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belit0 · 11 months

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Could you make more scenarios of Sarada with the clan like more hcs yk? That’s only if that’s okay!

Of course it's okay!!

I didn't give much importance to Boruto because I was disappointed how Sarada knows nothing about her clan, I despair about her ignorance of the beautiful men who made up her family, so I abandoned it after the first few chapters.

Not sure who she is as a character now, but yeah, this is it!

Indra

- Disappointment, pure and utter disappointment. This man expected more from his latest reincarnation. The fact he created such a weak creature hurts his soul.

- Yes, she is intelligent. Yes, she has potential. But what would she do in the face of war? Could she face the founder of her clan and come out of the fight alive? He doesn't think so. Indra expects more from all his descendants.

- He appreciates his successor's trying to rebuild the clan, but come on, do better Sasuke.

- If he came across her, he'd give her a dirty look and ignore her. If the girl tries to interact, he'd send her flying away with a light punch, given he doesn't enjoy murdering children (yet).

- "Any of my sons would eat you alive in a fight without even revealing a hint of power or interest. The remnants of my clan became weak, they lack a good war to wake up from their stupidity."

Madara

- Ew. Ew? Potential? Potential... With a little work, he could get himself something... eight hours of training a day under his own hand and traumatic events to develop her Sharingan... Maybe he can even pretend to kill her father...

- Of course, at first, it strikes him for the worse. Being a man raised for war and being the strongest Uchiha after his ancestor, he expects his entire family to meet a certain level of skill.

- He despises people raised in times of peace, disliking the serenity with which they live and how they are constantly susceptible to any enemy attacks. Sarada will be forged by his own training regime.

- He will aim to turn her into a mini-version of him, have a right hand to help him bring down the world the Senjus ended up forming. A second version of Obito.

- "Child, there is still much to learn, let me guide you and bring you to your greatest potential. Your father will be a joke next to you once we're done."

Izuna

- Little Uchiha girl!!!!! Who would have thought his idiot doppelganger would be able to produce such a beautiful and perfect human being!!! The jewel in his heart, protect the girl at all costs.

- If Sarada has a problem with someone, he'll take care of it. He will bully as many children as necessary and stage their nightmares, don't touch my baby. Soon he will become the monster of the Uchiha clan, and kids will spread legends about the fearsome man who protects the newest born.

- He will destroy a few childhoods and traumatize many of them, but everyone knows not to mess with the little Uchiha. Izuna enjoys accompanying her everywhere and seeing the terrified looks directed at him.

- He fights with Shisui over time-sharing, finding the other man also wants to monopolize the girl. The two find a sort of bond, going everywhere together, and playing practical jokes on anyone who dares to mess with her.

- "Sarada, Sarada.... If someone bothers you, you must gouge their eyes out and smash them right in their face! Wait...first you gouge out one and squash it, so they get the point, cause if you gouge out both at the same time they won't be able to see you crush them...Yeah!"

Obito

- The one who puts a stop to Izuna and Shisui. He is reassured to know children have new opportunities and are not subjected to combat from a young age.

- He takes it upon himself to chase after both idiots so they don't get Sarada in trouble. The two have a strange concept of pranks and may end up with a house on fire. Obito will be there to prevent it.

- He likes spending time with her and enjoying her pristine, quiet, peaceful life. He loves her intelligence and likes to practice with her after Madara scolded the girl for not reaching his desired potential. He knows what it's like to deal with that grumpy old man, so he becomes an ally in this regard.

- He will help her achieve her training goals and develop her skills in a relaxed manner, contrary to what the other Uchiha sets out to do. He wants Sarada to live in harmony and tranquility, but being able to defend herself.

-"Alright, if we don't get you to perform this jutsu before your next session with Madara, he's going to make you fight him for hours. Let's try again, shall we?"

Shisui

- An Uchiha kid free of war and destruction! He never lived to see such a thing and is fascinated! Just like Obito, he is very reassured to know the new generations will not have to go through what he went through as a child.

- A babysitter, even if the girl is grown up and doesn't need him. He will accompany her everywhere and will want to meet all her friends, introducing himself as her uncle from a few good years ago.

- He will fight for custody of her time with Izuna, who also wants to be her daily companion. Shisui will find original ways to win Sarada's affection and will get desperate when learning his money is no longer good and he can't buy her sweets (times change and so do things, Shisui.)

-Constantly begin Sasuke to lend him money for buying things, and take her to spend fun times together. He will become the best uncle in no time, and will grow very fond of the girl.

- "What are we doing today, Sarada? Are you interested in trying the new sweets at the fair, or are we messing with that blond friend of yours?"

Itachi

- Peace, pure peace. He loves knowing his brother was able to have a family, maybe not under the best of conditions, but still. He enjoys his niece to the fullest and is very touched by her relationship with Shisui.

- He soon becomes her most trusted confidant. Sarada knows she can count on him for everything, and she turns to him for help when she needs advice or someone to listen to her. Itachi absorbs everything she tells him with patience, and speaks from the heart.

- His favorite thing to do is to sit and enjoy a cup of tea while listening about her day, how things are working at the academy, and how her adventures and wanderings are going. If her tale involves any Uchiha doing something questionable, he'll be sure to have a chat with them afterward.

- Itachi is the one who reassures her when training with Madara is too hard or when Sasuke isn't paying attention to her, quickly becoming her father figure.

- "Sarada... life isn't easy, and it certainly wasn't for your father. You must forgive him for acting so distant at times, and know that he loves you."

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shadowqueenjude · 6 months

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I just don't understand how anyone can hate Chaol after reading this:

Burned alive burned alive burned alive The void showed him fire. A woman with golden-brown hair and matching skin screaming in agony toward the heavens. It showed him a broken body on a bloody bed. A head rolling across a marble floor. You did this you did this you did this It showed a woman with eyes of blue flame and hair of pure gold poised above him, dagger raised and angling to plunge into his heart. He wished. He sometimes wished that she hadn’t been stopped. The scar on his face—from the nails she’d gouged into it when she first struck him … It was that hateful wish he thought of when he looked in the mirror. The body on the bed and that cold room and that scream. The collar on a tan throat and a smile that did not belong to a beloved face. The heart he’d offered and had been left to drop on the wooden planks of the river docks. An assassin who had sailed away and a queen who had returned. A row of fine men hanging from the castle gates. All held within that slim scar. What he could not forgive or forget. The void showed it to him, again and again. It lashed his body with red-hot, pronged whips. And showed him those things, over and over. It showed him his mother. And his brother. And his father. Everything he had left. What he’d failed. What he’d hated and what he’d become. The lines between the last two had blurred. And he had tried. He had tried these weeks, these months. The void did not want to hear of that. Black fire raced down his blood, his veins, trying to drown out those thoughts. The burning rose left on a nightstand. The final embrace of his king. He had tried. Tried to hope, and yet— Women little more than children hauling him off a horse. Poking and prodding at him. Pain struck, low and deep in his spine, and he couldn’t breathe around it, couldn’t out-scream it— White light flared. A flutter. Far in the distance. Not the gold or red or blue of flame. But white like sunlight, clear and clean. A flicker through the dark, arcing like lightning riding through the night … And then the pain converged again. His father’s eyes—his father’s raging eyes when he announced he was leaving to join the guard. The fists. His mother’s pleading. The anguish on her face the last time he’d seen her, as he’d ridden away from Anielle. The last time he’d seen his city, his home. His brother, small and cowering in their father’s long shadow. A brother he had traded for another. A brother he had left behind. The darkness squeezed, crushing his bones to dust. It would kill him. It would kill him, this pain, this … this endless, churning pit of nothing. Perhaps it would be a mercy. He wasn’t entirely certain his presence—his presence beyond made any sort of difference. Not enough to warrant trying. Coming back at all. The darkness liked that. Seemed to thrive on that. Even as it tightened the vise around his bones. Even as it boiled the blood in his veins and he bellowed and bellowed— He's barely old enough to be a college graduate. He grew up in a lord's house, grew up being taught to despise magic (was kicked out of his own home too but that's a whole other story). And yet he tried so hard to support his friends, to help Dorian and Celaena/Aelin (even after Aelin tried to kill him) and try to depose the King of Adarlan. He has withstood so much and lost everything dear to him...and you think he deserves it? He has tried so hard, arguably harder than any character in ToG. None of what happened to him was his fault, and yet he views all of it as his failures, as something he should be ashamed of, should DIE for even. Y'all hate him because he's one of the most complex and best developed characters SJM has ever written. I honestly feel like he and Nesta would be able to relate to each other so much in the way that they view their miserable circumstances as products of their own failures. Y'all hate Chaol and Nesta because they had difficulty accepting magic/Fae like NORMAL PEOPLE would. Y'all hate them because they didn't immediately kiss the MC's ass and beg for forgiveness for nothing.

But you'll obsess over Rowan Whitethorn, who is 300+ years old and should know better than to punch a teen in the face (absolutely uncalled for) and tell her she should've died 10 years ago.

But you'll obsess over Rhysand (I prefer the name Reece's Piece of shit) after he sexually assaulted Feyre and locked Lucien and Nesta up in houses. But you'll obsess over Cassian who physically abused Nesta by making her climb a mountain and you could even make an argument for sexual manipulation/abuse (but I'm not going to get into that because I don't know enough on the topic). But you'll obsess over Azriel, who almost choked Eris to death for insulting Mor back after she'd already insulted him, who has known anger issues and scares even Feyre with his utter lack of feeling. Not to mention the bonus chapter with the creepy way he spoke of Elain and Lucien. Wow, Chaol is so evil! Nesta is so evil!

#pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron #chaol westfall #pro chaol #pro chaol westfall #anti inner circle #anti rowan whitethorn #tower of dawn

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super-paper · 2 years

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I think what upsets me most is that Twice died cursing his own kindness-- cursing the fact that he empathized with someone, cursing the aspect of himself that allowed him to see the humanity in others. Because that was the part of him that allowed him to trust Hawks so easily. Narratively, Twice was “the heart” of the LOV— the one who was most likely to rally them all for a better cause and bring out their best aspects. And that heart was ultimately gouged out by a hero who Twice easily and readily saw the good in.

The tragedy behind Twice and Hawks also has larger narrative implications re: the dichotomy between heroes and villains being something that’s actively maintained by the heroes-- because Twice is the one who took the first actual step in bridging the divide between heroes and villains by choosing to empathize with Hawks and see him as a person instead of “just a hero”. Ultimately, Hawks wasn’t able to see this as a breakthrough that could have averted the war all together-- and instead, he chose to view Twice almost solely through the lens of what a threat he *could* be. The dichotomy/divide between heroes and villains is something actively maintained by Hawks in this instance, rather than broken down. Even as he offers Jin the opportunity to start over (because there’s a part of him that wants to validate Jin’s belief that “anyone who helps their friend is a good person” so, so badly) he continues to maintain that dichotomy by framing his offer as something being offered by a “hero” to a “villain.”

“Sure you can start over! I’ll help you! ... If you come quietly! And after you’ve paid for your crimes!! :)” oh Hawks, you were so close. ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

When Twice begins to weep about how he simply had to trust Hawks, because he felt bad for him, because living life where no one trusts you and you can’t even trust yourself is just too sad, because he had empathy for Hawk’s suffering-- Hawk’s response is to sarcastically thank him. This callous response is ultimately what sets Jin off, and causes all potential for communication between the two to completely shut down. Hori chooses to linger on the panel of Jin’s reaction to Hawks’ apparent cruelty, which keys us in on the moment Jin shifts from abject despair to blind rage. Yes, Hawks begins to soften and we start seeing cracks in his “devoted, unsentimental hero” façade as the scene drags on-- but by that point, he’d already shut the door on any chance for a peaceful resolution.

While Jin may have died cursing his kindness, there’s a bit of solace in the fact that the league itself has never punished Twice for being kind-- despite their occasional ribbing on how he “cares about others way too much” or their half-hearted complaints about how him being powered by love/friendship “sounds way too heroic,” they all still go to bat for his feelings and they make a point to strike back at those who abuse his kindness. And in the immediate aftermath of Jin’s death, the league never condemns or mocks him for being too trusting of Hawks— while Hawks, the hero, does mock Jin for “never suspecting a thing.”

Dabi’s very first thoughts are to immediately absolve Jin of any blame for the LOV’s current situation, placing the blame on "scummy heroes” alone. Himiko’s immediate reaction is to embrace Jin’s clone and thank him for saving her. Spinner’s reaction is to emphasize how they all need to stay together-- not just for Tomura’s sake, but because Jin viewed the league as his home (which also doubles as him wordlessly asking that Toga not make another reckless/suicidal attack against the heroes like she did in the immediate aftermath of Jin’s death— because she has to come back to them alive for Jin’s sake, because the league is only a “home” if they’re all together).

And of course, that acknowledgement of the league as a “home” when they’re all together makes the complete breakdown of the league all the worse once AFO worms his way back into the story and starts using them to punish Tomura. :’)

#mha spoilers #bubaigawara jin #league of villains

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angelofrainfrogs · 5 months

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We Can Save Them, Superstar: Ch. 7

Fandoms: Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Gregory’s on a mission to save everyone he can in the Pizzaplex—even those that have already left this mortal plane. With the sudden return of Vanessa, it seems some lingering questions may finally be answered. But of course, nothing is easy when it comes to William Afton and his convoluted plots. To accomplish his mission, Gregory will need to work with his new friends and family… and some old, startlingly familiar faces, too.

Chapter Summary: Bonnie finally gets to confront Vanessa and give her a piece of his mind. More progress is made finding the kids' items, and the group is one step closer to freeing them once and for all.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45578011/chapters/132772210

As Bonnie and Freddy entered, Vanessa's eyes simply widened. Rather than being surprised by his appearance, she seemed to start adding together more pieces of her missing memory.

“Bonnie…?” she questioned slowly, staring up at the animatronic. Her last memory of Bonnie was having him meet with Monty, only to order the gator to attack him. They would then leave him in the basement after dismantling him for parts, where he’d stay for who knows how long. The more she stared, the more she realized Bonnie was not at all happy with her.

“That’s right,” Bonnie confirmed with a nod, taking a step towards her. Thomas retreated to the far corner of the office, eyes wide, not willing to get in the middle of this at all.

“Bonnie…” Freddy warned, reaching out a half-hearted hand to stop him.

“You, ma’am, have done some horrendous things,” Bonnie continued, taking another step forward. “I didn’t know how I’d react to seeing you, honestly, but… you’re so pathetic, you’re not even worth wasting my voice box on.”

He turned away with nothing but ice in his deep red eyes.

All Vanessa could do was sit still and take it. Even though there was no physical attack, Bonnie’s words stung as if he’d gouged her face with deceptively sharp claws. Vanessa squeezed her fists, trying her best to ignore the throbbing headache coming on from the stress of it all.

“I didn't do anything! If you're blaming me, then why don't you blame Monty for what happened?!” Vanessa shouted back, her cool demeanor breaking. “You don't think I feel guilty?! It's not like I wanted to do any of this! I didn't even remember it! Monty, Chica, and Roxy don't remember attacking Gregory either, so why not get angry with them? Is it because Gregory was already dead?!”

