#why not spies out on the open sea doing sea shit

[kairithemang0]

Spies are Forever Pirate AU

places mic on the delicately floor and leaves

#spies are forever #curtwen #spies are forever pirate au #saf #agent curt mega #owen carvour #guys we've already got cowboy spies and spies who sing about spring #why not spies out on the open sea doing sea shit #just a thought #tin can bros #tin can brothers #spies arrr forever

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

psa: trent ikithon is not as competent and powerful as he makes himself seem.

(cw: discussion of abuse)

.

.

i'm not sure how to get into this in a way that's natural, so i hope you don't mind if i go for the straightforward route.

trent ikithon is an abuser. that means his tactics all center around—and rely upon—making vulnerable people believe that he has far more power than he actually does. and when it comes to our pov, the m9's pov, ikithon is trying his damnedest to accomplish the same.

now, i don't know everything that's in matt mercer's head when he has played or characterized trent ikithon. i'm sure there's some depth to his motivations and intelligence, and i don't doubt that ikithon ideologically believes in strengthening the empire. but this is not relevant to the abuse tactics i want to discuss.

because the reality is this: abusers do what they do because they enjoy victimizing and controlling the vulnerable.

that's why you get abusers like archivist zeenoth who are attracted to positions of authority. those positions facilitate structural imbalances of power between them and their potential victims. trent ikithon, too, is doing the same thing—as an archmage of the cerberus assembly, he is exploiting the authority of his position to gain victims for abusing. he is not doing what he does because he's a brilliant mastermind focused on a goal. if he was, he wouldn't abuse his students.

think about it in terms of effectiveness. no matter what people like ikithon try to assert, his volstrucker are not in any way stronger or more capable from his 'tutelage'. caduceus clay roasted the man in his own dining room for this lie. what the volstrucker are are an organization of ruthless, skilled spies built from deeply abused and damaged people. they aren't healthy; they aren't stable. caleb widogast spent eleven years in a sanatorium because he was one of many recruits who broke under the abuse (see EGtW), and then five years as a solitary, paranoia-ridden mess in a filthy coat. he spent months trying not to self-sabotage his growing friendships and had a panic attack as soon as he left ophelia mardun's mansion in shadycreek (e27, 2:55:21). he has ptsd from using fire magic to burn people to death—considering his statement on executing traitors to the empire as a trainee (e18, 2:48:12), it was probably an everyday part of the job.

even the minority of volstrucker that do get through the training stage aren’t functioning well. only a few episodes ago, we watched astrid finish a conversation with caleb and then duck into an alleyway so she could curl up and have a five-minute breakdown before putting the composed mask back on (e126, 1:50:47). abuse makes being alive harder; good luck being a sustainable espionage program at that point.

so that's one lie. how about another?

at the dinner in ikithon's tower, ikithon implied that he has guided every step of caleb's path to recovery and ever-growing power. that caleb's plans to murder ikithon are exactly what he wants; that he even arranged his escape from the vergessen sanatorium (e110, 2:52:58).

i think enough people have recognized that ikithon's first claim is utter bullshit, considering that caleb and the m9 had just arrived from a random island on which they hosted a cult gathering festooned with phalluses. but the implication that he arranged for caleb's escape from the sanatorium was just that: an implication. he never says outright that he did so. he only couched what he knew in gaslighting platitudes and handed over the holy symbol of the cleric that healed him. you won't sense a lie that hasn't been spoken. he let caleb and the m9 make their assumptions, and the assumption worked in his favor.

let's consider the actual circumstances of caleb's escape (e18, beginning 2:51:54). a fellow inmate of the sanatorium who was a cleric suddenly grabbed him and healed him of his madness before returning to her own ravings. caleb then pretended he was still insane for two weeks before killing a guard, stealing the amulet that kept him hidden, and fleeing. how would any of these events work in trent ikithon's favor? the number of absurd assumptions here are off the charts.

first, you would have to believe that a cleric could permanently heal a man who'd been insane and probably experimented on for eleven years.

second, you would have to assume that this man would still be competent enough to pass general scrutiny and break out.

third, you would have to believe that he'd totally survive on his own without any resources whatsoever,

after eleven years of being institutionalized,

while first beginning deep in the pearlbow wilderness—

all without raising the suspicion of this apparently still hypercompetent ex-patient that his escape was too easy.

and fourth, you would have to believe that this man would actually accomplish something in your interests instead of, say, dying or remaining a vagrant beggar forever.

if this was all on purpose, then trent ikithon is really an idiot.

another truth: caleb was not special. both liam and caleb have said so (talks for e88, beginning 28:00; & e110, 29:06), with the examples of other volstrucker supporting this. all of them are talented mages and good at spycraft! they have to be to graduate in the first place! ikithon's assertions that caleb was extra special (e110, 2:52:11)? also a lie—specifically, a great tactic for convincing a victim of abuse not to think about it further. of course they're being hurt again. of course they're being targeted again. not to mention how abusers selectively compliment in order to confuse the people they’re hurting (relevant here: e88, 3:28:25). caleb having an unhealthy amount of hubris and thus open to being diagnosed with protagonist disease doesn’t help.

ikithon would have easily deduced the details of what happened and obtained the holy symbol after an investigation of the break-out. not too hard to piece things together if you simply ask about unusual events prior to the escape and learn that he'd had an altercation with another patient two weeks ago—and oh yes, that patient used to be a blasphemous cleric.

caleb widogast basically reappeared next door healthier, much more powerful, and more capable than ever. ikithon doesn’t have control over caleb’s entire past and future—but he wants him to believe he does. it’s a gaslighting attempt to make caleb question his own accomplishments and attribute them to ikithon so that ikithon can regain some control over his ex-student.

another truth: trent ikithon is already on thin fucking ice. no one in the cerberus assembly likes each other, of course, but a consistent point was made again and again that everyone deeply dislikes ikithon. he's stayed because he made himself useful, but he could and would get taken care of should he be a detriment instead (see e88, 3:19:27; & e97, 3:19:32).

any sort of thorough investigation into the volstrucker and the vergessen sanatorium would reveal exactly how fragile all of his agents are and how frequently he fails in conditioning his recruits. ikithon gets the pick of the crop when it comes to nationalistic, talented students that enter the soltryce academy. to find out that he drives a significant number of them insane? well, that's a pure waste of unrealized potential. and for what—a program of spies who are paranoid enough and opportunistic enough to turn on each other if prodded the right way?

and now... trent ikithon, as part of the traitorous beacon research, has been under heavy investigation from two fronts: the augen trust and the cobalt soul (e125, 2:31:10). and he has been getting very nervous recently (e125, 2:41:42).

the final truth i want to point out: trent ikithon is just as control-obsessed as any other abuser. we got the most obvious example of this yet from e128—his pursuit of the m9 to nicodranas and tidepeak tower. think about the circumstances again.

he was apparently so curious and so annoyed by caleb rebuffing all of his attempts at ‘conversation’ that he made his excuses before teleporting directly to nicodranas,

through a circle implied to be arranged diplomatically between the empire and the clovis concord,

with a plan to break into the lavish chateau, one of the most high-profile locations of the city, to potentially kidnap or kill everyone,

including the famous and beloved ruby of the sea.

he then chased the m9 and their families to the equally high-profile tidepeak tower on the open quay, all of which is owned by yussa errenis, an archmage himself who’s learned far more about local politics than he ever wanted to know,

intimidated his “man”servant,

and broke in.

and they did all of this possibly with some very confused members of the zhelezo following right behind them.

other people have gone through the potential political consequences of this more thoroughly than me, so suffice to say that trent ikithon has gotten himself into some deep shit. you can’t negotiate or magic yourself out of being witnessed by hundreds of people breaking into the tower of an archmage who is infamous among the locals for being a bitchy recluse.

if he was smart, and clever, and a brilliant mastermind, he wouldn’t have done any of that. what he could have done: continue to handle caleb from an ominous distance through spells like sending. allege to the cerberus assembly and king dwendal that the break-in was an underhanded cobalt soul mission because of beauregard’s association with the m9. or just straight-up say that the m9 broke into his facilities because they have a vendetta against him and have them at least investigated the next time the empire can hold onto them for a second.

but he didn’t do any of those much more clever possibilities. he acted impulsively and rashly and may well be on the way to a lot of trouble now. all because ikithon just could not handle caleb being saucy.

with all this in mind, i want to go back to one last detail: astrid and eadwulf. because these two would suffer terrible consequences if they ran away—allegedly.

because i want to ask... what exactly could ikithon do to them?

they’ve already killed their own parents. so far, we’ve had no sign either that they have anyone else important to them in his reach besides each other. they have nothing tying themselves to him besides years of abuse and the crimes they’ve committed as volstrucker. they might want some power of their own, sure, perhaps they want to kill him while they’re still close. but we certainly know that eadwulf and astrid are not invested in the volstruckers as it stands. they doubt ikithon. and they already have their own amulets.

so what else could make them so terrified by the idea of leaving with the m9 except the way that trent ikithon has abused them and convinced them that he’s powerful enough and capable enough to catch up to them?

don’t be fooled. he hosted the most embarrassing excuse for a dining-with-the-enemy scene (seriously, i hope someone reading this cringed the entire time as well from all the long pauses and terrible topic transitions) and then teleported away to flee caduceus clay’s scalding tea. no retort, no blackmail. he acted recklessly in nicodranas and appropriately pushed two of his own volstrucker to betray him, losing his one opportunity to capture the m9′s family there. and now ikithon is between a rock and a hard place in terms of political standing, with a spy network he has openly encouraged to turn against him.

there is no terror waiting in the wings anymore, no more strings he can pull. just an abuser playing up his own grandeur. at this point, the only thing he hasn’t reached his limit in yet is his high-level spell slots.

#cr #critical role #cr meta #trent ikithon #caleb widogast #astrid #eadwulf #abuse #gaslighting mention #prim post #prim says some things #long post #he's a horrible and despicable person who's #used his power to commit massive harm don't get me wrong #but don't fall for overestimating him- he wants you to

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 5)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: TW for Remus being Remus, threats of violence

thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for editing! Check out their spinoff @actorau it's going to be so cool

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

The throne room was quiet, the guards stationed around the golden walls silent and motionless, the air just as heavy as it had been since news of the missing Prince had made it to the King.

Janus’s eyes were on the blue skies outside glass stained windows, the guards around him staring straight ahead, backs straight, unmoving for hours.

He leaned against the back of the throne with a sigh. The golden throne was grand and elegant, but also old and uncomfortable. It was honestly more for show than for furniture, and his back always protested the hours upon hours he spent in the throne room. He was always staring at the door, waiting for the same boring pointless people to come in with their same boring pointless demands.

It had been a bit more frantic since Virgil had disappeared along with his advisor, but with over a week of no new leads, no way to track down the missing Prince, things had settled back into routine, just coupled with a rising sense of uncertainty and dread.

Janus could barely even remember the last time he’d had a proper conversation with Virgil. They saw each other in meetings, Virgil quiet and nervous, out of place in a room full of adult royals, but that was about it.

He’d stopped by to congratulate the young Prince on achieving adulthood on his 18th birthday, as well as to praise Patton for his success, but that had been almost a year ago now, and they’d barely said a word to each other since.

Janus had never bothered to get to know the boy- too many bad memories, too much responsibility on top of the crown that had been thrust upon him after the death of the Queen.

He’d been given the throne to the kingdom he was never meant to rule, expected to ignore his own grief and confusion in favor of piecing things back together. He couldn’t raise a child on top of that.

Virgil had his mother’s mismatched eyes. Janus still couldn’t bring himself to look at the Prince without a simple glance being accompanied by waves of unwanted memories.

Patton had raised him well in place of any real family, and Janus had paid him enough to support the young advisor for decades.

And now both Virgil and Patton were gone, vanished without a trace in the middle of the night, and Janus didn’t know what to do.

Virgil was the only heir, set to be King in less than a year’s time now. The boy was a wreck. Anxious, timid, unprepared, and unsociable. So Janus had managed to push back the crowning until he was twenty, rather than eighteen like originally planned.

Patton had done his best, but he and Janus both knew that boy wasn’t fit to be King. Not yet, at least. Probably not for a long while.

But there was nothing Janus could do about that. He was never meant to be King, he was simply a placeholder until the late Queen’s son came of age.

He'd been able to keep Virgil from being crowned as an unprepared teenager like Janus had been, but he couldn't keep the crown off his head forever.

But now the late Queen’s son was gone, and Janus was still on the throne, his back still protesting the long, uneventful hours.

He’d been King for nearly a decade. He’d built his kingdom, built a reputation, placed his spies, made sure he had eyes and ears on every corner. The people knew him, respected him (more out of fear than anything, he suspected). The King was always the first to hear anything.

And yet there hadn’t been a word about the missing Prince. Nobody was sure when he left, if he was still in the city, if he’d left on a ship or was just hiding right under their noses. Nobody knew if he’d left willingly or if someone had stolen him.

It had been over a week, and still nothing.

Janus was pulled from his thoughts when the double doors at the end of the hall swung open without any warning or announcement, loud heels clicking against the floor, the guards startling to attention.

“Hell of a place you got here,” the intruder called, weaving around the two guards stationed at the door, expertly avoiding their grasps. “Did you decorate in puke yellow on purpose?”

Janus leaned forward, watching with his one good eye as the man pushed his way into the throne room, grinning as he surveyed the area, avoiding the apparently incompetent guards.

Janus raised a hand, stopping the rest of his men from rushing forward, weapons raised. The day had been never ending and dull, he might as well see how this played out.

Janus kept his eye on the intruder, eyebrow raised. “And who might you be?”

“That’s not important right now,” the man said, finally spinning around to face the throne. “What is important is… holy shit. What happened to your face? It looks like it was on fire and someone tried to put it out with a fork! Like, in a good way. It works.”

He sounded almost awestruck, staring shamelessly at the marred side of Janus’s face, and for the first time in years the King felt uneasy up on his throne, tensing under the gaze.

Nobody looked at his scar. It was common courtesy to pretend it wasn’t there, an unspoken agreement among the people.

“Tell me who you are and what you want before I have you arrested.”

The man gave a dramatic, woeful sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have a kid, yeah? Short, big mop of black hair, crown prince and heir to the throne of Naither?”

That piqued Janus’s interest much more than the bizarre show the nameless man seemed intent on putting on. “My nephew is the heir, and the city is aware there is a reward for his return. If you have information you should have scheduled an appointment.”

“Appointments aren’t really my thing,” he said, looking up with a bright, crooked grin, one hand moving up to brush over his mustache. “The point is, I know where your kid is.”

“Wonderful,” Janus said. “Where?”

The man merely shrugged. “That depends. How much are you paying?”

He kept his voice disinterested and bored, picking at chipped, painted nails. Well, two could play that game.

Janus leaned back in the throne and examined his gloves, black and gold rings glittering in what little sunlight managed to filter in. He saw the man’s gaze fall on the jewels, his eyes brightening hungrily. “I’m sure we could get you a handsome reward for helping to bring the Prince home. If your information is authentic.”

“Well I’m not offering information,” he said, tilting his head to look at Janus. “I’m offering to collect him myself. There are very few people you could trust with the job, you know. You can’t just pick up any rando’ off the streets.”

“I have plenty of people who are more than capable of bringing the heir back home. You’re expecting me to entrust his return to a stranger?”

The man shrugged again. “I won’t share the information with just anyone.”

“You’ll share the information if there’s a knife to your throat.”

The man actually grinned at that, brown eyes brightening dangerously. There was a scar across the left side of his face, that eye a bit glossy, parallel to Janus’s own injury. “Any fool willing to attack the ship he’s on will die. I can guarantee that. Except myself, of course!”

“Is that so?” Janus drawled. “Care to explain why?”

Remus hummed, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, smug grin only growing. “You’ve not heard of the Calypso? She’s mighty notorious, especially about these parts. And I’d simply not let anyone near her. There’s precious cargo on that ship, you know.”

Janus had heard of the ship, but only vaguely. He tended to ignore rumors of pirates, busying himself with more important things than following those stories. Especially when such stories didn’t often involve the land he was ruling.

Well, he couldn’t exactly ignore the pirates when they were kidnapping the kingdom’s only heir, could he?

“How do I know you’re right about Virgil being aboard?”

“Why, I have written proof from the Captain, of course!” The man bounced a bit on the balls of his feet, leaning forward. “He’s been on board for… nearly two weeks now? They’ll stop in Gladena in about a day's time, and from there be off to Deigh. You can check any record you please, the first mate is absolutely meticulous about it all.”

Janus drummed his fingers along the throne, studying the intruder carefully. He should have this man arrested for daring to barge into the throne room, whether he was telling the truth or not.

He could send someone he trusted after Virgil, but… the Prince and his advisor would be on the lookout for someone they recognized. And despite himself, Janus was achingly curious. "And how long would it take you to get my heir back to me?"

“Well, considering it took the Captain two weeks to get to Gladena,” the man mused, dropping his arms to fold his hands behind his back, swaying slightly. “I could cut them off at Deigh and be back in less than two months.”

It wasn’t… ideal. The kingdom needed it’s Prince back as soon as possible, especially when he was so close to taking the throne. Janus couldn’t keep the fear and uncertainty at bay forever.

But Deigh was a decent way away. Assuming this man would actually do what he said he would, two months was the best they could hope for. It wasn’t a bad offer.

“Very well,” Janus relented with a heavy sigh. “Every day over two months you’re gone, I reduce your pay. I expect Virgil to be returned unharmed.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re no fun.”

“And I’ll need your name,” Janus said. “I’d like to know who I’m trusting my nephew’s safe return with.”

The man brightened, toothy grin spreading across his face as he put a hand to his chest and bent forward in a mock bow.

“Remus of Lucoria. At your service, your majesty.”

Janus sighed, and some of the guards at the foot of the throne shifted anxiously, no doubt waiting for the order to attack.

As it turned out, there was one pirate Janus couldn’t ignore the rumors about. No one could, with how they seemed to spread with viscosity like no other.

“Ah,” Janus said. He wondered briefly how Remus had managed to dock without word getting to the King, making a mental note to fire his head naval officer. “Wonderful.”

“There we go.” Remus straightened, his grin never faltering. “Now you know who you’re dealing with.”

“And now I trust you to deliver Virgil safely even less.”

“Oh come off it,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’m incompetent.”

