado each goons crazy thanks to the beauty of autocorrect. Buck replied with a lovely wtf are you talking about before he decided to call you.

The phone buzzed in your hand, scaring you out of your mind. It took several seconds for you to calm down enough to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you asked in a whisper. You felt if you talked louder than that, the words wouldn’t make sense, like autocorrect of the brain or something.

“Are you having a stroke? Do I need to send Chim and Hen over to check on you?” Buck’s voice was light and sweet in your ear. How was he not freaking out about the impending tornado that might rip through the town and kill everything in sight?

It just then occurred to you that, again, he is a first responder and he’s seen worse things. Like that giant tidal wave, for instance. A tornado warning might actually be nothing to him.

“That’s not funny, I’m going to die.” You turned off the TV, no longer wanting to hear the shrill alarm playing in the background. What did people do in tornado warnings? Seek shelter or something, right? Kind of hard to do from the fourth floor. Does your building have a basement? What is the protocol here?

“Calm down, you are not going to die,” Buck said. You could tell he was trying not to laugh but you didn’t find any of it funny. If he wasn’t worth the phone call, you would’ve hung up on him, but you needed his voice as a source of comfort.

“How do you know? Are you a weatherman?” you shot back suddenly as you looked outside. The streets seemed quiet. No one was running around or looting for supplies. Maybe that was a good sign.

You heard him chuckle on the other end, and you heard the phone shuffling around before his voice came back as clear as day. “No, but I see emergencies all the time. Trust me, you’re fine.”

Trust him? Trust him? He didn’t know how the weather worked. A tornado can crash through at any given moment. He would be the one to fish your body out from the rubble, and here he is saying you are fine?

“Okay but this is a tornado warning, not a watch. There is a huge difference here,” you tried to argue for whatever reason. You didn’t want to be in the wrong and you felt your fears were justified. They were, right?

Buck sighed, and you could practically see his face right now. Sometimes you had to wonder how he put up with your ass.

“Look,” he said as reassuringly as possible, “I’m gonna come over. You’ll see there is nothing to worry about.”

“You are not driving through this weather.”

“What weather? It’s in the eighties and it’s sunny. Shut up, I’m coming over.”

He hung up on you without saying goodbye and you stared at your phone in frustration. That man certainly knew how to work your nerves, sometimes for the good, but right now, you were worried about your life and his. He would be solely responsible if you died of a heart attack right now. Should you pen a note in case you do?

You know what? That’s a good idea.

In the time that it took you to find some paper, a pen, think about what you wanted to say, and write it down, there was a knock on the door. Either he was in the area or he did a little bit of speeding because he arrived a lot quicker than you predicted.

You walked over to the door and opened it, revealing his sweet yet sassy smile. You rolled your eyes and shut the door on him, but he put a foot out and stopped you.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be like that.” He walked in and his eyes fell onto your kitchen. The sass moved from his smile to his face. “Looks like the tornado already stopped by. I’m so glad you made it out alive.”

You pushed him, but that didn’t faze him. Curse those stupid muscles and the in-shape body he has.

He walked into the kitchen and, having eyes like a hawk, he spotted the note you wrote earlier. He held it up and read it and ended up laughing as he looked over at you. You could see your messy handwriting on the white paper, smudged a bit from being around the kitchen.

“You look good for a dead person,” Buck said as he placed the note back on the kitchen counter.

“Shut up, I’m really scared here,” you said softly.

He saw your face and instantly, his face melted into concern. Sure, he may have just been playing around but now that he saw how serious you were and how scared you actually turned out to be, it wasn’t all fun and games anymore.

He made his way toward you and reached for your hand. You surrendered it slowly as he gripped your fingers within his. “I’m sorry. You are really freaked out, aren’t you?”

He pulled you in and hugged you. Suddenly, you felt a thousand times better. This was all you really needed, a stable and solid hug. Just the feeling of being protected was enough because now, the thought of a tornado warning was so far away from your mind, it no longer seemed to matter or seemed at all important.

“Okay so we will get through this together. This is nothing, I’ve been through a lot of tornado warnings before. You could not be in safer hands,” Buck said gently.

His tone was relaxing. He led you over to the couch and the two of you sat down. Just for good measure, he kept an arm around you and held you close. You really liked the feeling of being pressed against him, especially turning times of terror, but you would never let him know that. People like you don’t really go out with people like him. It was best to keep your mouth shut.

And that was okay. You didn’t mind liking him from afar. At least, for now.

He held you and you gripped his shirt tightly, feeling that slight panicky feeling rise back up. Only this time, you were not afraid of the tornado warning. You were afraid of this moment ending when the world went back to normal.

There wasn’t much you could do. All good things must come to an end. For now, you just needed to sit back and enjoy being in the arms of a man you cannot have. No matter how much it hurt you inside.

Hopefully the tornado warning lasts as long as possible, perhaps even days, if it meant being comforted by him.

You could only hope.

#Buck #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #buck x reader #9-1-1 #911 #buck x you

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gummy-dummy · 3 years

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Hi everyone! This is my first fic on Tumblr, it's just here, for now, I'm excited and kinda nervous too, my native language it's Spanish and I'm trying to be better at English so sorry for the grammars mistakes, I hope you like it, dear reader.

Warnings: Probably bad grammar or mistakes, swearing, mention of knives, mentions of death, kinda cute, kinda soft, confused Dabi, he doesn't know but he a softie.

It was pretty late when Shoto and I started doing our night patrol, it had been 3 months since we graduated from the UA in the hero course, the first 4 of the class were invited to work at Endeavor’s agency, Deku, Dynamight, Shoto and me, Artemis. We were the new pro-heroes with the biggest expectation from the public.

Endeavor wasn't the best at talking but I trust him, also thanks to him I don't have to worry about rent, the agency offered departments near the agency, and the rooms in the agency’s building were comfortable enough, usually, the new group was Split into two for patrol, Deku always had to go with Dynamght, he was the only one who can keep up with Bakugo’s shit, Shoto and me, we already were pretty Good Friends, I even can say we are each other’s confidant, it was a pretty nice night shift together, the absence of noise and people (and Bakugo’s shit), made it go smoothly as always. We are used to talking about everything, in the streets we could say anything, and no one more than us knew what secrets lay between us. There were secrets that Shoto didn’t want his father to know, not that he cares, but just to protect the people that he loved.

The current number one hero thought that the friendship we share will eventually become a love story, but oh boy, little did he know. Shoto had romantic feelings for another hero, I am pretty much the only person that Shoto has physical contact with, hugs and rest on each other shoulders, that's why his dad thinks of us that way. I don’t have family near where we are but the Todoroki family accepted me as one of their own since Endeavor thinks that I and Shoto are together we had to explain to Shoto’s siblings and Mom that he was in love with someone else, they didn’t care at all.

Suddenly the cold wind of the night started to get weird, making the residual trash of the city blow roll in the air, we both started to run there to know what was happening, at the moment we got close enough a black and purple substance started emerging from nowhere, it was a warp, the kind that the League of Villains has Access to, Shigaraki Tomura came out first, being followed by the tall, half-burned popcorn (as Shoto and I like to call him) Dabi, Toga right behind them with other 3 members.

I summoned my light arrows on my bow, I shoot an arrow at the leader and the tall man with black hair just disintegrates it with his blue fire. Like it was nothing.‘What are you doing here?’ Shoto asked the team of villains, Shigaraki just started to laugh ‘We came to get some groceries, what the fuck he is trying to do? Distract us?

I just rolled my eyes and said ‘Yeah well, here, you have something to add to your list I quickly prepared my bow with a new arrow, this time a stronger one, that can’t be destroyed so easily. The amount of power that this one has, with the purple hue and the energy that makes everything feel like an earthquake made the leader of the team look at it with fear in his eyes, Dabi tried to take it with his fire, but nothing happened, the arrow just started to follow all of Shigaraki’s moves, so again the man in front of him tried to catch it with his bare hands, oh what an error was that. The indentation that my arrow left on his right hand wouldn’t heal properly at all, not till I gave the order to my arrow to disappear in the wind.

Dabi just looks at me, while the others started to attack us he just stayed on the side, watching every move I make, (with) Shoto work pretty well with each other, we know our quirks and how to enhance each other's quirks.

There was a lady that appears to be new into the league, I never saw her before, she started to shoot mini grenades from her hand, making me jump to the side to avoid it, one laid between my feet, I didn't notice it until it hit me if that thing blows I die.

I'm going to die here.

The last thing I heard was a scream, Shoto screaming my real name, and then... darkness.

The next thing I know is that I'm in a completely white room, very small, I'm chained to one of the sides of a small bed, being forced to stay seated on the cold floor, if I am in one of the League facilities why they want me here? the murder of a new pro-hero would be an accomplishment by the league, why don't make it while I sleep? it would be something to make all the world feel unsafe, make all the heroes feel in danger. I hear the noise of the door opening, someone calls my name.

Dabi, that jerk, wait he was the one that saved me, at the moment the grenade exploded he just took my arm and yanked me out of the way, and took me in the warp with him.

"Hey Hawkeye!", he looked different than the night of the attack, just with his t-shirt and trousers, not his usual jacket, he looks more laid back than when fighting. He started to look preoccupied while I think how to escape, I'm not responding to him.

"Shit, no, did they do something while I was gone? Hey look at me, can you hear me? oh, these little shits are going to pay, I told them not to touch you" I just roll my eyes and say "What the fuck do you want from me you extra crispy fried ass?" he just stares at me confused for a couple of seconds and says "I'm not- Hey don't talk to me like that I'm your savior, remember? maybe I would let them do things to you, maybe I could take this food and let you starve".

He has a plate in a hand and glass with what appears to be fruit juice on the other. "Why would you feed me? do you know that keeps me alive, right? why didn't you kill me already?" I'm really confused, isn't better to kill someone while they're asleep, or this mother fucker want's to torture me. "That's because I don't want to kill you, dummy hero". Then why did he bring me here? what is the league planning to do to me? so I ask what the league wants from me.

"What makes you think there's a plan behind this?"

"Why else would a fucking villain kidnap a pro-hero if not to use them for something?"

"Well, there's nothing behind this, no one knows why I have you here actually I don't even know why I did it, but you were going to die and I just acted"- oh he should let me die, I'm gonna kick his pretty face when I get the chance.

"What do you want? you know it was going to be easier to kill me while I was unconscious, right?"

"Why do you keep telling me to kill you?"

"This is why"- there's a thing that not a lot of people know about my quirk, the bow, and the arrows are just a form I use it to be more precise, that doesn't mean that's the only thing it does.

With my both hands tied I conjured a little of my energy to make a knife to set me free, I break the cloth that keeps me hand-tied to the bed, throwing a punch at his face, he doesn't move I'm trying to get Dabi down but he is just there, he is not moving or trying to attack me at all, looking at me with sadness in his eyes.

"Hey what the fuck, why don't you attack me? aren't you afraid that I'm going to beat your ass?"- He looks like he is in pain but doesn't fight back.

"I know you could," he says with a sad smirk, what's happening here? by a couple of times, I saw him before he never acted this way.

"Can you please just calm down, let me talk, and I'll let you go if you want"

I intertwined my eyes with him, a beautiful blue, exactly the color of his flames, I don't know why, but I want to hear what he has to say, he looks so sad, but also a little surprised when I sit at the small bed. It looks like he never thought I actually would hear his reasons.

He kicks gently the plate with the food by the side and sits on the little makeshift bed, the bed is so small that we can't avoid our knees touching, he doesn't try to tie my hands again, I could conjure a big weapon, maybe just a simple bat and then scape, I know I can win, so why am I anxious to hear him? he looks at me a couple of seconds, lets out a loud breath, and starts talking.

"Well, when you attacked me, I caught one of your arrows right?" he looks at me and I nodded "Look" he shows me his left hand, inviting me to take his hand on mine.

It's rough, more than calloused, the years of him using his quirk took a lot out of his hands, they were burned, when I touched him I thought it would hurt, but he just opened his eyes a little more in surprise and looked at me again.

"Ok you have your hands burned, what about it? it's your quirk right?" he lets out a little smile that if I wasn't looking at him this close probably would have missed it. "Yeah they're burned, I don't have feeling on them, even if I take something with force or catch anything, can't feel it."

I'm starting to understand what's happening here, but I want him to tell me anyways "Yesterday, when you shot your arrow when I caught it I-"why does he look so nervous? "I felt it, I felt the pain of the arrow, and I felt you, well, your quirk, whatever it is, I just felt your touch"

What I am supposed to say about that?- "I'm sorry?" I say confused "No no it's okay I just want to know how you did it" I don't know why I have the desire to touch him again, I need to help him, he is a villain, a cute one if I say so myself but a villain nonetheless. A villain very dangerous that just wants the world to burn, but look so lost, with the same face you see on a lost child on a Mall

"I don't know, my quirk it's just based on energy, I don't know where it comes from, It just appears when I want to and takes the form I need, I used to lost control over it a lot," I say while moving my fingers letting the violet ribbons go around my hand "Now I can control it using it as weapons, the one that makes me feel more comfortable is the bow and arrow, that way I can control it a little more, but I pretty much can conjure anything" He nodded and looks at my hand.