After the outburst, Vanessa lowered her head. She was frustrated, but she understood why they were angry. After all, she was still alive.

“How dare you speak of my friends like that?!” Freddy snapped, his flimsy resolve breaking. Bonnie quickly shuffled away—when Freddy was angry, no one was safe.

“Oh fuck,” Thomas muttered, scrambling to get his walkie-talkie. “Leon, get your ass over here now! The bear’s pissed and I need backup asap!”

Freddy stood to his full height, fists clenched at his sides as he towered over Vanessa. It was taking all of his willpower not to rip her to shreds—or at the very least, take a bite out of her now-bloodied face.

“Do you know how hard it was for me to resist exacting my own revenge the second I saw you in that hallway?” Freddy asked coldly. “It was because of Gregory that I didn’t, so consider yourself lucky—as you know, we animatronics are more than capable of tearing apart tiny humans like you.” His eyes narrowed even further. “I have vouched for you to the others this whole time, telling them you were not in your right mind—we all were in that stage at one point and we all hurt Gregory! But, like it or not, it was your body that sent out that virus and your hand held the knife—William’s influence be damned! So, unfortunately, you are the one to blame right now! Children are dead because of you!”

Vanessa watched as Freddy stepped closer, standing her ground... Somewhat. She certainly poked the sleeping bear, and now she'd possibly pay the price.

Was she scared? Absolutely. But she was too damn stubborn to back down now.

“Why are you blaming me when I was under control?!” she replied, furrowing her brows. "If you're going to just throw me under the bus and label me a heartless child murderer when I was out of it the entire time, then maybe you can go to William instead. Ask him to help you with the rest of the fucking ritual yourself and just off me or whatever!”

“Hey, hey!” Leon appeared at the door, clearly out of breath from how fast he was running. “What's going on?!”

“Oh, nothing. Just me being the super-evil child murdering bitch trying to form some scheming plan to kill more children, or whatever the fuck you think I'm doing,” Vanessa grumbled, slouching back in her chair.

“They’re gonna kill her!” Thomas exclaimed, pointing to Freddy and Bonnie. He wasn’t as concerned with this fact in itself as much as the timing of everything. “They’re gonna kill her before we can reverse the ritual and then we’re gonna have to find William—”

“We are not going to kill her,” Freddy snapped, glaring at the guard so hard he began to whimper. “I refuse to have any dealings with that… that bastard of a creature known as William until we are ready to kill him!”

“Oh god, Freddy cursed…,” Thomas muttered, raking his fingers down his face. “We’re all fucked now!”

Leon felt a bit lightheaded, in all honestly. He leaned into Thomas, watching the bear like a hawk. “If it gets to be too much, I'll grab his left arm and you grab the right.”

“And forgive us for being cautious,” Freddy continued, turning back to Vanessa and completely ignoring the other guards. “We still do not know how you were infected by William, so we cannot risk you falling under his control again. As I stated, I have tried to vouch for you—at least, the state you are in now.”

Freddy clenched his teeth, breathing a heavy sigh.

“I know you and ‘Vanny’ are not quite the same, but…” He gestured vaguely, his rage beginning to lose steam as he ranted. He was tired of arguing, tired of fighting, just… tired.

Vanessa stayed quiet until Freddy was finished, keeping her gaze to the floor. “...You know, I have to stick with this guilt for the rest of my life, too. I have to see the death of those children even when I close my eyes. I'm sure you wouldn't want to remember something like that in gruesome detail either. I'm sure none of you would want to remember anything so terrible. All of the blood and sounds... And the faces. The way you believe you could never do something so horrendous makes the situation worse.”

The former security guard let out a deep sigh, shaking her head. “I'm sure none of the animatronics affected want to remember vivid detail of attacking Gregory. It all goes back to the facts: of course you wouldn't do it now, but it still fucking happened. If I'm a monster, so are the rest of you.”

A deep growl issued from Freddy’s throat. It was low and dangerous, and at that moment the humans could see without a shadow of a doubt how these seemingly friendly robots could be nothing more than killing machines if pushed the wrong way. Thomas tensed despite his trembling, knowing he wouldn’t really stand a chance against Freddy but willing to try if he had to.

The bear took an aggressive step forward, raising one sharp-clawed paw—and then he halted, Vanessa’s final words sinking in.

“Freddy, if you’re not gonna do anything, then let me—”

“Stop,” Freddy commanded, thrusting out an arm to block Bonnie as he started forward. “Everyone, just… stop.” He grimaced, his gaze lowering to the floor. “As much as I hate to admit it… Vanessa has a point. Yes, Gregory was already dead when he was attacked by the animatronics, but—what if he was still alive?”

He let out a shaky breath, the reality of the situation hitting him like a brick. “None of us were in our rights minds the entire time—if not Vanny, what if one of us had killed him? What… W-What if I did?!” He took a step back, shaking his head. “Any child was in terrible danger from all of us… because of William.”

The room went silent for a moment, though Vanessa soon winced and shifted in discomfort. A faint, fresh line of red was beginning to show through her tattered shirt, the wound in her side having been reopened in all the recent shuffling.

“...I think Gregory remembers his death the way I do,” she mumbled between quiet wheezes, shutting her eyes. “Slow and horrific. Don't know about his other 'deaths,' but the way he looked at me when Vanny told the truth haunts me. Don't let the other children remember, because they can't and won't forget something so painful.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Bonnie said through clenched teeth.

Freddy simply shook his head, pressing a hand to his mouth as he thought of Gregory’s tormented face upon sight of Vanessa. The poor boy was so strong to be able to get past something so horrendous. Vanessa was right—they could never put the other children through that kind of pain again.

“…Okay, everybody out!” Thomas suddenly announced, breaking the tense silence. He finally moved, shuffling the group towards the door as he grabbed a first-aid kit from where it hung on the wall. “If I’m supposed to be the ‘good cop,’ I’m gonna be the damn good cop—which means I can’t let her bleed out right now. And as satisfying and fucking terrifying as all that was to watch, I think you guys need a break…”

Freddy didn’t have the willpower to fight anymore that night—he was programmed to listen to staff including the night guard, and at this point he was more than happy to let Thomas shoo him and the others out the door. Once the others were out in the hallway, Thomas activated the animatronic-proof locks and turned to Vanessa with a sigh.

“You’re a moron, snapping at Freddy like that,” Thomas muttered, fishing around in the first-aid kit. He pulled out some sterile cloth and began to dab at Vanessa’s wound, curbing the damage before it got even worse.

Vanessa looked back at the guard and rolled her eyes. “You weren't there that night, so you have no fucking idea.”

“And boy am I glad for that!” Thomas snapped back at Vanessa, pressing some disinfectant against her side. He then lapsed into focused silence as he cleaned her wounds and

Out in the hall, Freddy heaved a sigh. “I am going back to my room, and I am not leaving for the rest of the night unless there is an emergency.”

Thomas was right—he did need a break, and this point Freddy trusted the guards to move Vanessa. Sun and Moon wouldn’t leave the daycare without prompting, so as long as the other animatronics stayed in Rockstar Row Freddy wasn’t worried about them attacking again.

“I’ll keep everyone in check for you,” Bonnie reassured, his expression softening back to its usual kindness. “Go hang out with Gregory. And I promise I’ll leave her alone while she’s in the bowling alley—you can trust me, Fredbear.”

“Thank you.” Freddy gave his own small smile and then headed back to his room. He didn’t usually sleep, but man did he feel like taking a nap after tonight.

Meanwhile, Monty had been working hard to get Gregory to take a nap. The kid was exhausted but had been resistant to sleep without Freddy tucking him in. Thankfully, after a bit of negotiating Gregory ended up falling fast asleep on the couch under the blankets Monty pulled over him.

Freddy slowly opened the door to his room, entering quietly when he saw that Gregory was out like a light. He waved at Monty and connected through their internal radio so as not to wake the boy.

“Thank you for watching him, Monty,” Freddy said telepathically, giving the gator an appreciative smile. “Things are settled for now. I am going to recharge and then I will stay with Gregory the rest of the night. You can meet up with the others—Bonnie will join you soon.”

Monty grinned, tail swishing as he moved to the door. “No problem, Fredbear! You know I love watchin’ that adorable lil’ squirt. See you later!”

Once Monty left, Freddy stepped into the nearby recharge station and allowed his battery to fill up completely. He felt a lot better physically after that, but he knew his weariness wasn’t completely from loss of power this time.

He went back into the room and moved to Gregory’s side. The boy was completely out and Freddy was hesitant to wake him… but for once, it was Freddy who needed some comfort. Besides, he knew Gregory wouldn’t be upset if his dad woke him up, out of everyone.

Moving as gently as he could, Freddy eased Gregory into his lap with arms securely wrapped around his waist. Once settled, Freddy simply closed his eyes and rested, holding his son tight and reassuring himself that everything was going to work out in the end.

It had to.

“Freddy…?” the boy mumbled quietly, rubbing his eyes as the shuffling woke him. After confirming it was none other than his faithful guardian, Gregory was quick to nuzzle his cheek against Freddy’s chest. “Freddy, why were you gone so long?”

“Hello, superstar,” Freddy said with a soft smile. “The others and I had a lot to talk about. I am sorry I did not come back sooner. How was your time with Monty?”

“I had fun! We read a bunch and played some games!” Gregory explained, feeling his eyes fall shut. “And he helped me fall asleep but I wanted to wait for you...”

“Well, now that I am here you should rest more.” Freddy chuckled softly. “I promise I will wake you before opening hours so you can spend the entire day by my side.”

Gregory curled up once again, another long yawn leaving his lips. “...Tuck me in!”

Freddy did so, pulling the blankets up until only Gregory’s head was visible. Then he wrapped his arm around Gregory again, pulling him even closer as he murmured: “Goodnight, superstar; I love you very much.”

“Goodnight; I love you too, Dad!” the boy said as he nuzzled his cheek against Freddy's chest comfortably.

***

As promised, Freddy woke Gregory up a short while later when it was time to report to Parts & Service. The boy trailed along behind as all the animatronics made their way over, everyone meeting up and taking the stage lift elevator down together. Freddy, Monty, and Roxy got a lecture from the techs about damaging themselves after hours, but luckily their dents were minor enough to be popped back out without needing to take apart their suits. Additionally, Bonnie now joined the group for routine check-ups. Even though he wasn’t back in the band, he was allowed to entertain guests in his bowling alley so he got a once-over just like the others.

Freddy tried not to dwell on the situation with Vanessa as he went about his day. He felt like it was slightly easier to push this to the back of his mind than it had been yesterday, and wondered if it was because Gregory was by his side this time. The boy was certainly a good distraction.

Gregory enjoyed being with Freddy as he went about his routines, practically clinging onto the animatronic’s leg; he refused to let Freddy stray too far. As the day eventually came to a close, Gregory jumped up into Freddy's arms so he could be lifted up.

“Okay, can we go look for the last two items now?!” the boy asked curiously.

“Soon, Gregory!” Freddy replied with a laugh, giving the boy a hug as he lifted him up. “I need to find out where the items are first, and then we can find them. How about you stay with Chica while I speak with Thomas and Leon, then I will come and get you to help search? You could even visit the children while you wait! I believe Bonnie said he was heading down to the basement as soon as closing hours began tonight.”

Freddy was determined to spend as little time with Vanessa as possible, so he planned to have her look at Robin and Katie's pictures at once. Also, he needed to make sure the other guards were alright, especially with how little sleep they'd been getting...

“Okay… I wanna go see the kids then!” Gregory insisted, resting his hands on Freddy's shoulders before twisting to hold his arms out for Chica. He hadn't seen the others in a while and honestly missed interacting with them.

The bird was quick to pull Gregory into a warm hug, smiling happily. “I'll take you there! I'm heading down anyways!”

“Thank you; I will join you shortly!” Freddy said, giving the pair a wave and then turning on his heel and heading towards Bonnie Bowl.

Meanwhile, Thomas was currently passed out in a corner of the tiny room where Leon and Vanessa were, an extra jacket he'd found wrapped around him like a blanket and snoring lightly. He’d tried to nap earlier in the day, but the muffled sounds of people in the bowling alley made him nervous enough to keep him awake. However, as the hours went on and the attraction became less crowded Thomas finally managed to calm himself enough to rest, and he’d gotten a solid few hours of sleep in at this point—though he could certainly use a lot more.

Leon remained awake while waiting on Thomas to get his rest. Leon had slept for quite some time during dayshift, so it was easy to let Thomas try and regain some of his stamina now. Upon hearing a knock on the door, Leon waited until Freddy's voice rang out before standing and moving to open it.

“Hey, Freddy; what's up?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“How is everything?” Freddy asked, peering over Leon's shoulder. He saw Thomas sleeping in the corner while Vanessa sat against a different wall, looking dejected as usual but no worse for wear. After assessing the room, Freddy looked at Leon again. “I see Thomas was able to rest, at least—I hope you were as well?”

“Yeah, we all got some sleep. Nothing special happened,” he updated the bear, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “I'm fine, too—just drowsy, is all.”

“Good,” Freddy said, giving the guard a smile. “You both make sure to request some time off after this is all over, alright? You certainly deserve it!” He laughed at the craziness of the whole situation before glancing at Vanessa again. “As for the task at hand... I would like to show her the pictures of both Robin and Katie now so that I can search for their items at once.”

“Oh trust me, we already have,” Leon said with a chuckle, making his way over towards Vanessa. He gave her leg a light kick to wake her up, pulling out his phone and pulling up the pictures they needed. “Take a look at this.”

“Ugh... Robin—his, um...,” Vanessa mumbled, trying to make sense of her memory. “His glasses are in the lost and found by Bonnie Bowl.”

“Noted; that is right nearby,” Freddy said with a nod, watching Vanessa closely, though his attention was diverted as he caught Thomas shifting. The guard lifted his arms out of the jacket-blanket as he stretched and gave a huge yawn.

“Oh, man, what time is it...?” Thomas asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He jumped when he caught sight of the animatronic, though it was out of pure surprise instead of fear. “Oh—hey Freddy! Guess it's nightshift, huh?”

Leon rolled his eyes at Thomas, then pulled up the next picture and showed Vanessa. She squinted at the screen, before wincing and dropping her head. “For Katie, it’s… It's a gold necklace in a vent up at the catwalk in Gator Golf.”

“That is the last item we need,” Freddy said, a hint of wary excitement in his voice. This certainly wasn't over yet, but they'd soon be even closer to freeing those kids. Freddy shifted his gaze between Thomas and Leon, thinking aloud. “While I search, perhaps you can find out any other items the ritual requires, as well as how to actually reverse it?”

“Yeah, we can definitely do that,” Thomas agreed with a nod as he stood and stretched again. He gave Freddy a smile, the bags under his eyes a little lighter thanks to his long nap. “We've got this, okay? Don't stress so much—the last thing we need is for you to blow a fuse or something...”