“You do have a reputation,” Janus pointed out. “And I’d like my nephew back. Not his corpse.”

“I’m ruthless, not stupid. He’ll be alive.”

“He needs to be unharmed.”

“Unharmed is… such a big request these days,” Remus said, turning back to examining his nails. “Should I kiss his booboo if he gets a splinter?”

Janus set his jaw, staring down at Remus from his vantage point up on the throne. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had talked back to him like this, especially in his own throne room. “You should deliver the Crown Prince without injuring him. He’s royalty.”

“Yes, and as am I,” Remus said. “He’s not special.”

“You’re not royalty anymore.”

Remus rolled his eyes once again, turning back to Janus with a smile. “It’s a mindset.”

“Of course it is,” Janus drawled, leaning forward in his throne. “Royalty is power. If I wanted you dead today, your head would be at my feet in seconds.”

Remus laughed then, the sound short and humorless. “I had no problem getting in here, did I? If I wanted you dead today, you would be.”

“Not if you wanted to escape with your life,” Janus said. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“I did say if, sweetheart. I’m not here for that today.”

“Good,” Janus said, keeping his voice cold and sharp. “I still need the Prince back in one piece.”

“Yeah yeah,” Remus agreed, waving him off. “I heard you.”

“Completely unharmed, Remus.”

“Yes,” Remus growled. “I heard you. I’ll kiss all his booboos.”

“Good,” the King said again. “And I trust you’re aware of the reward for Virgil’s return?”

“Oh, I am,” Remus said. “And it’s not enough. I want 3,000. To start.”

Janus scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “To start, huh?”

“I’ve got to be compensated for my time, don’t I?”

“Sure,” Janus agreed. “But I’ll remind you I do have an army at my disposal. I don’t need you for one job. You’ve given me all the information I need to send my own men.”

“The Calypso’s Captain won’t let him go so easily,” Remus said. “And much less to anyone but me. So either I go get him, or he makes it to Deigh and is never heard from again. Your choice.” He said with another infuriating shrug.

There were countless eyes on Janus, the guards watching and waiting, ready to move at the King’s word. Remus was smiling, smug and knowing, and Janus took a steadying, resigned breath.

“Fine,” Janus relented. “I’ll give you 1,500 before you depart, and 1,500 when you return with Virgil.”

“Plus the pre-existing reward.”

The King sighed. He’d pay just about anything to get Remus out of his castle. “Fine. 3,000 on top of the reward.”

Remus smiled again, giving one more fake, flashy bow before sending the King a wink Janus would have anyone else killed for.

He started towards the double doors before pausing and turning back to the King. “How ‘bout a kiss, too?”

“Get out of my throne room.”

Remus cackled, striding past the bewildered guards and pushing past the double doors, the clicking of his heels echoing against the walls. He disappeared and the doors closed behind him, leaving Janus perched on his throne in silence like nothing had even happened.

Taglist:

@i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple @fire-and-ash67 @blues-clues-oh-wait @shinekittenace @marrymebishop @all-panic-nodisco @ravenclawunicorn1 @someoneiwasnt @listenherebuddypal @aroace-energy

#pirate au #sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #ts remus #demus #dukeceit #writing #fanfiction #pirates

[space-lynn]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming was stuck in my head on loop, and this post by @popcornbee inspired me to write this. Enjoy reading!

~~~~~

The sound of wings flapping could be heard as a Scauldron landed in a clearing at the bottom of a slope. Marcy Wu, resident dragon rider and nerd hopped down, whispering, “Thanks, Joe.”

She spotted her girlfriend’s Silver Phantom a few feet away. Minerva just leisurely curled up on the grass. The raven-haired girl jogged up the slope to meet Sasha, wondering why she’d been asked to meet her here just before sunset.

“Hey Sashimi,” she chirped as she spied the other girl.

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“Sure thing. But why are we meeting here… of all places.”

“Well,” Sasha chuckled nervously, “seven years ago, this is the exact same spot at the exact same time I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

Marcy’s eyes widened, only now remembering that today was their 7th anniversary.

She smacked her face with her palms, voice muffled when she said, “Today’s our anniversary. I didn’t get you anything! Holy shit, Sash, I’m--”

“Hey, hey,” Sasha interrupted, taking the girl’s hands away from her face.

“You being here is enough for me. And, uh, I need to tell you something.”

Marcy looked worried.

“It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s just…”

Sasha smiled down at her girlfriend. She opened her mouth and started singing,

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas

With never a fear of drowning”

Marcy paused, face flushed when she realized what Sasha was going to do.

“And gladly ride the waves of life”

The blonde got down on one knee.

“If you would marry me”

Tears sprung onto Marcy’s eyes and she had to stop herself from happily sobbing. Sasha continued, holding on to her partner’s hand,

“Nor scorching sun nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And…”

The warrior looked at her expectantly, hope in her eyes that Marcy would continue the song. Marcy sniffled and messily wiped her tears away. With a shaky voice, she gladly proceeded,

“And love me for eternity”

Sasha grinned brightly. With a laugh, Marcy pulled the other dragon rider up on her feet.

“My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I’ve no need for mighty deeds”

The raven-haired girl tugged the other closer until they were almost face to face, placing Sasha’s hands on her waist just for the lyrics.

“When I feel your arms around me”

Sasha pulled back, taking control of the song. She took two steps back and smirked, a hand held in front of her face as she waved it quickly and a ring appeared between the pointer and middle finger.

“But I would bring you rings of gold

I’d even sing you poetry”

“Would you?” Marcy snickered, arms playfully crossed. Sasha shot her a half-hearted dirty look, keeping the ring then bowing slightly and holding her hand out to Marcy.

“And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me”

Marcy smiled, singing once more,

“I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me”

Marcy took her hand and the blonde drew her in. Hand in hand, they merrily danced around the area, mindful of the cliff’s edge as they sang together, voices filled with love and joy.

“To love and kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life’s sorrows and delights

I’ll keep your laugh inside me”

They stopped in the middle, still holding on to each other.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas

With never a fear of drowning

I’ll gladly ride the waves so white”

Sasha placed her forehead on Marcy’s, holding eye contact as they grinned at one another.

“And you will marry me~”

They gasped for air for a moment before meeting in the middle for a sweet, tender and loving kiss.

“I love you, Marcy Waybright,” Sasha whispered, smiling.

“And I love you, Sasha Wu.”

~~~~~

Just some fluffy Sasharcy HTTYD AU. Hope you guys enjoyed reading. Have a nice morning, afternoon or evening! Until the next snippet!

#amphibia #amphibia fanfic #fanfic snippet #sasha waybright #marcy wu #sasharcy #inspired by a song #inspired by art #soft dragon rider gfs

[thesmpisonfire]

HEYYYY

I needed to write them.

Its based on this

Enjoy!!

Fundy hated fishing.

Something about sitting still, eyes locked in one place, and how slow it was... It just keep up his nerves.

It didn't help that Fundy was also catching nothing.

Maybe it was because Fundy was unlucky as fuck.

Maybe it was because of the thunderstorm that was happening for around an hour.

Who knows?

The fox was sitting still, trembling slightly from the cold water soaking his fur and his clothes. His eyes were locked on the bopping white spot that was being tossed around by the angry waves. He waited, paws holding the fishing rod so tight he couldn't even feel them anymore.

How long has he been there? Fundy decided to fish in order to clean his mind from his problems, and only tripped into a rabbit hole of memories and loss.

Wilbur used to take him fishing, but they were so bad at it. Fundy was never patient, and Wilbur was always scaring the fish by moving his feet underwater.

They would come home with an empty basket, but they always had so much fun that it didn't even matter.

The water falling down from Fundy's face was just raindrops.

Philza and Fundy fishing during the day Eret should appear. The fox was so happy and hopeful, just to be heartbroken once more.

Phil was a good grandfather, but, when needed, dissapeared to be with Techno on the montains.

Fundy's shaking body was just because of the cold.

He was sitting on the edge of a pond, near his wedding venue. Fundy tried to run after Dream, but the blond was already gone. Dream left behind a broken heart, and didn't even look back to see whose heart was it.

Fundy moved his feet underwater, holding a self made rod and pretending he was catching something. Sometimes, he didn't even know how he could handle so much.

His grip on the rod only got stronger. He couldn't let it go. Even with his breakdown, crying pathetically in the rain, he couldn't handle fail something as simple as fishing.

Fundy sat on that pier trying to feel better, and he only managed to get even more miserable.

The sea was too aggressive and the rain was too loud, he didn't noticed the soft steps behind him, not until the rain stopped falling on him, and Fundy looked up to see Ranboo.

The enderman was holding a big umbrella, also wearing a black and white raincoat, long enough to cover all of of his legs and arms. The hoodie covered Ranboo's face in shadows and, if Fundy didn't know the dumbass that Ranboo was, looked like ready to kill the fox.

Ranboo crotched right next to Fundy, compressing himself under the umbrella in order to not get wet.

"What are you doing here?"

Fundy shrugged, not even trying to look better.

"Pitying myself and feeling like shit."

"Mood."

Both of them chuckled, eyes back on the sea.

"Why under the rain, tho? You can feel like that while cozy back into our house."

Since Eret finally managed to adopt both Fundy and Ranboo, the youngest called his house "their house", somewhere Fundy could stay while visiting from Dry Waters. Fundy tried to brush it off, because, you know, they also had the big as fuck castle where they could live. But Ranboo wasn't going to give up on his house, so now Fundy had 3 beds to sleep. It was nice.

"Yeeah... But I really wanna feel miserable, you know?" Fundy softly laughed again, grip strong again so he couldn't lose his rod.

"That's sad, Fundy." There was concern in Ranboo's voice. Lot's of it.

"Tell me about it, man..." Fundy smiled.

He liked to talk to Ranboo. It was a nice kid, mostly a yes-man, but with a really fast mind and so fuckin smart, it was almost unbelievable. Fundy also liked that Ranboo never actually judged him for his terrible choices, like smoking or fishing during a thunderstorm, but instead just tried to talk him out from it without being too harsh. It was a good kid.

"You know, Ranboo... The thing is..."

Fundy turned his face too fast, tail wiggling happily with the company, and water drops hit Ranboo's little spots of uncovered skin.

Hssss. Fundy's ears immediately perked up, worry in his face when he finally noticed that his stupid half enderman brother was standing in the middle of the pouring rain.

"RANBOO!" Fundy let the rod go, getting up surprisingly quickly. "Get up! We need to go!"

Ranboo kinda freezed, surprised with the sudden explosion of energy. He quickly obeyed Fundy, getting up and being immediately pushed in order to walk.

"Why are you so dumb? The sky is basically flooding everything!" Fundy was almost running, not noticing when Ranboo inclined in order to not let Fundy get even more wet. "Why?!" Ranboo just laughed at Fundy's voice crack, fixing his rain coat in order to get more safe from the water.

"I saw you standing there, so I went there trying to know what you were doing!"

"You are an idiot." Fundy groaned in annoyance, not believing that Ranboo was so careless like that. "Be normal and try not to fucking die!"

Ranboo laughed louder, opening the door and letting Fundy enter first. "Okay, I'll do my best"

"Grow some fuckin braincells!" Fundy said from the top floor, getting a towel and drying himself. Ranboo spied a little and saw Fundy shaking his body like a wet dog, his fur going all puffy and taking giggles from the half enderman. Fundy's fur was bigger due to the winter, and Ranboo knew that Fundy really cared for it.

"Leave your jacket up there, we can eat something down here" Ranboo said, smiling when Fundy plopped himself on the couch, stretching next to the fireplace. "Take of this stupid raincoat, its still wet." Fundy mumbled, lazily looking at Ranboo.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about my shiny armor to save you from the rain"

"Save me?? You were so fuckin stupid! Knights are not that stupid!!!" Fundy sat up, raising his voice and making Ranboo start laughing again.

"Dude, what happened?" They jumped on spot as Niki and Eret suddenly entered the house, both of them under the same umbrella, the other half enderman wearing a pastel yellow colored raincoat and Eret without his crown, sunglasses nowhere to be seen, making the white glow shine in the slightly dark room.

"We could hear Fundy from L'manburg's entrance." Niki chuckled, closing the umbrella and taking out her raincoat.

Fundy got up, looking annoyed as hell to an outsider, but his family could see the hidden smile in his face.

"Wanna know what happened? Ranboob, like an idiot...."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I'll call you how I want!"

"Boooooys, stop fighting!!" Niki tried to intervene, but just got softly pushed away to the couch when Fundy and Ranboo started a pillow fight.

Eret smiled at their kids, walking to the kitchen in order to make some hot chocolate.

Somewhere, at the sea, a fishing rod was being taken away by the waves.

#ITS FLUFFY!!! #how dare me??? #yes i am projecting stfu #i need some good family dynamic #mcyt #dream smp #fundy #eret #nihachu #ranboo

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: Nirvana in Fire, Episode 02

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 54 Episodes!

A Cunning Plan

Let's start by checking in with the in-progress schemes. Nirvana in Fire features many, many overlapping schemes that stretch across multiple episodes.

Princess Nihuang's Marriage: Princess Nihuang is betrothed to a dead guy, and that's fine with her. If she needs tender emotional care she's got Xia Dong. Xia Dong is married to a dead guy so this works well for both of them.  

The Emperor wants to marry Nihuang off, because she's got a loyal heap of troops at the southern border, and he's a paranoid old fuck, who doesn't like anyone to have the power to overthrow him. Marrying her will sort of force her to hand her troops off to her impulsive younger brother, or something.

The Emperor has a soft spot for Nihuang, however, so he's allowed her to set a bunch of impossible conditions on the marriage, including a martial arts contest. NIF is a hybrid palace drama and Wuxia drama, so there are courtesans and backstabbing and sneaky maids and sneaky eunuchs but also, people can fly.

The two main power seekers, Prince Yu and the Crown Prince, have flunkies that they want Nihuang to marry, but their flunkies suck at martial arts, so if they want her to marry one of their dudes, there will have to be cheating.

Note that Nihuang's good friends Jingrui and Yujin are taking part in the contest to marry her, which might be weird, except they both know she can beat their asses so they seem to just be joining in for fun & prestige. 

The fact that she doesn't want to marry either of these loveable cuties means that she's pretty serious about staying betrothed to her first love, despite his apparent deadness.

(more after the cut!)

Recruiting Mei Changsu / Killing Mei Changsu: Team Prince Yu wants to recruit Mei Changsu. Team Crown Prince wants to recruit him or kill him, if recruiting him doesn't work. 

Mei Changsu acts like this is so tedious; all he wants to do is rest. But they only want to recruit him because he and his pal Lin Chen made them believe he is the answer to their problems.  Whenever Mei Changsu acts annoyed at something, it's probably something he actually orchestrated. "Pork chops again?" (secretly buys more pork chops).

The Duke Qing/ Landgrab Case: In Episode 1, the Jiangzuo Alliance protected some witnesses against Duke Qing in an enslavement/land grabbing case. It's difficult for me to find anything about historical land grabbing in China because Google is full of 21st century land grabbing information. Anyway Duke Qing works for Prince Yu, so the witnesses are (whether they mean to be or not) on The Crown Prince's side. The Emperor has an interest in this case, because land grabbing is bad, apparently, even by corrupt-emperor standards. Xia Dong is in charge of investigating.

The Chiyan Army Case: This is the big conspiracy that the entire show is about. 11 years ago, the Emperor received evidence that Prince Qi, Lin Xie (Mei Changsu's father), and the entire Chiyan army were going to rebel. This was supposedly reported by Xia Dong's husband, Nie Feng, before Lin Xie supposedly killed him. The emperor ordered executions for everybody.

Prince Jing thought this was a bunch of bullshit and didn't hesitate to say so, which got him sent off to distant regions to do army things for years at a time, and landed him a place high up on the emperor’s shit list.

The Hazelnut Pastry Scheme: This is a small scale, benevolent scheme, in which Concubine Jing will eventually stop making cookies with hazelnuts in them, because Mei Changsu is allergic to them. 

Ok, that’s the scheme roundup for this episode. On with the show!

Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

After a quick expository chat between the Emperor and Gong Gao, laying out the reasons for the Nihuang Marriage Scheme, we go to Prince Yu’s place to watch superhot Meng Zhi, commander of the emperor's guards, whip some ass. Not, alas, literally.  Despite his leather shoulder thingies and his handsome beard, and his commanding ways on a battlefield, when it comes to interpersonal relations he is pretty much a labrador retriever puppy in human form.

Meng Zhi is kicking the asses of Prince Yu’s fighters to determine if they're qualified to compete in the Marriage contest. They are not. He points out to the Prince that they can't put such terrible wimps into the competition because it will make the country’s defenses look weak.  

This beatdown is observed by Prince Yu and by Xie Yu, who Prince Yu thinks is on his side. Xie is 100% on the Crown Prince's side, but is carefully hiding that fact; he has his son working for Prince Yu as part of his cover.

In determining how severe an ass kicking is, everyone talks about how many moves it takes to defeat someone, like it's chess. Meng Zhi can beat literally anyone else in the show. He's number two on the Langya List of fighters & we never meet #1.

Fe Liu Was Fast as Lightning

Mei Changsu is hanging out in the garden at Xie manor while Fe Liu jumps around. Fe Liu wants Mei Changsu to play Roblox with him, and pouts when MCS opts for staying in the garden and reading a book.

Fe Liu is utterly devoted to Mei Changsu; I really love their relationship. Fe Liu’s backstory isn't fully explained in the show, but apparently he was raised from an early age to focus on being extremely lethal, and didn't spend much time learning to talk or other skills, making him the epitome of the asynchronous/ gifted teen. Mei Changsu isn’t who raised him to be like this; MCS and Lin Chen rescued him, which is why he is now Mei Changsu’s personal murder pet.

Fe Liu is both a complete fantasy character and also a really believable teen, beautifully acted by Leo Wu, who DMBJ fans know from Tomb of the Sea, and who Xiao Zhan fans know from Battle Through the Heavens.

Fe Lui promptly gets into a fight with Meng Zhi, who's visiting Xie manor. All Fe Liu was doing was leaping about the rooftops like an assassin, but since Xie Yu is the sort of guy that a lot of people would like to kill, Meng Zhi doesn't think this is so good. They have a hilarious, entertaining fight with many, many wire-assisted moves.