I show him again, letting a little ball of my energy dance between my fingers and let it go, I made it stay in one of his hands, he started playing with it, like a child with a new toy that was waiting to get for Christmas day, a smile started to appear on his face, not a cruel one, that he usually used, this one was of happiness, he looks handsome, the scars on his face makes him feel unique. I'm not sure what I'm doing till I come back to my senses, I'm catching his face between my hands, he just looks at me surprised.

I run my thumbs right below his eyes, he leans into the touch and closes his blue eyes.

"You know that I can attack you now and escape right?" "I know, but you don't want to do that, I am right?"

He is, he is sure about it and I am too, but why? he probably has me here to lend information about heroes, but he isn't asking anything about it.

"No, I don't want to, why? did you get me drugged or something?" I say smiling at him for the first time "No, Toga tried to get a little bit of your blood but every time she wanted to get a needle into your skin, a purple energy, your energy, surrounded you, Shigaraki wanted to use real knives but I- I didn't let them hurt you, I didn't want them to hurt you".

And to end: this is the first chapter, it's gonna be probably 2 o 3 chapters, I'll probably add some warnings if needed.

Love

Gummy.

#boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #mha x y/n #bnha dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi fluff #dabi my hero academia #dabi x reader #gummythoughts

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

Camping double date with Miphlink and the Yiga Husbands??

This is a TERRIBLE idea. Why? Because Kohga loves to live like a king, so camping is something he HATES. Unfortunately, Sooga got to pick the double date idea, and he LOVES camping. So, let's go!

"We could've gone sunbathing on a beach. Could've even gone to the shores of Zora's domain. But no. You just. Had to pick the FUCKING woods!"

Sooga chuckled as he checked the sturdiness of the tent. Mipha and Link often went on double dates with them(to show their support), and the four of them took turns on where to go. It was Sooga's turn, and he picked a camping date. Not JUST a camping date, but a camping date up on Satori fucking mountain. It meant they had to fucking HIKE. And Kohga was hating EVERY moment of it. It must’ve been obvious, given the fact that Mipha was staying with him as Link and Sooga lead the pack. Sooga was grinning as he walked backwards, clearly not trying to sound giddy.

“Master Kohga, this is a nice change of pace, is it not? The smell of trees, the plentiful resources? It’s lovely. I mean, not as lovely as you, but still lovely.”

“You’re using flirts to keep me from going home.”

“Is it working?”

“...kinda. But don’t push it.”

Sooga nodded. Him and Link were having just a ball during this little trek, and it was JUST because of that, that Kohga wasn’t making him pick him up. Mipha chuckled, lightly nudging Kohga.

“Do be patient. Love is full of that. I’m sure he appreciates being out here.”

“He better, I’m taking all his future turns.”

The climb was slow, exhausting, and Kohga was SO goddamn happy when Sooga and Link started to unpack their things, ready to set up camp. It was near the top of the cliff, and a number of trees decorated the rocky land. Kohga sat down on a log, groaning. Kohga wasn’t in bad shape, but hiking was just AWFUL compared to working out at home. Dirt, animals, all of it just sucked to him. He’d MUCH rather be working out at home (Kohga could name other ways he could work a sweat with Sooga).

“Why THIS spot? There’s BARELY any stable ground, and these trees barely leave us rooms for the tent.”

Sooga nodded as he finally undid all of his prep work.

“It’s true, but this spot is special, I swear. Now, if you’ll excuse us. Link, you first?”

Link nodded, and started to clear the trees and bushes. Not all of them, but enough to give them actual stable land to pitch tents in. Kohga watched as Link and Sooga chopped the trees, tossing them in the corner for firewood. Mipha chuckled as she sat next to Kohga.

“Hey. At least we can watch the boys do a little bit of labor.”

Kohga gave her a bit of a side eye. Mipha was really starting to know him.

“I mean, true, I do like watching cute guys do hard work. Think Sooga’s showing off for me?”

“Absolutely.”

They both shared a bit of a giggle, and immediately Kohga felt just a bit better. Even if a fuck ton of bugs kept hovering around. They both finally finished, pitched their tents (one for each couple, for privacy of course), and Sooga immediately started to make a fire. He was pretty good at it, getting it ready and roaring just when Kohga was starting to lose patience. Sooga patted the dirt from his hands, and walked over, grabbing Kohga’s hand and kissing the back of it.

“I left some food for you in the pack, but I’m going to catch something more...lively. I will come back in a moment.”

He turned to Link, who was already starting to unpack the food bags.

“Link, keep an eye in my stead. Precious cargo here.”

Sooga walked off to god knows where, and Mipha smiled her precious little smile.

“He loves you very much. I can tell.”

“Yeah yeah. Makin’ me trek all the way up here, all sweaty and shit. He loved me, he would’ve picked an ACTUALLY good trip.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Mipha, I love ya, but stop being right about things.”

Link even seemed to smile about that, bringing a bunch of bananas over to Kohga. At LEAST he packed him something good to eat. Link helped a bit too, going to a nearby tree to pluck some fresh durian fruit. Link gave them both fruit as he tended to the fire, and Kohga SAW that swoon on Mipha’s adorable face.

“Hey, I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“You swooning over your man, you little minx!”

Mipha stammered, but as Link looked over, shooting her a wink, she knew she had been had, hiding her face in her hand, and trying to hide at Kohga’s side. Kohga laughed, shaking his head.

“You two! Got it SO bad! It’s precious! You two really deserve to be together.”

Mipha peered past her hands, to make sure Link wasn’t looking anymore, before looking back up at Kohga.

“Well thank you. Father appears to think so, as does Sidon. Can I uhm...tell you a secret?”

“Shoot little red.”

Mipha covered the side of her mouth with her palm, keeping her voice low.

“I made Zora armor for Link. I’m planning on giving it to him this week.”

That was Zora lingo for ‘marriage’ essentially, and Kohga nearly jumped off his seat, hands thrown about wildly.

“YOU’RE SERIOUS?!”

The sound of his scream made Link miss his shot, about to shoot a bird for dinner. Upon missing, he turned to scowl rather heavily at Kohga, who muttered an apology. When he turned away, Kohga finally found his heart back in his chest, rather than his throat.

“You’re gonna get MARRIED?”

“I’m planning on it, yes!”

“Mipha, lil’ red, I love you to bits, but you’re SO young! How could you want to get married NOW?”

Mipha turned to look at Link, gently cocking her head in a loving, adoring fashion.

"I'm certain I'll never find another for me. I adore him with all my heart. I want to marry him. Very, very much. Do you...not think it's a good idea?"

"No no! I mean, great that you wanna settle. It's great. I fully support you both. I just...the idea of getting married is weird to me, I guess. But I mean, so long as I get to be the best man."

"That's my brother."

"Okay fair. What about flower girl?"

"Riju."

"Ring bearer?"

"That's Midnight."

Kohga threw his arms in the air, in total disbelief.

"Who's Midnight?!"

"Link's horse."

"...That's actually super cute."

"Isn't it? If it helps any, you can help me pick my wedding outfit."

"Deal."

They both shook hands, satisfied with the deal. Kohga held onto her hand for a moment, clearing his throat.

"But uh...don't tell Sooga, yeah? He's wedding crazy, and if he hears you're gonna get hitched, he's NOT gonna let me hear the end of it."

"End of what?"

They both turned to see Sooga, carrying an entire honeyvore bear over his shoulder. Kohga should've been surprised by his man carrying a whole ass bear like a sack of flour, but he really wasn't.

"Nothing. See you got dinner."

"I did. I was going for a mountain goat, but this one didn't seem to know how to behave. I trust Link has been taking care of you in my stead?"

"Totally. Cut us up some fruit like a good boy and everything."

Kohga pinched Link's cheek as he came over, eager to show his arms full of freshly killed pigeons. Sooga chuckled, rustling Link's hair.

"Quite the provider you have here, Mipha. Should you two marry, I can assure you'd never go hungry."

Kohga tried not to groan. Marriage ALWAYS came up with his ass. It seemed to make Link a bit nervous too, as his face turned dark, and he went back to tending the fire. Mipha giggled into her palm.

"Thank you, Sooga. That's sweet of you to say. But I'm not looking on proposing here and now, so."

Sooga shrugged as he started to cut through the animal's hide, getting it ready for the flames.

"The future is fickle. Who truly knows?"

There was a smirk in his tone, even Mipha seemed to catch onto it. Kohga rolled his eyes. The idea of marriage was so ridiculous to him. Being tied down to one person forever? Fucking ONE piece of ass forever? Not his thing. But hey, he wasn’t Mipha. He scooted over next to Sooga as soon as he put the meats over the fire.

“Sooga, how much longer till it’s ready, you think?”

Sooga chuckled. His Master LOVED to eat, and while he was no chef, he could cook some good, fresh meat over a campfire. He cut a piece of the meat, showing Kohga just how raw it was.

“It’ll take a good minute, Master. Unless you’d like it raw, then I can serve you a piece now.”

Kohga stuck his nose up at it, and Sooga, for some reason, found his face so charming.

“Who wants to eat raw ass-”

Link snatched the piece from his hand, stuffing it in his mouth. Kohga sighed.

“Right. Link. The guy that will actually eat ANYTHING. You remember the time he just, ate some fucking rocks?”

“I recall, yes. Yet, he makes a VERY good fish pie.”

“Hey. Bad enough we HIKED here, don’t you even bring UP fish.”

Sooga gave a light shake of his head, even as Kohga smacked at his tit. He was lucky he was fine, else Kohga wouldn’t put up with his nonsense. They spent a good moment in idle chit chat (how restoration to kingdoms were, recent training practices, new dishes, the usual stuff you’d talk about with folks you more or less considered family), before Sooga handed Kohga a healthy plate of food. Fried wild greens, and spiced meat skewers (Kohga ALWAYS had Sooga bring goron spices whenever they went out. Kohga put it on EVERYTHING, especially meat). Kohga helped himself, digging into his meal hungrily. Sooga was a shit cook in a modern kitchen, but when it came to spicing and cooking meat out in the wild, Sooga was damn good enough. Juicy insides, and a nice, crispy outside. Him and Link didn’t talk as much, in favor of eating ravenously and enjoying their meals.

“Sooga, you don’t like goron spice?”

“Not especially. I always give my portion to Kohga, who loves it. But I prefer mine lightly salted. And I'm not the only one, it seems."

A raven seemed to trot over to them, eyeing Sooga curiously. It welcomed the slices of meat Sooga tossed its way, and Sooga noticed Kohga’s look of interest.

"Birds always did seem to like me, for whatever reason. Watch."

Sooga brought his hand down, and almost immediately, the bird jumped into his hand, eyeing everyone curiously. Kohga leaned over and lightly poked its head, making it squawk.

"Huh. That's why Revali thinks you're hot."

Sooga shook his head, as if something smelled.

"I wish you hadn't told me that. Makes me wish birds hated me."

"What if it was Teba?"

Sooga took a moment in hesitation, before lightly nodding.

“I like Teba.”

“EVERYONE likes Teba, can’t say I blame you here.”

Sooga gave the crow another scrap of meat, before motioning for it to leave, which it did, but not before looking back at Sooga once more. Mipha handed her plate to Link (who always ate whatever she couldn’t finish), before softly nodding.

“That’s honestly quite charming. I’m personally really good with fish, though it might be a Zora thing.”

Then the most odd thing happened. Link put his plate down (with food STILL on it), and nearly leapt towards Mipha, clearly excited. She seemed surprised for a moment, before chuckling.

“Oh, you want me to show them, don’t you?”

Link nodded again, wildly. Mipha held onto her head fin, and the spots on her skin seemed to glow, which seemed to glow brightly as the sun soon seemed to die down.

“Woah. Since when could you do that?”

“Always. It’s made to attract fish, bugs...Hylians.”

Link was just enthralled in her spots, fingers carefully brushing against her skin. She sat there, as flattered and flustered as a young princess could be, while Link just sat there, adoring her like something out of a story book. Sooga looked down at Kohga, who was enthralled with them both. With the moon gracing the sky, now was just as good of a time as any.

“Master Kohga, I think these two need a moment of privacy. Could I...show you something?”

Kohga nodded, quietly helping them sneak away. This somehow ended with Sooga leading Kohga god knows where, covering his mask with his hands.

“Sooga, why can’t I just close my eyes?”

“You peek.”

“I won’t this time! Maybe!”

“Relax, Master Kohga. We’re almost there. Now, be silent.”