“Sounds easy enough,” Leon said as he took a seat beside Thomas, then looked to the bear. “Yeah, don't stress yourself out Freddy.”

“I will be alright,” Freddy reassured, offering Thomas a smile as well, then turned to head out the door. He headed towards the lost and found near Bonnie Bowl, connecting to Monty through their internal radio as he walked.

“Monty, can you pick up Gregory and meet me at your golf course?” Freddy asked. “The last item is up in a vent by the catwalks—I think we may need both of your help to get it.”

“Yeah! I'm on it, boss!” Monty replied, the grin obvious in his voice. It wasn’t hard to track down Gregory, and soon the gator was picking him up from the basement and heading back up top. Instead of carrying Gregory in his arms and walking like a normal being, he instead held the ghost by his torso up over his head while charging for the golf course.

Freddy soon located Robin’s glasses in the lost and found, grimacing at the huge crack in one of the lenses. He wrapped the glasses up in a random shirt from the box of lost items and stowed it away in his chest cavity, not wanting to go out of his way to drop them off at the room since the golf course was right there.

As Freddy walked towards the nearest set of deactivated escalators to make his way down, he happened to glance over the railing towards the center of the main atrium. He noticed what appeared to be Monty running towards the golf course, holding something above his head.

…Or someone Freddy realized, his eyes widening as he rushed to the railing to watch, wondering what in the world Monty and Gregory were doing.

As the duo made it to the golf course proper, Monty took a look around before calling out to the Glamrock bear. “Freddy?! You here?! Hmm…”

He paused, eyeing a small ball pit not too far from where they stood.

“Hey, squirt... Wanna get launched?” Monty asked, to which Gregory nodded fervently. “Just don't miss, 'kay?”

Monty stepped all the way back before running at the ball pit with a laugh. Gregory held his arms out, bracing himself before finally being thrown up into the air over Monty's head. The boy let out a scream of excitement, going airborne for a good five seconds before landing in the plastic lake.

Freddy stepped out of the elevator just in time to see Gregory hit the surface of the "water." He didn’t see how the boy found his way in there, but based on Monty’s proud look Freddy had his suspicions.

“Hello, you two,” Freddy greeted as he walked up to Monty’s side, tilting his head curiously. “What are you playing? Certainly not golf..."

“Hey, Fredbear! We're playing Airplane, but Gregory just made an emergency landing!” Monty explained with a grin, watching Gregory struggle with climbing out of the ball pit.

“Freddy!” the boy chirped, holding his arms up over his head so Freddy could assist.

“Do not tell me you threw him, Monty…,” Freddy groaned, lifting Gregory out of the ball pit. The boy’s hair was sticking up wildly and Freddy did his best to smooth it out, although it seemed untamable right now.

Monty laughed, shaking his head. “I didn't throw him! He made an emergency landing!”

Freddy let out a soft sigh. Well, as long as Gregory was safe and having fun, he couldn’t really complain.

“I found Robin’s glasses,” the bear said, tapping his chest cavity. “They are in here. Now we only need Katie’s necklace, which is supposedly in a vent near the catwalks.” He glanced towards the ceiling. “I figured that you both might be able to locate it, since the catwalks are Monty’s domain and Gregory can fit in the vents if it is too far inside for Monty to reach?”

Gregory gasped, clapping his hands together loudly. “Easy-peasy!”

“Sure thing! I can go look for it now; I doubt Vanessa was able to get it too far in,” the gator offered, resting his hands on his hips. “I'll get Gregory when I find it!”

“That sounds like a plan!” Freddy agreed with a grin. “Gregory and I will be right here, so call down if you need us.”

Monty nodded before running off towards the direction of the catwalks. It didn’t take long for him to find an emergency ladder and take a leap, using his powerful legs to jump up and climb to the top of the catwalk.

“...It looks a lot cooler now when he isn't chasing me,” Gregory mentioned, before glancing up at Freddy with a smile. “Wanna throw me while we wait?”

Freddy looked from Gregory to the ball pit, then gave a resigned sigh.

“Oh, alright,” he relented, unable to resist Gregory’s smiling face for long.

After a few rounds of tossing the little ghost, Freddy glanced up to the catwalks. While Gregory made his way back out of the ball pit again, he called out: “How is it going, Monty?”

Monty let out a loud laugh, seeming to find the item behind a vent not too long after Freddy called out to him. “I found it! You can come up here with Gregory or I can bring him; your choice, Papa Bear!”

“You know I cannot get up there like you can—I have to take the long way around!” Freddy called back with a shake of his head. Then he had an idea, lifting Gregory into his arms as he said: “Meet me halfway—I will toss him up to you!”

Worst case, Monty would miss the catch and Gregory would fall right back into Freddy’s waiting arms. Best case, this would be an awesome trick that Gregory would get a kick out of, especially based on how he’d just been entertaining himself.

“Oh?! You're finally loosening up?! YEAHHHH!” The gator cackled as he hoped down onto a pole, just to make sure he'd catch Gregory. “How does that sound, squirt?!”

The boy threw his arms up in preparation for launch, giggling excitedly. “Fun!”

“Alright, get ready!” Freddy said, hoisting the boy over his head yet again. “Three… two… one!” Freddy threw the boy up to Monty with more force than before to counteract the gravity, quickly moving into position just in case he needed to catch him.

Gregory let out a louder scream, holding his arms out until Monty finally caught him.

“WOOO!” the gator cheered before jumping into the catwalk and safely setting Gregory down. “Hole in ONE!”

Freddy clapped at this display, soon stepping back to see the pair as best he could from his position on the ground. “Let me know when you have the necklace, superstar!”

“Okay!” Gregory said as he leaned over the rail to wave at Freddy. He soon followed Monty over to the vent, watching him unscrew the casing with his sharp nail. Once he managed to open it up, he gestured for Gregory to enter the vent. The boy smiled, immediately crawling in on his hands and knees.

“Oh, I see it!” Gregory announced, grimacing at the sight. The necklace was covered in blood and stringy hair, making him immediately crawl backwards out of the vent with the jewelry held between his fingertips. “I found it, Dad, but it's very gross...”

“Good job, Gregory—you can give it to Monty for now,” Freddy replied, his voice coming both through the watch and from down below. While he appreciated the fact that Gregory helped them find so many items, Freddy didn’t like that the boy had to interact with things so tainted with death. However this didn’t really matter anymore, as Freddy quickly let the others know.

“We have found all the children’s items!” the bear exclaimed. “We are so much closer to freeing them now!”

Gregory immediately handed Monty the necklace, which he clasped firmly between his claws. He lifted Gregory under the other arm before hopping off of the catwalk and down the ladder, half-sliding the rest of the way down.

“This kid is amazing!” said Monty as he handed Gregory back over to Freddy. The animatronic held the necklace up for Freddy to take, grinning happily. “What's the next step?!”

“He is indeed!” Freddy agreed, nuzzling his face against Gregory’s until the boy giggled. Then he shifted Gregory so he could deposit the necklace in his stomach hatch, before settling the boy back into a comfortable embrace.

“The next thing to do is for me to talk to the guards again,” Freddy informed Monty, already starting towards the exit. “They have been doing research on this ritual we need to reverse and will hopefully be able to tell me how to do this when we reconnect.”

Monty hopped with excitement, throwing his fists in the air. “We're almost there!"

“I can't wait!” Gregory exclaimed, kicking his legs eagerly. “Let's go, let's go!”

Freddy gave them a nod, carrying Gregory as they rode the elevator up to the main level and walked to Rockstar Row. Once in their room, Freddy handed the boy back to Monty so he could put the items in the toy box. Then he stood, giving the pair an eager smile.

“I will be back shortly!” Freddy said, ruffling Gregory’s hair and giving Monty a pat on the back as he passed them, soon exiting the room and rushing towards Bonnie Bowl yet again. He hoped the guards found what they were looking for.

Monty held onto Gregory as they watched Freddy depart, letting out a hum. “Let's go bother Roxy and talk about how cool I am!”

***

Masterlist of chapters on Tumblr here!

Please check out The Superstar Series on ao3 for all fics in this series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2726401

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #gregory #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #monty #montgomery gator #glamrock bonnie #nightguard oc #fnaf vanessa #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #angelofrainfrogs #the superstar series #we can save them superstar

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libraryoftime · 2 years

Text

“You could save the world.” “I could,” said the villain, “if I wanted to.” Behind them. the city burned. “But you won’t.” The hero’s voice was hoarse with defeat, blood trickling from their lips. “You won’t.” The villain’s shrug was silhouetted by the flames. “Convince me.”

Sharon doesn’t have a plan today, no schemes, no heists, no kidnappings, nothing. She’d thought she’d take a walk through the city, let people see her dressed up as Ominous Halo, let them remember that she’s here and she’s not leaving, no matter how many heroes they throw at her, notwithout reminding them of all she represents.

And, sure, the best way to do that is to actually be the Class B Supervillain the League has ranked her. She could probably rob a bank or maybe deface the capital again, but, honestly? She’s really tired after a long day of being Sharon, working as a dispatcher in the third precinct, and she doesn’t have the energy to trap a kitten in a tree, much less anything else.

It’s good that she doesn’t have a plan, in the end, because the city is already burning by the time she makes her way into downtown. Fire, ruin, and debris are tricky to plan around and it’s really never any fun without an audience. And since the only people she can see are either dead or actively running away, an audience is in short supply.

“What,” she asks aloud, voice echoing through her synthesizer, the dark rings circling above her head vibrating with each syllable, “happened?”

She’d gotten home at 8 am, slept until 6 pm, come out at 7. Between the end of her shift and now, something’s swept through Chicago, painting flames and gouges as far as the eye can see.

There are supposed to be heroes. Chicago isn’t one of those little, podunk towns that only had small-timers and police offers to depend on when evil came knocking. Chicago is huge, with nearly 20 active heroes and who knows how many vigilantes. It’s got it’s own League Chapter, it’s own structure, it’s own emergency systems after the New York breach of 2008.

Her eyes scan the sky through her aviator glasses, the edges fitting along her cheeks to prevent them slipping off in battle. There are no heroes leaping from the skyscrapers, no rescue choppers circling, no tell tale sound of a superhero zooming in to save the day.

Fuck.

Ominous Halo doesn’t give a fuck about the people streaking past her or even those lying very, very still in abandoned cars. This is the cost of superhero battles, of villain battles, and she knows better than to think she can make a difference by stopping every five feet to watch yet another victim cry. Besides, she’s not a hero (anymore) and it’s not her side of the equation that’s supposed to bring hope.

She walks on and on into the heart of the destruction, heart dropping as the gouges in the street get deeper, as the fires get hotter, as the sound of groaning metal fills the air. It seems impossible that anyone could survive this, that a hero could survive and let this happen.

“Looks like someone slept in,” she says and hates the way her metallic voice just sounds like another part of the chaos. She has to talk though, has to keep herself inside the confines of Ominous Halo, has to keep going because there are supposed to be heroes here and she needs to find them.

She’s nearly to the lakefront by the time she spots spandex, green and pink, like flowers. Her stomach twists because she knows this hero and she’s not a healer or impervious or indestructible or whatever.

No, she’s all too human in all the wrong ways especially consider the fucking building laying half on top of her.

Sharon forgets herself for a moment and is next to Sunrise between one breath and the next. There’s blood (so much blood) staining the other woman’s costume, twists of rock laying across her shoulders, dust turning the red of her hair a mottled grey.

The rocks are easy, still strung together with rusted rebar, and it’s Sharon, no super strength, who lifts them up and off the hero.

To her (not) disappointment, Sunrise immediately takes a deep, shuddering breath and rolls over. The sound that slips through her teeth is pure pain, followed by a rattling cough, but that’s fine, that’s great because she’s alive to fix it.

Sunrise’s mask is ripped to shreds, the barest scrape of fabric masking the left side of her face. The other side is covered in blood and ash, highlighting the deep grey of her eyes as she (thankfully) opens them.

“Not like you,” Ominous Halo says, taking a step back, “to lie down on the job.”

Sunrise’s fingers twitch, then her toes, and Ominous can spot a systems check when she sees one. Lights dance around Sunrise’s fingertips, specks of the the bright, sun-like lasers she’s capable of shooting. She sits up too fast judging by the hiss that slips through her teeth, blood seeping out the sides of her mouth.

Ominous is very careful to not start forward, to not help ease the coughing that ensues.

Finally, Sunrise has enough breath to say, “Were you part of this.”

It’s not a question, not really, because Sunrise’s known her long enough to know the answer. Still, the formality stings for all that they’re enemies. Of everyone she’s met, Sharon thought that Sunrise would understand her.

It’s disappointing (still) that that’s not the case.

Regret flashes across Sunrise’s face as the silence stretches. “Ominous, that’s not what–”

“Unfortunately, no one invited me to this little soiree,” Ominous cuts her off. She looks down the burning street. “So, what? All of the Chicago League out there chasing down villains? Not like them to leave one of their own dying in the middle of the street.”

“Leviathan,” Sunrise says shortly, prodding along her abdomen. “And Coriander. They’re out over Lake Michigan at this point. Maybe in Canada.”

Ominous closes her eyes. Fuck. She remembers when team ups used to only be for the smaller villains, the ones who needed money or attention or something that meant so much less than human lives. Those days are gone if a multi-ton water-snake-dragon-thing is teaming up with one of the most powerful magic-users on the planet. That, at least, explains the level of destruction.

Coriander was always fond of golems and fire. Leviathan, of course, needs no explanation.

“You didn’t say you’re not dying,” Ominous says. She can’t stop Leviathan and she especially can’t stop Coriander. She’s got practically no mental defenses against some of his nastier spells, something she’d like not to publicize.

“Part of being a hero,” Sunrise says, “is knowing that lying is wrong.” Blood drips down onto her chest cut out, streaking across previously unblemished skin. Now there are knicks and hurts stretching down far past where her cleavage ends.

Ominous averts her eyes and kind of hates herself for being attracted to Sunrise right now of all times.

“The people need you,” she tells Sunrise. She watches the flames lick up the nearest building. In the distance, sirens finally begin to wail. “Dying here isn’t very heroic of you.”

“Well,” Sunrise says, “we all fail sometimes.” Her hands shake as she presses them to the ground, trying to stay sitting up. “One less hero to stop you now.” She cracks a bloodied smile.

It’s supposed to be a joke, Ominous knows that, but it sends a shudder through her, unlocks all those emotions she’s been keeping at bay. The snarl that rips out of her mouth is distorted by her synthesizer, crackling in the air like lightning. “Fuck this.”

“Fuck what–”

Sunrise breaks off on a gasp as Ominous extends one hand, black energy gathering there. It moves like water, slow and insidious as is flows down to her vulnerable stomach. The hero tries to move away, but her arms collapse on her, sending her more fully onto the ground.

Ominous watches dispassionately as the cuts and bruises and abrasions littering Sunrise’s skin heal before her eyes. The blood doesn’t disappear, nothing like that, but the rattle in Sunrise’s breath eases and her broken finger straightens and she stops guarding her stomach slowly, slowly.