They're pretty evenly matched, and Xie Yu watches them with extreme interest until Mei Changsu shows up and tells Fe Liu to stop. Xie Yu is watching because he needs to know how many dudes he should send to assassinate Mei Changsu. Answer: more. Always more.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately since it’s probably all part of MCS’s plan) Fe Liu's extreme skilz make it obvious that his boss is someone important. Mei Changsu discusses this with Jingrui and Yujin in an open-air setting where Jingrui's brother Xie Bi can totally hear them.  In no time flat, father and son have reported his identity to their respective princes.

Over at Prince Yu's place, Qin Banruo and her awesome eye makeup join the party. She's Prince Yu’s advisor/manipulator, working for the (fallen) Hua kingdom, led by the (deceased) Princess Xuanji . She has a network of spies who work for her, that she deploys for Prince Yu's schemes. Her ultimate goal is not to help him, however, but just to fuck up the Da Liang Empire, which conquered the Hua.

(Nearly) Everybody Hates Jingyan

Xia Dong heads out on her assignment in the Land Grab Case, and Nihuang goes to see her off. They talk about gender expectations and how annoying it is to have to marry a dude, and briefly hang out being WLW goals with their mutual devotion, excellent fashion sense and deadly fighting abilities. Nihuang, in particular, wears the prettiest things and also stands at attention like she's commanding an army; I adore her.

They're interrupted by the arrival of Prince Jing, who is greeted cheerfully by Nihuang and eye-rollingly by Xia Dong.  

He's wearing an awesome brass-and-blue armor that we never see again after this episode. It's too bad - it's a good color for him and it has a cool vampire cloak with a high collar.

Prince Jing takes the opportunity to snark at Xia Dong about her investigation and the Xuanjing Bureau’s penchant for inventing finding conspiracies, and then rides off before she can reply.

This leads Nihuang and Xia Dong to get into their chronic argument about the Chiyan Conspiracy and the Lin family, and then Xia Dong hits the road.

Prince Jing and his subordinates stand around outside the palace waiting to report to the emperor while the emperor ignores him. They get sweatier and sweatier while they wait. which makes me like the Emperor a little bit more.

Prince Yu and CP Xian are busy sucking up to the emperor as they look at a manuscript. They are a bunch of assholes and you can see that Gao Zhan isn't a fan of this bullshit.

Eventually Gao Zhan reminds/persuades the emperor to summon Prince Jing, whose brothers snark at him like a couple of 12 year old girls while he radiates manly vigor and handsomeness.  

Consort Jin is bummed that she can't see Prince Jing for another 5 days, and her maid sidekick says random comforting things. This maid, Xiao Xin, is actually a little snake, who works for Qin Banruo's network. We don't learn that until sometime later.

All of the maids have this same hairstyle. If you are a westerner and you think this hairstyle is crazy, have a look at some Roman and Byzantine historic hairstyles. I'm not saying this hairstyle is NOT crazy, mind you; just that crazy hair was a feature of many, many historical empires.  

Consort Jing has someone deliver her hazelnut cookies to Prince Jing; she doesn’t know about Mei Changsu yet so hazelnut is still on the menu. Nicest mom. Also smartest, helpful-est mom, as the story develops.

Suck-Up Contest

At Xie manor, Xie Bi tries to get Mei Changsu to go meet the Empress, who has stopped by with Nihuang specifically to meet him, as part of the Recruit Mei Changsu scheme. Jingrui says nope, fuck that, he's not going to be a pawn in your political games, fuck off. We get to see Jingrui being steely and righteous, which is both cool and hot. Nihuang should totally marry him.

The Empress is annoyed that Mei Changsu doesn't show up, and Nihuang is like, it's ok, I don’t actually give a fuck about meeting new men. But I did want to meet his murder puppy Fe Liu.

Grand Princess Liyang says they don’t need to bother meeting pugilists, despite her son being one and her supposed best friends/co-parents also being pugilists.

Grand Princess Liyang will probably be glad Mei Changsu didn’t come to her little party, once she realizes what tends to happen when Mei Changsu comes to a party.

Then we go to the suitor tournament, in which everyone more or less sucks.

The princes really want to go over to Mei Changsu’s balcony to meet him, and they have a hilarious silent interaction where they both try not to be the first one to move. They finally cave, and go together.  

Then they compete to see who can be the most cringe and blow the most smoke up Mei Changsu's ass.

They ply him with gifts and flattery, which he mostly manages to resist.

Cookie Time with Granny

Then they get summoned to go meet the grand empress, who is (I think) the mother of the previous emperor, the grandmother of the current emperor, and the great grandmother of basically every highborn character of the current generation, including Nihuang and Yujin, although it’s not clear where they sit in the family tree. Historically, cousin marriage - particularly of maternal cousins - was no big whoop in China, so it's not surprising that a lot of nobles would share a great-grandmother.

The Grand Empress is a sweet lady with dementia. She can’t figure out who the hell anyone is. First-time viewers feel the same way.  

Her dementia is pretty well depicted, unlike a lot of TV dementia, or at least it matches up to my experiences with my own elders. She remembers the distant past more vividly than recent times; when she understands who’s in front of her she connects with them emotionally, but she falls off track easily. And she projects the identities of people she misses onto people who are around her.

Like many other grannies, no matter who is visiting, she wants them to 1. get married 2. produce offspring 3. eat something, you’re so skinny

When Mei Changsu meets Granny she immediately calls him Lin Shu, either because she recognizes him or because she really misses Lin Shu, or both. She calls Nihuang over and joins their hands, and Mei Changsu grabs onto Nihuang's hand and holds it for a while.

Everyone thinks it's adorable that Granny has dementia and is confused about that guy who was horribly killed, except Nihuang, who was already checking Mei Changsu out and is somewhat verklempt. She might have to revise her anti-man feelings a little bit.

Everyone leaves, and Nihuang hits up Mei Changsu to take a walk with her, casually mentioning that she could have his hand cut off for touching her, but since she's not in the mood, he's ok.

She prods a bit to find out what he's doing in town and what he's up to. “Do you have a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend or just a stalker who works for you?” She asks him which of the two princes he's going to support, but they’re interrupted by a eunuch beating a slave child. That’s the price you pay for trying to have a date in the palace, I guess.

#nirvana in fire #langya bang #nirvana in fire gifs #restless rewatch nirvana in fire #canary3d-original #my gifs

[jhoudiey]

You like to play God, don't you?

Wrote this fic a while back, #ChickenChallenge starts trending on magicam again, and Yoru ends up trying to distract herself with her friends. Ends up watching Jade as he builds a terrarium, and ends with dumb and dumber fluff. 1825 words.

hey you’re that chicken girl from NRC right?

Yoru stared at her phone. Idia had finally updated it so that she was able to use it freely, her hands no longer an issue on the touch screen. She normally didn’t pay attention to notifications, but had texted him earlier that night hoping to hang out, instead her magicam had exploded, messages popping in so quickly she could hardly keep track

show me ur feet

where else do you have feathers?

check it out, I’ve got weird feet too!

Whoa! Is that from a magic accident!? Crazy!!

omg ur disgustingggggg!!!!

you fucking freak!

ahahahaha no way your real. You’re like a chicken!!!!

can you send me a pic of your chicken feet? They’re so freaky I wanna show my friend!

you ever jerked a guy off with those? Do you want to?

She stared at the picture of the penis in her inbox with disgust, is this how normal people communicated? Why were all these people she didn’t know suddenly messaging her anyway? It was already past midnight, didn’t they have anything better to do? She exited her messages and found there had been a series of throwback posts from NRC Halloween, #ChickenChallenge was trending again. She sighed and closed the application, having lived through that once had been enough, she had no desire to repeat the experience online.

Idia still hadn’t texted her back, but her mood was soured. Focusing on her alchemy work wasn’t enough to distract her from the constant buzzing coming from her phone.

“Fuck this” she grumbled, throwing her phone onto her bed before launching herself out the window. She didn’t need to wait for a text back from Idia, she’d just show up, the same as always.

As luck would have it, however, Idia was busy. He wasn’t gaming as was usual for him at this time of night, but was in the middle of a video chat with Vita, making it much more awkward to sit in the corner of his room quietly. She didn’t want to know what they talked about when it was just the two of them. She wandered back out of the dorm, hesitating in the Hall of Mirrors. It was late, she should just go home...but… he might still be awake too.

She knocked on the door tucked down the halls of Octavinelle dorm, silently cursing herself for going down there in the first place.

“Come in”

Jade welcomed her into his and Floyd’s shared room, a small smile painted on his lips. He was in his pajamas, though clearly invested in building a terrarium, plants and stones laid out carefully on his desk in front of him. She spied Floyd, his pajama shirt discarded on the floor beside his bed, fast asleep curled around one of his pillows facing away from them. He’d likely turned away from the lamp light Jade had kept on as he worked.

“Ahh, I guess it is too late, I’ll go” Yoru mumbled looking between them, she’d never gotten along comfortably with Jade.

“You can stay. I don’t mind, Yoru-san,” He held his hand out to offer Floyd's desk chair to her “Would you care to join me? Clearly something is the matter or you wouldn’t have come by so late. I do know how much you loathe to be here.”

She hesitated.

If she stayed, she’d have to deal with his casual cruelty and observant eye, if she left she may have to deal with another dozen messages about how she was a disgusting bird freak who really should be embarrassed to look like that, not that she needed the reminder. She sighed and crawled onto the chair, her legs tucked in against her body, arms clutched around them as she watched Jade work. He was meticulous.

Like everything he did, every movement was measured, everything planned well in advance to come together just as he imagined it.

“Is this what you normally spend your weekends doing?” She asked, her eyes following his graceful hands as he arranged some moss.

“Hmm, it is something I am quite fond of, yes.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better to keep a garden or something? What’s the point of this?”

He laughed quietly.

“This is what humans call ‘a hobby’ I believe. The point is to enjoy it, Yoru-san.”

She rested her chin on her knees, her eyes drifting across his desk to the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor near Floyd's bed. She felt Jade watching her and turned her gaze back to him.

“But why do you enjoy it? What’s so good about building a tiny garden in a jar?”

“You mean what’s so entertaining about creating and controlling an entire ecosystem one can hold in their hands? I wonder…”

She snorted.

“Ahhh, so it’s just something else you can manipulate. Makes sense.” She grinned at him, his hands expertly arranging rocks along the bottom of the jar.

“How cruel, Yoru-san, to suggest my innocent hobby is anything but… I can’t deny the implications though.”

“Hah, so you admit it then. No wonder you like it...” She chuckled, her eyes wandering once again to Floyds sleeping form, his back slowly rising and falling with his breaths.

“Admit it? No, I simply enjoy when certain things go as planned” He smirked at her. He’d caught her wandering eyes twice now, though she was trying to hide it. She hadn’t come here to see him, after all. She faced him again, not wanting to meet his eyes instead focusing on his hands.

“Do you ever add bones?”

“Oya? What is it you’re trying to imply, Yoru-san?”

“...They’d be good for the soil. I can bring you some, if you need.”

“I suppose that would raise fewer questions than gathering them myself...Thank you.”

“Mmmm” She nodded with her head still on her knees, content to watch him in silence. He was building a whole planet before her, a God playing with nature to whatever suited his whim. A rock here, moss there… no wait… over there instead. It was fascinating and tedious at the same time. His hands weaved patterns from nothing, a garden blossoming from his fingertips. She felt her attention slipping and closed her eyes, the soft tinkling of his tools being drowned out by the slow tide of Floyd's slumbering breath. She tilted her head towards him, her own breathing slowing to match his like the sea lazily lapping at the shore.

“Why don’t you lie down with him, Yoru-san? I don’t mind” Jades voice cut through her dreamy haze, jolting her upright.

“What? No. Huh?” She stuttered, horrified that Jade had somehow known the comfort she felt in that moment. “I’ve gotta go, I must have fallen asleep. Bye Jade” She hurried to leave, bumping into Floyd's desk in her haste. The precariously stacked books toppled over and fell to the floor, making an awful racket in the near silent bedroom.

“Oh shit, sorry!’ She whispered in a panic, hoping she hadn’t woken Floyd. She scooped to pick the books up, her wings threatening to topple the chair she had been sitting in just moments ago. Jade laughed as he watched her struggle.

“Fufufu, Yoru-san. You seem quite flustered, did something I say upset you? Perhaps my suggestion to sleep with Floyd-”

“No!” She yammered quickly. Too quickly. “No, I’m just tired. I have to go!” She pushed the books back onto the desk haphazardly and turned to leave, hoping that Jade hadn’t caught sight of her face, red as it was sure to be. How could he have known what she was thinking?

“Hmmpppfff” Floyd whined, wrapping his arms around her waist, his face buried in feathers. “You’re too loud, Fugu-chan, be more quiet”

Jade smirked at the pair of them as Yoru struggled to free herself from his grasp. Floyd whined into her back, dragging her into his bed so he could go back to sleep.

“Yoru-san, it’s better if you don’t fight him, he can be quite insistent when he wants something” She knew he was right. To get free she’d have to peel him off of her, and with how tightly he held her it would be hard, Floyd really was too damn strong. She sighed and stopped resisting, feeling her feet leave the floor as he flipped her over him to settle her between his body and the wall.

He murmured wordlessly as he shifted around her wings, careful not to pull out any feathers accidentally. He settled between them, his head resting slightly above hers, his face nestled in her hair, body pressed tightly against hers. She was glad Jade couldn’t see her anymore, she could feel him watching them still, but with their faces turned away from him he wouldn’t be able to read her expression. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, she was sure Floyd must have felt it too, though if he did he made no mention of it. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she had come over, all she had wanted was to chat a bit, to forget about the people on magicam trying to ruin her night. She had to admit though… This was nice too. Ever since spring break they’d been more comfortable with each other physically, Floyd often clinging to her whenever he slept over, but so far that hadn’t left the confines of her bedroom. No one ever saw how often she clung back, she’d made sure to disengage from his grasp before he woke whenever she found herself too near him. It was much too embarrassing to be found like this, her face burning again knowing that Jade was probably enjoying himself immensely, proven right yet again.

The lamp clicked off, Jade finally retiring, Yoru felt herself finally relaxing. Her body jolted as tension left her, and she laid her arms across Floyd's, drawing lazy circles on the backs of his hands with her fingers. He sighed into her hair and pressed himself against her a little tighter at her touch, fast asleep once more. Yoru closed her eyes knowing it wasn’t safe to fall asleep where she lay, she had to get up and go home or she’d never hear the end of it. 5 more minutes then you have to go home she told herself, but it really was very comfortable, laying with Floyd like this.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Euuuggggghhhh Jaaaaade, turn your alarm offffff” Floyd complained loudly. He was close...too close. Yoru’s eyes snapped open with a start, she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

“Ahhh, I must have forgotten to turn it off. My apologies, you two fufufu”

“Mmmmm~ good morning, Fugu-chan” Floyd murmured as he tightened himself around her once more. She felt him smile as he nuzzled his face into the nape of her neck, her face blazed red once more.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #yoru crowley #jade leech #floyd leech #dumb and dumber #canon x oc #spent all afternoon working on my new oc i forgot i wanted to post this today #whoops #amon coming soon tho

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 11, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Thunder for the God.

Notes: this is it! the final chapter. I wanna say thank you to a few people cause I rarely ever respond to comments directly, mostly cause i never know what to say, but @diasimar, @edteche2, @moon-stars-soul, @crewman-penelope, @hah0106, thank you so fuckin much for your comments!! it really kept me going while i was working and really motivated me. im rly worried this last chapter is gonna disappoint but i gotta post it at some point! WC: 1.7k

+

A feast was held. Of course it was––the only way Egyptians knew how to celebrate was with plenty of food, plenty of booze, and lots of sex. Already people wrote songs of your exploits, performing them as they waited for you and Ahk to appear in the courtroom now filled to the brim with the people of Memphis. Clashing drums and lutes accompanied by harps and singing voices all came from behind the walls, but the room Ahk prepared himself in remained mostly quiet, occupied only by you and himself. Piye was busy tending to the citizens with the help of Gyasi, who offered his services in helping the now-blind vizier.

"I never thought to see this day," Ahk said softly, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His outfit, which had taken about an hour to get on (plus makeup), left him the striking image of the Pharaoh you had first met––drowned in gold, in gemstones, reeking of rich, spoiled tastes.

"What, that you'd be attending a party in your own honor?" You asked with a chuckle.

"No," he said, turning to you, "I didn't think I'd see you willingly stand beside me."

"I didn't either. I hated you."

"Rightfully so," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, again, for how I treated you."

"You could've been a lot nicer while kidnapping me."

"I know. But you're happy now... right?"

"Yes," you said, grinning. "What would you do if I wasn't?"

"Abandon everything," he said with a careless shrug. "Run away with you. Leave it all behind."

"Even with a feast outside those doors?" You asked as you stepped closer. He took advantage of that, pulling you in by your waist and smiling when your chests met.

"Well, I might have to go to that first. But afterwards, I would go anywhere for you. Do anything. You are mine, now," he said, growing soft as his lips brushed against your temple, "and I have fought long to prove it."

"I think you belong to me more than I belong to you," you chuckled.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, swaying with you to the muted tunes of harpstrings. "I don't mind either way as long as you love me."

"I do," you mumbled.

"Say it," he said, parting from you to look you in the eye. His hand came up to your face, stroking the soft skin of your cheek as he gazed into you, searching for words he had longed for all this time. "Please."

"I love you, Ahk."

There he went again––tears down his face, dripping into and caught by the smile that spread across his rosy lips. He leant in to kiss you, still wet with those salty tears, but you happily returned his affections.

Until his kiss grew deep, devolving into him biting at your neck again, pressing himself against your body till your back inevitably hit a wall. He sandwiched you there, running his hands from your chest to your hips and back up to your face.

"Now then, your people wait for you. Don't disappoint them by not showing up," you warned him, but there was little resolve in your tone, already torn up by the blush pervading your cheeks.

"I'll be quick," he muttered against your skin, followed by a laugh when you groaned.

"But you can also do this later, when you can take your time," you said, but couldn't stop yourself from smiling even as you tried to push him away.

"I can do it twice."

"Ahk!"

"Call my name again, love," he said, drawing away from you with a shit-eating grin.

"We can do this after," you said as you fully pushed him away. "Even during, depending how the evening goes."

"I like how you think," Ahk said, offering his hand to you with a cocked chin raised high. "Ready to go?"