Kohga stopped talking, and just trusted Sooga to guide him. He was about to take another step, when Sooga stopped him in his tracks. His voice was in a hushed, low tone.

“Open your eyes.”

Kohga did just that, and couldn’t believe his eyes. Blupees. Blupees , surrounding a lake, littered in cherry tree petals. They all sat there, hopping about, grooming their long, orange feelers. They hadn’t been noticed yet, and it was incredible. Some sipped at the lake water, some seemed to hop amongst the piles of petals. Kohga kept his voice low, in disbelief.

“You...knew they’d be here.”

“I did. This trip was the perfect opportunity to show you something as beautiful as you are. I take it you’ve never seen them up close?”

“No. Only in books. They’re...so different in person.”

Kohga took a step forward, making a branch snap. They thought it had been the end of it, when one of the blupees turned to look at him. But then, it chose not to run. Rather, it hopped right to Kohga, standing on its rear legs and eyeing him curiously. Kohga glanced at Sooga, before looking back towards the creature.

“Thought they were skittish?”

“They’re supposed to be. Unless they consider you not a threat.”

“W-hey! I’m plenty threatening! Go on, get!”

Kohga knelt down and pointed at it, only for it to bump against his hand, and snuggle into it like a stray cat. Kohga grumbled in a mixture of confusion and amazement, before another blupee walked over. Then another. Then another. They all scattered about him, clearly fascinated and eager to rub their little faces against him. It made Kohga fall on his ass, trying not to step on them. Sooga knelt down to him, ever ready to be of assistance. Though, it seemed the only thing his master was in danger of, was getting a permanent scowl. He chuckled.

“I don’t think they find you too threatening. Foolish creatures, honestly.”

“I should be making these bunnies shake in their boots dammit.”

Kohga raised a hand in accusation, before a blupees seemed to fall right into it, desperate for a good petting. Sooga took a small step forward, careful not to spook them, before he clunked his mask against Kohga’s.

“You...never cease to amaze me, Master Kohga. You’re incredible. These creatures thrive on purity. I can only imagine how much of it is in your heart.”

Kohga scoffed, playfully pushing his face away with his hand.

“It’s nothing like that, these things are just dumb. But… this is sweet. YOU’RE sweet. And as much as I hated the hiking, the bugs...this was nice. I don’t ever think I’m going to forget this, Sooga.”

“So I did good for my turn?”

“Good enough to try again, yes. God you’re so dumb and pretty.”

Sooga chuckled. He parted his mask, as well as his master’s, and was about to lean in for a kiss, when suddenly a shadow peered over them. Both of them jumped a bit, scaring a few of the blupees. Kohga stood aghast at the creature, while Sooga looked stiff.

“Is that...the Lord of the Mountain?”

“Yes. Aka, one that brings curses upon the land it walks.”

Sooga brought out his weapon, and aimed it right between its faces. The creature stared at him, before slowly walking past Sooga, and stopping right in front of Kohga. It slowly brought its head down, right into Kohga’s lap. It looked at him with it’s intense, bright eyes. Kohga looked unsure of what to do, before he slowly, carefully, brought his hand right next to his face. Kohga motioned wildly with his free hand, totally in disbelief.

“I’m petting it! I’m THIS cool! Can you SEE this?!”

The Lord seemed comforted by his hand, eyes lidded as Kohga’s hands nestled and scratched at it’s fur. It was brief, but it was enough to leave a lasting impression in Sooga’s mind. The creature pulled away after a moment, before dipping its face into the water, taking a sip. Then it took a step towards Sooga, and promptly spat water at his face. With a snort, and a stomp of it’s hoof, it turned, and started to graze within the water. Sooga turned to look at Kohga, who was trying VERY hard not to laugh.

“Pffft! It spat water at you! Holy CRAP, he does NOT like you!”

Kohga lost it at that point, pointing at Sooga and just losing himself in laughter. He only stopped once Sooga knelt down, and held his hand in his own.

“I’m. So in love with you, you couldn’t even fathom it-”

“This shit again.”

“Say the word and I’d be your husband IMMEDIATELY.”

Kohga groaned, using his other hand to smack his forehead. It wasn’t entirely Sooga’s fault that he was so lovesick though.

Not when the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, got to pet the Lord of the Mountain.

#asks #kohga #sooga #lord of the mountain #mipha #link #listen #seriously if it has hooves it HATES sooga and loves kohga #also all birds are pretty much attracted to sooga #rito women? sucker for him #the only one who has a REMOTE chance with him tho is teba

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

Our Black Hearts Part 2 (F!Reader x Jack "Whiskey" Daniels)

Summary: You decide it's time to come clean to Jack about the man he's after

W/C: 2k

Warnings: None for this chapter I think, but please tell me if I missed something

Spotify

Part 1

You loved working the towns garden. The feeling of warm dirt in your hands, the feeling of accomplishment watching something go from seedling to edible vegetable in the span of just a few weeks. Hell, sometimes you even relished in the ache in your back after a long day. It let you know you were alive.

It was while you planted a new crop of carrots that you rehearsed what you were going to say to Jack when you saw him next. Hello, I hope you don’t kill me for not telling you as soon as I was sure, but I know who killed your wife, and I think I know where to find him, or at least how to find people who know where he would be. We good?

You frowned as you dug into the earth, unable to escape the guilt gnawing at your insides like a parasite. You know you should’ve told him the first morning, when you woke up encased in his arms. But the way the pale pre-dawn light played on his skin distracted you. Then he woke up and he really distracted you. Then a week passed, and you still hadn’t summoned up the courage to tell him, despite several more rendezvous with him. You knew it would be worse the longer you waited, a somehow larger betrayal.

Of course, you could just lie, tell him you weren’t sure, but that wasn’t in your nature. You hated to lie, and you were fucking terrible at it. You had been since childhood, unable to hide your secrets from the scrutinizing gaze of your mother. Now, every time you tried to lie, you remembered the sharp blow to the back of your head you would receive, and instead you chose to just avoid the truth.

Straightening your back, you turned your gaze toward the cloudless blue sky. It was nearing midday, the hottest and most dangerous hours to be outside would soon be upon you. Already people had sequestered themselves inside, the only ones who couldn’t were those patrolling the perimeter of the town. Large sheets of rusted metal had been erected along the perimeter; the only protection afforded to those who protected the town. It had once struck you as deeply unfair, but now you knew it was necessary. Too many stories of towns being attacked at the suns highest point had reached your ears, chilled you to the bone.

“Chase,” the use of your nickname snapped you out of your thoughts. You glanced behind you and saw Sparkie, the middle-aged man who oversaw the gardens waving to you. “Come inside before you get crispy.”

You obliged, abandoning your shovel in the dusty earth. It was only a couple degrees cooler inside the garden house but being in the shade made all the difference. The garden house was arguably the dirtiest building in the whole town, boot prints and stray tools littered the cracked tile floor, the entire thing smelt of fertilizer and no number of open windows could get rid of the stench. You sat yourself down on a plastic crate and turned your attention to the window.

In the distance you could see the perimeter wall of Deepwell, a single speck of a figure under the small metal sheet. No stupid hat, so it couldn’t have been Jack. You had learnt that he was assigned as a guardsman for the town, replacing the guard who had been brutally gunned down in a raid a month before he had arrived. At the thought of that, the image of the dead guard flashed in your mind – shot so many times in the face no one could identify them until a headcount of surviving guards had been taken. Her name had been Lydia, you found out later, and you hadn’t said more than three words to her.

A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, signalling it was safe to be in direct sunlight again. Jack stepped out from the small perimeter shelter and adjusted the grip on his rifle. He had learnt protocols during his first day of what was done directly after Midday. First, he had to make sure no one was trying to breach his appointed section of wall. Most days there was nothing, occasionally a pack of wild dogs or boar would be gathered drawn by the smell of living creatures. Once he had found a Skulker, barely clinging to life, sent crazy by sun and hunger and dehydration. Parts of her skin had melted away from time spent in the Toxic Plains, leaving shiny white bone. That had been an easy kill – a single bullet between the eyes before she had even realised he was there.

There was nothing today, only the ever-present patches dead earth and haze of heat on the horizon. Jack adjusted his dark glasses, traded a year back for a half blunt knife. They had become one of his most prized possessions, a saviour for his eyesight.

The next hour passed quietly on the outside of the wall. A single mutt had appeared briefly in the distance, Jack kept his gun trained on the creature until it had slinked away, disappearing over the horizon. He could’ve shot it, sent word to the fetchers about fresh meat, but the dog wasn’t worth the bullet. Its ribs and pelvis had stuck out from its body, more skin and bones than anything edible.

Sweat was beading down the back of his neck and dampening his shirt when relief finally arrived. His replacement was a burly teenager, arms criss-crossed with scars from a childhood spent living in the lawless no-mans-lands. Jack tipped his hat and handed the shotgun to the kid.

“Happy watchin’,” he said with an easy grin. The kid grunted in response, turning to face the vast nothing in front of them.

It was mid-afternoon, early enough for the water troughs to be devoid of most people and late enough that the water wouldn’t be boiling hot anymore. The troughs were close to the well for which the town was named, though the well was just a hole in the ground fenced off by frayed rope. It was the towns only source of clean water, so deep underground it took almost five minutes for it to be pumped up.

The troughs were worked by just one woman, who Jack thought probably had the worst job in the whole town. Keeping the troughs filled and clean, making sure the stores were stocked with enough for the townspeople to clean themselves with. Not to mention having to wash the clothes of anyone who asked. Jack avoided asking for as long as he could, only going to her when the stench became too much for him to be able to deal with on his own.

Today, fortunately, his clothes weren’t an issue. He stripped down, folding his clothes neatly before easing himself into one of the troughs. He dunked his head under the warm water, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingers. He didn’t have the luxury of soap today, having worn through his last bar before he could find a suitable trade for a replacement. Jack didn’t mind though – sometimes the water itself was enough to feel clean.

“Jack,” Chase was standing at the foot of his trough, hands on her hips. Well this is a nice surprise Jack thought as he sat up, pushing his wet hair back. Her face was shiny with sweat and streaked with dirt that seemed to attach itself to any available bit of skin.

“Hello, Doll.” He had taken to calling her that, preferring it to Chase. At least, he preferred it when he was trying to seduce her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, and Jack’s blood ran instantly cold.

“You’re not – you know?” He gestured to her stomach. Chase looked down, confused, before realization dawned on her face.

“It’s been a week, Jack, Maker help me! No. Didn’t you learn anything about how babies are actually made when you were married?” Chase raised an incredulous brow at him. Jack shrugged. “I have a book on that, you should give it a read.”

Jack rubbed at his legs with a scrap piece of cloth, knowing he was not going to read that book. “So, what’d ya need, doll? Come to take another ride?” Chase rolled her eyes.

“No. I need to talk to you-” Chase hesitated, looking conflicted. “Look, just don’t hate me, please.” Jack sat forward, suddenly intrigued.

“Well, don’t leave me hangin’ in suspense,” Jack said.

“I know who killed your wife. I can find him.”

Jack’s ears rang for a moment, he wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You . . .”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Chase crouched down next to the trough as she spoke, her eyes imploring him to understand. “I wasn’t sure it was him; I thought he was dead! But – but it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“Who is he? How do you know?” Jack tried to keep the pain out of his voice. How long has she known, he wondered, and not told him?

Chase at least had the decency to look ashamed. “He’s – his name is Elijah. He’s missing an eye because ten years ago I stabbed him, thought I killed him too. I tried to kill him!”

“Chase, who is he to you? Are you sure you can find him?”

“I can find him. I still have connections with his old crowd, someone there will know where he is.” Chase rubbed her face, somehow smearing on even more dirt. “If I tell you who he is . . . just don’t hold it against me, okay?”

“No promises,” Jack said.

“He’s my brother. Womb brother, actually.”

“You tried to kill your brother?” Jack was too shocked to feel angry. He was an only child, but from what he knew, the bond between siblings was one of the strongest, especially those bonded in the womb.

“You’ve met him,” Chase shrugged helplessly, “he’s – look I’m not gonna pretend that I deserve understanding for keeping this from you. But now I know he’s alive . . .” she trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Tell me where to find him.” Jack said.

“No, you need me.” Chase shook her head. “You won’t get far without me, I promise you that.”

Jack scoffed at her. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not, I’m being realistic. You don’t know Elijah like I do. He’s paranoid, delusional, he thinks he’s a fucking god. You won’t get within ten feet of him without someone blowing your brains out. If you’re serious about this revenge thing, you need me.”

Jack pushed himself out of the trough and began to dry off quickly in the sun. Still naked, he turned to face Chase, arms crossed over his chest. “And just why are you so damn insistent on comin’ with me? You could tell me what you know, I could hire any number of mercs who could get the job done better than you, and you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty . . . well dirtier than they already are.”