There’s a long moment between them, of silence, of trepidation, of shock, as Ominous’ true power fades between them leaving Sunrise hale, hearty and whole.

“You’re a healer,” Sunrise says. There’s no thin wheeze at the end of her sentence’s now. Just empty surprise and a growing anger in her eyes. “A distance healer? But there aren’t any.”

Ominous shakes her head, the rest of her unmoving. “Just me.”

“There’s a cost,” Sunrise says. She’s guessing, trying to wrap her head around it. “You can’t heal someone from too far, it drains you, you can’t save everyone–”

“No,” Ominous says evenly. She meets Sunrise’s eyes and tells the truth. “No cost. No limit.”

Sunrise stares up at her, breath stilling in her lungs. Then she bursts into motion.

Sunrise jerks up to her feet, shaking like her body doesn’t quite believe it doesn’t hurt anymore. “You could save the world.”

And that’s what Ominous was afraid of. She stands strong, lifting her chin and says, “I could.” She pauses. “If I wanted to.”

Behind her, the city burns.

”Why?” The word is gasped out, Sunrise reeling. “Why don’t you?“

“Because who would save the world after someone like me?” Ominous asks, the question leaving her feeling raw. Maybe it’s seeing Sunrise so close to death, maybe the destruction is getting to her, maybe she’s tired of Sunrise not understanding. “How do people pick themselves up after I take away their pain? Their hurt? What is the world supposed to do after me?”

“That’s bullshit,” Sunrise says. She jabs a finger towards Ominous, naked anger writ across her face. “Thousands die every day from villains and accidents and you–you could wave it all away. Even just one life is worth more than–” She waves a hand, taking in Ominous’ black uniform, her halo, her synthesizer, ‘–than being this.”

“The world needs Ominous more than they need a healer,” Ominous says. She knows the hurt is leeched out of her voice by her synthesizer, but she tries to hide it anyway. She’d thought Sunrise would understand. “I don’t hurt. I don’t kill. But because of me, the people are ready. They know how to heal themselves. You know how to heal yourself so that when something evil comes you know what to do. They know what to do.”

Sunrise’s chest heaves. “You healed me.” The accusation is there, in her words. Why me? Why now?

“Yes,” Ominous says. “Your work isn’t done.”

“Heal the city,” Sunrise says. “You said no limit. Show me. Heal them.”

Ominous slowly shakes her head.

She’s not prepared for the way Sunrise lunges, grabbing Ominous by the front of her uniform and slinging her to the ground. The hero pins the villain, thighs tight along her hips and snarls into her face. “You can.”

“I have rules,” Ominous says. She doesn’t bring her hands up to wrap around Sunrise’s wrists though her arms shake at the restraint. She meets Sunrise’s eyes through her glass, her halo digging painfully into the back of her head, and lets the hero see her sincerity for once. “I don’t heal what heroes and villains leave behind. They don’t learn if I do. So I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Sunrise corrects. Her knuckles are white around the fistfuls of Ominous’ uniform. Her shoulders slump at what she reads in Ominous’ posture. She slides off of Ominous, collapsing next to her as she grasps what Ominous is saying. “You won’t.”

And Ominous, as she watches the truth settle in, can see it break something in Sunrise. The knowledge that the people she’d seen screaming as buildings fell could be healed, but wouldn’t, that the children she’d failed to protect from sprays of debris could be whole, but wouldn’t, that the citizen she’d sworn to protect could be saved, but wouldn’t.

Please, Sharon whispers inside of her. For her.

And those are feelings she’d promised herself wouldn’t compromise her beliefs, feelings that stood to destroy everything Ominous had brought about. She can feel her foundations quaking under the despair in Sunrise’s eyes and she wants–

but

Ominous Halo is so much a part of her now that she’s immovable, a monument to the folly of too much hope in finite resources, finite people. She’s not so easily set aside, no matter what Sharon wants.

She doesn’t know who opens her mouth, Sharon or Ominous, when she says, “Convince me.”

Sunrise jerks, head whipping to where Ominous is sitting up. “What?”

Ominous twists so she’s sitting cross-legged across from Sunrise and swallows heavily behind her synthesizer. “Convince me,” she repeats.

“These people didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunrise says immediately. That’s what Sharon loves about her–she doesn’t waste an opportunity. She doesn’t give up (Ominous had almost made her give up). “You know that. They didn’t ask for Leviathan and Coriander to come in and destroy the city. It’s not their fault that the–” she stutters “–the heroes failed today.”

“Heroes fail,” Ominous says. Her voice is mocking even as her heart drops. Not good enough. “You know that. The people need to know how to recover.”

“They don’t need to recover from asshole supers like us,” Sunrise explodes. She comes up onto her knees, fists shuddering at her sides. “They’re supposed to only deal with high cholesterol and–and car crashes! Dying from an eldritch beast teaches them nothing.”

It’s not enough.

“Tell me why you want me to save them,” Ominous says. She matches Sunrise, coming up onto her knees, and she doesn’t care if Sunrise can see that she’s begging her. Please. “I’m a villain, I don’t care what the people deserve or don’t! Why do you want me to save them, Sunrise?”

“Because I don’t know if I can keep doing this if you don’t!” Sunrise looks surprised by her words, gutted even. Her hands flex. “Because I’m an A-list hero and there’s nothing else after me. People will die when I fail and I– sometimes I need the day saved just as much as they do.”

“I can’t be there every time,” Ominous murmurs.

Sunrise swipes at her eyes. “I’m not asking you to. I’m–it’s my job to make sure that things wind up okay. That things get to be okay. And today I can’t. I can’t do it.”

The admission destroys something in the hero, Ominous can see it. Sunrise curls into herself, arms pressing into her stomach like she can still feel the wounds there, open and raw.

Ominous reaches up and undoes her synthesizer. Finally, finally, it’s enough.

“Sunrise.”

Her voice is too real without the metallic distortion, too soft, too feminine, too vulnerable. The shock of it catches the hero’s attention, has her looking up with wide, wet eyes into the depths of Sharon’s aviators. She reaches out without meaning to, skims her fingers along Sunrise’s smooth cheek.The warmth races up her hand, to her arm, and she pulls back with barely having made contact. It’s too much, the feeling of her skin, and not enough all at the same time. Like touching the sun.

“Today, you can’t make it okay,” Sharon tells Sunrise, gently, the way she barely remembers how to be. “That’s not your fault.” She looks to the burning city and feels Ominous finally, finally relent. “It’s not your fault.”

Sharon stands, heart crashing in her chest and mouth filled with ash because she’s about to break another promise. She can feel Sunrise’s eyes on her though and it’s worth.

It’s worth it.

Her power floods out of her, torrents after so long and so little use, waves of black light that washes across the streets. The fire sputters when it touches it (not going out, but not growing at least) and the rubble can’t stop the healing waves when they go over, around and through it.

Under her skin she can feel bones mend, skin knit back together, lungs inhaling, pain free. She can feel the wavering lights of the people growing brighter and brighter until she’s nearly blinded by them all, shining especially for her.

(And if she mourns the lights she was too late for, wasted too much time for, that’s only for her to know.)

When she comes back to herself, it’s to Sunrise’s arms wrapped around her. They’re both on the ground again, Sharon in the V of Sunrise’s legs, the other woman pressed against her back. If Sharon thought touching Sunrise’s cheek was overwhelming, she was wrong. She’s nearly surrounded by the other woman now, her heat and her breath gentle against the back of Sharon’s neck.

“You fell,” Sunrise says, somehow aware that Sharon is back. “I didn’t want you to hit the ground.”

Sharon doesn’t know what to say to the way the hero presses her lips against the nape of her neck, to where the bare skin peeks out between the collar of her suit and the strap of her synthesizer. “There was a lot to heal.”

“You made it okay,” Sunrise says. A shudder runs through her. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Ominous tenses up in stops and starts, the reminder shoving away her desire to say in the circle of the hero’s arms. “They still need heroes, this doesn’t mean I’ll be there every–” She’s cut off by Sunrise’s fingers on her chin, turning her head up and around towards the woman at her back. “What–”

Sunrise kisses her, lips pressing softly against hers before becoming firmer, more insistent. Sharon responds on instinct, opening to the other woman, twisting so that she’s more on her side and able work her trapped arm around Sunrise to can brace herself against the ground. She loses herself to the kiss, to the feel of the Sunrise’s body against hers, to the sound of their breathing under the distant sirens and the crackling fire.

When they come up for air, they’re both breathing heavily and there’s a pleasant hum running through Sharon’s veins as she blinks stupidly up at Sunrise. She doesn’t know what just happened, why Sunrise just kissed her, she doesn’t–

The look on Sunrise’s face is very soft. “Thank you, Ominous.” Her eyes flash, lips thinning. “And I’m sorry.”

Sharon blinks again, trying to work through the haze Sunrise’s kiss had left her in. “Sorry?”

Pain races up her back, the rays shooting from Sunrise’s hands burning her through her costume. Sharon shouts, trying to twist away, but Sunrise won’t let her, her arms tightening like steel bands, keeping Sharon from moving until the rays are all around her, binding her arms to her side and her ankles together like fiery restraints.

“I can’t let you go,” Sunrise says and maybe it should matter that there are tears and apology in her voice. “I’m sorry, but you could do so much good. I can’t let you go.”

“No,” Sharon (Ominous? They’re the same–) gasps. “No, I told you why I can’t. Let me go.” She hears the back of her costume rip as she struggles and she screams as the white-hot bands of Sunrise’s power burns her bare back.

“Don’t struggle,” Sunrise says. Something hot drips onto Ominous’ exposed cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sharon grits her teeth, blinking back her own tears. She knew her feelings would ruin everything. “Last chance. Let me go.”

Sunrise tenses, but doesn’t so much as falter. “I can’t.”

This, Ominous tells Sharon, is what we were afraid of.

It’s Ominous who pushes through the pain, twisting so that she’s facing the hero. It’s Ominous who looks Sunrise in the eyes and bares her teeth, all of her rage and fear there for her to read.

“I told you,” she hisses, her voice so filled with fury that it almost sounds like it’s coming through her synthesizer, “to let go!”

Sunrise’s wounds come back all at once, ripping through her freshly healed skin and pounding against her insides. Blood spurts from her lips, right onto Ominous’ cheek and her power fizzles and dies from one breath to the next.

Ominous rips out of the hero’s arms, stumbling back until she’s well out of arm’s reach. Sunrise, without Ominous holding her, collapses to the ground, something Ominous pretends not to notice.She clicks her synthesizer back over her mouth and pretends her hands aren’t shaking as she lowers them back to her sides.

She ignores the fiery pain ripping across her back. She’s a healer. She’ll get to it when the pain isn’t serving as a reminder.

“You got one free today, hero,” Ominous says. “There won’t be a next time.”

Sunrise twists onto her side, one hand extended feebly towards the villain. “Please…don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” Ominous says, lip curling as she deliberately misinterprets Sunrise’s plea. She knows the hero wants her to stay. To save the world. “You’ll be feeling right as rain in a few minutes.” She turns to go, boots crunching over the gravel. “After all,” she calls over her shoulder, “without a hero, it just isn’t any fun.”

Sunrise wheezes behind her, trying to form words. Ominous doesn’t stick around to hear them. As soon as she’s out of sight, she snaps her fingers, healing Sunrise in an instant.

Then she puts her head down and runs.

(Hey guys! If you’d like to support me and my writing, please consider following me on Patreon (X)! I post stories like the above there a few days early and also exclusive stories that only my patrons have access to! Thanks :))

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture. The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong. "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike. He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you. Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane. + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell. "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him. Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose." Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it. "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain. + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up. Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway. "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there. Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady. "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day." Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect." "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other. Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it. "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him. Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel. He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother. Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine. "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him. Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again. The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been.

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you. He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you.

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place. "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond.

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence.

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x cassian #cassian fic #cassian #azriel mention rhys mention #cassian x reader

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

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Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.”

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life.

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive.

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes.

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling.

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses.

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room.

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls.

The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

“Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

“Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint.

One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version.

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over.

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed.

“But – “

“I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

“Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin.

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

“Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

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yourmypenguin · 3 years

Note

AKDJDHSHSJDBDGDJ I LOVE VIRGILS VIET OUTFIT ITS SO PRETTY!!!!!! Also your tags for that post got me thinking about a Vietnamese Cinderella story with prinxiety and Virgil gets to wear the pretty outfit you made him and I’m so excited to see romans outfit aaaaaaaaaaaaa

-blue

Thank you so much Blue!!! And because I'm excited, little story telling now. I'm just gonna tell you our own version of Cinderella because it's super fun and it haunts me ever since i heard it

(cw: long ass text, death, murder, violence mentions, animal death)

Basically Tấm is the Cinderella character, she's a poor orphan who lives with her stepmom and her stepsister Cám, and they abuse her by forcing labors on her. One day Stepmother tells the two girls to go fish at the ponds, whoever gets more fish will be prized with a red yếm (uh, an old kind of bralette, looks pretty). Tấm of course works her ass off but then Cám just tricks her so that she can steal all of her fishes, runs home and leaves Tấm to cry at the ponds. A Budha appears and instructs her to take the only single little gobie fish left inside her basket and keeps it as a pet fish in her home's well. He gives her a magical fish calling spell, she just gotta say it, the gobie would rise above the water, and eats the rice she feeds it. She has a cute little pet fishy, but Cám and Stepmother just can't stand Tấm being happy and kill the gobie for food. Tấm is sad again, so Budha appears and instructs her to bury the fish's bones into 4 clay pots, and bury them under her bed.

It's festival arc! Meaning Stepmother is an asshole and force Tấm to sort out the lentils stuff, so that she and her daughter can go to the festival. Budha is having none of that shit so he just appears and let his magical birds do that for Tấm, and now Tấm you can go dig up the pots under your bed, there you shall find, ooooh! Beautiful clothes to wear to the festival, and a pair of pretty shoes, and a horse too!!! Tấm reigns the horse and gets to the festival, but she drops her shoe into a pond on the way. The KING!!! Coincidentally passes by that same area later on and picks up the shoe and declare that whoever fits it would gets to be his wife. And the classic story goes as you might expect it, Tấm gets back her shoe, becomes the Queen, and Stepmother and Cám is pissed.