You nodded.

The doors before you opened, and a short walk up to the throne led you to overlook the crowd, scanning over every citizen's face whose eyes fell to you. Without a word spoken from you or Ahk, silence fell in the hall crowded past the brim. Torches flanked either side of the long room, illuminating the moving heads, as well as marking the searing smoke of meat and the plates of food presented out on the many tables.

It was not unlike the feast for Amun, but this time the only human images standing on a podium were you and Ahk. No more golden statues. Now what remained was the Pharaoh in all his glory, glowing as though blessed with an ethereal light, sheer silk with sewn gold cascading from him like a comet trailing the sky.

Once most everyone's attention was on the Pharaoh, he spoke.

"I know that much of my rule has not been through peaceful times," he said, meeting the eyes of every listener. "I thank you all for your patience with me. We have seen the rising of my brother's empire, and it has ended in ruin––we have seen the death of three Pharaohs, myself included."

A quiet laugh murmured through the crowd. Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Piye sticking to the wall by themself. You jogged over, whispering a beckoning, before taking their hand and personally leading them up the pedestal.

"I am sure you have all heard of what I've done. The events that have come to pass. Whether or not you have the whole of the story, or any true part of the story, is what worries me. I want all of you to know why I did what I did––why, exactly, I am not a heretic. You deserve that much."

Ahk spoke as though conversing with an old friend, something you were sure made his approval rating amongst the populace skyrocket. He continued that tone of voice, that familiarity, as he recounted the long events of the past few months, from your appearance in the castle (which he labelled as a gift from the Gods), to Ma'at herself locking Amun into the sky. They all listened closely, believing every word of their loving Pharaoh.

"I did what I did to protect myself, my people, and my friends. They were necessary evils. But now I have Ma'at's blessing, and I take my rightful place as your Pharaoh," he said with a growing confidence that boomed in his projected voice. "I am Ra's Son once more."

An eruption of cheers and shouts burst your ears, and you grinned from ear to ear, glancing to your side to watch for Ahk's reaction. He was smiling as well, prideful as he deserved. Piye held their own small smile as well.

Instruments came back in full swing, humming and thrumming with the vibrations of the tall chamber. Though at first they were the melodies of many songs, playing one after the other without pause, they converged into a tune that filled your head, seeping into the thoughts of every listener. You paid little attention to the words they sang in perfect harmonies till a word caught your attention––your name. Looking out across the citizens of Memphis, of Kemet, you realized they were singing about you.

The fire that reigns on the burning King will never yield to the sword! The spells that remain pour down in the rain as the Nile boils in the sea

What wonders they bring! This thunder for the God, Amoke and the hundreds that sing the name of the God, Amoke

Pray to the earth for a saving grace As the magi searches the planes The dead, they seek The living antique a God of his own who can't rest on his throne Call to the name of the holy

We sing to thee! Sunset for the God, Amoke Sing praise for thee! Thunder for the God, Amoke Thunder for the God, Amoke! The beauty of the God, Amoke!

Your mouth hung open as you watched them sing, ignorant to Ahk, who was now smiling at your shocked expression.

"... and so will you be remembered," Ahk murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he came up behind you. "A God for all of time.”

“My Amoke."

~+~

You had access to great temples––to places of worship hundreds of years old, intricately detailed spells shown on every wall, bases of golden statues littered with flowers and offerings. Instead you stuck to your tiny altar, hidden away in one of the smaller storage rooms not in use. Ahk didn't quite understand it, but he allowed it happily, and left you alone to your devices.

The only item standing on your altar was a tiny statuette in the form of Mahjur. If Ahk found out that was who you were praying to, you weren't sure what he'd do, so for the time being you kept it secret. Besides that, it was nothing more than a table you set incense and tiny plates of food and water on.

It was the only light in the room––the tiny rushlight, the lit incense drawing smoke into the air. Layers of it fell above your head, knelt low in respect of the God who had helped you.

Physical feeling fell away, and in that moment, your forehead pressed to the table, you realized the many prayers you'd sent into the stranger of an underworld were being answered at last.

A single, high note rang in your head as the image of open, glowing eyes pierced your thoughts.

"Is Ahk ssssafe?" They asked in a whisper in your head that you could barely hear.

Yes, you thought, keeping your eyes closed to maintain the connection.

"... you haavvvvve.. other questionss... correct?"

Amun is an all-powerful God, yes?

"Yes."

How did we escape him? How did we hide away? Why did he not pluck me from the sky? How did we survive the ire of a creator God?

"Ahk hasss cccertain experiencess... with Gods. He issss ssssmart. He isss untraceable by annnny Gods' mmagggic."

How? You pleaded.

"He hass died annnnd come back. He issss... undead. No longer human. Nnnnot entirrrrely."

You swallowed thick, forcing yourself not to open your eyes from surprise.

And Piye?

"A mmmmagi. Invvvvissssible. Too... absorbed innn the world.. to see," they hummed, glowing eyes still probing your thoughts.

... and me?

There was silence for a moment, and the eyes blinked, but remained within your head.

"You... are not.. hhhhuman," they whispered.

Your eyes flew open.

What?

––––––

If you want to hear the song I wrote about in this story, I actually recorded it and you can find it here.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

[desthesleepdeprivedwriter]

Fishing in the rain

Fundy hated fishing.

Something about sitting still, eyes locked in one place, and how slow it was… It just keep up his nerves.

It didn’t help that Fundy was also catching nothing.

Maybe it was because Fundy was unlucky as fuck.

Maybe it was because of the thunderstorm that was happening for around an hour.

Who knows?

The fox was sitting still, trembling slightly from the cold water soaking his fur and his clothes. His eyes were locked on the bopping white spot that was being tossed around by the angry waves. He waited, paws holding the fishing rod so tight he couldn’t even feel them anymore.

How long has he been there? Fundy decided to fish in order to clean his mind from his problems, and only tripped into a rabbit hole of memories and loss.

Wilbur used to take him fishing, but they were so bad at it. Fundy was never patient, and Wilbur was always scaring the fish by moving his feet underwater.

They would come home with an empty basket, but they always had so much fun that it didn’t even matter.

The water falling down from Fundy’s face was just raindrops.

Philza and Fundy fishing during the day Eret should appear. The fox was so happy and hopeful, just to be heartbroken once more.

Phil was a good grandfather, but, when needed, dissapeared to be with Techno on the montains.

Fundy’s shaking body was just because of the cold.

He was sitting on the edge of a pond, near his wedding venue. Fundy tried to run after Dream, but the blond was already gone. Dream left behind a broken heart, and didn’t even look back to see whose heart was it.

Fundy moved his feet underwater, holding a self made rod and pretending he was catching something. Sometimes, he didn’t even know how he could handle so much.

His grip on the rod only got stronger. He couldn’t let it go. Even with his breakdown, crying pathetically in the rain, he couldn’t handle fail something as simple as fishing.

Fundy sat on that pier trying to feel better, and he only managed to get even more miserable.

The sea was too aggressive and the rain was too loud, he didn’t noticed the soft steps behind him, not until the rain stopped falling on him, and Fundy looked up to see Ranboo.

The enderman was holding a big umbrella, also wearing a black and white raincoat, long enough to cover all of of his legs and arms. The hoodie covered Ranboo’s face in shadows and, if Fundy didn’t know the dumbass that Ranboo was, looked like ready to kill the fox.

Ranboo crotched right next to Fundy, compressing himself under the umbrella in order to not get wet.

“What are you doing here?”

Fundy shrugged, not even trying to look better.

“Pitying myself and feeling like shit.”

“Mood.”

Both of them chuckled, eyes back on the sea.

“Why under the rain, tho? You can feel like that while cozy back into our house.”

Since Eret finally managed to adopt both Fundy and Ranboo, the youngest called his house “their house”, somewhere Fundy could stay while visiting from Dry Waters. Fundy tried to brush it off, because, you know, they also had the big as fuck castle where they could live. But Ranboo wasn’t going to give up on his house, so now Fundy had 3 beds to sleep. It was nice.

“Yeeah… But I really wanna feel miserable, you know?” Fundy softly laughed again, grip strong again so he couldn’t lose his rod.

“That’s sad, Fundy.” There was concern in Ranboo’s voice. Lot’s of it.

“Tell me about it, man…” Fundy smiled.

He liked to talk to Ranboo. It was a nice kid, mostly a yes-man, but with a really fast mind and so fuckin smart, it was almost unbelievable. Fundy also liked that Ranboo never actually judged him for his terrible choices, like smoking or fishing during a thunderstorm, but instead just tried to talk him out from it without being too harsh. It was a good kid.

“You know, Ranboo… The thing is…”

Fundy turned his face too fast, tail wiggling happily with the company, and water drops hit Ranboo’s little spots of uncovered skin.

Hssss. Fundy’s ears immediately perked up, worry in his face when he finally noticed that his stupid half enderman brother was standing in the middle of the pouring rain.

“RANBOO!” Fundy let the rod go, getting up surprisingly quickly. “Get up! We need to go!”

Ranboo kinda freezed, surprised with the sudden explosion of energy. He quickly obeyed Fundy, getting up and being immediately pushed in order to walk.

“Why are you so dumb? The sky is basically flooding everything!” Fundy was almost running, not noticing when Ranboo inclined in order to not let Fundy get even more wet. “Why?!” Ranboo just laughed at Fundy’s voice crack, fixing his rain coat in order to get more safe from the water.

“I saw you standing there, so I went there trying to know what you were doing!”

“You are an idiot.” Fundy groaned in annoyance, not believing that Ranboo was so careless like that. “Be normal and try not to fucking die!”

Ranboo laughed louder, opening the door and letting Fundy enter first. “Okay, I’ll do my best”

“Grow some fuckin braincells!” Fundy said from the top floor, getting a towel and drying himself. Ranboo spied a little and saw Fundy shaking his body like a wet dog, his fur going all puffy and taking giggles from the half enderman. Fundy’s fur was bigger due to the winter, and Ranboo knew that Fundy really cared for it.

“Leave your jacket up there, we can eat something down here” Ranboo said, smiling when Fundy plopped himself on the couch, stretching next to the fireplace. “Take of this stupid raincoat, its still wet.” Fundy mumbled, lazily looking at Ranboo.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about my shiny armor to save you from the rain”

“Save me?? You were so fuckin stupid! Knights are not that stupid!!!” Fundy sat up, raising his voice and making Ranboo start laughing again.

“Dude, what happened?” They jumped on spot as Niki and Eret suddenly entered the house, both of them under the same umbrella, the other half enderman wearing a pastel yellow colored raincoat and Eret without his crown, sunglasses nowhere to be seen, making the white glow shine in the slightly dark room.

“We could hear Fundy from L'manburg’s entrance.” Niki chuckled, closing the umbrella and taking out her raincoat.

Fundy got up, looking annoyed as hell to an outsider, but his family could see the hidden smile in his face.

“Wanna know what happened? Ranboob, like an idiot….”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I’ll call you how I want!”

“Boooooys, stop fighting!!” Niki tried to intervene, but just got softly pushed away to the couch when Fundy and Ranboo started a pillow fight.

Eret smiled at their kids, walking to the kitchen in order to make some hot chocolate.

Somewhere, at the sea, a fishing rod was being taken away by the waves.

Support/Commission me here!

#repost #fundy #ranboo #nihachu #eret #dream smp #not a commission

[sunflowersteves]

fright night || ch. one

vampire!bucky barnes x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s something mysterious about your neighbor (loosely based off of fright night).

author’s note: happy spooky season! hopefully, I’ll get this mini series done before Halloween

warnings: supernatural beings, a coffin, v spooky, mentions of abusive relationship (it’s vague but still there so just a heads up!)

series m.list // main m.list

You groan in frustration as you try to close your janky trunk, your bags sitting near your feet. You smile in accomplishment as you finally close the trunk, taking a couple of steps towards the house.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you see a moving truck outside the Johnson’s home, which was right next door. The Johnson's had lived there for as long as you could remember, their house was the biggest on the corner of the cul de sac.

Your curiosity grew even further as the movers carried out dark Victorian furniture. The house was already red brick itself, with Victorian-styled towers and ornate trims that enhanced the railings of the home.

You grabbed your bags and started to move to the front door, still watching the movers do their job. You stopped for a second as you could feel a cold stare, and goosebumps rose on the back of your neck.

You quickly whipped around to see a blonde-haired man, his hands resting on the patio railing, Victorian brown contrasted with the maroon accented door. He didn’t look away as you stared back, you almost felt like you were drawn to him.

Something about his blue eyes and glistening lips curled up in a sneer made you want to run inside but your feet felt stuck to the ground as though you were in quicksand. The strange man leaned forward slightly, getting a much better view of you and you opened your mouth, wanting to say anything and everything.

“y/n, is that you?”

Your mother peeked out the front door, the work clothes she wore were sticking to her. You turned your attention away, walked up a couple of steps, and greeted your mother. You turn away from her and look at the neighbor’s house, eyes searching for the man again.

However, when you turned over to look at the patio, it was like he was never there.

“You okay, dear?”

Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth slightly agape, turning towards your mother you nod slightly. She gestures you inside but you pause in front of the front door, you shake your head slightly. It felt a bit ridiculous to be so suspicious of a neighbor you’ve never even met.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

You walked into the house and set your bags down in your bedroom. You walked back down stairs to see your mother cooking dinner, turning the noodles around with a pasta fork.

“How was your trip, dear?”

You take a seat on one of the bar stools in front of the island, sipping on a glass of water.

“It was good; not too much traffic.”

Your mother nods in approval and takes out plates from one of the cabinets for the two of you. She sets one of the plates down and spoons up the noodles with pesto sauce. She goes over to sit next to you, making a plate full of food for herself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up, dear?”

You swirl the noodles around your fork, thinking of how you were going to tell this to her. You knew it was going to sound ridiculous but you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that house.

“Do the new neighbors seem… odd to you?”

She placed her fork down and turned to with a raised eyebrow, “what do you mean ‘odd’?”

You shrugged, placing a napkin in your lap. “When I arrived, I had this strange feeling that someone was watching me and when I turned around this blonde guy was staring. It felt like… I don’t know, I just couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.”

Your mom contemplated speaking for a second, trying to find words for your situation. A large smile floated onto your mom’s face.

“Was he handsome?”

You roll your eyes and pick up your fork again, shoving as much pasta as you could. Your mom takes a sip of water before turning towards you, a lot more serious than before.

“I know it’s been hard, dear. I can’t ever imagine what you’ve gone through with all the things that Brock put you through,” you stopped for a second, frozen by the sound of that asshole’s name.

“But, I think it’s time you tried to move on. I don’t want you to think that every person out there is like him. You just need to find someone that’s right for you.”

You drop your fork, letting it clang onto your half empty plate of pesto and noodles. Tears well up in your eyes, a sob escaping your mouth. Your mom gasps and jumps out of her seat, enveloping you in a hug.

“I’m just so scared.” You whispered into your mom’s arms, holding her as tight as you could. She sighed slightly, her grip on yours was as tight as ever. Her heart burned for you, wanting nothing more than to take your pain away.

“I know, dear. I know,” and she held you there for a while, letting you talk and cry out all of your fears. You hadn’t visited her in a while and it felt good to get everything out. You had talked to her about Brock before, but definitely not all the intricate details of his suffering he made you go through.

Your mom looked at her watch before turning towards you, “why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure your trip was exhausting.”

She kisses your forehead and you nod, muttering a goodnight as well. You walked up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. You started to unpack, the suitcase resting on your old bed. Not much had changed in the room, everything was mostly still the same from when you were in high school.

You paused for a second, then walked around the room reminiscing about everything before you moved out. You picked up an old sports trophy and giggled a bit, silently wondering what your old teammates were up to nowadays. Still smiling, you walked over to sit on your window seat; it was always your go-two sitting spot.

You had cried, laughed, spied on your hot neighbor, and gossiped with your best friend on that seat. You sit down on the fluffy cushions and stare out the window, wondering all the times you have sat here for hours and hours on end.

Night has finally arrived. Faint clouds converged around the moon and crickets sang their melodies. You could tell that the night seemed cold; little pockets of air had rushed through the old window making you shiver slightly.

A giggle escapes your lips as you see an old teen romance novel placed randomly on your dresser next to the window. You grab the book and turn some pages, remembering the plot in an instant.

You dozed off while reading the book, not noticing how late it was. You paused, checking your phone. You muttered a quick “shit” at the clock, since it was about 3:00 am now. You were supposed to wake up early in the morning to help your mom with some house work. So much for trying to get a good nights sleep.

You took a slight peak out your window, clutching the paper book in your hand. Then you freeze, dropping the book in your hand and letting it fall to the floor.

There were two of your neighbors, heavy fog whispering around them. From your childhood bedroom, it was harder to see from being so but there was no doubt in your mind of what you saw. There was a new mysterious man who was accompanying the blonde one you saw earlier.

His skin was quite faded, paler than anyone you had ever seen. His hair was a chestnut brown and his eyes were like the sea. He wore a dark sweater and his demeanor seemed different from the one you had met earlier. You shivered from the mere thought of his presence, you wanted to be closer towards him.

You honestly had thought you were safe up in your room, however, he seemed to notice you. His eyes flickered up to your window and his stare was so forceful, you wouldn't dare look away.

A smirk reached towards his face, seeming like he knew something but you didn't.

But the thing was, it wasn’t the fairly handsome neighbor that caught your attention. It was what they were doing that made you drop your book in fear and surprise. Your neighbors had carried a coffin up to the front porch.

A fucking coffin.

bucky barnes taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​

marvel taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @fandomsandxfiles​

permanent taglist: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @hailmary-yramliah​ 

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #vampire!bucky #spooktober #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fright night #marvel fanfic #Winter Soldier #winter solider x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #vampire au #alternate universe #alternate universe vampire

[theroundbartable]

Dragon Island

“Absolutely not.” Sometimes, Arthur Pendragon was not only a prat, he was a downright Clotpole. Not that Merlin ever failed to mention it.

“Arthur, I am going with you!”

“And what exactly can YOU do against dragons, Merlin? This is THE dragon Island! My father has been searching for this place for over a decade! There are rumors that there will be dragon lord's there as well! Do you even know how many knights have died since the purge started? Since my father fought these monsters and erased them from this part of the world? If we find this Island, we can end this war! But this is too dangerous for a servant. I can not waste my time consoling you, when the sea is making you sick, Merlin. I have battle strategies to discuss.”