Chase took a deep breath, evidently to calm herself down. “I need to make sure what I started is finished. Someone has to kill Elijah, and I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s dead.”

The look on her face told Jack she was completely serious. He considered for a few moments, pulling his clothes back on. If everything she said was true, he would need her help, to find Elijah, to get close enough to kill him. But –

“If you tried to kill him, how can you get close without you getting your head blown off?” Jack combed his fingers through his hair and secured it with his hat.

“He doesn’t know it was me. It’s a long story but you just have to trust me.”

Jack considered the woman standing in front of him. Of course, he didn’t trust her – it was stupid to trust anybody. But it was his only chance, he was beginning to realise, and she’d have to come along whether he wanted it or not. Which given his current mood regarding her keeping this from him, he did not.

“Alright, get your shit ready. I’m leaving at dusk.”

Tagging: @sharkbait77 @quica-quica-quica <3 <3

#jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsmen golden circle #jack daniels au #post apocalyptic

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diavolodigitale · 3 years

Text

Heart of Stone

Cullen + red lyrium = the Big Sad

One of the favourites of mine when it comes to my own works. I absolutely loved writing it so I do hope it will find its reader one day.

Genres: Angst, Drama, Dark, Deviates From Canon, Hurt, Mental Health Issues

Pairing: Male Inquisitor Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, (optional) Male Inquisitor Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Male Inquisitor Lavellan, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Solas, Cole, Vivienne

Rating: M for Might be disturbing for some readers

Size: around 18 pages

THE PAIRING IS OPTIONAL! This work is not intended to contain the pairing male!Lavellan/Cullen, but I am also completely fine if somebody chooses to read it that way.

The numbers in the text stand for the songs in my playlist you have to listen to while reading to get a better experience.

Here's the list of songs: 1. Soap&Skin - The Sun 2. L'Enfant De La Forêt - Katabasis 3. L'Enfant De La Forêt - Noir-Etang 4. Soap&Skin - Deathmental 5. L'Enfant De La Forêt - ...For The Love Of God 6. Soap&Skin - Janitor of Lunacy 7. Soap&Skin - Sugarbread 8. Soap&Skin - Marche Funèbre

(01) “Why won’t you let me out, Inquisitor?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I thought you came here to talk. You always do.”

“I said don’t talk to me!”

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here… Have you abandoned?” Cullen twitched forward; the chains holding him clinked loudly in dead silence of the prison cell. “Have you? Have you, Inquisitor?”

Inquisitor turned away, afraid to look at the face of somebody he once called a friend. Pale, worn-out, and distorted, it resembled a shadow of a person, a spirit who escaped the Fade and now lurked among others with nothing reminding him of what he used to be.

“I want to see your eyes, Inquisitor. You made me like this, you keep me here. It’s all your fault.”

“It isn’t. You are here because I have faith in you. You won’t make me hate you, no matter what you say.”

“Oh, you already hate me,”—Cullen laughed insincerely—“I know you do. I can sense it. But there is still a chance…”

Inquisitor raised his head. He gripped the bars tightly and leaned forward, so close that he could feel cold iron touching the skin on his cheeks and forehead.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Cullen closed his eyes. His body was relaxed, hands were loosely hanging. The veins visible under half-transparent skin were pulsating red.

“If you could let me share the song with you…” he muttered under his breath. “It’s so serene. You’ll see, you’ll understand then. You left me here on my own with it, and I accepted it, and so will you.”

Inquisitor’s hands exploded with a burst of magic as he clutched the bars with all the force he had left in his weakened body. His teeth were grit and his head hurt. He tried to say something, but no sound came out – his throat seemed swollen and a feeling of pressure in his chest made it difficult to breathe.

“You owe me this. I’m here because of you. Listen to me”—Cullen made a pause, waiting for the Inquisitor to react—“Listen to me!” he shouted, gripping his fists and rattling the chains that bound him.

Lavellan looked him in the eyes, ready to suffer through whatever he had to tell him.

“The song I used to hear is nothing compared to this one…” went on Cullen in a less agitated manner. “It embraces, caresses… I would hear it in my sleep, but now I don’t sleep anymore... First, the dreams left, and now I don’t need to sleep at all. I just listen.”

“I’ll find the cure,” said Inquisitor in an attempt to persuade Cullen, though, not sounding confident enough to believe it himself.

“I don’t need any cure, Inquisitor. I am not sick. I need to get out of here, I need to feel the wind, the heat of it is KILLING me!”

“You have to withstand it. The lyrium will devour you if you don’t resist, you know that!”

Cullen chuckled. His voice was crispy and low after spending so much time in a cold cell without any food and water. He wasn’t denied it, he just refused to take any.

“You’re not supposed to resist,” he made a special emphasis on the last word. “It makes you stronger, it lets you see so much more… You have no idea.”

Inquisitor let go of the bars frozen by a sudden outburst of his magic. He barely managed to keep it inside as it wanted to get out so eagerly and uncontrollably. This place smelled of despair and desolation and it took away all the energy he had. He wanted to leave, but could not force himself to do so.

Cullen slowly hummed a few notes while crossing his legs on the bare stone floor. He drew deep long breath and a hint of a smile touched his chapped lips as he spoke.

“I hated mages. You already know that, I recon. As any other reasonable templar would do. I was afraid of their power, but now… Now I am not. Your magic doesn’t scare me, Inquisitor, because soon even you won’t be able to stop me.”

“I don’t want to stop you. I just want to help.”

“Help yourself, Inquisitor. You look pathetic.”

Lavellan looked not much better than his former Commander. He barely got any sleep, always having to help others, being not himself, but the Inquisitor. Those few free moments he had he would spend in this dungeon of anguish, chiding himself for what had happened to Cullen and making himself suffer by looking at the sufferings of the templar.

Time was passing by mercilessly. He wished he could stay there without any movement forever, but the whole world was frantically spinning around him and without his intervention everything could fall apart any minute. He threw one last tired look at the templar and left the prison, foolishly hoping the next time he came everything would be different.

“I’ll be here, Inquisitor. In case you want to chat.”

Cullen didn’t stop smiling. His posture was stiff and eyes were blank, glowing crimson red.

(02-03) “Inquisitor.”

“Yes, Solas?” Lavellan stopped to greet the elf with an exhausted half-smile on his face. He knew he couldn’t fool him, but the habit of pretending had already become a part of him.

“You’ve been there again. Don’t deny it.” Solas’ eyes were piercing the Inquisitor. It was not a question because he did not really need the answer, he knew everything intuitively. This terrifying power of his never left Lavellan any chance of retrieval.

“Yes, I have. I am trying to understand…” Inquisitor looked down in a kind of shame, like a child who did what was not allowed. “There must be something I can do,” he added quietly.

“If you really want to help him, you must put him out of his misery. This is the only option. The longer you wait, the more his condition deteriorates,” said Solas in a tone that did not allow for any disagreement.

The throbbing pain in his temples made Lavellan feel as if he also heard the song. The one that outvoiced all his thoughts and common sense, forced him to say what he didn’t mean and let slowly crawling insanity possess his mind.

“I don’t care. I do not care what you think, Solas!” he yelled, not paying attention to all the other people in the castle yard who were startled by his outburst of anger. “I will not abandon him, even if it will be the death of me!”

Solas frowned. This was the only visible sign of his dissatisfaction. Even though he greatly disapproved of what the Inquisitor’s opinion was, he would never lose his temper.

“You don’t belong to yourself anymore. People rely on you, and you have to remember that. Sometimes thousand lives are more important than one,” he simply said.

Lavellan shook his head, now feeling ashamed for his behaviour. He did not mean it, merely didn’t know how to defend his position anymore.

“I know… I am sorry,” he replied. “I promise to think it over. I just need some rest; it’s been a long day.”

“Indeed, it has. I understand, my friend. Great responsibility lies on your shoulders.” Solas patted Lavellan on the back. “Don’t try to carry it on your own. We are all here to share it with you.”

Inquisitor nodded gratefully and hurried to leave the unpleasant conversation behind.

“Varric wanted to see you. He looked worried,” said Solas after him.

“Thank you. I will see him at once,” answered Inquisitor, disappointed that he couldn’t be left alone even for a moment.

The dwarf was right were Lavellan assumed he would be – near the fireplace in the great hall, working on his drafts. The mage approached a wooden table and took a seat on a chair near Varric.

“Your Inquisitorialness,” said Varric and took his gaze off the pages scattered all over the table. “You look… good enough.” The expression on his face suggested he was of a different opinion.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Varric. You’re the only person here allowed to criticize me so we’re friends no matter what you say.”

“Okay, well, a little rough around the edges, but I’ve seen worse.” The dwarf smiled in a friendly way, finally put aside his soaked in ink quill and diverted all of his attention to the conversation.

“I appreciate the honesty,” said Lavellan. His head still hurt, but the tender warmth of the fire in the fireplace and the calm air always present around Varric made it easier to endure.

“Chuckles probably made it sound like a big deal, but there wasn’t really any significant reason I needed to see you. Just wanted to tell you that Cassandra took over all of Commander’s plans and… Well, she’ll take care of everything. Things will continue as planned.”

“I appreciate that as well,” said Inquisitor, his voice gradually becoming quieter. He knew he should talk to Cassandra. After all, her role in the Inquisition was already great enough, and now she had even more responsibilities to deal with. Yet he did not know what to tell her. He could neither congratulate her not say that he was sorry. All seemed wrong.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but let me say something. I know how it feels.”

Varric also possessed the ability to know what people around him thought about and it made the Inquisitor consider the fact that he was the only one who couldn’t see past the pretension of others. He couldn’t even understand his own thoughts, let alone somebody else’s.

He didn’t answer, just looked blankly in front of himself, right into the void, at nothing in particular.

“I lost my brother to it…” continued Varric.

“I’ve never heard you had a brother. What was he like?”

“Stubborn would probably be the best word to describe him.”

“Seems like you two had quite a lot in common,” said Inquisitor jokingly.

“Not really. He was this “businessman” type of guy – always thinking about profits and dubious affairs. And, unlike me, he wasn’t a charismatic and talented hero-lover.”

“Obviously. It is hard to find another dwarf like you.”

“Impossible, I would say”—Varric heaved a deep sigh and his tone shifted to a more serious one—“It’s difficult to come in terms with at the beginning, but sooner or later you just do. It’s long and complicated, but we’re all here to support you. We knew what we signed up for.”

Inquisitor thought that it wasn’t true. He didn’t know. Cullen didn’t know. Nobody knew. Even so, he would probably be able to accept any consequences if they applied to him personally, but he was not ready to watch others degrade that easily.

“You should go and lie down. My talks make you sleepy, apparently.” Varric gave Lavellan an encouraging wink in an effort to end the conversation on a higher note.

“It’s good to hear at least one actually useful advice today,” said Lavellan. “Let me know if anything needs my attention.”

“Of course.”

Varric dipped his quill in ink and continued writing. Inquisitor headed to his quarters, trying not to pass out from fatigue on his way there.

(04) The next time Inquisitor entered the dreary prison, he barely managed to hold in a scream of terror. Cullen’s state was rapidly decaying. Red lyrium crystals were nesting on him, tearing the pale skin from the inside, feeding on his flesh. The whole cell was illuminated by appalling red light emitted by the crystals that were now part of his body. It was unbearably hot down there – apart from light, the lyrium also radiated heat. Cullen hardly moved since the last time Inquisitor saw him.

“I thought you’d never come,” he said with the same ominous smile he demonstrated previously. There was neither kindness nor hospitality in it.

“I was busy.” Inquisitor swallowed his horror before the intimidating creature dwelling in the basement of his castle and approached the cell. “Does it hurt?”

“It used to. It was more painful when I tried to oppose my addiction. Now, having given in, I see that there was no point in it. The most difficult path isn’t always the right one.”

“I refuse to believe that this is really what you think!”

Lavellan’s right hand flushed with green light. His constantly pressured and distraught state of mind depressed his control over magic abilities, especially those concerned with the Mark. Closing small tears grew more and more troublesome, as his power did not obey him and instead forced more demons to come out of the Fade.

“I gain power while you lose it. How ironic.” Cullen’s red eyes were staring right into Inquisitor’s soul, omitting what was on the outside. Lavellan’s appearance made it obvious that he was also experiencing drastic changes, but Cullen did not need to see how he looked to know that he was broken already. “The Anchor doesn’t belong to you, so soon it will turn against you, the way it should’ve done long ago. And then the Master will take it.”

“The Master? Now you serve him? Cullen, have you forgotten what he did to our people? Haven’t you seen how the Sanctuary was destroyed?”

“I remember everything perfectly, and that is why I understand how fast he will achieve dominance over everything else. You’re blind, Inquisitor, and I gained my sight here, in this dark basement, thanks to you. I pity you for how miserable your efforts to defy us are.”