But holy shit it does not ends there. No. Tấm is too much of a good girl and returns happily to her abusive home to attend her father's death day anniversary, and climbs an areca palm to get the fruits for the altar. She does not doubt her stepmom at all when she sees her at the foot of the tree, chopping the shit out of it, and lets Tấm (and the tree) fall to her death (areca palms are really tall). Stepmom takes that opportunity to bring her daughter into the palace and just like, hey, your wife is dead, how bout her sister for a replacement? The king just fucking goes along with it. Cám lives her life in luxury, unknowing that her stepsister reincarnates as an oriole bird and meets with the king again. The king loves his birdie a lot and it sings to him, he asks it if its his wife then it should cuddle up into his sleeve, which it does. Cám is pissed, she kills the bird and bury its feathers in the palace's garden (these people have no problems killing animals lmao)

There in the place of the feathers grows two magnificent trees, and the king likes it so much he brings his cot there to lay. Fucking Cám can't get over her jealousy and cuts down the trees and makes a cloth weaver out of them. But the thing fucking curses at her when she tries to use it like the weaver just tells her that "don't you fucking rip my husband's clothes or I'll gouge your eyes out". Cám and stepmom burn the thing to the ground for good. Still, the spirit is resilient as hell as it follows the ashes of the burned weaver to a faraway land, and a tree grows where the ashes blew. The tree bears beautiful golden fruits (Diospyros decandra if you wanna know the specifics)

An old lady who sells beverages, passes by the tree, amazed by the golden fruits. One drops into her basket and she brings it home, let it lay around and heads off to the market, only to return home, and find... a girl?? A pretty young lady who's so polite and kind and offers to do her chores? Oh she'll take her as her daughter now. They live happily in their little house. One day, mr King appears again, passes by the old lady's shop and orders something. Noticing the placement of his food is familiar, the king asks old lady to let him meet the preparer of his meal. Old lady brings him to meet her daughter, who is, holy shit Tấm, his loving late wife holy shit you're still alive??? He takes her back to the palace after she says goodbye to her adopted mom. Cám and Stepmom is so fucking blown out of their brains.

You think it ends there? Oh no, Tấm is back and more powerful. She meets up with Cám, three times her murderer, and just tells her: Hey, you wanna know my secret beauty tips? Just go sit in a ditch and tell the servant to pour boiling water down onto you. Now I'm just gonna assume that Cám is spoiled into stupidity and does not know that when hot boiling water pours onto you, you fucking burn to death, and she does exactly that, no joke. And Tấm fucking takes her dead stepsister's body and makes her into fish sauce, and cooks it into a meal for Stepmom. Stepmom is at first "Hey, this meal is good? What's the secret ingredient?" and looks down into the fish sauce pot, and there she sees her own daughter's skull. Stepmother dies of a heart attack. End of story.

#rambling #i'm so sorry if this is the cinderella story you want prinxiety to be made into i'd advise against it lmaOOO

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meenah-chan · 3 years

Text

A Smear of Blood

A Mammon x F! MC fanfiction

Genre: Angst

1.38k words

Trigger Warning: Lots of blood, mention of death & violence. Read at your own discretion.

You two were just sleeping together in your room. It's the same old night. Yet for some reason, when he woke up that day, the one beside him is not you, but a smear of blood.

Everytime he wokes up he will usually see you still asleep in his arms. Or sometimes you staring at his sleeping face, which never fails to send his visage into flaring.

But that morning is different. The space beside him is empty.

He shouldn't be thinking of it as you may only be doing your business in the bathroom.

But no...

That morning is different. When he lifted the blanket covering him and the space beside him, an ample amount of blood, as large as his two stretched palms, spreads across the sheet.

His mind went blank for a second. He froze, sitting on his spot as if time went on a total halt. His own blood drains from his face. And in an instant, everything came back, rushing through his veins. Thousands of thoughts he never wished to have invaded his senses.

Did something happened last night? Did someone attacked her? Is it a grudge towards his human? No, there's no way that's possible. She's way too kind for anyone to held any ill intent towards herself. Is it because she is a rare, appetizing human? Or maybe the monster want to settle past misdeed he committed and chose to attack the most important person in his life?

No, he should have felt any danger if that's the case... Or... Could he?

Mammon is one of the strongest in the Devildom. He also have been alive for who knows how long. He barely experienced some lesser demons attack him in his sleep, much less in the House of Lamentation.

No. No one aimed for his head in his own abode. Entering the den of the most monstrous beasts in the Devildom is a suicide for any assassins to test their luck.

It doesn't make sense! It doesn't...

Yet... That blood... That metallic scent invading his sense smell right now... He'd be dumb if he could ever forget such scent. He knew it so well. Why does he knew it so well? Of course he...

The image of that day flashed through his mind and he never knew his heart would sink deeper than it already has. The image of her lifeless body in his arms, soaked with her own blood and bruises. Limp. Breathless. Cold. Too cold. With her lifelessly gentle eyes staring at his useless self, who couldn't do anything to protect her. It's too late. His tears and screams won't bring what she have lost.

His loss. He lost her once already and swears he'll protect her this time around. He'll protect her with his life. He'll... Protect her?

A lightning strucks his system as he force his stiff limbs to motion. He wants to scream but a lump in his throat blocks all the sound he want to gouge out.

He flails out of the bed. He reach for the knob only for it to move a few feet away from him and his hand.

When he raised his unfocused eyes to the person who opened the door, he gasps for air he didn't knew he's been holding.

"Ahh. You're... Awake." His human peeked inside the room for a second. "And you saw that..." She sighed.

But the demon stood there motionless. He scans her with his eyes for any visible wound and blood stains. Any trace of blood on her. Yet he saw nothing but her sweaty self gasping for air, holding what seems to be a comforter.

"...mon... Mammon? You don't look so good." A touch of her warm fingertips is enough to push his last button to tears, which he did. "M–Mammon?! W–Wha, H–Hey!" Tears streams down like falls on his cheeks to the back of her hands as she held his face.

"What... the hell..." They both melted to their knees as Mammon start sobbing. "Hey, Mammo—" her palms slid past his slippery wet cheeks as he pulls her to tight embrace.

"'Ya idiot... human... Ye're killin' me." He whimpered in a muffled voice, face buried on the crook of her neck.

His words snapped all the dots connected in her head of what is actually happening. It probably is because of that incident. The day she died... or atleast her other self. It was a sight, to see herself bathing in a pool of blood, as if it was a different person. It was a sight, really. But it was not the one that sparked her emotion. It was the demon that held her so tight as if she'll slipped away from his grasp. It was Mammon.

She couldn't really comprehend what happened when she was attacked by the youngest brother. She was stranggled, passed out and woke up under the staircase.

It never left a mark on her. She held no ill will towards him. But as the demon with the strongest bond with her, Mammon, was so devastated that time. He cling onto her. He wail with his futile pleads for her to hang on. To not die.

Seeing him like that made her regret the event she have no way of ever predicting. The event she have no control of.

The only thing she could do is to protect him from the ghost of the past. She have to give reassurance to the second oldest— her first demon.

So she hugged him back as firm as he did, caressing his hair lovingly. "There, there... I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

He squeeze her tighter she could hardly breathe. But even if it's hard, she let him because right now, she could finally feel the grip her other self felt that time. She's be lying if she said she didn't felt a hint of jealousy oozing out within her that time. "Don't you dare leave me like that ever again."

"I won't. I'll be with you as long as it takes. This won't happen again."

She gave him featherlight kisses that soothes his pain. A gentle yet firm embrace to gave him assurance and warmth. And within a few moments, Mammon pulled himself back, his eyes and cheeks dusted with shades of red.

"But wait... Are you really not hurt or something?" The white-haired demon close his eyes as she wipes his tears with her thumb.

"You wanna check with your own eyes?" She smirks and wiggle her brows at him, earning a darker flush on his tan face.

"Then what the hell's with the sheet? That isn't your blood, right?" Now it's her turn to blush.

"Uh... Can we just forget that..." Azure orbs glare through her soul. "... or maybe not." She nervously laugh while evading the piercing looks towards her.

"Ugh... This is embarrassing. How should I put this..." She scratch her nape as she search for the right words. "Well, it is mine." Mammon's eyes widen and without hesitation, he lift her shirt and frantically check her torso.

"H–Hey! Sto– Wait! I'm not hurt! That time of the month just came a bit too early is all!" She hastily pulled the hem of her shirt off his grip and down.

"W–What time?" He stares at her, confusion and worry evident on his expression.

"I'm on my period, okay. I woke up with it staining the covers. I panicked and run out after changing to search for a replacement. And yeah, I was late." She pat the sheet on her side. "You saw it before I arrive." She look down to hide her flustered face.

"... Seriously..." Mammon's forehead drops to her shoulder.

After a few seconds, he cups her face and face her to him. "Why'd'ya have ta hide it? And from the Great Mammon? Really?"

"Well, it's embarrassing you know..." She pouts.

"Like hell it's embarrassing. It's normal. It's a part of being a woman. If somethin' like this happen, don't hesitate to ask for the Great Mammon's help... Well it's not like I'm worried or anything. I just wanna help ya. Ye're my human after all." He squishes her face as he grin from ear to ear tinted with pink.

"Yes, my tsundere demon." She also smiled like he did as she held the hands on her cheeks.

"Huh?! Who're ya callin–" he protested, only to be silenced with a peck on the tip of his nose.

"I love you, my Great Mammon."

I was too hyped yesterday I just finished 2 fanfics. That OM! anime announcement left me on edge.

And to anyone waiting for my series Quintessence, I'm on it hahaha 😅😂 I'm torn between two twist and still can't decide but I'll surely post it as soon as I finished it. Please bear with me for the last 2 chapters.

P. S. To anyone who watch BL Romance and haven't seen Given yet, I highly recommend it! A real tear-jerker with amazing plot and masterpiece songs 😭💖💖 I won't go with details but there's something really unique with it and you wont regret watching it sksksk 😚😚

Masterlist

#obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon fanfic #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me swd #obey me masters #obey me boys #meenah-chan~~

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artzychic27 · 3 years

Note

An akuma with reality powers, The Artist Family and the canon Art kids (maybe the other classmates too) meet each other

Their reaction? Chaos?

Another day, another Akuma for the Malevolent Miraculous team

This one is named Alterna, and they’re a scientist who got Akumatized because their alternate universe theory was rejected

They have the power to open portals to other dimensions

While fighting, Alterna grabbed Black Widower’s whip and used it to ensnare the team before flinging them into a portal

Once they land, they find themselves... In Paris? Only, something feels off, very off...

Since there doesn’t seem to be any danger, they detransform

They look around while getting weird looks from people. (Imagine the ‘Going into town’ scene form the Addams Family 2019 movie)

Nathaniel Artist: Everyone’s dressed so... Conformist. *Sees a magazine with Adrien on the cover* And what happened to Adrien’s new look?

Rose Artist: Is this one of the universes where his dad is a jerk?

Alix Artist scares off a few people by throwing a brick through a few car windows.

Marc Artist: Alix, don’t be rude. Let the others have their turns.

Manon approaches Marinette Artist and asks why she’s wearing dark colors

Marinette Artist: Manon, you know I despise all colors.

A few more minutes of walking, and they see Marinette Dupain-Cheng running to school

Marinette Artist: *Checks her watch* School has begun three minutes ago. She’s not very punctual, is she?

The Artist Family follow her to the alternate DuPont to see what’s going on, then they bump into Mme. Bustier, who was making her way to the teachers lounge.

Mme. Bustier: Marinette? But I just... I saw you, all of you in the classroom. And Marc, shouldn’t you also be in class?

The Artists rush to their respective classrooms and find their alternate sleeves, much to their shock

Nathaniel Kurtzberg: ... What the fuck?!

Nathaniel Artist: I could ask the same about your outfit. Must you insult my eyes with such a color combination?

Chloé: Ha! You just got burned by yourself, tomato head!

Marinette Artist: At least he doesn’t go out looking like a clown gave him a makeover.

Chloé: I’m telling daddy!

Marinette Artist: Yes, let your father get involved with petty teenage drama. That will get him more votes in the upcoming election. Now silence.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng: ... Thank you, me?

They explain what happened, (Leaving out the part about them being superheroes because this universe’s Lila will no doubt run her big mouth to Hawkmoth who they’re sure she’s working for), and the art club is not sure how to react

Alix Kudbel: So we’re basically the Addams Family?

Lila: Oh! You know, my great great grandfather actually inspired Chauncey Addams to create the Addams Family!

While the class eats it up, the art club and Artists just glare at her

Marinette Addams: It’s Charles Addams, idiot.

Lila: Oh, you guys hate me too? *Cue bitch crying*

Juleka Artist: *Waves a skull in front of Lila* Luxor, nexor, burst and burn!

Lila: What’s she doing?

Juleka Artist: Just a curse that will make your pants burst into flames every time you lie.

Lili: *Whining* Why are you all trying to hurt me?! I never lie! *Her pants bursts into flames and she runs out of the school before she’s left in only her underwear*

Alya: *To her Marinette* My sincerest apologies.

Suddenly, screams are heard, followed by Mme. Mendelive and her students running past the classroom. Marc Anciel and Artist walk into the classroom while being trailed by a clutter of spiders

Marc Artist: Well that was quite rude, wouldn’t you say?

Marc Anciel: In their defense, spiders are a little... Horripilante.

Nathaniel Artist just stands there, trying very hard not to kiss the alternate version of his boyfriend and wondering why his alternate self isn’t going kissing his Marc madly with passion

The Artists explain to the Art Club during lunch about their situation and tell them that they’re Miraculous holders in their world, much to Marinette’s shock since she’s never heard of the Malevolent Miraculous

The art club let their alternate selves stay with them until they can figure out a way to get back, but Nathaniel and Marc Artist insist that they stay together

Alix Kudbel and Artist volunteer to let them stay with them. (Cuz they ship ‘em!)

Marinette A is stunned to see her alternate parents, and when they welcome her with open arms since her own parents were always so distant.

Even when she shows her dark nature, they still treat her like family. She tries very hard not to show any emotion

When they’re alone, Tikki and Screech reveal themselves. Tikki explains that there are alternate realities with different Kwamis with similar powers to the Kwamis they’ve alternate versions of. Screech is her alternate self

Marinette A questions why Marinette DC’s Ladybug suit is so skintight and insists that she change her suit which Marinette DC doesn’t mind doing

Marinette A tells Marinette DC about her boyfriend, Damian, confusing DC a bit. What about Adrien?

Marinette A: Adrien wasn’t able to satisfy my needs. Yes, he’s quite attractive, but I needed someone who could keep up with me, worship me, be my love servant and follow me into the underworld.

Marinette DC: ... So who’s this Damian?

Nathaniel K insists that Nathaniel A spend some time away from his Marc so they can talk without them making out every five minutes

Nathaniel A: How is it that you have not gouged out your own eyes?! Your Marc is miles away from you, and you believe you have the right to live?!

Nathaniel K: ... We call each other.

Nathaniel K is starting to regret letting his alternate self live with him since he keeps starting fires! He had to hide all of the matches and anything flammable. And if that’s not bad, Chompp keep chewing on his sketchbooks

Once all of the fire causes were hidden, they bonded over their love for painting and sketching

Nathaniel K: So, your paintings are actually cursed?

Nathaniel A: Very much. One caused the mayor to stumble down the stairs and stay in intensive care.

Nathaniel K: *Thinking of all the ways he could torture Chloé and Lila with his art* ... Teach me.

Marc Anciel is trying not to scream every time one of Marc Artist’s spiders crawl on him, not wanting to seem rude

Marc Anciel: *Shudders* Oh, and that’s a black widow in my hair.

Marc Artist: They’re my favorite. It’s why I chose the name Black Widower.