Merlin huffed and crossed his arms. They were standing at the shore, far far away from Camelot. Uther Pendragon had a ship army remaining here in position. He regularly send out spies to find the home island of the dragon lords. Not that there were any actual dragon lords with dragon lord powers left. They were wiped out in the war. But their families remained. Those who valued their traditions and taught each other magic. But weren't the first son's and therefore had none of the abilities their kind was so proud of. But magic was another reason to have them wiped out.

About a week ago, one of Uther's spies had found a trace that lead them to an underwater cave. Barely shallow enough to have a narrow boat sail through. They had found runes engraved in the walls. And the spy was pretty ecstatic that this MUST be the entrance to the secret island.

Well... Since Arthur was the only knight known to have actually killed a dragon (which he didn't), his father found it absolutely logical to send his only son and heir on another suicide mission. Into unknown terrain, with unknown enemies and not one dragon, but a whole army of those impossible-to-kill-except-you're-a-dragon-lord creatures.

It was truly perfect. Arthur could finally proof his worth as crown prince.... again. And almost die.... again. Heroically of course. Uther was a genius.

And apparently Arthur was just as smart, because the idiot prince had decided to go on that mission WITHOUT Merlin. The only ACTUAL dragon lord left in the entire known universe. Not that they knew about that.

“Just so you know – I do NOT get sea sick. And I already know how to use the sails and stuff. Will and I often went out with the fisher of our town. Other than you who grew up in a fancy Castle with perfect temperature in every single room and hundreds of servants working for you. You may train, but you have NO idea how to deal with the weather, with the tides. You barely know how to dress yourself!”, as Merlin exclaimed the last part, he could basically feel the steam of anger from Arthur's nostrils flaring at him, while a few knights were snickering behind them.

The knights were, by the way, currently occupied readying the boat.

“Fishing on a boat and Sailing on the open sea is totally different.”, Arthur argued, causing Merlin to roll his eyes and facepalm himself. “Fisher's... sail, Sire.”, he muttered, causing Arthur to frown as if that confused him for some reason.

“I don't care. You cannot stop me. I'll come with you.”, Merlin's expression was final.

“I'm the crown prince of Camelot, Merlin. You have to do what I say.”

“I never listen to what you say. Why would I start now?”

In the end, Gwaine and Leon were ordered to drag Merlin away from the boat. All while Arthur ignored the very obvious argument (provided by Merlin and confirmed by at least two other knights), that he NEEDED Merlin. If as a servant or a navigator or maybe a warning radar for obvious danger that Arthur was certain to ignore. He NEEDED him. So, Merlin would definitely find a way.

“Hey, buddy. I gottcha.”, Gwaine winked at him, while Merlin was still trying to make up a perfect strategy, how he could sneak on the ship. Merlin blinked up at him, while Leon just rolled his eyes and pretended not to listen. “What?”, Merlin asked, confused.

“I got a few barrels of water and wine and stuff for the ride. Leon and I have already prepared an empty one for you. You get in and we'll sneak you on.” Merlin had never wanted to hug Gwaine more. “Thank you!!!!”, he beamed at them. “Wait, Leon? You're IN on the plan? You're not going to rat me out to Arthur, are you?”

Gwaine cackled. “It was HIS idea.”

“Huh?”, Merlin looked at the blond knight in confusion.

Leon was still looking away, as if embarrassed by his treason. “If you're not there, Arthur will focus all his attention on US. And I did not sign up for this.”, he was frowning. As if he was already dreading the following days.

“But... how long have I to stay in the barrel? I mean... If I step out too soon, Arthur will insist to turn around.”

“I can survive five days of Arthur being a whirlwind of emotions. You have FIVE days. Gwaine will sneak you out at night. Lancelot has agreed to help. I can distract Arthur, until you're in. Other than that, I was never involved.”, Leon was grimacing the entire time. He seemed exhausted, as if he had already had five different yet similar arguments today and wanted to throttle someone.

“Wow, thank you Leon.”, Merlin looked at him amazed. But Leon's frown only darkened. “Don't thank him.”, Gwaine whispered. “He originally asked, if we could dress you up like him, so he can stay in Camelot and have a vacation until we're back. You may not get sea sick. But HE does.”

“Why.... And he's still allowed on the ship? Wait, why don't we try that? Doesn't sound like a too bad plan. If Leon's sea sick anyway, people would leave him alone to suffer in silence, right?”

Leon sighed with exasperation. “As if that ever stopped Arthur from discussing battle strategies.”, he made a dramatic pause. “If I don't make it -”, Leon made a sound that reminded Merlin of a creaking door. “It was nice knowing you.”

“Don't be so dramatic, Leon.”, Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Honestly, what's with you? Since Uther announced this mission, you've been nothing but a drama queen.”, he scolded. Leon pouted a little. “I'm being realistic if anythikng. If the sea doesn't drown us, we don't freeze to death or a sudden storm destroys our boat, and we don't get horribly lost in that strange cave and starve to death, then we arrive on an island full of dragons who probably hate Arthur for killing the great Dragon. And being the son of a man who ordered the murder of all dragon kind. Not to mention him indirectly causing the death of the last dragon Lord as well. So we either die, or we die. I'm just planning ahead.”

“So dramatic.”, Gwaine mumbled. But Merlin frowned. Leon got a valid point.

“Be positive. What if we meet a bunch of mermaids?”, Gwaine winked at Leon. Leon frowned even further. “Which kind?” “The hot kind, duh.” “Which is?” Gwaine blinked. “Not this again. You're no fun.”

“No, no, Gwaine. Go ahead. Tell me. Which is the hot kind of mermaid? The Siren one's that lure you in with magic voices and then drown you, so they can rape your dead bodies and make more Sirenbaby's; The manatee's that only start to look appealing when you're so starved and Vitamin C deprived that you start hallucinating right before you pass out and die or the classic one's with boobs and a fish tails that make NO SENSE in their anatomy. Which I will be hearing you complain about for days. When all I want is peace and quiet.”, Leon closed his eyes – yet again- dramatically.

Gwaine was about to open his mouth to counter, when Leon added: “Also, we're knights of Camelot and mermaids are magical creatures. It's your job to kill them, regardless of how hot they seem to you.”

With that, Leon had set Gwaine's brain check mate and left him and Merlin standing there with their mouths comically wide open. Half in shock, half with laughter and amazement. “Holy shit, I think he's finally lost it.”, Gwaine laughed as he watched Leon slump down at the next tree and saying goodbye to the dry unshakable ground.

“Maybe we should ask George to come as well. Or convince Arthur to get him off the ship.”, Merlin muttered. After all, Leon was always a lot calmer when George was around. Maybe because George didn't bully him, did what he was told and was also a good person to be quiet with. George also seemed to prefer Leon as the one ordering him around, because Leon wasn't chatting endlessly. He was precise in his orders and didn't talk around the bush. They got along well. Because they didn't have to get along at all. They had the ultimate work-efficient dynamic. It was horrifying.

“Are you kidding? This will be hilarious.”, Gwaine grinned.

“Don't you think Leon deserves a break?”, Merlin asked, still startled by Leon's obvious irritation. “From work? Yes. From me? NEVER!”, Gwaine winked again. And Merlin already pitied the poor knight.

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

Leon was indeed... sick. The moment the ships left the haven, Leon was slumped over the reeling and holding on for his life. He was suspiciously green in the face and tried to avoid Arthur. Who was continuously ignoring Leon's condition and decided to ask him for how many days they had planned to be on sea. How many weapons they had and discussed whether or not they were actually suitable to kill dragons. And if there was enough food and water and so on and so forth.

He did not realize that the barrel Gwaine had decided to sit on had a few holes in it, that should not be there, were wine in it. Gwaine was chatting with Lancelot and occasionally Merlin, albeit in third person like... “I wonder what Merlin would think of this.”, and then get a hushed answer from underneath him.

The sea was relatively calm for the first three days. And Elyan, who was assigned to steer the ship, had no trouble finding the right path. Arthur seemed content too and left Leon alone on day two.

Leon was hardly eating. And if he ever did, he puked it out ten minutes later. By the third day, he was leaning against the reeling once again. Eyes closed with an obvious headache and ready to drink poison to free him from his misery.

Merlin was still sitting inside the barrel. Except for at night, when Lancelot would let him out, while Gwaine annoyed the prince. It worked surprisingly well. Yet, Merlin was a bit worried. Not necessarily to be found out. That was kind of part of the plan. No... By the way Arthur behaved.

The first two days, it was hardly noticeable. Arthur had focused on talking to Leon. Or Elyan or Gwaine and Lancelot. But after they had run out of conversational topic, Arthur had started to isolate himself. Merlin could see him through the holes of his hiding place. He was often standing at the reeling and staring out towards the horizon. He was eerily quiet. And appeared to be melancholic. If not slightly sad.

“Hey, Merlin.”, Lancelot whispered at an afternoon on day four. Merlin was still shocked that his disguise had apparently worked well so far. Then again, Arthur was terrifyingly oblivious to most of his secrets. “Can't you like... use magic to heal Leon's sickness?”

Of course. If anyone had it bad these days it was Sir Leon. Gwaine was currently occupied with drinking. Otherwise Lancelot would not have dared mention Merlin's illegal existence to him. “Do you think that's wise? What if they all notice? After all, Leon has been sick for three days now. If he was suddenly fine, wouldn't they ask?”

“And you think they'd explain it with magic? Merlin. Leon could have just gotten used to the sea. I'm sure no one will notice.”

“Are you sure?”, Merlin asked back and tried to focus on Leon's pitiful form. “I'm positive. Even if they think it's magic, they don't even know you're here. And what sorcerer would just appear on this ship, just to heal Leon?” “Good point.”

Merlin took a shuddering breath, as he strained himself to look through the barrel once again. Leon had his eyes closed and he was breathing harshly. Arthur was standing right next to him. Deep in thought. As if on cue, he suddenly straightened up, pushed himself from the reeling and went under deck.

Merlin nodded to himself. And then whispered a silent spell in Leon's reaction. There was a flash of gold for barely a second. But in that moment, Leon opened his eyes and looked at Merlin. Merlin froze. They locked eyes. Merlin caught his breath. “Lancelot. I think he saw.”, Merlin muttered, panic was slowly sinking in, along with the realization of the situation. Lancelot frowned. “What?”, he asked. “Lance, I think he knows.” “Merlin, stop mumbling. I'm certain you're imagining things.”

Leon's eyes flickered shut for a second and he took a deep breath. Then he held his head in slight irritation, before looking in Merlin's direction again. He ….. sighed in relieve. Slowly, he pushed himself up. Still holding his head, as he took a deep breath. He nodded at Merlin. Like he was... thanking him? Was Merlin really imagining this? But Leon smiled, stretched himself and rubbed at the dark circles under his sleepless eyes. As if to say: “finally.”

Soon enough, he was gone as well. Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head to himself, while Lancelot had a firm hand on his barrel.

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

It was night, when Merlin was finally let out of his barrel. The knights were asleep. All but the one on watch. Which was Gwaine, fortunately. Meaning, Merlin could safely leave the barrel, chat with him and eat in peace. He had slept through the day mostly. He trusted that Lancelot and Gwaine would stop anyone from opening this particular barrel during the day.

And if anyone got to close, he could always hear one of them say, this was the “victory wine.” Like this was the finest wine of them all and reserved for the day they managed to defeat the dragon lords. It was a good excuse. Albeit difficult to maintain, because nobody believed Gwaine could hold himself back from wine for that long.

Either way, for now it was fine. Merlin's legs were dangling off the watch tower, while Gwaine leaned against the rod behind him. The sails were up, because the wind was in their favor.

It was then, that suddenly, someone crawled up from under deck.

Even in the dim moonlight, Merlin could make out the shine of Arthur's armor. Everyone had already told him, wearing armor on a boat was absolutely insane. If he ever fell off the boat, he'd drown immediately. Because the weight would just drag him down. But the clotpole was too stubborn to listen. And right now it was as useful as a warning signal to them. 'Why is he up?', was all Merlin could think, as he nearly shrieked through Gwaine's mindless chatter and hid underneath a blanket that lay around behind them. Gwaine, surprised at his reaction, finally noticed the prince as well and waved at him, while Arthur gave him a startled expression. Merlin could have kicked Gwaine for drawing Arthur's attention to them.

“Gwaine? What are you doing?”

Gwaine rose both his eyebrows in amusement. “Oh, I'm on watch. You know. Talking to myself. Looking at the stars. Nice weather out, don't you think?”, he laughed suspiciously.

Arthur frowned and sighed, before climbing up the ladder with a sigh. He shook his head, as if used to these antics and hardly caring for them at all. Merlin hurried to shuffle behind Gwaine, so that Arthur wouldn't notice him. And Gwaine did his best to position himself in a way that Merlin was mostly covered by his frame. In a practiced manner, Merlin steeled his heart and his breathing and went completely still. A method he had accustomed to during his time out in the barrel.

By the time Arthur got up to them, Merlin might as well have vanished. That's how invisible he was. Though, to himself, he felt extremely obvious.

“So, er... Sire. Can't sleep?”, Gwaine asked. It was pretty late. Too late to still be up. Too early to have woken up again. Gwaine pat the ground beside him, so Arthur could sit down. It would be suspicious if he send him away. But Merlin was certain Gwaine did it to taunt him. “Not really.”, Arthur said and yawned. If Merlin could see through the blanket, he would see that the circles under Arthur's eyes were nearly as dark as Leon's had been.

His voice didn't really leave room for conversation. He sounded tired, as if he really didn't want to talk. And despite Gwaine's usual annoyance, he didn't press the matter. He hummed instead. For one, because it was Gwaine. Who would he be, if he wasn't drinking ale and doing noisy things all the time? However, this also served the purpose of covering up all unintentional noises Merlin could have made in the dead silence of the still night. It was too still. But they weren't used to the ever changing weather of the sea. Else, they would have been alarmed.

“It's funny.”, Arthur said after a moment of hummed silence. “What is, Sire?” “I would have thought Merlin would have sneaked on to the ship and come out by now.”

Gwaine laughed comically. Startled by the sudden comment. Arthur ignored him, but Merlin nearly smacked Gwaine for that obvious reaction.

“Well. That surely sounds like Merlin. But we would have found him in no time.”, Gwaine assured him.

“Yeah I know. Still.”, Arthur sighed and shook his head, before running a hand through his face. “I mean... Now that he's not here, I can't stop thinking that I basically left him alone with my father. You know my father. If Merlin doesn't behave, the king will certainly have him flogged. Or worse. I mean... he has these moments when he accuses random people to be sorcerers. What if I left him to one of those antics? Did I make a mistake leaving him home?”

Arthur sounded worried and he was suddenly found playing with his own hands.

Gwaine opened his mouth in surprise. “Huh?”, he asked. “I thought you didn't want him to come? ”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “He's still saver with my father than he is raiding a dragon infested island with us, isn't he?” That was.... an actual question. Not a rhetoric one, like one would expect. No. Arthur was seriously asking. His tone was probably supposed to be rhetoric, but he sounded too emotional. Too concerned. Too guilty.

Gwaine's mouth dropped open. Merlin's heart stilled. “Since when are you so worried about Merlin?”, Gwaine asked and sat up straight. After all... Arthur had never really shown his emotional side to Gwaine. Not like this. Not verbally. There would be lots of teasing, surely. Later on, of course. And Arthur should know that. But Arthur was sleep deprived and concerned and he needed to vent. That may not be wise. But since when do people do reasonable things?

“I'm not worried.”, Arthur denied immediately. Gwaine raised an eyebrow. Which Arthur noticed. “Look -”, Arthur started. “I couldn't take Merlin with us on this trip. Merlin is a servant and he's always unarmed-”

“That never stopped you from taking him on hunts.”, Gwaine raised both eyebrows now.

Arthur groaned. “That's different. We're knights. We can protect him from bandits. Dragon's are.... a whole different story. I faced one and I passed out and I still don't know HOW we survived. I know I killed it, but it was incredibly close. And this mission... I'm not sure we'll make it.”, Arthur let his head sink.

Gwaine paused for a moment. “Wait... you think we'll all die?”, he asked, eyes wide and suddenly terrified. “Of course not.”, Arthur said absently. But it was clearly a lie. “Jesus. You're in a good mood.”, Gwaine mumbled to himself. For the first time, he sounded worried too.

“So... you left Merlin in Camelot because -”

“I don't want him to die.”, Arthur confessed. Albeit reluctantly. “But … you said you thought he'd be here?”, Gwaine pointed out. Arthur breathed. Then he turned to look at Gwaine. “Is it selfish to wish he had ignored my orders?”

Gwaine blinked. “Huh?” To be fair, he had wanted to tease Arthur about the fact that nothing Arthur just said opposed the idea that he was – indeed – worried about Merlin in any way. But that last comment confused him and changed the focus of this conversation.

“I don't want him to die with us. But -”, Arthur bit his lip. “If I die, I'd rather die at his side. Is that weird?”

Gwaine glanced at the blanket, where Merlin strained his ears to hear every word Arthur was saying. Merlin's breathing was getting rigid. This conversation.... was unusual. Very... unusual for Arthur.

Gwaine blinked, then he forced himself to grin and make a more joyous expression. As he always did. Because positive energy was his thing. “Now now, princess.”, he put an arm around Arthur shoulder, which Arthur let him do with a disapproving frown. “Sounds like someone here got a small crush on our dear Merlin.”

Merlin fought the urge to kick him yet again, worried that this would reveal him from underneath the blanket. Gwaine was clearly overdoing it. He was clearly out to annoy Arthur. Merlin knew that. And he really wanted Gwaine to stop. This was humiliating and mean.

Arthur stared at Gwaine. At the laughing face. The poking and joking and attempt at humiliating him expression. But Arthur's stare didn't waver. And Gwaine's expression lost itself on the realization that he actually hit a mark.

“Wait – seriously?”, he asked and pulled his arm back. Merlin behind him froze. Merlin's inner turmoil was at Gwaine's antics. He had been so focused on cursing Gwaine, that he was completely startled by that sentence. He had not expected for Arthur to just.... not deny it. Which was basically a confession. Merlin's eyes widened. And he stared at the blindness in front of him. Once again, he was completely still. 'Huh?', he thought.