“You have never talked to him, Cullen. He is insane, he blatantly uses everyone who supports him. They are disposable! Do you really want to be one of them?”

“I don’t need to talk to him, I have the song. It’s with me all the time. Unlike you were.” Cullen stopped smiling and grimaced. “If the song I heard from usual lyrium reminded the voice of the Maker, then this one sounds like the Old God. Something greater than all of us, something indescribable and immensely strong. There is no Maker in the Golden City, Inquisitor. Nobody cares about your soul, might as well sacrifice it in the grand battle for this world. But betting on the right side.”

“Cullen, you’re not yourself anymore…”

“Have you just noticed? What kind of leader are you if you don’t pay attention to what is going on with your advisors and trusted ones? To how Leliana bends down under the weight of the decision she makes for you, to how the Bull is torn between what is dear to him and what he must do, to how Cole suffers every minute he is present in this world affected by the vices and sins people commit… And all because of you.”

Lavellan tried not to yield, not to show that every word pierced him like a dagger. Every day he thought about all the lost opportunities, missed chances and mistakes made. Every night he lay sleepless because of the regrets and guilt haunting him whenever he closed his eyes. He did not see darkness under the lowered eyelids, only the faces of people he lost to the war nobody was ready for. However absurd templar’s words were, he would believe them because he himself was disappointed in what leader he turned out to be. He tried not to yield but did it quite poorly.

“Even though you don’t admit it, I know you’re crushed. You’re as lost as the day the Breach opened and you were the only one to survive the explosion. I could show you the way… or end you. You decide.”

“I don’t need any help from you. You are not the person you pretend to be anyway... We’ll talk everything over, but only when I bring back the Commander I know.”

“How persistent,” said Cullen, stretching every word as if he was savouring them. “It’s a shame you weren’t so determined previously. Perhaps it would have saved a lot of lives and your beloved Commander in his previous form. Although, I am quite upset that you prefer to disown me now that you don’t like the way I am anymore. You turned out to be so shallow…”

“We’ve all seen what lyrium does to the templars, Cullen… Your words will not influence me because I know that it’s the Blight talking in you. Once you get rid of that filth—”

“You’re not really so certain, are you?” asked Cullen mockingly and laughed. “You think you can just rip it out of me, but it runs through my veins now. You can try whatever you want, you can break the crystals, you can cut them out, you can use your wretched magic, your Mark, yet you will not make the song go away. It will grow louder and stronger, and so will I.”

“You haven’t eaten for days, Cullen. You don’t sleep, you don’t talk to people. Your life slips through your fingers. Nobody is allowed to go down here except for me, so I am the only one who can help you. Please, don’t make it worse for the both of us.”

“I’m not the one making it worse. You are.”

Cullen turned his head away from the Inquisitor, not willing to talk anymore. The crystals on his body glimmered with red lights. There were no other light sources in the basement so Cullen’s face was illuminated only by this sinister glow. His eyes as well as the veins visibly pulsating under the dead-white skin of his drained body were red. Everything about him was red. The fetters around his wrists were covered in rust, but the glow of the crystals made it seem like they were rotting.

Lavellan couldn’t help but notice that most of the crystals were growing on his left shoulder and the appropriate side of his neck, forming a cluster. A number of smaller ones was spread over his stomach and forearms. Although he had already spent days in the cell, his body wasn’t as weakened and feeble as it should have been, and it scared the elf. He really wasn’t going to die or surrender that easily.

Inquisitor did not know how long he stood there without saying anything, just examining the former Commander. At one moment, the realization that he hated being there just dawned on him. He slept for a few hours and even tried to eat before coming, but now felt as if he hadn’t had any rest for weeks. The heat produced by the lyrium crystals made him feel feverish. His vision became dizzy and he thought that he may lose consciousness if he stayed here.

The room that always felt so empty now seemed to be filled with presence. Cullen was the only prisoner, but to Inquisitor the basement seemed overcrowded: he couldn’t breathe freely, his whole body hurt as if he was pushed around with heavy shoves. Convincing himself that there was nothing he could say or do to help Cullen right here and right now, he decided to leave.

Cullen said nothing.

(05) “Oh, dear, you look hideous,” said Vivienne, catching Inquisitor on his way to the war table. Her voice suggested that she was both unsatisfied and a little bothered. “We need to do something about that immediately,” she added, looking him up and down.

“I am sorry, Vivienne, but there is no time for that. One of our scouts went missing and we need to decide where we should start searching. I promise I’ll get some sleep later.”

“No-no, beauty sleep will not help you anymore. I’m afraid, we need to eliminate the cause of your worries or else you’ll scare all our allies away.”

“I know what you want to tell me and no, I will not—”

“This is not a discussion, my dear,” said Vivienne, interrupting Lavellan who already raised his hand as a sign of protest. “It’s difficult for all of us, but you cannot show your weakness. You represent the Inquisition and appearing like that is almost the same as telling everybody we are just a group of worthless bandits. Look at those clothes, at that face… You look like you were the one who sat in that cell with no fresh air and good company. Please, I beg you, don’t make me feel ashamed of you.”

“I cannot promise you to deal with what bothers me, but I will pull myself together,” managed to utter Inquisitor after a few seconds of silence.

“And the clothing.” Vivienne looked skeptically at the old torn leather armor Inquisitor had been wearing for god knows how many days.

“Yes, I will surely change it.”

“That is what I wanted to hear. Don’t let others use your vulnerability against you. Don’t look like you have any in the first place.”

Inquisitor nodded to the Grand Enchanter to pay his respect. She gave him a polite nod as well before leaving him in the great hall. In reality, he rarely shared her point of view regarding pretty much anything, but he just could not resist her openly: she was too powerful and too valuable. Her knowledge of Orlesian court and magic powers were of great use to the Inquisition so sometimes he just needed to say what she wanted to hear in order to keep their temporary peace.

He hurried to open the heavy wooden door that led to the command centre. All of his advisors had already gathered at the war table. All, but one.

As days went by, Inquisitor slowly descended into madness. He frantically slaughtered all enemies he met on his way being as merciless as never before. His magic powers grew to be more effective on the battlefield, burning, freezing, and crushing, but, at the same time, almost uncontrollable. There was no middle ground for him, only lethal blows. Each red templar he spotted made him furious beyond all reason – he used every single spell on them to see what dealt the most damage. He couldn’t use his healing powers anymore, but instead gained the ability to bring the strongest pain to every red lyrium addict he saw. Blackwall, Dorian and Varric shared his hate for the enemies they fought, but certainly did not approve of his methods. They thought nobody deserved that much suffering, no matter what they did.

When time allowed it, Lavellan would stop to examine the bodies of the deceased templars. He paid special attention to how the crystals rooting in their bodies developed and grew, how the skin around the ruptures looked and behaved. He killed countless knights, guards and marksmen, observing how different were states of their corruption. He noticed how crystals pierced their armour, making it part of them. Some of them wore helmets overgrown by it, so he wondered how they could even see anything. A few shadows he eliminated had arms completely covered in lyrium which made them much more dangerous than the others, raw lyrium being extremely harmful in any state, but at the same time filling their existence with agony: contact that close made them lose their humanity faster and degraded their physical and mental state.

Once on the Emerald Graves, Inquisitor, accompanied by his loyal followers, met a Behemoth. An enormous lump of red lyrium barely provoked the thought that it used to be a person – not a single part of its body remained intact, everything was completely covered with crystals. The air around it was pulsating with heat, and the red glow it emitted blinded them. The fight was long and tedious – Blackwall was severely injured after receiving a massive blow in his leg and Dorian exhausted all his magic forces and couldn’t continue without a dose of lyrium to boost them. When the existence of the monstrosity was finally ended by Inquisitor’s ice spell, they managed to catch a glimpse of a silhouette resembling that of a human being inside the Behemoth before it collapsed to the ground. The atmosphere became heavy, as they were crudely reminded that the creatures they were forced to fight used to be people at some point. Some of them, perhaps, didn’t choose this fate and would rather continue living their ordinary lives.

While his companions stood gloomy and silent, mulling over what happened to the world they once knew, Lavellan approached a pile of dust left of the Behemoth. He couldn’t lose such an opportunity to study it because it was the first specimen that was so corrupt that it wasn’t able to say a single word and could only scream and produce inarticulate sounds. Lately Inquisitor became almost obsessed with researching how lyrium developed in the bodies of templars, so all he could think about was finding out how it influenced human organism and seeing if it could be prevented somehow. He approached the pile and was extremely disappointed to see that there was almost nothing left in it. Being in some kind of frenzy, with his bare hand he grabbed a small lyrium crystal – the only visible part of the templar that hadn’t disintegrated yet. A few moments passed before Varric noticed what Lavellan was doing and hurried to him to drag him away from the pile and throw away the crystal. Inquisitor’s hand and fingers were already influenced by the mineral and a few deep burns were left on the skin.

All the way back to Skyhold Lavellan listened to Dorian lecturing him about how irresponsible he was. Blackwall silently frowned and lagged behind, holding on to the handle of his sword hanging in a scabbard on his side. Varric occasionally sighed and said that he agreed with Dorian. Inquisitor’s hand throbbed with pain but he did not really care. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he didn’t make any progress in researching the influence of lyrium.

He stopped visiting the prison at Skyhold. He was afraid to descend there and see something more terrifying that he had already seen. He wanted to send somebody down to check on Cullen occasionally, and Leliana agreed to come herself, not wanting anybody else to become the witness of what happened to the Commander of the grand Inquisition. She feared they would lose their influence and authority if the details about Cullen’s corruption became public; the Inquisitor feared he would lose any hope left after seeing his friend one more time.

After one of the visits, Leliana reported that Cullen’s left arm is covered with red lyrium crystals up to his elbow already. Apart from that, she added that he also refused to talk to her. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

(06) “So… how are you doing here, Cole?” asked the Inquisitor his ghostly companion one gloomy evening. He couldn’t forget what Cullen said about him not caring about his friends. He was troubled to learn they were down, but recently just didn’t have the time to address that.

“This place is not a home. Too dark. Everybody’s hurt.” The spirit lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his hat.

“Are you hurt too?” carefully inquired Lavellan.

“I don’t know. They are. I absorb the pain, it stings like bees, but stronger. But it brings relief to the others.”

“You don’t have to help them if it is hard for you. It’s impossible to help everybody. I don’t want you to feel pain because of that, Cole,” said Inquisitor, concerned about the spirit. He knew that comforting others was the actual reason his friend existed, but didn’t want to tolerate such state of affairs nonetheless.

“I came here to help. Pain is temporary, death is not. I take the pain and put up with it for a short while, and they are free and calm. Better than listening to their screams.”

“I see…”

It was always difficult to communicate with Cole. He was there but also in hundreds other places at the same time. He responded to questions, but was talking about something only he saw and understood. He looked like a young boy, so everybody perceived him as such, but, in reality, he knew much more than any other person in the castle. He knew about misfortunes of every soldier in the Inquisition, about their worries and fears, but nobody really knew anything about him. Inquisitor was sorry that he didn’t take enough time and make enough effort to get to know this sad entity better.

“You are the only one I can’t help. I see your pain, it’s red and dense and floats like a haze. You are surrounded by people, but they are not there. You’re alone and lost in the fog and you suffocate. I want to help.”

Lavellan moved the hat from Cole’s eyes to see his face. Usually there was no expression on it, but it was important to see his eyes to establish at least some kind of contact.

“I know, Cole. I know. But it’s my burden, and I will carry it. Others here are also miserable, so just do what you can for them. Whatever you feel right.”

“I tried to take away your fear.” Cole looked Lavellan directly in the eyes. “I come when you sleep, I watch, try to lead the demons away. They are strong, bloody, proud, drag heads of their victims as trophies. You don’t let them in, yet the fear stays. You need to rest, but not sleep. Watch yourself.”

Cole suddenly disappeared as he sometimes did. Lavellan remembered him standing beside him a second ago, but now he wasn’t there anymore. Some of Inquisition’s soldiers and commanders were against Cole’s stay in Skyhold, but the Inquisitor remained unshaken in his decision. He saw what the boy did to help those who were in need, and it was more than he himself could have ever done. The spirit didn’t disappear out of a sheer wish, somebody needed him. He always answered the call.

(07) Lavellan was lying on the side of his bed, twisted and rolled up in a blanket. The bedsheet around him was crumpled and wet from sweat. He was in fever, as if instead of frosty mountains outside of Skyhold only sand dunes enveloped him with unbearable heat. He was delirious and mumbling something to himself. Before his eyes was the same prison cell he chose not to visit anymore. Crystals grew from every wall, from the ceiling and stone floor. They seemed to be alive, breathing and singing the song. Parts of mutilated human, elven, and dwarven bodies were stuck in the lyrium, feeding it with last drops of blood left in them, making its red colour more prominent and vivid. Inquisitor saw familiar faces captured eternally inside the crystals, lifeless, pale, and distorted. He gripped his staff tightly, ready to fight whoever would come to face him. His injured fingers hurt but he tried not to focus on the pain.