To release some of the tension, Marc Anciel suggests they read each other’s writing... He will not be sleeping for a while after reading Marc’s Artist’s stories. He asks why his alternate self wrote eulogies for his Nathaniel

Marc Artist: I want others to know of the love we shared together before he’s put to rest. And who better to write my love’s eulogy than the one who knows him best? The one who has loved him, tangoed with him, stabbed his heart.

Marc Andiel ignores the last part and actually considers writing Nathaniel’s eulogy.

Alix K and Alix A are having an awesome time together

Alix A and Duuo throw grenades which Alix K dodges while skating until Alim tells them to do this away from the museum

They outrun the police, prank Kim by putting itching powder in the pool, and watch their Marcs and Nathaniels make out

It’s all fun and well until Alix A meets this universe’ Jalil. Her Jalil sold her out since there was a reward to turn her in, forcing her to run from the authorities and she’s never forgiven him

Jalil K assures her that he’d never do that and reminds her that family always comes first. Alix A is resisting the urge to cry and instead lights a firecracker in his jacket

Juleka A CANNOT stop staring at her alternate self’s Luka. She can actually see his face and body. And he can talk!

Luka: Hey, are Marinette and I a... Thing where you’re from?

Juleka A: She has two hands. Soon to be three when she takes Damian’s in marriage when they’re of age.

Juleka C and A bond over their love for the macabre and witch culture. She even teaches her a few spells to use against Chloé and Lila if she ever shows her face again

They work! Chloé broke out into a terrible rash, and all of Lila’s pants are on fire

Rabbid also may or may not have chewed up the rest of Lila’s clothes, forcing her to spend all of her money on new clothes

Rose A tries to get used to her alternate self’s love of bright colors and Disney movies, but it’s a struggle. So, she exposes her to the darker side of Disney.

Rose L is horrified but also a little excited.

They do a dark Disney marathon and watch all of the movies Disney tried to hide from audiences.

Rose A even changes up Rose L’s look so she looks like a badass punk Princess, which gives Juleka C a slight nosebleed

Rose L is still her bubbly self, but now also has a love for the darker things in life

The Artists stay in this universe for three more days, starting another goth trend in the alternate Paris by giving Adrien a makeover, introducing Marinette to Damian via pen pal program, teaching Nathaniel and Juleka how to curse their enemies, setting Lila’s clothes on fire a couple more times, introducing Marc to a more gothic style of or writing & Rose to a punk style of clothing, and teaching Alix all of the stunts she’s never even thought of doing that involve explosives

They also have a little fun with Nino and help him pursue his dream of traumatizing Gabriel Agreste

This involves chloroform, a coffin, and a walkee talkee. Gabriel is forced to listen to Nino’s voice for 12 whole hours, telling him to be a better dad to Adrien, fire Lila, and to give him $1000 dollars

Gabriel gives Adrien more freedom, fires Lila and burns all of the magazines with her face and name in them, and gives Nino $1000 dollars. Then he passes out

Nino: *Hugging the Artists* I... I love you guys so much. I don’t ever want you to leave. You have made me the happiest man alive!

Then Alterna shows up

Nino: NO! DON’T TAKE THEM! TAKE GABRIEL!

Adrien: Hey!

Nino: I’m just kidding... Not.

The Artists and Marinette transform. The Malevolent Miraculous team are shocked to see Chat Noir but are even more shocked when they immediately recognize him as Adrien

They’re able to defeat the Akuma even though Lila (Who’s being a brat because she got fired) keeps interfering by whining about her broken leg, this time in a skirt. (Loophole) And she keeps trying to snatch their Miraculous whenever she gets close to them

Jaws: *Uses power to make his teeth sharper* Keep crying and I’ll give you a real broken leg. *Lila shuts up and lets them work*

They defeat Alterna, and Ladybug and Nocturna use the Miracle/Malevolent cure to remove all of the portals opened by the Akuma and put people back in their respective dimensions

They start to disappear and head back to their dimension as the Bats and Ladybugs swarm around them

Nino: NO! TAKE ME WITH YOU! *They disappear* DAMNIT!

Alya: You have them. *Points to the Art Club*

Nino: Can they murder Gabriel or frame him for a crime?

Juleka: We can try. There’s six of us, one of him. Nathaniel and I now know how to curse people.

Nino: I’m in!

Alya: And while you go ruin Gabriel’s life, I’m gonna go kill Lila.

Back in the Artist’s Dimension!

Juleka Artist: Are we back? Is this our dimension?

Nino: Oh, thank God you’re back! Gabriel was starting to gain consciousness again and Adrien is becoming suspicious. I think he knows I’m keeping him in my basement.

Marinette Artist: *Sighs* Yep. This is our place.

#miraculous ladybug #marc x nathaniel #nathaniel kurtzberg #miraculous #marc anciel #akuma #au #marinette dupain cheng #alix kudbel #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #the artist family #the addams family

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19lungs · 3 years

Text

Naruto will always have a target on his back.

Sasuke has a vague concept of hypothermia, but nothing past that. He knows when someone’s lips are more purple and blue than a bruise, but their body is no longer shaking, it’s a bad sign. He presses two fingers against the pulse in Naruto’s throat, moving around until he can finally feel the dull lob of a pulse.

There's a chance his pulse will slow down in a few minutes now that Naruto isn’t being drained for everything he’s worth, but that won’t help the lifeless state of Naruto’s skin, deadly pale.

Naruto’s heart is close to giving out.

He doesn’t have medic chakra. In a recent impassioned fit with Sakura, over Naruto’s kidnapping and Sasuke’s inability to keep a cool head, she snapped how this wasn’t nearly her first time. She seethed about the Akatsuki, about Pain, about the time she held Naruto’s heart in her hand and pumped it with her bare, bloody fingers to keep him alive, and how Sasuke wasn’t there for any of it.

The only time Sasuke had shoved his hand through Naruto’s chest—

He could try to use a low level chidori to restart Naruto’s heart as a last resort. Chidori isn’t designed to save the life it’s piercing.

The ceiling crumbles, iced rocks are tumbling and shattering in the underground cavern in the rural part of the Land of Snow, where Naruto has been held for weeks now. Sasuke has to move fast. He has to do something to help stabilize Naruto before moving him or else he’s going to die and electrocuting his heart is not a promising last resort.

“Naruto,” he calls to him. There’s an urgency in his voice, despite trying to keep ii calm. “Look at me. Naruto.”

Naruto doesn’t open his eyes.

Sasuke grits his teeth. He’s never tried Sharingan on an unconscious person and everything he knows about his eyes has been through practice. There were never scripts or scrolls on Sharingan, but words passed down from generation to generation — fathers who brought their sons to battlefields to cause enough distress to awaken their eyes under the belief it was the only way, older brothers who tell their little brothers they have to kill their best friend, buzzwords like godly and cursed.

It’s never been an issue before now. It’s never been an issue not to know how the Sharingan actually works and what limits it may or may not possess when it has always been plenty strong enough unchecked on the battlefield. Sasuke intimately knows that it can overpower, yet knows nothing of its ability for how it can save a life.

He gently pulls Naruto’s eyelids open. Only the whites and veins show; his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Sasuke wipes his hands on his pants to get off the grime and blood coating his fingertips, pulling one eyelid open, and carefully, uses his other set of fingers to roll one of Naruto’s eyes forward.

The connection between them clicks in an instant. He would be surprised any other time — that Sharingan can work on the unconscious.

Fear would work, Sasuke thinks, to force Naruto’s heart rate up, but it might be too forceful. It might just kill what’s left of his heart’s effort and give out. Fear is just the only emotion Sasuke has ever pulled forward from another person. It’s all he’s practiced, and therefore, it’s all he’s ever known. Fear it’s just opening the gateway, and the individual will fill it with images, sounds, feelings of fear throughout their life. When Itachi had used it on him, Sasuke had seen Itachi gouging out his eyeballs. When Sasuke used it on Danzo, Danzo saw Itachi.

He has to hope it’s the same for other emotions too.

Something quieter, something softer, but still makes the heart flutter.

Anticipation.

It comes without needing to dig for it.

Sasuke breathes out, holding onto that feeling, chasing it down inside of Naruto like a fox down a rabbithole. Maybe this is why there are no scripts or scrolls on Sharingan when it’s so deeply connected to the psyche. To feelings. To thoughts. To pieces of humanity more abstract than the chemicals in a brain.

Fear inside of people is different. He doesn’t need to chase it. It’s like dark water right at the edge, all it takes is a little weight for it to spill.

It takes him a second to catch it, but when he does—

It’s him.

Sasuke almost reroutes, he must have gone down the wrong path, and he doesn’t have the time to make a mistake—

It’s him again.

Sasuke.

Sasuke laying in the grass beside Naruto and Sasuke remembers this. After a few rounds of sparring, they were taking a break, and Sasuke had sat down and leaned back to watch Naruto look over the edge of the mountain ledge. He remembers watching Naruto close his eyes, watching as the strong winds ran through his hair and through his clothes, like it belonged to him and he belonged to it, and when Naruto had opened his eyes and noticed Sasuke staring—

Naruto’s heart flutters.

In his chest, it picks up pace. Sasuke hesitates at the direction this is going, at what bubbles so quickly and prominently to the surface. Things that Sasuke isn’t supposed to see, but Naruto can’t afford Sasuke to hesitate. His life depends on it.

So Sasuke doesn’t.

The way his hands move and Naruto watches without Sasuke having ever realized, every smile, few and far in between they are, Naruto holds them close, and Sasuke can feel that too, as well as he can feel his heart rate jump at the unfolding memories; the times they’ve pinned each other down, Sasuke playfully taunting him, Sasuke touching him—

No. This isn’t a memory, not entirely, it’s a memory of a fantasy, and Naruto’s heartbeat remembers it—

All it takes is for the thrum of Naruto’s heart to feel a little stronger than before, before Sasuke opens a portal and pulls them both inside.

It took Sasuke several attempts to figure out how Obito used these dimensions so effectively to essentially teleport. Obito could open a portal right above someone’s shoulder without being a single inch off. Several attempts that could have ended far worse than it did — ending up in the Mizukage’s headquarters, another time at the bottom of a lake, and another in the secret scroll room of Amegakure — and it hadn’t been until Sasuke forced Naruto and Shikamaru into helping that they learned it had nothing to do with coordinates and how the space in Kaguya’s dimensions correlated with their world. It was a simpler concept, to Sasuke’s demise. He would have done better with coordinates.

You just had to imagine where you wanted to be.

Sasuke’s imagination is a little lackluster, and at the most, existent but never highly specific.

It’s never an issue if he’s conjuring to open a portal somewhere that he’s been before, but that’s because it’s a memory. He can’t use a memory right now. He specifically needs to get Naruto warm, submerged in warmth, and get his body temperature back up, and he can’t go too far, because while the concept of teleportation is simpler one might imagine, it sill has a toll.

The same amount of chakra it would require to travel that distance, except it hits all at once opposed to the days it would take on foot, and then some.

On his already depleted chakra.

Submerged in warmth and all the distance they can without killing him is an idea but it’s not specific. Which is why when Sasuke opens another portal open with Rinnegan, Naruto in his arms, they don’t land somewhere ideal like the nearest hot springs, where no one else would get involved — no one should get involved, these people are dangerous and will be tracking them — but the hot springs are exposed and open, and Sasuke can’ quite help that in his list of mental requirements while opening the portal, Naruto’s safety comes as a priority.

They land in the bathtub of the Kazekage’s brother.

Kankuro’s hand is still on the doorknob, his other hand occupied with a cross stitch, eyes wide with surprise. He is, in fact, bare ass naked.

“Hah?” Kankuro voices. He takes one look at the two figures, before grabbing his pants draped over the sink. He storms out of the bathroom, shinobi instinct kicking in without fault. “We need some medics in here! Hey, you— you punk, get a medic!”

Sasuke maneuvers his hand to wrap around Naruto’s chest, to keep him from slumping into the water. It’s still running. The faucet. The bath is hot and full with the space of two bodies, and Sasuke doesn’t process a goddamn thing except moving far enough back against the back of the tub, giving Naruo as much room as possible to submerge his body in the heat.

It occurs to him there’s likely some type of rewarming shock someone can go into — forced from one extremity to the other — that protocol may require a slower transition once the hypothermia has reached past a certain point. He doesn’t know how plausible it is. He doesn’t know if holding someone’s body in hot water is dangerous at whichever stage of hypothermia Naruto is in, but the alternative has to be worse. Naruto is built for impact—

A little shock won’t kill him.

Sasuke tells himself rather desperately, unaware of how quickly the water turns a bright shade of red, a lucid mixture of Naruto’s blood and his own. He finds Naruto’s pulse again, skin wet and sticky, pressing against his throat. It’s still there, he’s still alive.

#This is unfinished but not sure if I ever will #Sasuke finds out that Naruto is in love with him and Naruto doesn't know he knows #It's also the start of Sasuke Learning with a capital L about Sharingan #And ways it's never been used before #Sasunaru #Narusasu #Sasunarusasu #Sasunaru fic #Narusasu fic #sasunarusasu fic #Naruto

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cyllaeth · 3 years

Text

hereafter

Hi! It's me again! Your self-proclaimed writer who just can't stop writing about Buddie. This time I offer you angst before the s4 finale ;)

Find it on ao3

Nonono.

This canʼt be happening.

Buck barely even registers it when heʼs brutally pushed by Eddie. He wants to ask him what the actual fuck but he doesnʼt have a chance. It all happens so quickly. He hears a gunshot and—

His heart stops. His world shatters beneath him as he sees in a slow motion that the bullet reaches his friend and Eddie is collapsing, his expression stuck between pain, fear and something else, something Buck canʼt describe. Thereʼs a dark red patch blooming on his uniform in his chest.

Nonono.

This canʼt be happening.

Buck realises with horror that he canʼt move, heʼs like petrified and his body just refused to work. He canʼt even make a sound even if heʼs literally screaming in his mind.

He desperately tries to force his legs to move, to run to Eddie, try to help him, not let him die.

He canʼt die.

He canʼt die, he canʼt leave him alone, he canʼt die not knowing that Buck loves him—that heʼs in love with him. He canʼt leave Christopher, he canʼt do it to this poor kid that has already lost his mother.

Buckʼs vision blurs and he feels tears streaming down his cheeks but he doesnʼt even try to wipe them out.

Nonono. Eddiepleasedontdie.

He falls on his knees, not noticing that the hard concrete is causing him pain. The only thing heʼs focused on right now is Eddieʼs closed eyes, shallow breaths and the pool of blood around him slowly spreading.

He wants to help him, save him from bleeding out but his hands are trembling so much, heʼs not able to do anything. He knows he should focus, push away all the negative thoughts but he canʼt. Heʼs never been more scared and panicked in his life. Heʼs never been so paralysed with fear that it actually prevents him from doing his job. It has never happened before. He canʼt do anything and his best friend is bleeding out right next to him.

He barely hears the sound of another gunshot. Then, he feels burning pain in his arm but he ignores it, he doesnʼt really care if he got shot. Itʼs nothing compared to the dreadful feeling like his heart was ripped out from his chest. Or rather, gouged out with something blunt.