“You think it's weird.”, Arthur turned away, still fumbling with his hands. And had the little snide remark from Gwaine not been, maybe they could have pretended this sentence didn't mean so much. That this was simply about hoping his friend was here. That they just continued their conversation from before, without the additional information that Arthur – indeed – liked Merlin more than he ought to.

“I- what? No!”, Gwaine was quick to retaliate. “Of course not. I'm just surprised, is all. I mean... it's Merlin.”

“And?”, Arthur was frowning. As if ready to defend his friend. Which in itself was news to Merlin. Since when did Arthur defend him behind his back? Either way, this was Merlin they were talking about. And it was Gwaine he was talking about him with. There was no need to get defensive. “I didn't think you'd admit it! Especially to me.” The 'everyone loves Merlin, so of course I'm not surprised' was left unsaid. Needless to say. It was only Merlin who didn't recognize that implication.

Arthur let his shoulders slump. “Yeah well. If we're dying anyway, even you teasing me and telling everyone can't make it worse.”

“First of all. Rude. You underestimate me, Sire. You have no idea what I'm capable of. Second of all. Why are you all so dramatic these days? First Leon, now you? We haven't even arrived at the island yet and you're all planning our funerals! Who is to say we even find the island? Or the dragons?”, Gwaine flailed his arms, before putting a soft hand on Arthur's tense shoulders. His tone turned soft. Very unlike Gwaine. But it was not the first time he had worn that expression. He'd acted like this before. Tender and soft and fond. Mostly for Merlin, because Merlin was his first and therefore best friend. And he worried about him too. “And last, but not least. You'll see Merlin again, Sire. And even if he found out, he wouldn't tease you for this. Merlin has a good heart.”

Arthur looked up. Surprised by the comforting tone of Gwaine's voice. After all, Gwaine was not exactly the go to type, when it came down to emotions.

People often underestimate the clown friend. Radiating joy and fun doesn't always come from ignorance and obliviousness. It doesn't always mean they are secretly depressed either. Often, these kind of people have gone through much more than they let on. Often, they have learned to deal with their own emotions and come to the conclusion that having fun, being truly blissful brightens not only the world of others. It brightens their own as well. That doesn't make them less empathetic. It doesn't make them less understanding. Quite the contrary. They have a deep understanding of such situations and decided not to take it seriously. Because not everything has to be. And sometimes it's smarter not to think about stuff too deeply.

“You think?” Arthur's own voice was strangely hopeful. Like knowing he'd see Merlin again was all that mattered. Like the other comfort about surviving wasn't nearly as helpful. Or dare say, important.

“I'm certain.”, Gwaine grinned knowingly. Arthur smiled in relief at that. There was a pause between them, before Arthur added. “If you ever tell him about this conversation, I'll drown you in the ocean.”

Gwaine laughed at that. “No promises, princess.” Truth is, he could. He could easily promise it. But he wouldn't be Gwaine if he said that. It would be too obvious that he was hiding something as well. Arthur laughed.

“Nuts?”, Gwaine asked, suddenly and held out a can full of salted nuts. Startled by the question, Arthur almost bend over from laughing. “You're unbelievable.”, Arthur shook his head. Suddenly embarrassed that he confessed all this to Gwaine. But he accepted the nuts anyway.

The rest of the night was spend almost quietly. Which wasn't for long and Gwaine did his best to just distract Arthur. Which meant, it was just Gwaine and Arthur chatting about Merlin. It was mostly Gwaine. Because Gwaine's mindless babbling often meant talking positively about Arthur's servant. Arthur was already used to this.

For once though, Arthur was just as deeply into the conversation. “I think, if Merlin was here, he'd feel guilty.”

“Why is that?”, Gwaine asked, encouraging Arthur to continue. He barely concealed his grin, because Merlin was witness to all of this. Unable to move which would lead to exposure.

“Well... the last dragon lord died for him. And now we're visiting the last remains of his culture. Even if they have magic. I can't imagine Merlin be anything but devastated, when he meets them. I suppose the idiot would apologize to them. Like it was in any way his fault! Merlin can be such an idiot sometimes. One would think he wants to die, so often as he drinks poison for others or jumps into mid battle, unarmed. I'm honestly glad he has the decency to hide most of the time, while we handle things. I don't think I'd be able to concentrate on fighting, if he just -”, Arthur exhaled a deep breath and flailed his arms to imply Merlin running into knifes. “He's too brave for his own good.”

“Merlin is the bravest.”

“The bravest man I ever met.”, Arthur agreed and got a chuckled clap on his shoulder for that. “Look at you, Sire. Saying all these nice things about Merlin. Wait till I tell him about it.”

Arthur immediately recoiled. “Seriously, don't.”

“Why? What's so bad about him knowing that you care?”, Gwaine frowned in amusement. Thinking, that Arthur was just shy.

“He knows that I care. I'm pretty damn obvious about it. No need to put any more attention to it.”

Gwaine scoffed in disbelieve. “YOU? Obvious that you CARE? Really? This is what you call obvious?”

“What do you mean?”, Arthur frowned, honestly confused, while Merlin was trying to breathe even slower. Because somehow Arthur had shifted closer to the blanket. A hand was put on it. If Arthur himself made the wrong move, he'd accidentally pull the blanket off of him.

“Arthur. I don't think Merlin even knows you appreciate him at all.”

Arthur was stunned with silence. “You're joking.” Merlin blinked underneath the blanket. Just what on earth was Arthur talking about?

Gwaine stared at him. “Sire... what exactly do you understand about being obvious about this?”

Arthur frowned. “Well... Erm. I'm the prince of Camelot. My father has never allowed me to have friends that are not royal enough to be of knightly status. Merlin is a servant. Yet, he's my best friend.”

Gwaine stared back at him. “Have you told him that?”

Arthur blinked. “No... because my father would ground me, if I ever did. But I have...”, he slowly swayed to the side, searching for the right words. “I treat him like a knight. I take him on hunts where servants are not allowed. I used to punch him, too, like I would a knight, to cheer him up. Though I stopped that, because he said he doesn't like it. And I mean... I stopped. I wouldn't do that for just anyone!

My guards have been ordered to let him into my room, even if I ordered them to let no one in. If I don't want him around, I have to tell them that specially. I er... let him steal my food. He loves blackberries. So do I, but he doesn't need to know that.

He's always insulting me or my father behind his back, but I don't really throw him in the stocks for that. Which I should. That kind of talk is treason. He could be hanged for that, you know?

I give him unnecessary chores, just so he has a reason to hang out with me. And he doesn't get punished, though what he does is a really shabby job. Now that I think about it, I think I mostly pay him for insulting me.

I've defended him in front of my father. I have used my word as knight for him more than once. I have trusted him with my life and drank poison because he told me it was a good idea. Or because the choice was either him or myself. And I trusted him with the antidote or with taking my royal seal back to Camelot to whoever I want to precede me. I have saved his life and protected him in battle...”, at this point, Arthur was counting on his fingers and it looked like he was about to go on for hours.

However, Gwaine looked at him oddly, which made Arthur pause as soon as he noticed. “What?”, he asked, clearly confused with Gwaine's reaction.

“Well... just. I see what you mean.”, Gwaine was talking slowly. Realizing that yes... from Arthur's point of view, all of that was actually extraordinary behavior. But for anyone else... “But you do realize that most of that is just... Look. The things you describe...

Half of the stuff happens behind his back, which you don't tell him. So how would he know? Other stuff is like.... Merlin probably thinks he's just stealing your stuff. Defending someone innocent is not something you do for someone you like. It's something you do for strangers, if their life depends on it. It's something Merlin himself would do for anyone.

And... treating him like a person when he argues with you and taking him seriously is hardly an expression of love, Arthur. I know in your position that's different. But to anyone else. Jesus christ, how do I put this?

The only extraordinary thing about all this, is you risking your life for him. Which he would do for you – for anyone really – without even thinking. And YOU would die for your own people too. I hardly think he sees a difference in your behavior towards him and your general behavior to your people.

Merlin would risk his life for anyone. He doesn't even demand thanks for it.

What you do, is... for a prince.... extremely … er... let's say affectionate. But for Merlin, it's... how do I put it … less than the minimum.”

Arthur blinked. Finally Merlin shifted underneath the blanket. His eyes blinking rapidly now. Gwaine was right. This WAS how he saw things. But the way Arthur described the way he acted.... that wasn't just Arthur trying his best to be a good prince or person. This was Arthur trying his hardest to show he cared! Cared for Merlin! Merlin felt... touched? Kind of. The crush thing aside. That was a whole different level of work in process. (1) He felt his own face heat up with the knowledge that these things... These things that Merlin had guessed were normal for Arthur... that Arthur had done them on purpose. That he had actually thought about Merlin to make sure he was cared for. That this was a far as he could push himself and did it despite the risk of being scolded by his father.

Arthur's mouth was open now. Unable to retort or add on to his previous examples. “But -”

“You do know, Merlin still doesn't believe us, when we tell him that you risked your life getting him a flower, because he thinks we're messing with him, right?”

“That's ridiculous. That flower was needed for an antidote! What is there to doubt about it?”, Arthur exclaimed, almost furious. Merlin shuddered in surprise. 'Huh?', he thought to himself, his face flushing hard.

“Yeah. I know. He does not.”, Gwaine nodded eagerly.

“But... I thought I was so obvious? I mean... Even my father noticed! He's told me I was getting too close to Merlin. So I tried to hold back, but... I thought Merlin knew.”, Arthur appeared shocked. Like someone had just turned his entire world upside down.

“The king noticed?”, Gwaine raised both eyebrows in shock.

“Yes, I mean. When I came back with that flower, he threw me in the dungeons for it. He keeps reminding me that I'm not supposed to be friends with Merlin. He keeps offering me new servants! I've turned down five offers last week!”

Gwaine's mouth dropped open. “Woow.”, he made impressed. “If Uther thinks THAT's a lot. What kind of childhood did you have?”

Arthur looked up, surprised. “I dunno? A normal one I guess? I mean. I didn't have a mom and my father was always busy and Morgana and I were fighting all the time, so....”

Gwaine's eyes squished a little. “Have you ever even been hugged?”, he asked with suspicion.

Arthur straightened his back. “I'm.... not supposed to get close to people until I get married.”, he muttered. Gwaine stared and his mouth dropped open again. “I meant Uther. Did you father never hug you?”

“Was he supposed to do that?”

Gwaine's jaw dropped. “And here I always thought you just were a stuck up royal like anyone else. But your father abandoned you. No wonder you have no idea how to deal with emotions.” Arthur flushed and tried to retort, but then he closed his mouth. Embarrassed.

Gwaine hurried to correct himself. “I mean... considering all this, you're doing a lot, actually. You're a good man, Arthur. I wouldn't be your knight, if I didn't think you were worth dying for. Just. God damn it, I'm getting so mad right now. Your father is an asshole. I mean, I already knew that. But holy shit.”

Arthur frowned. “Don't talk about my father like this!”, he growled, but Gwaine stopped him again. “Nope. You don't get to decide that. You're in denial. He abandoned you. He keeps sending you on quests that could get you killed. He didn't even show you that he cares if you come back!”

“He cried when he thought I was dead though!”, Arthur commented, remembering the troll Catrina accident.

Gwaine blinked. “Good to know where he draws the line. What the fuck, Arthur.”

Arthur bit his lips. He felt defensive for his father. But... wasn't it bad... that he couldn't see a single flaw in Gwaine's accusation?

“Merlin is your exact opposite, you know.”, Gwaine suddenly said and slowly patted Arthur's shoulder. This time highly aware of the fact that this was probably the closest contact Arthur allowed for anyone. Apart from the fact that Arthur had a crush on Merlin and Merlin was the guy who dressed him.... Let's not get into that.

“I know.”

“He grew up with a mom who hugged him every day. Arthur, Merlin is the most affectionate person I know. He's extremely emotional and he's not afraid to show it.”

“I know.”, Arthur said again, but this time softer.

“Compared to that your way of dealing with things probably looks more like you're pushing him away.”

Arthur's head sank and his shoulders dropped. He grabbed the blanket tighter. “I know.”, he said yet again. Frustrated this time. 'I'm trying.', he didn't say, but they all knew it.

“You should talk to him.”

“I know.”, Arthur was defeated.

It was quiet between them once again and Arthur stared out on the sea. And from the distance, you could see the first sun rays of the day illuminate the wooden deck of the ship. Arthur stared at it, as long as it was possible to look into the direction. While Gwaine watched him with worry. Gwaine had almost forgotten Merlin was still there. Merlin, who was trying his hardest to appear invisible. And quiet. And still. Nobody could hear his loud heart beat, but Merlin himself. Though he could swear someone had to notice at some point.

“Rise and shine.”, Arthur suddenly said and smiled to himself. For the first time, the conversation went beyond Gwaine's understanding and he could just stare at him in confusion.

But Merlin could hear what Arthur was actually saying. It was the sentence Merlin always woke Arthur up with. In this context, it meant, Arthur was thinking of that. Of early mornings and Merlin in it. The way his smile slowly fell, Merlin could feel that Arthur was actually missing him. And hoping he was here. Unaware that his wish had already come true.

It took Merlin everything he had in himself, to not jump up from underneath the blanket and just hug him to death. Which he now knew would equal a marriage proposal to Arthur. Oh god, all those love potion incidents …. where Arthur hugged and kissed random women. The boy must have had a mental breakdown afterwards. Now that Merlin thought of it, Arthur used to behave really strange after those incidents.

Meaning, he wouldn't talk to anyone. He would excuse himself a lot. Would be anxious around everyone he was forced to talk to. And he'd be especially awkward around Merlin. Merlin's eyes widened once again with a start and it paralyzed him as he realized precisely WHY that had been. He flushed. And he was glad Arthur couldn't see him like this.

“Sire?”, Gwaine finally asked, still uncharacteristically gentle. Arthur shook his head. “Nothing. I'll go back to sleep. Leon should be up soon. I think he's already feeling much better.” Arthur sighed and pushed himself up. He let go of the blanket, making Merlin exhale a deep breath. Then he took the ladder down again.

One last time, he was stopped by Gwaine. “Wait, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped for a moment. “What is it?”, he asked.

“You like Merlin right? As in, you're in love with him.”

Arthur flushed, but he answered with a hesitant “yes.”. Which was like a major blow in Merlin's guts. Because being in love was an entirely different thing than having a crush. And yet, to have this confirmed... Merlin struggled to breathe.

“What will you do, if he doesn't like you back?”

There was a pause. A heavy one. Then Arthur sighed. “Gwaine... It's not like anything can happen between us anyway. Even if Merlin did like me back. I can't tell him. Merlin is the best friend I have. I couldn't bear to loose him. I won't let anything or anyone, not my father, not a potential wife, not even my own feelings get in the way of that. I won't ruin what we have. I couldn't live with myself.” And with that, he disappeared under deck. Leaving Gwaine behind, completely stunned.

Finally, Merlin pulled the blanket off of himself and dramatically breathed the fresh air around him. It had started to get really stuffy under that.

Gwaine turned around, almost startled. As if he had truly forgotten that Merlin had been there. They looked at each other for a moment. Unsure what to say.

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

The storm hit the boat without any warning. Maybe, if they had known about the “calm before the storm”, they would have noticed that there was – indeed – a warning. But they didn't. Because Uther didn't care that these knights had no idea about sailing. Or rather, most of them. The one's who did know about it, had been asleep, as Arthur had assigned none of them to keep watch.

They were lucky they made it in time to get the sails in. But as soon as the storm was raging, they had to hold on to everything for dear life. They had no time to fixate any of their belongings to the ship. Which meant that now, barrels and bottles and cups and knifes and anything they had lying about, was now thrown around their ears.

Those who had the great misfortune to get knocked out by a barrel, got thrown of the ship. But through all that, you couldn't hear the screams and the shouts. The storm was so loud, it deafened everything that was further than two steps away.

In a strange way, the storm came over them silently. Merlin had never managed to get back into his barrel. But he had shushed Gwaine to bind himself to the watchtower. The entire thing was about to be blown off, was it not for Merlin's magic.

In fact, while Gwaine closed his eyes, praying the storm to be over, Merlin used his magic to keep his friends safe. Albeit, there were too many of them. He couldn't safe everyone. But he DID manage to keep Arthur safe. Who was running around in that blasted armor and shouting orders to his subordinates. He was not lucky to be okay. He was lucky to have Merlin to keep him that way.

That was, until Merlin saw his own barrel being thrown off the ship. And Lancelot saw it. But Lancelot didn't know Merlin wasn't in there. Oh fucking hell no.

Lancelot screamed his name. And he managed to shout so loud, that Arthur turned around, totally confused why one of his knights would shout out the name of his servant in the middle of a storm. But Arthur, foolish, kind, love deprived Arthur, made the connection. And when Lancelot shouted at him to explain that Merlin was supposed to be IN that barrel that was now about to drown on the ocean. Arthur did the most foolish thing a prince could do.

He gave Leon the authority.... and – in a panic- jumped after Merlin.

Who was not in that barrel, but on the watch tower. Who watched and stared and couldn't believe what he saw. Because Arthur had just JUMPED of the ship for him. Fully armed with his sword and knife and wearing armor.

'That fucking idiot.”, Merlin mouthed and now panic washed over him as well. In a moment decision, Merlin yelled at Gwaine to stay where he was. And then he slid down the ladder. Not even bothering to use the steps. His hands already burned from the heat of the fraction. And splinters of the cold wood edged into his skin. But he didn't give a damn.

He ran over the deck, seeing panicked and confused faces everywhere and then he directly jumped after Arthur.

The storm wouldn't stop for another five hours. Thanks to Merlin, the casualties were little to none. But even after the storm had calmed and the sea lay still around them, while the knights tried to catch their breath.... Merlin and Arthur could not be found among the wrecks. And Leon's headache was returning. (1) The sentence: work in process is a mix of work in progress and processing something. I found that creative. It’s intentional :)

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

First (you are here) <<Masterlist >> Next

#merlin tv #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #fanfiction #my writing #I'll try to post here too now #dragon island #chapter 1 #The calm before the storm #merthur #merlin #arthur #freya #edit later

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Nineteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, one and all! I hope your day is going well. Tagging @anonymouscosmos​, @culturalrebel​, @mercy-and-malice​, @deepkittycollecto​, @nelba​, @mechanicalism​ and @commandershepardshtole. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains distressing flashbacks, gratuitous violence and extreme emotional duress. Stay safe!]