“I hoped to see you once again,” said the voice he knew all too well. He turned around and saw Cullen sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He wasn’t chained. “I was so upset you stopped visiting,” he continued.

“I couldn’t…” started Lavellan, but Cullen did not want to listen.

“I know what had really happened. You thought I was a burden and you had no wish to continue coddling me. But who will take the responsibility, Inquisitor Lavellan?”

“You should ask your new master about that!” yelled Lavellan angrily. He didn’t really know how much responsibility laid on him for all what had happened, but now he didn’t want to admit anything at all. Not before Cullen.

“He is doing what he must, and you are making things more complicated. Do you really believe you are a hero? A Herald of Andraste? You’re just a thief!”—Cullen spat on the floor in front of him—“All you know is stealing and deceiving. Who gave you the right to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Why do you think it was better for me before I changed? Tell me, I want to know.”

“I’ve seen what this “transformation” does to the others. They become inhumane, forget their language, families, friends. They live in constant pain and their life is deprived of meaning. You don’t need to be the Herald to understand that.”

“I am different. They are unworthy, nobody cares about them. Do you know the names of all your soldiers, Inquisitor? Do you mourn the death of every one of them? Then why do you worry about those templars so much? They have their own fate and will be rewarded for their diligence. Unlike all those people stuck in here with me,” said Cullen and smiled, waving his already corrupt hand in the direction of ghastly faces behind the glass surface of red crystals on the walls.

“Are you now tormenting people who worked with you and admired you?” Lavellan felt dizzy. He used his staff to help himself stand straight, but his energy was being drained by the red lyrium filling the room. “What kind of commander are you?”

“An improved one. You should’ve noticed how insecure I used to be. Afraid that people would judge me for what I say or do, afraid to confess to you about my decision to stop taking lyrium. Wasn’t it hilarious? Perhaps, you kept me close because I amused you.”

“No, I didn’t. You were one of the best people I have ever known. It’s a shame you turned into this.”

The mark on Inquisitor’s hand started glowing and he felt as if he would lose consciousness soon. His vision got blurry, making it difficult to concentrate on the templar.

“Oh, I know what you feel now…” Cullen laughed repulsively. “Fear, regret, disbelief, disappointment… A little bit of sorrow maybe? Don’t try to lie to me.” He stood up. No shackles held him, now he was free to do whatever he wanted. “Are you ready to face the truth?”

Lavellan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to escape the nightmare. He knew this couldn’t be real.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the bed in his quarters. Cole was sitting beside him, silently saying his mantra. He stopped when noticed that Inquisitor was already awake.

“I heard your scream. Nobody here screams that loudly, only whimpers. It was almost too late. The haze swallowed you, I didn’t see, couldn’t find. I am glad you believed me.”

“The thought that it’s just a dream… Did it come from you?” Lavellan removed the blanket and sat on the bed.

“Yes. I wanted to destroy the fear and regret, but could only take you out of the nightmare. You shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Thank you, Cole… Could you stay with me?”

“That is what I implied.”

Lavellan didn’t feel like closing his eyes again.

(08) “This is impossible! We do not have time and resources to do it!” said Cassandra. Her voice sounded as agitated and decisive as always.

“I need it! I’m not asking you to bring me Coryphaeus himself, just a few red templars.”

“You have lost your mind! How can we capture them alive if even touching them may be lethal? It’s too dangerous. You know that they never surrender.”

“It can change everything. The lyrium in dead templars is most likely also dead, there is no use of it, but if we bring them here alive… I will be able to study it, I’ll examine how it responds to different treatments and…”

“They already suffer! Even if they look like monsters, they are under the influence of it. You want to torture them even more, doesn’t it bother you?”

“What bothers me is the absence of any results in my studies, Cassandra. I need at least a tiny bit of useful information.”

Inquisitor was uncompromising, but Cassandra did not want to agree to his proposal. After all, the Inquisition was still part of the Chantry and they simply couldn’t capture templars and experiment on them. She was one of the people who started the Inquisition and didn’t want to see it come crashing down.

She sighed.

“We will make a decision at the council meeting.”

“Then tell everybody to gather.”

As one of the advisors, Cassandra made it clear that she didn’t support this endeavour of the Inquisitor. Leliana, being more practical and open-minded, decided that they should take the risk in case there was at least one possibility to gain some intel in the process. Even if they didn’t learn how to cure the corruption, they would probably discover the templars’ weak spots. Josephine was inclined to support Cassandra out of her morals, but seeing Lavellan in such despair made her budge.

Two people were in favour, so they started the operation.

Cassandra feared that soon they would not be able to keep Inquisitor in line. He was becoming more and more radical in his methods and didn’t share his thoughts with them anymore. He was grim, slept only three hours a day and most of his time spent in the libraries or on the battlefields. From the latter he would often come injured without even noticing it, as if he couldn’t feel it or didn’t care enough to notice. Their cause was still a priority to him, but determination and hope vanished from his eyes. They became dull and cold.

When first templars were delivered to the castle, he locked himself in the forge with them and didn’t come out for a few hours. Nobody was allowed to enter. There were no screams, but the silence made it seem even worse. Everybody was on the edge, not knowing what to expect. It happened a few more times, but the Inquisitor never shared anything about what he did or what results his experiments showed. As time passed, he became even more withdrawn and solitary. Solas tried talking to Lavellan about the Commander and what his inertness did to him, but with no success. Inquisitor was deaf to all inquiries.

When the blizzard settled down and the sun managed to send a few rays through thick clouds, one of the Inquisition’s soldiers knocked on the door to Lavellan’s quarters.

“Come in,” said Inquisitor, not bothered to look away from the book he was reading.

“My lord, Sister Leliana went on her usual check and he wasn’t there…” The soldier started stammering as Lavellan abruptly pierced his gaze into him. “He escaped,” mumbled the soldier.

Inquisitor knew it would end like this. He awaited it and feared.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #Cullen #Inquisitor #Fanfiction #Fiction #Varric Tethras #cassandra pentaghast #Solas #Cole #Lavellan #Cullen Rutherford #Vivienne #Angst #red lyrium

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS RPG BOSSES: NEO-OSAKA

LEVEL 1-7 (YOU ARE HERE)

LEVEL 8-10

FINAL BOSS

ENDINGS

You are one of many modified humans in Neo-Osaka. A relic of your brief time in the criminal underbelly. Your adopted little brother, Luke, has been kidnapped by a criminal syndicate known only as The Devil Triad for unknown reasons. Simeon, his upperclassman, is the sole witness of his kidnapping. Armed with your trusty katana, the healing microbots in your blood, and the information Simeon has given you, you venture back into the underworld of Neo-Osaka to save your brother.

Word Count: 4,511

TW: Blood, Violence, Gore, Mention of Drug Use

LEVEL ONE -- BELPHEGOR, THE SLEEPING BULL

In the underbelly of Neo-Osaka, it is only natural that one would want to lose themselves for a little while. You pass by a number of pharmacies that act as black markets, street vendors that hawk anti-intoxicants, and children that run between the crowds. An exchange of secrets and yen, and a pair of shoji-playing women direct you to a shuttered pharmacy down the road. No one’s operated that store in years, they say, but there are always masked men that hang behind the lot. Masks in the shape of a devil.

Night falls. It doesn’t take long for you to subdue a masked man and rifle through his pockets. A hand-held radio tells you all that you need to know: the goods will be exchanged near the butcher’s shop, the password is sleeping bull, and that one is supposed to be there, so don’t fuck this up. The goods are headed towards the base of operations of The Devil Triad.

The underlings are easy enough to deal with. You take them out one by one in their own territory, leaving them alive for only sa long as necessary, and steal one of their masks and uniforms along the way. While it appears that none of the underlings have any information as to exactly where the goods are going – much less where your little brother is – you have more faith in what the lower boss should know. He goes by the Sleeping Bull, you gather.

For one named Sleeping Bull, however, he’s much faster than you had expected.

You can’t tell whether the shadows beneath his eyes are painted or tattooed there. If they’re real, then the Sleeping Bull's got one hell of a sleep schedule. He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he yawns, adjusts the oversized cleaver in his hands, and taps his foot in impatience. Even in the dark you can tell that the Sleeping Bull is planning the best way to butcher you, judging by the way he eyes the wound on your abdomen. Apparently the ruckus you’ve caused during your infiltration has interrupted his nap.

Your offense is a grave one, it seems.

“Do you think you could die a little faster?” he says through yet another yawn. “I’m kinda tired.”

LEVEL TWO -- BEELZEBUB, COOK OF THE HUNGRY BEETLE

The combination of cured meat and seasoning in the ramen is absolutely incredible, as is the addition of a perfectly poached egg. And it’s a chicken egg, of all things! A fresh chicken egg with a runny yolk, set whites, and a hint of soy sauce. You can’t remember the last time you were able to afford such a luxury, much less find it. The pork cutlet is perfectly fried as well. Each crispy bite balances out the nature of the curry it’s been served with. The rice is fluffy, delicate, and nowhere near overcooked. You find yourself nearly moaning with delight with each bite you take.

The cook – you haven’t quite caught his name – only smiles at you over the counter, encouraging you to have more. You did save his beetle-hound, after all. It’s the least he can do.

It’s not like he has any other customers at this time of day, anyway, so you’re free to take your time. While you do find yourself staring at him from time to time, finding his dyed orange hair and face oddly familiar, the thoughts are quickly dismissed by the fresh plate of gyoza that he places in front of you. The cook joins you a few minutes after, takes heaping plates of food for himself, and you ignore the nagging sense of paranoia.

It is only when you are hit with a sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea that you realize something is wrong.

You are barely able to stop yourself from collapsing onto the floor. A white-knuckled hand grips the table as your vision swirls, your stomach turning in on itself. An empty glass shatters onto the wooden floor of the restaurant. The cook only smiles pleasantly at you as you glare at him, demanding to know what he’s done to you. Why has he poisoned you? What would he even gain from doing that?

The cook only laughs. Don’t be silly – of course he hasn’t poisoned you! Only someone unimaginative and boring would do that, and he is neither of those things. The only reason why you’re still alive right now is because you went out of your way to save his beetle-dog. The cook hopes that your last meal was an enjoyable one. You only stare at him in disbelief as he explains that he only wanted to test a new ingredient, nothing more. You just so happened to be the lucky test subject. The first of many to try his new dishes.

The cook – Beelzebub, he introduces himself – asks if you enjoyed eating so many beetle eggs. A gift from The Devil Triad for his service. They’re genetically modified to a rather impressive degree, and they should be hatching right now in your stomach. The larvae are quite famous for their taste for human flesh.

Pain strikes your abdomen, forcing you to double over, and you use the sheath of your katana to keep your body upright. Beelzebub regards it with interest for a moment. Eyes it with curiosity. And then he is pulling a rounded metal container from his pocket, flourishing it before you.

“Let’s play a game,” he offers. “If I kill you, the larvae get to have you as their first meal of the day. If you kill me, you get to have these pills. They’re guaranteed to kill the larvae in no time – if you win, that is.”

You watch in horror as Beelzebub places the container into his mouth, swallows, and shoots you that same pleasant smile. You can already feel the sensation of something crackling and wriggling inside your belly.

LEVEL THREE -- ASMODEUS, KEEPER OF THE PINK SCORPION

You’re sure that the perfume acts as both an aphrodisiac and depressant. It would certainly make sense why all of the employees here have donned some sort of face mask. Masked women and men gyrate against golden poles, scorpion-faced bartenders invite patrons to try a various assortment of poisons, and many more employees work to keep the diffusers filled with perfume. A melange of insensate and intoxicated patrons are scattered throughout the space. Your limbs only grow heavier and heavier as you wander through The Pink Scorpion. The clamor of the crowd becomes distorted. The dim lighting, endless walls, and pink motifs of its animal mascot begin to blend with one another in your vision, and you are nearly rendered unconscious by the perfume.

Thankfully, you have just enough anti-intoxicant patches in your pocket to keep yourself from becoming too inebriated. A slip into the bathroom allows you to replace the patch on your tongue, and your head clears.

And so it is with a mostly unclouded mind that you are approached by a slender, pretty man. He’s one of their best workers, he claims, and it would only be fair for The Pink Scorpion to offer service of the highest quality to its new patrons. You are a new face, after all. Despite your obvious discomfort at the proposition, you had found yourself agreeing. It wouldn’t do any good to act out of line – especially not in a place like this. You’re too noticeable. The Devil Triad has its fingers in every operation here, you’re not sure if you can take on every employee and come out unscathed, and the man before you looks like very pleasant company. Besides, it’s possible that he knows information about The Devil Triad.