Eddiepleasedontdie.

He doesnʼt notice his coworkers rushing to them to help them, he doesnʼt hear Athenaʼs shouting, the sound of sirens around them, he doesnʼt really feel Bobbyʼs gentle touch on his non-injured arm.

“Buck”, tries Bobby but thereʼs no reaction. He doesnʼt want to do anything sudden, he doesnʼt want to scare him more than he already is.

“Evan”, he tries again.

This time it works. Buck tears his gaze away from Eddie whoʼs already taken care of by Hen and Chim and looks at his Captain.

“Buck, youʼre hurt. We have to check you out. Can you move?”

His voice is filled with so much worry, it makes Buck weep even more.

“Iʼm okay”, he hardly whispers because the lump in his throat doesnʼt let go.

“No, youʼre not. I know youʼre worried about Eddie but heʼs in good hands. Heʼs strong, heʼll get through this. Letʼs go.”

He helps him stand on his feet and wraps his arm around his waist to keep him standing because Buckʼs legs are still like jelly. Slowly, they reach out the paramedicsʼ truck and Buck is examined by another team. They say he got lucky because the bullet only grazed his arm and his recovery will be quick.

He doesnʼt feel lucky at all. How can he? His best friend is a few feet apart from him, fighting for his life. Friend who has a son waiting for him at home. Friend who never should have been shot. It was supposed to be Buck. The sniper was aiming at him, not at Eddie. He was supposed to be lying on the ground with a bullet in his chest. But Eddie—his usually careful, cautious Eddie—did a very reckless thing and saved his life. Knowing that his best friend noticed the sniper and pushed him to protect him makes him physically sick. The guilt is consuming him because he wasnʼt worth saving. Not that much anyway. Eddie has a loving family, a son, a girlfriend and Buck... Buck is just a friend. Not someone who canʼt be replaced.

Eddiepleasedontdie.

His hands are still trembling when theyʼre heading to the hospital Eddie was taken. Bobbyʼs there with him; he doesnʼt speak, doesnʼt try to find some clichéd words; he suspects that they wouldnʼt work anyway because Buck is too lost in his own head. Bobby just reaches to his hands and covers them with his own to keep them more steady.

They arrive at the hospital and find out Eddie already has a surgery.

He canʼt die.

That clean, sterile smell of hospital makes Buck even more sick. Heʼs been there enough times, both as a visitor and as a patient. He hates hospitals and he knows heʼs gonna spend there next few hours—or days. He doesnʼt know how he will survive this, how he will get through Eddieʼs surgery. What will he tell Chris? Carla? Abuela? That Eddie got shot because of him? His brain immediately takes him back to the day when he lost Chris in the tsunami and he tried to tell Eddie. It was one of the worst moments of his life and now it seems like he will be forced to do it again—only this time to tell Christopher which makes everything worse. He needs to stop bringing the Diaz boys such awful news. He should call Carla, tell her what happened, make sure she can stay with him longer than she was supposed to, tell him the truth but he canʼt even hold his phone. Itʼs Hen who does it for him. She calls Carla, she tells her about Eddie, about Buck, about the whole situation and promises sheʼll keep her updated.

Buckʼs grateful for that but he still feels guilty that he wasnʼt the one to share the news. It was supposed to be him but he was too weak to do it.

“Buckaroo.”

Thereʼs a gentle pat on his back, big, warm Henʼs eyes filled with love and a sad smile on her lips.

“You canʼt keep blaming yourself. It was not your fault and everybody knows that. Eddie knows that and he wonʼt be angry at you when he wakes up after surgery. Besides, you would have done the same thing for him. But Iʼm pretty sure if you were the one shot, we would have to restrain Eddie from barging into the police station and killing the sniper with his bare hands.”

Buck lets out a quick, humourless laugh because heʼs not sure Eddie wouldʼve done such thing. Oh, he knows that Eddie cares about him, he knows that heʼs a part of the Diaz family but at the end of the day, heʼs still just a friend. He wouldnʼt be that reckless.

And yet, he decided to put his life at risk for him.

He canʼt die.

Buck has never been a religious type but after two hours in the hospital, he starts to pray. He knows that surgeries can take hours, especially if you have a patient with a bullet in his chest but panic starts to take over him and he canʼt stop it, itʼs stronger than him. What if Eddie doesnʼt make it?

No.

He canʼt think like that. Itʼs not his first time heʼd been shot, he was in Afghanistan, he was almost buried alive, whatʼs a one bullet for him?

He has to fight for his family.

Next few hours blur into never-ending waiting. Buck feels more and more exhausted, the pain in his injured arm is nagging him but he refuses to take pills that could help him ease the ache and lull him to sleep. He will do it, eventually. As soon as heʼs sure Eddieʼs alive and safe, he can rest. Otherwise, heʼll keep vigil. He can do it. Maddie and Athena paid them a quick visit—they brought them coffee, donuts and fresh clothes. Both women talk with Buck and try to reassure him. Athena also scolds him for getting shot and she pulls him into a hug because clearly the whole situation took a toll on her and sheʼs as worried about both Buck and Eddie as much as her husband. Her presence actually helps Buck a little and heʼs calmer than before. He even manages to drink his coffee and he doesnʼt feel like throwing up and he counts it as a success.

After what it feels like an eternity, the doctor finally goes to their room. His expression is unreadable.

“Is there Evan Buckley?”

Buck raises his head sharply because itʼs not something he has expected.

“Y-Yeah. Itʼs me”, he says hesitantly. He really hasnʼt expected to be Eddieʼs emergency contact even though he knows itʼs very reasonable. “Is he...?”

“He is alive and stable, heʼs lucky because the bullet missed the most important organs and he will get through this but he needs to rest. Heʼs sleeping now but you can visit him now. One person at the time.”

Buck lets out a long, deep breath; he didnʼt even realize he was holding it during the doctorʼs speech. The guilt is still there but the weight that has been crushing his chest is definitely lighter.

Eddieʼs alive.

“Go, Buckaroo. Go see him”, encourages him Chim, smiling softly and nudging him in the right direction.

Buckʼs very unsure and tentative but he goes to Eddieʼs room anyway. Seeing him so vulnerable makes him want to cry again. He has never seen him in a bad state like this. Heʼs never seen Eddie being so close to death—not even when he was buried in that well.

He sits on the edge of the bed and squeezes his hand gently. He knows Eddieʼs sleeping so he feels comfortable with doing this. His cheeks are wet again; he didnʼt notice heʼs crying again. All of the emotions he has felt in the last few hours are piling up in his chest and he has to let them out. Heʼs still worried, he still feels guilty but knowing that his best friend is alive, that heʼs gonna get through is soothing. He thinks about how happy Christopher will be and that heʼs probably eager to go to the hospital and take care of his dad. Heʼs relieved that he doesnʼt have to bring him bad news.

Everythingʼs gonna be okay.

He lets the rest of the team see Eddie; he gently refuses Bobbyʼs offer to take him home. Heʼs not ready to go back to his apartment, he needs to stay, be there when his best friend wakes up. Bobbyʼs not happy with his decision because he sees how exhausted Buck is but he doesnʼt argue with him. He only tells him to call when Eddie wakes up. Buck agrees and he settles on the chair next to Eddieʼs bed.

Heʼs alive.

He falls asleep somehow, even though he was sure he wouldnʼt be able to. His sleep is not deep though because he immediately wakes up when he hears a shift on the bed. Eddieʼs eyes are open and he looks a little bit confused.

“Hey, Eds. Itʼs okay. Youʼre in the hospital, you got shot. Iʼm gonna call the doctor now, okay? Iʼll bring you some water”, says Buck. He doesnʼt even let him say a word, he doesnʼt know if heʼs ready to hear what Eddie has to say. Heʼs not ready because the guilt is still there, it doesnʼt let him forget even just for a moment. He calls the doctor and stays back when the man checks Eddie and talks with him. Heʼs even ready to sneak off like a true coward but Eddie must sense it before it happens.

“Buck.”

That one word is all it takes to make him stay. When the doctor goes out, smiling warmly at Buck, the blonde sits again on the chair very hesitantly. He keeps his head down because heʼs not sure heʼs able to look him in the eye.

“Unbelievable”, he hears Eddieʼs voice. It sounds weaker than usually but he can still detect a hint of amusement and teasing. “I took a bullet for you and you still got shot.”

“Sorry”, mumbles Buck, still not raising his head. “I didnʼt really think about it when I saw you on the ground. Besides, itʼs nothing. The bullet just nipped my arm. Although it should have been me with a bullet in the chest.”

“Buck, look at me”, Eddieʼs voice is now pleading and Buck finally looks at his best friend. Eddie has a small smile on his lips and he reaches out to take his hand and intertwine their fingers. “I would do it again if it meant that youʼre alive and safe. Iʼm glad youʼre alive and safe, but I wonder if I should be mad at you for being careless. I wouldnʼt want to wake up and find out that youʼre fighting for his life or youʼre dead. Weʼre not Romeo and Juliet so no dying, okay?”

“Said the dude who was literally fighting for his life a few hours ago”, points out Buck. His eyes are fixated on their intertwined hands; he was surprised by Eddieʼs gesture and he hopes heʼs not misreading this.

“Again, Iʼm fine with it. I would definitely do it again to keep you safe. Iʼm not blaming you for this.”

Buck should have known that Eddie would reassure him, tell him itʼs not his fault. He knows him so well, probably sometimes even better than Buck knows himself.

“It still feels like my fault. Eddie, you have to be more careful, you have to think about people who love you, people you love because—”

“Who says I wasnʼt thinking about people I love?”, interrupts Eddie.

“Then why did you do it? Why did you do it thinking about Chris, your family, Ana—”

“For Godʼs sake”, Eddie interrupts him again, now with a very exasperated look. “Because I love you too, you dumbass.”

Buckʼs heart stops again. It feels better this time, though.

“You... Love me?”

“Yes, I love you. Although I should probably make this clearer for you... Iʼm in love with you. So yes, I was thinking about you and I wouldnʼt forgive myself if I lost you. But youʼre here and I couldnʼt be more happy.”

“I love you too”, says Buck simply and then, heʼs just grinning because itʼs the most beautiful thing heʼs ever heard and his awful day just turned into one of his best.

“So is there a chance that youʼll take care of me when I go back home?”, asks Eddie, doing puppy eyes because he knows Buck wonʼt say no. “You know, I did take a bullet for love so I think Iʼve earned it.”

“Oh my God, I’m never gonna see the end of it, am I?”

“Never.”

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #911 spoilers #911 s4 spoilers #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write

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thevalleyisjolly · 3 years

Text

Semi-crack theory, but based on 1) the setting; 2) my love of the British murder mystery subgenre; and 3) wishful thinking, I’m convinced that the staff banded together and did it:

The means:

Who would be better placed to figure out the secret passageways and trick features of the house than the servants? Historically, British aristocracy preferred to see as little of their servants as possible, there are whole hidden stairwells and passages built into those big houses just so that the lords and ladies never have to come across servants doing their business.

Likewise, who else is better placed to set up all this wiring than the servants themselves? Tell the Squire that they need to get an electrician in because the lights are on the blink, use that as a cover for putting the wiring in place. Theoretically the lord and/or lady of the house is supposed to be going over weekly accounts with the housekeeper...but they also don’t want to be bothered with mundane things. If a trusted longtime servant tells them they need a repairperson in, are they really going to question it that much?

Alternatively, Squire Brockhollow himself set up the wiring for his own purposes, the servants just piggybacked on top of what he was doing.

I’m also thinking that if it weren’t for the murder victim (presumed to be the Squire) trying to gouge the shrapnel out of his chest, a death by electric current would resemble a sudden heart attack. It’s only because the victim had Buckster’s knife on hand that there was such a bloody injury, unfortunately making the death look instantly suspicious. If there hadn’t been a knife, a cursory look at the scene might conclude it was some kind of heart condition. And if someone had looked closer and found the wiring, they’d hardly suspect someone like Mrs. Molesly to have set the whole thing up.

Objectively, Mrs. Molesly is the best person you want in the room when the murder happens. She’s getting on years, is not very physically strong, has impaired vision and a medical condition, and character-wise is just such a sweetheart that you really wouldn’t suspect her of anything. The only reason anyone did suspect her was because of the wound and her being the only person in the room. If there hadn’t been a wound and she’d claimed it was a heart attack, you’d hardly suspect her of lying. At most, even if foul play was suspected, people would just think she misinterpreted what she saw.

The police! Gilfoyle claims to have called them after the Squire’s murder, and it takes them 12 hours to get here? Even Mrs. McCabbage gets here before they do! And then they arrive almost immediately after the second murder, the very incriminating murder that directly puts a non-staff member of the house in the frame, just in time to arrest him.

Also, wasn’t it Harding who gave Gangie all the instructions? Sure, the Squire might have his own reasons for wanting the bodies, but who’s to say Harding couldn’t slip Gangie a few extra instructions of his own?

Mrs. Molesly is an absolutely sweetie, but she’s far too calm about finding out that Gangie’s a criminal. I mean, good for her, end the stigma around people having criminal records, but everyone else in the house reacts so suspiciously to Gangie’s presence, especially after a murder, and Mrs. Molesly’s just chill? Unless she already knows quite a few criminals in the staff, and does not consider it an issue (good for her!)

Also, everyone always ignores the staff in murder mysteries, mostly because the upper classes don’t even consider them important, and given that Brennan has to have some critique of capitalism and the class system somewhere, it seems thematically appropriate.

The motive:

If we take away Fletcher Cottonbottom and the ghosts and the smoke and mirrors, what do we really have here? We have a dead badger who may or may not be the Squire, but who is certainly presumed to be. We have another dead badger and a dead magpie, who may or may not be Lady Constance and her husband, but who are certainly presumed to be. Three fairly competent members of the Brockhollow clan, possibly the most competent members of the Brockhollow family. Lady Lucretia is distracted, Jeremy is shaky and certainly not the badger his father was.

Squire Brockhollow was certainly a cantankerous fellow who was up to something. And he was willing to let Mrs. Molesly go just like that after so many years of service. If the Squire treats his longtime housekeeper like that, who’s to say how he treats the rest of his staff normally? Whose employment is really so secure with someone like Squire in charge? With the Squire out of the way, and perhaps with Lady Constance and Dr. Magpie out of the way as well, Loam Hall is left with Lucretia and Jeremy, neither of whom are exactly the imposing figures that the Squire and Constance were. Who really runs the house then? The staff.

The red herrings:

Like a typical British murder mystery, there are multiple agents and motivations at work here.

Cottonbottom is definitely alive! But he didn’t do the murder, he’s just taking advantage of the confusion to get one over Sylvester.

Honestly, would not be surprised if Cottonbottom arrived a while ago, figured out what was going on, was incredibly amused, and then realized the opportunity he had here to frame Sylvester. After all, Sylvester has deduced and foiled every plot that he’s ever come up with...but what if he’s not the one coming up with the plot? Sylvester can outwit a mastermind if he suspects there’s one present, but that also means he’s more likely to miss the forest for the trees. Can’t see the bigger picture if you’re scrutinizing all the little details.