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never really considered that he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed. Oh certainly, he had heard many a 'Paladin Dense' joke in his time with the Brotherhood; his name made it far too simple to engage in semi-witty wordplay.

  Here and now though, facing down seven coursers with nothing except his laser rifle and power armor, he was beginning to slightly... slightly doubt his own intelligence. 

  The first courser was managed easily enough, rushing him in a suicidal dash. Danse blew their head off without missing a beat, continuing his march forward. The worst part of it all was the silent hatred he felt radiating from the coursers, like a thick miasma of ill will. He wondered pointlessly whether this was how he would meet his end. Trapped in the sterile halls of the Institute, torn apart by this rabid crew of synth hunters.

  "I escaped from you all before, if your records are accurate." The paladin snarled as two of the coursers vanished into thin air. "I doubt any of you would recall. I myself do not recall much of this place."

  The spinal recalibration chair crouched in the center of the white room, needles gleaming in the brilliant light--

  A laser pinged! off his chest plating and Danse bared his teeth, taking another step forward. "I know all of your weaknesses, every last one of them. You might as well give up and face Commonwealth justice." He advised them sternly, brandishing his laser rifle in further threat. 

  "Forget about him, go and find Vega!" One of the cloaked coursers spat from somewhere behind Danse's back. "Father wants her dea--" The paladin pulled a sharp turn, putting a laser bolt directly through the invisible courser's skull with... alarmingly precise accuracy. Of course, that may have been their tactic to begin with. A body crashed against his back and Danse heard the tell-tale alert beep of an unmounted fusion core.

  "A Brotherhood soldier is nothing without their power armor." The third courser taunted while Danse slowed under the ponderous weight of his armor. However, the courser's confidence was short-lived as the paladin used the little momentum he did have to instead fall backwards, crushing the synth beneath the massive frame of his armor. 

  The fusion core clattered and spun just out of reach on the floor, but Danse didn't even have the time to think about moving to grab it before two coursers were on him. Gloved hands clawed at his helmet; a fist slammed into the side of the metal with a resounding impact. Thank Steel the gorget seal held, and Danse managed to move his arm quickly enough to batter one of the coursers away with the sheer bulk of the gauntlet alone. The courser crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  Danse frantically tried to count in his head, tried to recall how many coursers he still had to manage. He could barely move, already stringing himself along on little but adrenaline and the promise of seeing the sun again. How many hours had they been down here? It seemed like an eternity.

  What would the EMP do to him? God, should he even risk it? 

  The paladin dragged himself up onto one knee, scrabbling at his waist for the grenade while that other courser seized the back of his helmet and ripped it off. The crackle of his mouthpiece dislodging itself from the helmet to dangle limp over his gorget seemed almost too loud.

  Danse pulled the pin on the EMP as the square barrel of a laser rifle buried itself beside his ear, and his world went white.

  …

  The smooth, cool surface of the floor that his cheek rested on was the only thing he could feel. 

  - No! Voice cracking, screaming as he was wrestled down into the chair by the scientists, needles punching through his skin until the largest caliber ground into the nape of his neck please don't please don't -

  - No! Cutler shrieking, misshapen green flesh pouring out around the strangling confines of his armor, his eyes gone mad but it's still him it's still him I can't -

  - No! Elizabeth collapsing on top of him, the heat of her blood soaking through his shirt, her whole body thrown between he and Maxson no no no no NO -

  Danse noticed, with a sense of detached horror, that his heart appeared to have stopped. The lack of pulse rang in his ears, one agonal gasp crushed his chest and then another rattled his body while everything in him fought to inhale. His consciousness was fading, flickering out like a candle in a gale as his rate of respiration continued to plummet.

  Elizabeth, I'm so sorry .

  His eyes were heavy, gritty with exhaustion. He should sleep. Just for a moment. 

  "- anse? Danse! Paladin Danse!"

  Someone was yelling his name, and another voice that was closer shouted, "Open fire on the courser! Advance to secure the paladin!"

  Suddenly, his heart shuddered to life, his pulse returning with a vengeance that seemed like it would deafen him. Danse heaved in a gasp of air, wheezing, body awash with clammy sweat as he tried to turn his head. Nausea sent his stomach rolling at the motion and a headache throbbed behind his eyes but he was alive --

  Boots on the floor beside his head, someone standing over his body. "Grab his core and plug it back in! We need to get out of here!" Minutemen, Minutemen . It was Delta squadron doing their final sweep. Muskets roared overhead like death from above, the cacophony serving to further deafen the battered paladin. 

  He forced himself up onto his left elbow so that one of the Minutemen could slam the fusion core home in his back plating. The servos in Danse's armor creaked and groaned once more, and the paladin rose with relative ease. 

  "Our egress has been secured, sir!" A young soldier informed him loudly, her cheek smeared with the blood that trickled from her left ear. 

  Danse, still queasy and unsteady after his near death experience ( had he technically died? Did synths die? ), simply nodded and reached to accept his helmet from another Minuteman. 

  A laser bolt cracked! off the side of the helmet and the Minuteman dropped it in surprise. Danse lurched around, hauling up his gauntlet to shield his head from the next bolt that came. His free hand shot out of its own volition and he grabbed... something , slamming it back against the wall with all his strength 

  The courser flickered into view, Danse's gauntlet wrapped around his throat. The paladin almost wanted to wonder at his good fortune, but then the synth simply evaporated out of his grasp. " Dammit , his emergency relay." Danse swore hoarsely.

  "Sir, we don't have time. The reactor is due to go at any second!" The armored man was all but dragged along, pushed and herded by the soldiers around him. His heart kept skipping beats, leaving him breathless and lightheaded as he struggled to keep up with his battalion.

  "What news do we have of General Vega?" He yelled to anyone that would answer him. The shot from the courser had entirely destroyed what was left of the two-way transmitter in his helmet, rendering him unable to communicate with their main forces.

  "No news, sir! Alpha squadron has already pulled out! We have reports from squadrons Echo, Foxtrot and Golf that synths have been sighted relaying in to their respective territories!" One of the soldiers replied, his tones clipped to be heard over the sound of the cabal's battle-rattle. "No word from Beta squadron on casualties yet, and Charlie is still waiting on us as of two minutes ago!"

  The paladin cursed under his breath, his step hitching and nearly causing him to fall. Elizabeth, please , please be alive! He wasn't sure who he was praying to, or even why the hell he was bothering. He should have known better than to think his foolhardy plan to secure her escape would work.

  Back through the old robotics area they stormed, everyone moving doubletime at this point. Alarms blaring overhead, PA system calmly announcing their fast-diminishing window to flee. Blood trickled down into his eyes from somewhere up on his scalp, stinging badly enough to briefly take Danse's mind off of his other injuries.

  The door at the top of the stairs was wide open, and Danse's relief was crippling when he spied Sturges still at the control panel. The engineer whooped upon seeing the ragged group of men and women. "First in, last out! Now let's get the hell outta' here!" He shouted, waving the soldiers into the relay area. "We only got a minute or so until the whole place goes!"

  Danse opened his mouth to ask whether Sturges had already transported Vega, but he was too late. Blue-white energy crackled and fizzled around him and the next thing he knew, he was being unceremoniously deposited on the ground in the shadow of the Prydwen.

  …

  "General, it's time." Preston said quietly. Backhand stared off into the distance, every fresh crackle of radio static making her heart drop. "We have to get this done. It needs to be finished," he continued when she stayed silent. "If you can't push it, that's fine. I know we did our best." 

  Reports had come in left and right that synths were being sighted across the Commonwealth, emergency relays dropping them in the most random of places. Every squadron had been accounted for, aside from Delta and Charlie. 

  "Did we do the right thing, Preston?" Backhand breathed. "Just think of all the good -"

  "I don't think we'll ever know for certain, General. That's the reality of these kinds of scenarios. But you don't need me to tell you that." Preston interjected, his practical words shoring up her limited resolve. "You want me to do this?"

  Vega closed her eyes, nodding rapidly. She heard the rustle of that outrageous coat, and a moment later there was the soft click of the charge being armed. 

  "It's done, General."

  "Thank you, Preston." Vega sank down on the rooftop, tugging her knees into her chest and burying her face in them. The distant explosion tore a sob from her throat and as the Institute collapsed in on itself, General Vega dissolved into tears.

  It felt like an eternity before Preston coaxed her to her feet, the lieutenant pressing his canteen into her hands. "Drink." He urged, his own eyes less than dry. " Drink , General. You're gonna' be okay. We'll get back to the Prydwen, back to your son. It'll all be just fine."

  "I know." Vega mumbled through a mouthful of stale water, doing her best to ignore the plume of smoke that rose in the distance. "I'm okay, I promise. It's just a lot. I'm okay." She tried to assure Preston, huffing at his watery chuckle.

  "No, you're not. You're exhausted and busted up and scared. This is a hell of a thing we've done, you've done. It's okay to be overwhelmed." Preston reasoned, grimacing. "We've got a decent walk back, if you need to talk."

  "What about you , though? How are you holding up?"

  "I'm not sure if it's real yet." Preston admitted. "It'll take some getting used to. But...I'm glad to know that we don't have to fear the Institute anymore."

  His lapel radio crackled, Pride squadron requesting verification on successful detonation.

  "Relay our message to the Castle: mission accomplished, the Institute has been leveled. I repeat, mission accomplished." Preston replied into the handset, seeming a little shell-shocked at being able to say the words.

  Mission accomplished .

  Backhand sniffled, a new wave of emotion threatening to send her spiraling yet again. 

  Shaun . The synthetic child. A child. A son . A second chance that she didn't deserve.

  She fished the holotape he had given her out of her pocket, slotting it into her Pip Boy after a momentary struggle. To her shock, it was Father's voice that issued from the speaker.

  " If you are hearing this, then whatever conflicts you and I have endured are over… "

  …

  Danse wandered across the airport tarmac, some distant part of him aware that he was in a state of shock. He had dropped his helmet. Where, he couldn't say. His head was still bleeding and he was certain that other areas of his body needed medical attention, but he couldn't seem to get himself to stop searching the area for Elizabeth.

  He hadn't seen her, the child or that courser that had warned them of the ambush. His heart sank as he wondered whether the synth had simply been a tool to get him out of the way, separating the paladin from Vega.

  Why had Vega parted from Alpha squadron in the first place? Oh surely, he knew exactly why. She had wanted to confront that man who had once been her son on her own. But it had been reckless , and it may have cost them dearly. 

  Danse groaned, very nearly attempting to rub his eyes before he remembered he was still in his armor and he would probably blind himself in the process. 

  All around him were wounded Minutemen, scribes and aspirants rushing back and forth to try and mediate the damage that had been done. The synths and scientists were easy to spot, each one clad in brilliant white Institute garb. They huddled together in small groups, some crying, some silent, others staring around wide-eyed in wonder. 

  Danse realized suddenly that this would be the first time many of them had even seen the sun. He must have been like them once, all curiosity and fear. He shook his head, more blood dripping into his eye causing him to wince. The paladin grunted, clumsily smearing the trickle from his hairline across his forehead with his gauntlet. It must be mixing with his sweat. 

  "Danse!" That voice…

  The paladin racked his brain, trying to recall the name of the person who owned the voice. 

  It started with a P. 

  Writing. Writer? Wright .

  Piper?

  The woman materialized out of the throngs of scribes, her cap set at a steep angle. In her hand she clutched a battered notepad, and she waved it furiously as if to get Danse's attention. "Hey, big fella'! Over here!" She called, rocking on her heels impatiently while the paladin trudged towards her. "What the hell happened to you in there? You look like a stretch of lonely road!"

  Danse hiccupped, trying for a salute. His arms felt like lead. "I...There was--I-I was separated-" The words wouldn't come, the paladin still reeling from his near-death experience, the loss of Vega, everything , it was too much.

  Was he crying?  

  "Oh Danse, hey, c'mon, easy." Piper soothed, one hand tentatively hovering over his right gauntlet. "It's okay big fella', it's alright." 

  Danse shook his head, utterly mortified as he tried to regulate his sobs. 

  "I was about to ask for a full run-down from a tactical perspective. Y'know, to uh, ease the fears of the Commonwealth populace at large. but I can see that you're in a...er, state right now." Her attempt at delicacy didn't go unnoticed and Danse gritted his teeth. His hands clenched into tight fists as he fought to get himself back under control. These damn emotions-!

  "The operation appears to have been successful." He rasped finally. "We are still...waiting on confirmation. But I am c--I am confident in our success. I am...uncertain of our losses. My two-way was destroyed in the fracas." He gestured at the mangled mess of wires and what was left of the coupling attached to his gorget. God only knew where he had dropped his helmet, but it didn't really matter. If the coursers tearing it off of him hadn't broken the two-way wholly, that final laser had finished the job. "I have no method of communication, I'm afraid. We should...we should find the field scribes and comms."

  Danse could feel the haze of trauma dissipating the longer he spoke, the tactical compartmentalization that had served him so well taking over once more. There would be time later to mourn what he had lost. Right now, it was the Brotherhood's sworn duty to ensure that the Commonwealth remained safe and, more importantly, informed .

  "Come with me, Miss Wright." He ordered, using the advantage of his height to search for the elevated ground of their radio shelter.

  "It's Piper ."

  …

  Vega's boots kicked up a cloud of dust, her footsteps weary. Preston was silent alongside her, the young man clearly deep in thought. Backhand was still reeling from the holotape, Father's words playing over and over in her mind...

  I had hoped to gift this child to you as some sort of consolation for losing me all those years ago, but your actions have proven you unreasonable. If you are hearing this message, no doubt you have found this unit's corpse and stripped it clean.

  Did you think I had no idea you were working with the Brotherhood? The Railroad? You cannot be so naive, Mother. I am merely stunned that it took you so long to gather your forces.

  On the off chance that your bloodlust can be slaked before the total destruction of everything I have built, I would ask that you still take this...synth. This boy, rather, as you would no doubt insist on calling him, has been programmed to believe he is your son. Should he survive you and whatever rampant destruction you have planned, I ask that you raise him as your own. 

  You have no real reason to do so, of course. There would be no tangible benefit, and I know all too well of your callous disregard for life.

  Sleep easy tonight, knowing that you've rid the Commonwealth of its greatest hope for prosperity.

  Backhand cleared her throat. "Preston, do you-" She hesitated. "What if I'm not...what if I'm not cut out for this mom stuff? What if all I'm good for is military shit?" The woman asked plaintively. "I was willing to do anything for my son, back before the bombs dropped. But now...I mean, what the hell kind of life can I even offer to the...to Shaun?"

  "A life at all, I suppose. The freedom to choose." 

  Backhand closed her eyes, forcing a breath out. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I think so, anyway. You've fought so hard for folks you don't even know, General! And it isn't like you'd be doin' it alone." Preston reasoned with a smile. "If it seems a little too overwhelming, just remember: there at a moment's notice . We're with you, no matter what."

  "I was kinda' hoping I'd put you guys out of a job!" Vega tried to joke.

  "Nah, we've still got a lot of work to do. Commonwealth's a big place, General." Preston patted her shoulder, waving to the sentries on the Brotherhood retaining walls at the airport. Far overhead loomed Liberty Prime, all gangly steel limbs as its head slowly turned back and forth in a scanning motion.

  Vega began skimming the crowds of wounded from force of habit, her eyes stopping dead at the sight of a black leather coat.

  X6-88 . The courser looked dazed, a singular patch of reddened gauze gracing his forehead. His body was still wrapped protectively around the child, around Shaun , who seemed to be sound asleep. The synth kept snarling at anyone who got too close. Vega wondered who on earth had managed to dress his head. Had someone just tossed him a gauze pack and fled in terror?

  She received her answer a second later as Curie emerged from the crowd, the young woman sporting her usual nearly-spotless white coat to denote her medical ability. X6 would have known her by a different name, however.

  G5-19 . 

  Backhand's heart broke at the way that the courser was obviously struggling to contain himself, the general watching Curie swap out the soaked gauze for a fresh bandage. When Curie reached for Shaun though, X6 said something to her that made her tilt her head in confusion.

  "- know me? Monsieur Courser, I am afraid I do not have zee pleasure." She was saying as Vega and Preston drew within earshot.

  "You were...in the Institute, I...we knew each other." X6 replied in a fragmentary fashion.

  "Ah! I must apologize, Monsieur Courser. I am afraid zat zis body was wiped nearly clean when I acquired it. Zee original owner was in a catatonic state. Somezing about EMP grenades and raiders, if I recall." The former Nanny bot squinted at the courser, pursing her lips. "And yet, you are... strangely familiar! Ah, zis body is a marvel." She continued cheerily, producing two small, plastic-wrapped snack cakes from her doctor's coat. "One for you, and one for zee child when he wakes." 

  X6-88 accepted the prepackaged treats with a nod, spotting Elizabeth over Curie's shoulder. "General Vega, is it?" The courser asked, his voice weary.

  "How you holdin' up, X6?" Vega queried in turn, startled when the killing machine offered her a tight-lipped nod.

  "The wound is not too grievous, even with the limited amount of medical prowess it seems the surface has. She appears to believe I will survive."

  "Madame Vega, it is such a relief to see you in one piece!" Curie exclaimed warmly, the synth hauling her into a hug and planting a kiss on either cheek. "It would appear your mission was a success, yes?"

  "I'd say so." Preston answered for Vega, the lieutenant observing the courser with a fair amount of trepidation. "General, are you sure you...uh. Well, y'know."

  "Lieutenant Garvey," Preston flinched when X6 used his name, "If I intended to cause you harm, you would already be dead." 

  Remarkably , that attempt at reassurance did very little, and Vega smacked herself on the forehead as Preston went a touch gray. "You sure keep some interesting company, General." He commented, his voice cracking.

  "Listen, I said you'd be safe and I'm a woman of my word. But please don't give any of these Brotherhood weirdos an excuse to shoot you." Backhand requested of the courser. "If you want, I'll take over on babysitting duty and you can get the hell out of here. I know it probably feels like you're sitting in the middle of a hornet's nest."

  X6-88 hesitated, his eyes darting to Curie and then back to the general. "I will stay, ma'am." He answered her staunchly, looking weary all of a sudden.