He leads you by the hand through pink-tinged halls, up wavering flights of steps, and into a private room. A clap of his hands, and you two are served steaming cups of tea. A single sip nearly burns off the anti-intoxicant patch on your tongue.

Time passes in a strange haze. The man twirls a strand of his blonde hair as he offers you yet another cup of tea, adjusts his bastardization of a kimono to be even more revealing, and shoots you a flirty wink. You dump the drugged tea into a nearby plant when he turns away.

The conversation is light and pleasant. You aren’t exactly lying when you remark that The Pink Scorpion is one of the most highbrow, exquisite establishments you’ve ever seen, despite being a brothel, and the man claps his hands in delight. The Pink Scorpion is his pride and joy, you see. Truly it is the jewel of Neo-Osaka’s underworld. He would hate for a patron to leave with an empty heart or otherwise unsatisfied ...

Just as much as he would hate for an intruder to interrupt their operations.

You roll back from the kotatsu just in time. The wood splinters as the blade of the kusarigama obliterates the table, sending shards flying, and you gasp in pain when a particularly sharp piece of wood strikes you in the shoulder. The anti-intoxicant patch on your tongue can only do so much it seems, judging by the weightiness of your limbs. You wrench the shard out of your shoulder and regard the man through a pink-tinged haze, the edges of your vision starting to blur once more.

The man introduces himself as Asmodeus. Asmodeus, Keeper of The Pink Scorpion. A quick undoing of his sash reveals a number of poison vials beneath his kimono, each one a violent, neon shade of pink. The shoji doors slam shut, and you find yourself coughing as the diffuser in the room begins spewing even more perfume into the space. Asmodeus, as it would seem, is completely immune to its effects.

“You’re pretty cute, you know,” Asmodeus says, shaking his head in disappointment. He readies his kusarigama. “It’s a shame I have to kill you.”

LEVEL FOUR -- SATAN, THE ARCHIVIST

Bookshelves line the walls, books line the shelves, and texts take up nearly every single increment of space possible in the massive library. Not that you’re sure if it can even be considered a library, considering the condition of the place. Most of the books seem to be piled up on one another in a nonsensical fashion, creating mountains against the shelves, and an array of ladders is strewn throughout the place. While you’re not sure where they lead, why they’ve been placed there, or if they’re even functional at all, you do know that someone must be using them. There isn’t enough dust in the library to suggest that it’s been abandoned. Not yet, anyway.

It’s difficult to believe that a place like this exists in the underbelly of Neo-Osaka. It’s even more difficult to believe that the fourth strongest of The Devil Triad spends his time here.

A number of librarians, archivists, and other employees are nestled in corners of the library, hunched over various spreads of literature and manuals. Given that you don’t possess the brand of The Devil Triad, however, convincing one of them to talk to you is nearly impossible. While the library is considered neutral territory, it appears that the triads still have considerable influence over the area and its inhabitants. You spend most of your time being glared at, turned away, and generally ignored – which you should have expected, really.

Thankfully, you manage to catch the attention of a blonde, bookish man. He smiles at you over his rather messy desk, pushes his silver-rimmed spectacles up his nose, and shoves all of his paperwork aside upon hearing the reason of your request. He’d be delighted to help someone in need, he tells you, disregarding the work strewn on the desk before. It isn’t every day that someone travels to the underworld of Neo-Osaka for such a valiant reason.

You follow the man down winding corridors, listening to him prattle at length on one topic or another. He’s more of a librarian than an archivist, he says. He likes his tea with three sugars. Dismemberment and decapitation are some of his most enjoyable methods of murder. The cafe down the street has amazing spinach pies that it serves on the weekends, although he could do without all the extra cream. Staying inside all day doesn’t lend itself to good health, after all.

The bookish man leads you to a massive archive beneath the library and begins searching through the folders. While most of the records are completely useless – in his opinion, that is – there are still a few that he considers worth keeping. The record on the wiles and weaknesses of modified organisms, for example. It is only when you mention off-hand your hatred for The Devil Triad that the bookish man pauses over a pile of folders. He removes his glasses carefully, tucks them somewhere beneath the papers, and smiles at you.

The pain is there before you can even register the impact.

Your body crashes through a number of rickety shelves in the archives, its path only stopped by a concrete pillar. The microbots in your blood work to repair your cracked ribs as soon as possible, mending the injuries as you force yourself to stand, and you blink away the dust to see the bookish man walking towards you.

His expression speaks only of wrath.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he growls, his face already half-formed into that of a devil. The green blaze and exposed pitch-black teeth click together as he speaks, the flesh burning away, and you watch with horror as he tears off more of his pseudo-skin. The inorganic strands of his hands flex and rearrange themselves into claws. “I’m impressed you managed to take out the others, but I promise you won’t achieve the same result here. They call me Satan the Archivist -- but I prefer being called Satan the Librarian. I’m more of a librarian than an archivist, really.”

He’s a cybernetic organism, you realize. There’s no way a human would have been able to survive so many body modifications.

“NOW LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL, HUMAN!” he roars, his voice distorting with the metamorphosis. YOUR INSOLENCE IN THE FACE OF THE DEVIL TRIAD ENDS HERE! YOUR NEXT AND LAST OPPONENT IS ME!”

LEVEL FIVE – LEVIATHAN, THE DOCKMASTER

Your lungs burn. Seawater fills your nostrils and throat as you are helplessly dragged into the black sea, your screams disappearing underneath the surface of the water. You struggle desperately, giving the leviathan-like monster a few choice kicks with the heel of your boot, but it’s no use. Its teeth have latched too deep into the flesh of your thigh. While your microbots can work fast enough to repair the wound, they’ll be of no use to you if you drown. Your eyes sting as you gaze upon the moon through the dark water, its image distancing itself further and further away. This may very well be the last time you see it.

And then it is gone. A lurch nearly knocks you unconscious.

Admittedly, you had been a little too confident. The dockmaster had been alone, strangely, and you had foolishly thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to corner one of The Devil Triad’s members. The devil-shaped brand on his neck had given him away. The only witness of his planned interrogation and murder would be the moon above, you had concluded. It would be too easy for you to take him out. A short distance closer, and you would have been able to subdue him. A moment earlier, and you would have been able drag him away from the docks, force him into one of the storage containers, and torture him until he told you everything you needed to know.

But how the hell were you supposed to expect a massive, monstrous sea serpent to bite into your leg? How the hell were you supposed to expect your night to end with you being dragged screaming into the sea?

A wave of nausea strikes you. Your body crashes through the surface of the water and is deposited roughly onto something solid. A smooth, solid stone. The salt still burns your eyes and nose. You collapse against the stone as you hack up seawater, your lungs grateful for the air. It takes a moment for you to realize that you have miraculously held onto the sheath of your katana.

It takes another moment to notice that you have been thrown into a sea cave.

The surface of the water breaks once more. The dockmaster emerges from the black water and steps onto the smooth stone before you. A flick of his hand, and a portion of seawater rises to attend to him. You watch as the sea forms itself into several pole arms, each one sharper than the last. The dockmaster peruses his options for a moment – and then he takes one of them into his hands, brandishes it, and regards you with irritation.

“Surprised?” he asks. “You’re not the only one who has microbots.”

Moonlight spills into the cave from above. The dockmaster steps into its embrace, still holding his weapon before him, and allows the light to catch onto his form.

Thousands of microbots have been embedded into the dockmaster’s skin, much like scales. The result of what must have been an extremely painful and risky operation. His eyes are double-lidded, allowing him to easily blink away the seawater. His hands – no, all four of his limbs have been modified beyond belief. You’re not sure if they’re even really his. You can’t imagine what could have made him stupid enough to force his body through so many procedures.

Then again, you think to yourself, it’s possible that he did it out of desperation. Only the strong survive in the underbelly of Neo-Osaka.

It is rare for one to be born with psychokinesis. It is even rarer for one to be born with psychokinesis that is strong enough to use in combat. While many undergo horrific, painful procedures in an attempt to enhance their abilities or even give one psychokinesis, the operations typically lead to the death of the subject. The ones that are lucky to survive are often crippled for life or rendered a vegetable.

This man must have had a hell of a reason to undergo such a risky operation.

“I’m not really sure why you’ve been killing us, but that isn’t really my business. An enemy of The Devil Triad is an enemy of mine.” The dockmaster levels his weapon at you. “I’ll feed whatever’s left of your body to Lotan once I’m done with you.”

LEVEL SIX – MAMMON, HEAD OF THE TREASURY

Despite the carnage – and there is plenty of that, considering the goons you’ve slaughtered on your way in – you can’t help but admire your surroundings. The walls are plastered with gold brocade, each golden strand woven skillfully into the material, and the endless corridors are furnished with priceless works of art. You almost feel guilty for tarnishing them with blood. Windows composed of stained glass stretch to lofty ceilings. Carved statues of crows greet you at every turn, their marble beaks and wings poised in warning. You pass by countless mahogany doors, each emblazoned with the insignia of The Devil Triad, and kick down just as many to interrogate the inhabitants within.

Much to your disappointment, however, it seems that even the threat of death isn’t enough to make them speak.

You pause in front of a particularly massive portrait . The frame of the portrait seems to have been cast from pure gold and embedded with precious stones, which is shocking enough – but it is the painted image that truly captures your attention. The man depicted within is surrounded with pelts of exotic animals. His fingers bear multiple rings on each digit, his ears bear piercings in the shape of crows and ravens, and the material of his suit suggests that it has been made from augment-weave. The man’s hair is so bleached that it appears white. His smile portrays a damning cockiness.

It is the very image of decadence and greed.

You travel into the highest reaches of the treasury. The guards are no match for you, of course. You behead one of them before they can even speak. One well-placed kick to the most exorbitant, elaborate door you’ve ever seen, and you stroll into a massive office.

A man – the very same man you had seen in the painting, you recognize – sits at the desk, swirling brandy in a glass. Mammon, the head of The Devil Triad’s treasury. He regards you with interest as you pass the threshold. Despite your bloody, battered state, you level your katana at him and demand to know the location of The Devil Triad’s main operations. They’ve taken the little brother you’ve cared for all your life, and you intend to get him back.

The treasurer sighs. “Hasty, aren’t ya?” he remarks, taking a sip out of his glass. “Least you can do is let me finish. Vintage stuff like this is pretty hard to come by in Neo-Osaka, ya know.”

Your katana knocks the glass from his hands. It shatters against the polished floor. He shouldn’t fuck with you, you recommend. You’ve fought too hard and suffered too much to be played with now. If he would be so kind as to tell you what you want to know, then you might let him --

A shot rings out. Your forearm burns as the bullet tears through it, searing through a bit of your clothing, and you are just barely able to dodge the second shot. You look up to see a very, very pissed off treasurer before you, one of his fancy shoes propped up onto the desk. His augment-weave suit rumples with the movement.

Except he isn’t looking at you. The treasurer, you realize, is staring at a stain from the brandy on his augment-weave suit. A stain that is entirely your fault. When he whirls around to look at you again, his expression only speaks of ire and hatred. Apparently the slaughtering of his underlings means nothing compared to his tailored suit.

“Thought you could pull a fast one on me, didn’t ya?” he barks. His multiple sets of rings click together as he reaches under the table. “Well, ya got another thing coming!”

Every crow statue in the massive office orients itself towards you, their beaks opening to reveal firearms within. Countless lights make themselves known against your body. The treasurer scowls as he grabs a golden plasma rifle from beneath his desk, powers it up, and hefts it over his shoulder. Aims it right at your head. The glare he shoots you nearly burns through his orange sunglasses.

“Come on, then!” the treasurer snarls. “I’ll show ya the power money can buy!”

LEVEL SEVEN – LUCIFER, THE RIGHT-HAND MAN

Something is wrong here. You’re all too aware of the emptiness of the compound. The corridors are unlit. No shadows linger behind the shoji doors and walls. There is only an eerie silence. You pass by gardens of stone and running water, arched bridges, and well-tended flowerbeds. You pass by dark alcoves, monochromatic passageways, and fragrant incense. Your eyes flicker to and fro as you explore the compound, expecting some enemy to come rushing at you from the darkness, but your efforts are wasted. You are alone.

For a while, that is.

A man in traditional garb kneels in the middle of a massive, otherwise empty washitsu. A sword sits at his side. Moonlight spills into the space as you open the door and pass the threshold. The man doesn’t flinch when you address him, nor does he bother to respond when you press him for information. The sound of your unsheathing katana doesn’t seem to faze him either, which infuriates you, and then you are pressing the tip of your weapon to the nape of his neck. You demand to know where your brother is.

The movement is too quick for your eyes to catch. You curse as you stagger backwards, clutching your abdomen in pain. The image of him before you blurs, despite the sufficient amount of light in the room, and your body sways unsteadily.

And then you realize exactly what the man has done to you.