Squire Brockhollow definitely has some kind of plan going on as well. Perhaps it’s even those plans which made him a target. He could probably keep a secret from his family, but how much can he keep hidden from the servants that he relies on to keep everything in his life running smoothly?

Anyways, the Squire definitely had plans, and Hawkins was probably in on some of them.

Why kill the Squire at a big party with lots of guests? Well, it widens the suspect pool. If the Squire suddenly keeled over on any old day when it was just the servants and the family in the house, an investigator might focus more closely on each of them. But at a party full of known enemies? Who’s going to look at the butler or the maid, except to give them orders?

I’m just thinking about so many Agatha Christie novels where the killer arranges for a detective or specialist to be in a certain place at a certain time just so that they can witness something the killer wants them to or give the killer an alibi.

The victim trying to remove the shrapnel made the death look instantly suspicious, but there’s always the possibility that someone would have investigated anyways, especially if the Squire didn’t have a history of bad health. But a famous detective like Sylvester could probably figure out the wired desk, and wouldn’t that surely put the staff to the back of the suspect queue? After all, who would suspect the servants of having any great electrical knowledge? And of course, if Sylvester gets too close to the truth, they can always frame him. After all, Sylvester is certainly not on good terms with the Squire.

TL;DR The staff (who’ve been here ~the whole time~) unionized to overthrow their employers. *Sam Reich on Game Changer voice* Con-gratulations players, you’ve ~UNIONIZED~!

#dimension 20 #mice and murder #d20 spoilers #mice and murder spoilers #this is kind of messy and i'm sure i'm forgetting a dozen details that would disprove this #i think it was jack who posted a few weeks ago about mrs. molesly unionizing the staff #and 1) that's amazing and she absolutely should; but also 2) what if the staff actually unionized and killed the squire

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queenmuzz · 3 years

Text

A Father's Wish

Tagging @buurenaars-workshop. So if you want to blame the angst. It's all their fault with the angst prompt. TW Mentions of Torture, but nothing too explicit.

Despite his less than ideal situation, Sparda contents himself that he’s done what he set out to do. The veil between both the Underworld and Overworld has been reinforced, aside from a few small tears, and his ancient foe, Mundus will be confined to the depths of Hell for nigh eternity. Sure, he had expected to die in a blaze of glory, mowing down hordes of his fellow demons, each one howling for his blood, or to be struck down by the God Emperor himself in single combat. But instead, because of that three headed witch’s sinister magic, his desire was not fulfilled. Not yet.

Mundus takes his time with him, like a cruel child with a bug. He rips his wings off, brands him with white hot iron, impales him with crystals, gouges off chunks of chitin. To Sparda, who has dealt with these pains before (and many millennia ago, inflicted them) these are trifles he can heal from. Eventually Mundus will tire of him, and finish him off. In the end, Sparda still wins, Mundus will never reach the realm he has given everything to protect. Although the Dark Slayer wishes he could have been with his new family for a little bit longer. Eva, who he’s known for less than two decades, and the twins, even less. To a demon, the passage of time goes far too quickly.

Every so often Mundus cuts a bit deeper, driving past flesh, into his own soul. Mundus taunts him, being disgusted that he would debase himself by not only protecting Humanity, but diluting his blood with them. Sometimes, Sparda senses it's THAT that really enrages Mundus. Not his betrayal, nor his sealing away, but that he dared do something no demon had ever done: fallen in love. How he wishes he could see his wife and children, at least one last time, to apologise for his departure, to tell Eva how much he loves her, to Dante, to play one last game of hide and seek, to Vergil….how proud he is of the boy.

When Mundus chuckles on one of his occasional ‘visits’, Sparda’s blood begins to freeze.

“I’ve wiped out your degenerate line, my loyal” the sarcasm is thick “lieutenant. I do so enjoy listening to tales from my followers telling about your beloved human pet’s last screams, and the taste of your mongrel’s blood…” He cackles maniacally , but Sparda has doubts. Mundus is well known for his treachery, and lies, he wouldn’t put it past the God Emperor to try to wound him with such a devastating falsehood. And besides, somehow, even in his cell in the depths of hell, he knows his sons are alive. Of course, he’s never been able to tell them apart, even with his demonic senses (Eva dressed them in red and blue to help him), but somehow, he knows…

So why does his chest hurt so much… ? And what are these tears dripping down his face?

Time passes, the tortures become almost banal, to the point that Sparda barely feels them. Mundus hasn’t made one of his visits lately, he seems to be preoccupied with some new and diabolical project. No doubt trying in vain to rip a hole through the veil, and somehow, for a brief moment, succeeding, before it slammed shut, if Sparda sense’s aren’t completely dulled by pain. But there’s a tenseness in the air, a foreboding, like when the shoreline recedes before the tsunami. (He still wishes he could see his family one more time, take them to the beach like he had promised).

When Mundus shows up again, he doesn’t come alone. He seems excited, almost giddy, but there’s a trace of frustration.

“Ah, my old friend…” he says sweetly, as sweet as a poisonous flower can be. “For so long I’ve been bereft of a loyal, capable second in command, one who won’t stab me in the back. And finally,” he moves aside to show a smaller figure, clad from head to toe in metal...no, not clad….encased. Sparks of electricity race down Sparda’s spine, warning him that something horrible is about to happen. “I have a replacement, and no longer need you.” The Dark Slayer should be relieved, his end is about to come, but his heart hammers in fear, not for himself, but for the knight in front of him.

“It took a lot to break him, to mold him into a suitable servant, and much like a diamond, many, many, cuts had to be made. And even yet, there are a few imperfections that I have not been able to cut away. Nelo Angelo has a few stubborn traces of his weakness...his humanity. Eva used to tease him that a demon whose senses could tell when Modeus or Baul was about to make an appearance, but that he couldn’t tell his own sons apart.

But now...even trapped in metal, his demonic will nearly crushed, Sparda can sense who he is, and it breaks his heart. He wanted to see his family one last time, but not like this, never like this.

“Vergil...” he calls out in a broken hoarse whisper. His son is so much taller...how much time has passed? How long has he suffered like his father? And almost imperceptibly, the knight stiffens at that name.

“What is that phrase that those wretched humans use?” Mundus muses, “Ah, yes… ‘two birds, one stone.’ I break off the last chunk of weakness, and I have my hated rival finished off. So simple.... I cannot believe I didn’t think of it before.” He turns to Nelo Angelo (no...his name is Vergil) and gives a chilling order. “My command: kill this traitorous prisoner.” Sparda’s heart crumples at the cruelty of it all. He’s not afraid to die, but not at the hands of his own son.

“Vergil!” he calls out, and without thinking, he changes from his bug like form, to his familiar human visage, hoping that will trigger some sort of resistance in his son. Whatever happens, Vergil must maintain a thread of iron will, that is his only hope of salvation. It works, because Vergil pauses, and his ugly cumbersome blade (Sparda gave him Yamato, she suited him so much better) trembles in his hand. “You must fight back, my son…”

Mundus laughs, “I never thought I’d see the day that the great and mighty Dark Slayer begs for his life.”

Only now does Sparda deign to respond to his former friend and comrade. “I am not begging for mine...but for his.”

Mundus growls, and rage oozes out of the cracks of his triumphant facade. But he keeps it simmered down, and with a flick of demonic energy, a glittering flash of gold and red hovers in front of Vergil. His son reaches out for it, his half of the perfect amulet. “Ahaha,” his master taunts in a sing-song voice, “Not yet. I need you to do one tiny, almost insignificant thing before I bestow you my gift. Kill him.”

His son still hesitates, silently glancing between his father and the amulet, before he makes his ultimate decision. He takes an attack stance, and strangely, Sparda is relieved. He’s not forsaking his humanity, no matter what Mundus thinks...he’s fighting for it, for the amulet is his mother’s gift, his humanity.

The blade pierces Sparda’s heart, and it barely hurts as the world grows dim. Vergil is close to him, and weakly, Sparda brings him into an embrace, (his son deserved so many more) and whispers in his ear...

“Even after everything...you are still fighting back...I am so proud of you…”

#Devil May Cry #Sparda #Vergil #Angst #My Writing #Sorry not sorry

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

FIRE AND ICE PART ONE - Reader / Cassian / Azriel

Reader is in an intense relationship with Cassian. Will Azriel be the one to soothe her away from him?

This is a part of an ongoing series I will tag under # fire and ice on my page

The flying had been difficult over the middle, and required several stops to rest your wings. The now cursed mountain was putting off some terrible winds. Cassian - ever watchful - always called for the breaks, making sure to check in every few minutes over the roaring wind. When the hail came, he practically smothered you trying to protect your wings with his shield.

"I'm fine!" You shouted over the pelting, angling low and picking up speed. Hail was the worst condition to fly in. Snow was alright, Illyrian wings were built for it. But hail would weigh you down in a heartbeat. In Illyria Hail was known as the rain of death by many.

The small clearing you landed in was bordered by enormous boulders that led to a deep cave. You rushed inside, Cassian in tow. The pines swayed in the terse winds, hissing loudly outside. "We'll be here a while." You sighed, stretching your wings out behind you. They strained, sore and stiff from the last days of travel. You knew it would be worse by tomorrow without a warm bath to soothe them.

You thought about the mission - the reason you were here in the first place. The recon that Azriel was too busy to do. You wondered if it was really him wanting to be alone for a while with some peace and quiet in the house without having to hear you and Cassian arguing.

Your stomach rumbled, and Cassian got to work making the fire quickly.

"Have some." He set his bowl of porridge next to you, still steaming. You shook your head, sipping from your own serving. He didn't touch it again. Frustration budded in your stomach. He was babying you. You tried to stifle the shame, but it was unbearable to have him being so upfront about the protecting. His habits came from when you first met him. The flashbacks were unwelcome. They threw you back into being the animal you'd once been.

He knew the glare your face rested to. He recalled it with ease from the first time he'd met you. That angry bitter being that holed up in a cave just like the one you sat in now.

A skinny unclipped female held her sword steadily at her side. He stared with the same curiosity his brothers shared. She struck at Azriel's shadows, making them recoil. Rhys hummed in approval. "This may be good for both of us." He said in that swaggering way he used with all his potential allies.

Curiosity among panic gripped your features. And Cassian knew you were hooked on the idea of not having to scrap for food - or live in a cave anymore.

A roaring erupted from outside the cave. Cassian shot up, leaving your body exposed to the cold night air. His siphons summoned a vicious looking sword at his side. They were the only light source besides the coals of the small dying fire at your feet. They did not crackle. They only dimly glowed, and you knew they would be out by morning.

He listened, his ears straining to hear any sort of danger outside. "We shouldn't be here." He said, voice gruff. He relaxed slightly when the trickle of rain outside slowed. You watched his back slowly ease of tension. You wondered if you had both imagined the sound.

The night passed without another sound besides the coming and going of rain.

The next morning, you didnt bother stoking the fire. Cassian was already awake and geared up. Ready to leave. He stilled when he exited the cave. The empty area outside was covered in blood. Your stomach turned at the smell of it. Dark chunks coated the trunks of trees. "What did this?" You asked, noting how Cassian clutched the sword at his side.

"I dont know. You stay here, let me fly over first." His wings unfurled, and he made to take off. He tossed a siphon to you. He paused at the sound of it thumping against the forest floor.

"I can fly over too. Let's just go together." You flexed your wings, sighing at the first stretch of the day. There was a pop from behind you. Cassian's head whipped to the dark figure creeping up, far too swiftly to be anything natural.

He struck, gone from your vision in a second. His siphons were blinding. You pulled your sword out and readied for whatever threat he had attacked. He rolled with the impact against a dark tendon that spired from the forest directly at him. The other figure was coming stright at you. Far too quickly for you to bring your sword out against. You managed a kick at the snake's head, to no avail.

Then, it was pulling at you. Your legs went from under you. It drug you back to the dark forest, through the bloodied ground. The snake's maw gouged at your calves, and hissed at you as you kicked and struggled away. You scrambled for your dagger, driving it deep into the beasts' scaled side. It released. You kicked away, hands shaking. Adrenaline made things move slowly. then, Cassian was above you. His sword cut the squealing head of the dark serpent from its body. The other half of it lay in the clearing, its head sputtering and trying to regrow its body.

You didnt have time to recover. He hauled you from the forest floor, and took off. His shield broke through the boughs of trees, snapping entire branches and leaving an exit behind. The snake far below writhed and grew.

His shoulder to your middle squeezed the air from your lungs. You wheezed and tried to fight him off. The forest below you widened and grew smaller. The small red stain on the forest floor became incomprehensible against the green and tan of the scenery. He flew high, and fast. "You were almost a part of that bloody mess." He growled, not letting you go even though your wings stretched, aching to fly yourself.

"But I wasnt, let go." You bit out.

He didnt. He just held you tighter. Your adrenaline spiked further. "Let. Go." You growled, smacking his back between his wings. He shouted in pain and finally released you. "Do not go back there." His voice was sharp, commanding. As if he was speaking to an Illyrian solider. You stared him down. He knew that look. That long warning glare that you gave. He changed his tone. "We need to leave, call the mission a bust."

"One mis-step is going to make you abandon the entire mission?" You scoffed, banking far away from him. He was on your heels in an instant. "Azriel needs us." You eyed the cold black shadow that the snake was against the warm tones of the ground. Its dark blood left a stain behind. You wanted to end it. Cut it piece to piece was the only way it would truly die. With Cassian only beheading it, it would surely grow twice as large now. And terrorize others.

"You're right. He needs us alive." He called back, not letting you out of his wingspan.

Again, he stayed silent. "You're really going home because of this?"

"You are too. Let's go." He swooped lower than you, and grabbed your hand. You could tell it was supposed to be sweet - a gesture. But the anger flipped a switch inside you. You snapped your hand away from his and pulled high up into the air, far away from him. Still, he followed.

Rage ignited, fueling your belly with heat and venom that you spat at him. "You don't order me Cassian. I'm not An Illyrian rank." You desperately wanted to continue the mission. For Az, for Rhys, for your own pride. For Cassian to stop seeing you as a weak Illyrian who never got to stretch their wings.

"No, but I'd hope that you would leave with me. For me. I won't go without you." His voice was tender, and it made your heart weak. It made tears sting your eyes at how vulnerable he thought you were. The dismissal burned low in your gut. Replacing that fire that he had started. He held a hand out to you, the siphon atop it glowing brightly with power.

"Dont make me make you." His voice was soft, but laced with that threatening aura you'd only ever heard when he was talking battle plans with his brothers. Your blood boiled.

You didn't take it as you flew away, far ahead of him. You let the fury burn in your wings, enjoying the relief flying so fast brought to your coiled muscles. You arrived back home within half the time it had taken you to get to Autumn. You sighed at the relief of the cool familiar winds and smells of Velaris.

#reader x cassian #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #reader x azriel #acotar fic #az fic #cas fic #cassian fic #fire and ice fic

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