Despite the brevity of the man’s attack, his blade has somehow made its way through a majority of your torso, disemboweling you. You watch in horror as your clothing blooms with the excessive blood. As your organs threaten to leave the cavity of your abdomen. As hands fail to keep most of your intestines in the right place. The man only looks at you with disdain as you fall to your knees, gasping in pain. The sensation burns like a fire through your veins, white-hot and excruciating, and for a few moments you see nothing but patches of shadow. For a few moments you waver in and out of consciousness.

But you won’t die. Not here, and certainly not now.

You slam your blade into the ground and force yourself back onto your feet. The microbots in your blood work to knit your flesh back together, reattaching your organs and skin back into the right places. With one trembling arm, you level your katana at him once more. A challenge.

“So it’s true,” the man muses, flicking his blade. Your blood splatters against the tatami. “I didn’t quite believe the rumors. Congratulations on surviving my first attack.”

You tell him quite thoroughly just how much of a fucking bastard he is.

Much to your surprise, however, the man bows towards you. He introduces himself as Lucifer, the right-hand man of The Devil Triad’s boss, and politely informs you that he has been sent to eliminate you. You bested the others because they were weak and relied on modifications, he explains with a disdainful tone. You bested the others because they were overconfident in their altered physiology. The others saw your modification as common and therefore useless, unlike theirs, and so you had used that to your advantage. It was only the factor of their underestimation that led to their defeat.

He, on the other hand, needs no such things. Altered physiology is nothing to the training and discipline that only a pure human can master.

Lucifer readies his blade. “I look forward to witnessing your skill.”

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jkbabiey · 4 years

Text

{JJK} Say it ⤇ 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x student!reader

Word Count: ~2.1 K

Genre: we’ll keep up with the flirty tension and let’s add a bit of an awkward tension to the mix... just for fun ; college!AU

Warnings: Jungkook seems to be less of a dick and Y/N gets shy, she’s still a sweetheart.

4th of March, 2023

Another typical saturday night.

It was about midnight and you were, as usual, covered in anatomy books and human body scrawled papersheets. As much as you loved anatomy, you had to admit that along with interesting, it was a really exausting subject. You were incredibly sleepy from all the studying you’d been doing from at least 3 PM and all you wanted was to go to sleep, but you refused to give in to your desires, deciding to stay up at least for another hour.

Yes, you were aware that probably - and most-certainly - you were sounding like a nerdy self-sabotaging bitch BUT you had a reason. You had an anatomy exam next week and you were determined to get the highest grade possible, even if it cost you some hours of sleep. And why was the reason behind that? Well... you had been holding a grudge... Yeah... In you previous anatomy exam - in wich you were close to getting the highest grade in class - your asshole professor had insinnuated that you had cheated just because he had seen you turn back to pick your fallen pen and though you were looking at your seatmate’s exam. You were -oh, so ready to get the highest grade of the class in this exam and freacking rub it in that dubass’ face.

You grabbed a handful of the crispy bacon chips you were using as a motivation to keep up the good work, furiously munching on them and preparing yourself to start reading another chapter of your favorite anatomy book, Gray’s Anatomy.

Before you got to read the first word something got your attention. You had never been so happy to receive a text from an unknown number in your life. This had to be a sign telling you to just go to sleep, for sure. You grabbed your phone instantly, dropping the heavy book on top of your sprailed thighs, finally finding an almost proper excuse to get away from your never-ending studies.

[Unknown number, 00:10 AM] - Hey princess

You didn’t take you long to remember the annoying man that approached you at the bar three weeks ago, probably because of the exact same choice of words he used the night he tried to seduce you.

[Unknown number, 0:10 AM] - Remember me?

You would be lying if you said you haven’t thought about him these days. His appearance was too good to just disappear from your mind in three mere weeks. Everything, from the way he looked to the cocky and snarky comebacks he spat after hearing you neglecting him multiple times that night was, unfortunately, attractive to you.

[You, 00:14 AM] - No.

You lied.

It didn't take a lot of time for another message to pop up on your phone's screen.

[Unknown number, 00:15 AM] - Come on, I know you've been thinking about me

Prick...

[You, 00:15 AM] - Tell me your name, and maybe I'll remember who you are.

Deep inside you knew that this wasn't the real reason why you were asking him his name. The truth was that you wanted to know a name, so you could associate his face – which you haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last 21 days and it was honestly driving you insane – to a name.

[Unknow number, 00:15 AM] - I didn’t tell you my name, it wouldn't help baby

And, unhappily he was able to turn your little game against its own creator.

That cunning little shit...

[Unknow number, 00:16 AM] - But we both know I haven’t left your mind these days

You were, once again, left bewildered staring at his text. He was a cocky, selfish, jackass that was completely full of himself.

You threw your phone on your sofa and tried to calm down. It was impressive how quickly he was able to get you all riled up. He literally just had to say something, anything, and you would already be thinking of ways to kill him. You wouldn’t say it out loud, but after that night you had been waiting for a call or a text. For his call or for his text, and that was the major factor that was holding you from telling him to fuck off right away. But you couldn’t blame yourself for thinking about him. He was annoying, yes he was. But he was also extremely hot, and if you’re being honest, you missed getting laid. You didn’t even remember the last time someone made you feel good in that way and you were definitely craving it. A woman has needs and, unfortunately, he filled all of your physical demands in a man even though you were selective, very selective.

And even after considering how physically needy you were at the moment, you decided to act against yourself once again that night and left him without any answer. The guy had already proven himself to be such a dick and as sexually needy as you coud be, you would never let someone like that get to touch one single inch of your body.

You weren’t that needy, anyways...

7th of March, 2023

It was Tuesday today. You hated Tuesdays. Today you would have to endure two straight hours in the lab. Your microbiology professor wasn't the best, and his monotone way of talking just made it all worse. Usually you would have pretty much use this two hours to discretely close your eyes and try to sleep.

That would have happened if your crush hadn't asked to sit next to you. Right now, sleep was the last thing on your mind. You were fixed on the way Jimin lurked into the microscope's ocular. The way he pursed his plump lips whenever he didn't get the outcome he wanted or the way he looked at you and smiled softly from time to time.

When class ended, Jimin got up from his seat and turned to you.

"Hey, do you want to come get coffee with me?"

Your eyes widened and your lips instantly parted, shocked by his invitation. How come the hottest and sweetest guy in your class was asking you on a date?

"Yes, of course!"

You cringed internally hearing how desperate that answer had probably sounded to him, but the smile on your face never faded. You threw your books and all the other stuff you could recognize as yours into your black leather bag and quickly walked beside him.

You bit your red velvet muffin cautiously, sipping on your black coffee right away. You were trying to look pretty in front of Jimin. He had been your crush since you started med school. He had catched you eye immediately. He wasn’t the type of guy to try to get people’s attention, but he did, naturally. You two had been sitting in that coffee shop for about 15 minutes already and you were completely enchanted by his sweet and delicate ways. He was every girl's dream and you couldn't deny that you were a part of that crowd. He was absolutely dreamy and you were absolutely entranced in his whole appearance.

"So... I noticed you haven't been dating anyone for a really long time now..." he smirked at you and waited patiently for your answer.

The thing is, you couldn't really answer him. You had been caught off guard. You didn't know he would be this direct.

"Right," you murmured, completely flustered by his sudden approach to your love life.

"Don't be so shy, we're friends Y/N!"

Your expression fell immediately after hearing his words. And then came the sudden realization that this was not romantic. This wasn’t a freaking date.

"Maybe, I can introduce some of my friends to you! I'm pretty sure, anyone would love to date you, you’re absolutely gorgeous!"

His words pissed you off, but you didn't say a thing, displaying the smalles and most polite ever instead. How could he say you were gorgeous right after friendzoning you?

After that neither of you say a thing and just kept eating the food he insisted on buying until you noticed him squinting his eyes to see something behind you.

"What are you looking at?" you asked, way more harshly than you had intended to sound, but he didn’t seem to notice, anyway.

"I think that's a friend of mine..." he hummed and squinted his eyes even harder. He had some vision problems, but he refused to wear his glasses - even though they looked great on him, what a surprise...

This was just what was missing in tjis “date”, someone to take his attention from you. Definitely not a date.

"Really?" you asked sharply, looking at him in pure boredom. You knew you didn't have any right to be mad at him, but how are you supposed to react when your crush of 1 whole year says he could ask one of his friends to go on a date with you, just before saying your “absolutely gorgeous”?

"Yeah... I think it's Jungkook," he said, still waiting for his friend to finish paying his coffee and turn around, so he could see if he was or not the person he expected.

You rolled your eyes and looked over your shoulder, curious to see who Jimin was talking about, and just as you did it, your eyes locked with the familiar wide and shiny eyes from three weeks ago. You felt the exact same electricity you had felt that night in the bar and instantly turned your eyes back to Jimin, in hopes 'Jungkook' was someone else, anyone else. But when you turned back to Jimin, he was already standing up and opening his arms, ready to hug whoever his friend was. You still hoped and asked the Gods for his friend to be someone else, but not him.

"Jungkook!"

Jimin was so excited that you could see the glint in his eyes as he almost screamed his friend's name.

All your hopes died when you sensed his presence next to you, engulfing Jimin in a bear hug

"Hey man! Haven't seen you in a while!" he whispered into Jimin's hair loud enough for you to hear. His voice was very different from the one you remembered from the bar. It was much softer now.

"Yeah..." Jimin hummed softly into his friend's chest and when they parted from their tight and long hug, Jimin's eyes landed on you

"This is Y/N, she's a friend from uni. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he's my best friend, " Jimin stated and winked at you, remembering your dialogue from earlier. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and the color on them was probably pretty visible as well.

"Hey Y/N," he greeted as if he hadn’t ever seen you before in his life and trained his eyes on you to watch your reaction.

Well, your reaction was probably up to everything he was waiting. You coughed awkwardly and quickly sipped on your coffee so you could get rid of the annoying dryness that had settled on your throat. You looked over at Jimin, that wriggled his brows at you and winked discreetly. You decided to ignore him and in the meantime Jungkook’s smirk grew wider. You could physically see he was dying to make fun of you.

"Hey..." you answered quietly, after a long time.

Jungkook chuckled and broke his stare from you, looking at Jimin

"I have to go but I'll call you later," he said while giving a large bite to his donut before sipping on his coffee.

"Stay a bit longer! You should meet Y/N, she's pretty cool," Jimin answered quickly, trying to hold his friend back, while your cheeks burdened even harder. Jungkook chuckled quietly again and answered his friend

"Can't, class starts in..." he looked at his clock to check the time he had left and his eyes widened "-fuck, I have 2 minutes" he looked between me and Jimin and muttered a little 'I’ll call you later', before running to get to his class quickly.

Jimin laughed a bit and ran his fingers through his blonde locks.

"I think there was some chemistry" he stated teasingly and you shot him a threatening look, trying to fight the smile that tried to creep up your face.

“Shut up,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable in Jimin’s presence. The awkwardness from before, now totally gone.

"He's majoring in criminal justice, he’s actually a very smart guy..." he stated excitedly

"I don't care Jimin..." you said after chuckling lightly at his efforts

"Shut up, you liked him!" he screeched and hit you softly on the arm

"No, I didn't" you murmured and sipped on your black coffee.

Well, at least Jungkook had a good taste in coffee.

You weren’t shocked when, at 5 PM, while you were enjoying your ride home in the subway, you received another text from Jungkook. Being the little brat he already showed he was, there was no way he was going to let this opportunitie of making fun of you slide. You had that figured out as soon as he left the coffee shop earlier that day.

[Unknown number, 5:00 PM] - You didn’t seem very brave today.

You sighed, wondering what you were supposed to answer. Well, yeah... How the fuck were you supposed to act brave when, first of all, you were by nature too socially awkward, and second of all, you had been under his stare, which was too intimidating for you to say something longer than ‘hey’.

[You, 5:01 PM] - You also weren’t as dickish as you seem to be.

[Jungkook, 5:01 PM] - I am not dickish!

[You, 5:04 PM] - Of course you’re not.

[Jungkook, 5:05 PM] - Give me one date.

Your eyes-widened and you choked in the chocolate milk you were drinking. The sixty-year-old man seated in front of you sending you a slightly disgusted look, to wich you answered with a nervous smile.

[You, 5:06 PM] - Do you think you can woo me in one date?

[Jungkook, 5:08 PM] - If you want me to take you on more than one date, that’s alright...

You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. How the hell did he find ways to turn every single thing in his favour?! That was seriously a gift from god, and you weren’t even religious.

[You, 5:09 PM] - Oh my god, pls shut up

[Jungkook, 5:11 PM] - One date and i won’t talk to you anymore today

[You, 5:12 PM] - One date and you won’t talk to me the whole week.

[Jungkook, 5:12 PM] - Deal.

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