  "Okay. But if you do want to leave, just have them walkie for me. Find basically anyone with a radio. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, I need that to be clear. You're free to go wherever you want, X6."

  "I…" The courser's brow furrowed and he merely nodded silently after a moment, readjusting his grip on the sleeping Shaun. 

  Vega knew she had so much to do, so much to continue planning, but she took a self-indulgent second to brush Shaun's hair back out of his eyes. Dark, dark brown, almost black, just like his father…

  Elizabeth smiled sadly, and then set off in the direction of the communications tent.

  …

  "No word from her yet, sir. Lieutenant Garvey told us of the success of the mission, but it is unclear if she is with him or not." 

  The field scribe's words burrowed into Danse's gut like a knife. Fear, anxiety, the unstoppable creeping sensation of realizing that he had been too late or not enough -

  The paladin shoved the emotions down, all too aware of Piper waiting at his elbow with baited breath. "The reports from the other squadrons then, Scribe."

  "Emergency relays began to activate at five minutes to meltdown, sir. Several synths were spotted in the outskirts of Diamond City and were quickly scooped up by the citizens of Goodneighbor, or Golf squadron, in conjunction with John D.'s forces." The young man replied, tugging one side of his headset off of his ears. "Foxtrot and Echo encountered the most resistance, as a platoon of coursers and gen one synths were sent to both the Castle and Bunker Hill. It seems that both locations held out well. Minimal casualties reported."

  "What's your take on this whole situation, bud? Would you consider this a victory?" Piper asked, leaning around Danse to speak with the scribe. "Enquiring minds want to know!"

  "I-I am not at liberty to pass judgement, civilian, b-but it seems that the operation has gone well!" The scribe stammered, darting his eyes at Danse as if fearful of the paladin's discipline.

  Danse snorted, a touch amused despite the distress that threatened to engulf him. Piper was far more formidable than a cursory glance would assume. It wasn't Danse that this young man needed to be concerned about.

  The doorway at the other end of the tent was flung open, sunset light pouring in with the influx of more bodies from the triage area. Danse didn't really pay any mind to it, more invested in hearing the rest of the field scribe's report. 

  That is, until a certain voice broke through the dull roar of radio static and muffled transmissions. "I need news of Delta squadron!" Vega barked, "particularly of Paladin Danse! Who has eyes on Danse?"

  The scribe across from the dumbfounded paladin looked up at him slack-jawed, then bolted to his feet. "G-General Vega, ma'am! The paladin-!"

  "Elizabeth." Danse breathed, his voice nearly inaudible as he straightened up from the table. 

  When her eyes met his, it was as if something broke inside him. Danse covered the ground between them in a heartbeat, gathering her into a fierce, armored embrace. " Logan! " Vega cried, her arms flinging open to cling to his sides. He almost dared to believe that she sounded relieved or delighted . "You're okay, you're okay, thank fuck ." She mumbled against his breastplate, clutching the lucky bandanna she had tied to his arm like she wasn't sure if he was real. "We did it, we did it, holy shit." 

  Vega appeared to be in a state of shock, finally lifting her head from Danse's chest when Piper hollered, "Blue!", the reporter hugging her from behind and sandwiching the general between herself and Danse. 

  Danse's heart ached as he watched Vega dissolve into tears, Piper gripping her tight and his own hold unwavering. Preston entered the tent as well, the younger man clapping Danse on the pauldron to congratulate him on his survival.

  We did it .

Part Twenty

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #paladin danse x f!sole #Eventual romance #slow burn #we are nearly at the end #what a wild ride #canon-typical violence #fo4 x6-88 #fo4 preston garvey #fo4 piper wright

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 27- Hermits

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Its not often the hermits get a chance to all be together. And while they know battles lie ahead of them, they take this moment to enjoy being a family again. 

______________________________________

Etho appears beside TFC, causing the mineral mage to sputter out the coffee he was sipping. “I caught sight of xB a few islands down!” 

The hermits murmur with excitement and follow Etho to the shoreline. Sure enough, xB is hauling Hypno and Beef onto the warm sand. Hypno thumps his hand against his head, an attempt to escape his clogged ears which only fails for him. “Can’t we take a sky turtle next time?” 

“But it’s more fun to swim!” xB chuckles, and with a flick of his finned ears and his grey tail he runs to hug the hermits. “It’s so good to be back, guys! I can’t remember the last time all of us were on the island together.”

“You guys said something about taking back Lairyon?” Beef raises an eyebrow, looking over at Doc. “This isn’t your rebellious phase coming back, is it?”

“We’ll explain everything on the way. TFC has a lot to tell.” Etho wraps his arms around Hypno and xB, before disappearing into their shared shadow. 

The kipling laughs, shaking his head and looking around the island. “Some things never change. I see you haven’t fixed the hole in False’s forge either.” 

The hermits laugh, the entire group filled with life as they return to the guild hall. Joe and Cleo regale the missing hermits with the story of their victory at the Chimaera’s Championship. Their battles and challenges in the arena, facing off against the best guilds and winning the cup. They also tell Hypno, xB, and Beef about the heist, the discovery. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Hypno hums, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table that he sits down at. TFC pats the boys on the head, grabbing at Beef’s face and tapping his finger on a scar he sees. Beef shrinks away, concerned for a second, but the guildmaster only chuckles in response.

“I can’t wait to hear that story. It’s good to have you guys back.” TFC pats him on the back. “Treat you to a pint of beer next time we go to town.” 

“Let’s hear about this big job you’ve got planned for us first.” xB raises an eyebrow. In response, TFC rolls out his map.

The paper has changed since they first decided to go after Dolios and his creepy crystals. If there’s one thing an outlaw guild knows how to do, it’s to find new jobs through the grapevine. “Dolios has these tales silenced. I’ve heard of at least six other guilds being attacked or wiped out by unknown magic. Unfortunately, we’re too late to help them.” Team ZIT glance at one another, but focus on the here and now. “But there are places we can make a difference, as well as get information and better ourselves as a group.”

TFC motions to the Evernight forest. “An old friend of mine said there has been stories of familiars and companion animals going missing. No trace of where they went, except for a few patches of charred grass.”

“Charred, or drained?” Mumbo muses. To anyone, that sounds like the signs of a dragon ravaging Foresta, but after Mumbo’s duel with a draconic mage he knows dragons aren’t that dastardly. Nothing is as dastardly as Dolios. 

TFC grins, the newest member and the guildmaster sharing a knowing glint. “There’s also Shellor- which, I believe one of our hermits here knows quite intimately.” Etho gives a two fingered salute, rocking on the back legs of his chair until they fall out from under him, dumping him on the floor. Doc, Beef, and BDubs laugh at him. “There’s a few spies who’ve seen things Dolios has done, but the hard part will be earning their trust.” 

“Hmm, yeah. I don’t think I really left Shellor on a good note.” Etho grimaces. 

“That’ll be you, Keralis, and Grian’s problem. Meanwhile, we also need some help in the magical beings department. And if there’s one group that has mysterious, arcane magic on lock, it’s-”

“The fae!” Stress slams down her hands, a bright smile on her face. Iskall jolts upright and nearly hits the table again on the way down. “But where will we go? The fjords? The mountains? Heartbreak Trench?” 

“The flowerfruit fields. While you’re there, you and BDubs can gather ingredients that we’ve been running low on.” TFC glances at the map, running a finger over the lime green patch on the map. “We do have two confirmed crystal sightings, as well as Gildara. Edenswell seems to be falling ill to dark magic, and there’s reasonable belief that Dolios isn’t getting these massive rocks from nowhere- he’s using gems from the mines.” 

Heads peek over one another in an attempt to see the map. The charcoal diamonds and swirls. Gildara still sits untouched, and every hermit looks at one another. Do any of them want to return to the beginning of this all? Even to put an end to the dark magic plaguing the land, the memories of what they saw, what they experienced, still remain. 

Except for those that weren’t there. “I don’t think I’d mind checking out this hokey little town you guys keep talking about.” Beef grins, glancing over at Hypno and Wels. “We’ll have that place brimming with flaxen fields and green gardens all over again.” 

TFC grins, dipping his head in thanks to the returning hermits. He leans back, looking at the filled guild hall. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. If only it were on good terms.” 

“It feels good to return home.” xB ruffles his hair with a scaled hand, looking around for a second, then returning to speaking. “Even if it’s just for a short time, we should enjoy everyone being together again.” 

“What I’m hearing is we need to have our signature hermit celebrations.” Tango’s face splits into a devious smile. All around him, other hermits get a similar smirk on their face. Before TFC can agree to the idea, the hermits are gone. Cleo rushes to her wrecked pirate ship, hefting kegs of ale with the aid of Stress. Wels commandeers False’s forge to begin baking his favorite sweets, while Mumbo, Grian, and Iskall work together to fix the pennants, lanterns, and flags that decorate the guild hall in a myriad of colors. 

Tango snaps his fingers, and a small flame dances at his fingertips, jumping from his nails to the wicks of the lanterns. He ducks out of the way just in time to avoid being smacked in the face by a massive fish, tossed from the sea by xB and grabbed by Grian midair. The whirlpool mage disappears back underwater, back to hunting in the realm he was born in. 

The sun begins to inch towards the western horizon, turning the sky ablaze in a mosaic of pinks, oranges, yellows, and reds. A blue flag flutters against the ancient oak tree, catching on a branch. BDubs reaches out from his seat near the food platters, hardly even glancing away from the fresh baked goods, and with a flick of his wrist the branch bends away and the flag flies free again. 

False appears beside Wels, grabbing a brownie from the hot pan and sticking her tongue out at him as she passes. When Wels objects she’s quick to retort. “You used my forge. It’s rental payment, paladin.” 

Beef sets out plates, which are promptly ignored once Impulse and Zedaph have finished cooking the tuna xB caught. Music swells from a music box the creation of Ren, with the help of Mumbo, the upbeat songs written and composed with Joe and requests from the other hermits for their favorite tunes. 

The music thrums against the low roar of talking, the sound only broken by the common lilt of laughter. Hermits tell their stories, whether they be heard for the thousandth time or a new tale to tell. Beef causes Hypno to flush as he recounts the prank he pulled on the dream mage. Hypno turns bright red, quiet voice cracking over the tale. “I smelled like centaur shit for a week! It was awful, I’ll tell you that.” 

A raucous laugh erupts from that table, overshadowing the story of Mumbo’s duel to xB. “I swear on my life, I thought she was gonna swallow me whole. Or burn me like coal.” Mumbo shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever want to go up against a draconic mage ever again in my life.” 

“I’m surprised a kipling, a draconic mage, and a desert wizard were one team. That’s a strange group. I don’t think I’ve even met each of the others.” xB takes a bite of his fish, marinated in fresh fruits that Cub plucked from nearby islands. “But I’m sure that kipling gave you guys a run for your money. That magic she had… it’s rare beyond imagination. In kipling legend, it means a legendary hero is about to arise.” 

“He definitely kicked Ren’s ass. I don’t think I ever saw so much water moved at once.” Mumbo shakes his head, and stuffs a red jelly tart into his mouth. 

Keralis stands, tossing his woven hat from the brown curls of his hair, and inviting himself onto the open floor. “I love this song! Come on, my wonderful friends, let’s dance!” 

The setting sun casts a golden glow, bouncing off verdant leaves, twisting along the waves of the Ashioll sea. Laughter and music dance in the gilded light, playing in the curls of Zedaph’s hair as he joins Keralis. The two bumble around, drunk from Cleo’s ale but enjoying themselves immensely. 

Only one hermit wasn’t taking part in the festivities. Atop the canopy that protects the guild hall below, Xisuma watches as the stars appear in the sky. For a few moments in the day, the void and the sun share the space above. And he always thinks of the one person he knows he should forget by now. But he would’ve loved this, even if he’s constantly worrying about being caught doing something wrong. 

“Hey X, you gonna mope up there all day or join us?” Jevin grins below, one hand placed on his hip and the other waving Xisuma down. “Just because you’re a void mage doesn’t mean you have to a-void everything!” 

Xisuma rolls his eyes, but smiles beneath his mask. “After that terrible pun, how can I say no?”

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard etho #wizard tfc #wizard grian #wizard false #wizard wels #wizard hypno #wizard beef #wizard xb #ethoslab #tinfoilchef #grian #grianmc #falsesymmetry #welsknight #hypnotizd #vintagebeef #xbcrafted #writing

[47-shades-of-hitman]

In Your Likeness | Chapter 2 - You seem familiar

Four weeks later

 The white noise of the lights around buzzed in your ears.

Sebastian walked up to you, cup of tea in hand.

“Here.” he said, placing it onto the table, the teaspoon resting in it rattling at the movement.

You sighed, leaning back, putting down the small pieces of equipment you were holding. Instead, you wrapped your arms around the hot mug, relishing in the sweet smell that came from the herbal beverage. You never took your tea with sugar, but opted to not tell him.

“Thank you.” you mused, smiling at him whilst bringing the cup up to blow into it, cooling it down just slightly. “Where would I be without you?”

Sebastian scratched his beard and smiled. “Well, for beginners, you wouldn’t be in sunny Jerusalem if it weren’t for my lead on a Piece of Eden.”

“That’s my lead, too!” sounded from the other side of the room, followed by a crumpled piece of paper being thrown at Seb’s head.

“Oi! Yeah, I get it, Miranda.”

“Sunny Jerusalem, you say?” you countered playfully, bending over your work again. “Then tell me, why are we hidden several floors underground instead of floating on the Dead Sea? I could’ve stayed in Tel Aviv to do more research there.”

Sebastian perched himself on top of the table you were working on, taking a swig of his coffee.

“Oh, come on (Y/n). You love Jerusalem. No-one who knows the city as well as you do. You’re only glad to be back.”

A large grin spread over your face, knowing he was right.

“(Y/n), take a look at this.” Miranda appeared at your side, handing you a yellowed folder.

“What’s this?”

“Information about your new target. Azra El-Sharani. A dangerous woman, mind you. She might seem harmless, but according to our spies, she killed her own husband. Templar ties? No doubt.”

You whistled through your teeth, flipping through the papers Miranda had so carefully compiled.

“I like a challenge from time to time.”

“This is not a game. Especially not here, on this soil. It’s drenched with blood of all kinds. Let’s not add too much to that, please.”

You tipped your chair back so you were leaning on its hind legs, balancing it just right.

“I know, Miranda.” you said. “I know this place like the back of my hand, but I know when to  not  strike. Thing is, if I don’t remind myself to have fun every once in a while, I might slip into madness. It’s not only what  makes  me the best at what I do – it  keeps  me that way, as well.”

Miranda nodded, her blonde curls bouncing at the movement of her head.

“Naturally. On with it.”

“Of course.” you replied. “I will let you know when I leave.”

As she walked off, the heels of her pumps clicking almost obnoxiously against the floor of the bunker, you leaned forward again, returning to your work. The acetone was sharp in its scent and stung in your nose, yet had evaporated in the time you had left it to dry. With practised ease, you re-assembled your bracer, clicking the blade back into place.

“You need to eat before you go.”

“Do I?” you asked your friend. “I believe I just had tea. With sugar, even though I never really take that in my hot drinks. That should give me enough energy for the rest of the day.”

Sebastian hopped off the table and followed you suit when you stood and made your way over to the exit. Grabbing your coat, you threw it over your shoulders. Despite it being your summer garment, it was immediately sticky against your bare skin.

“(Y/n), I am being serious. We can’t have you faint on us.”

“Being peckish keeps me sharp, Seb.” you explained, putting on the bracer. From the chest underneath the mirror hanging on the wall you took another gauntlet, this one equipped with built-in tranquilizer darts, which you could use should the need arise. You wished you had it on you on your previous contract the other day  – that rival hitman, of whom you didn’t know the name. 

He had crossed your mind more than once this month.

You shuddered, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the aversion you felt towards the ICA or the vivid memory of his  impossibly blue eyes.

“Are you sure you’ve read the file well enough? We could go through it together while enjoying some sandwiches? I could get you some falafel, too? Or something sweet… Babka?” Sebastian tried.

You sighed, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Time is of the essence and there is no way that I can wait any longer. Jerusalem is waiting to be rid of her Templars. My absence has made the lower ranks lazy.”

Sebastian let his shoulders hang, knowing that there was no use in pressuring you any further.

“Alright.” he said, “Enjoy your surroundings. Many people would be jealous of you, regarding your whereabouts, I mean.”

You laughed a little at the IT-manager. “Oh, Sebastian. No one should be jealous of me in any regard. Anyway, isn’t your break over already?”

Sebastian checked his watch, hiding the expression of shock on his face. “Shit, I’m five minutes late. Never mind, I’m the manager after all. Good luck on your endeavours, now.”

You nodded and folded your hands on your back, watching him trot away, a certain spring in his step he always had whenever he was late.

Before you left the premises of your quarters, you dropped by Miranda, just as she had asked of you. However, when you turned the corner, you ran straight into her, almost colliding against her shocked face.

“Oh, (Y/n)! You startled me!” she breathed. “I was just about to get you, really. I just got a call from the Council’s office. They want you upstairs.”

“Why? What is going on, have they told you? I was about to leave for that file, actually, I—”

“I’m not sure, but the Eldest of Council told me that you needed to meet with him right away.”

“Mr Howard?” you countered, feeling your stomach tighten. He was the highest ranking member of the Council, making you immediately nervous.

“Yes.” Miranda sighed, seemingly just as scared. If Mr Howard called for you, it couldn’t be good.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

You rushed away, pushing through the doors after straightening the lapels of your coat in the mirror. Walking up a few flights of stairs to where the Israeli Council had their headquarters underneath Jerusalem, your mind started to run.

Was it something you had said, or did you take breaks that were too long? No, if that had been the case, you wouldn’t be called into office. After all, you were the best Assassin they had and the most hard-working one at that. If you took a break that was ten minutes longer than planned, it—

You halted mid-step, standing still for a moment as realisation hit you. The agent from the ICA you had run into a few weeks back… Mentally cursing, you rubbed your forehead in frustration, resuming your walk to the main office, though with a heart that was even heavier. They must’ve found out that there were rivals on their turf. Took them a long while, too. Perhaps you should’ve reported it, but you hadn’t regarded it as a threat.

Oh, you were going to get the lecture of the century. On why you should’ve killed that hitman instead of letting him walk out, or at least how you should’ve neutralised him. About how he had probably now killed someone prominent within the Creed and that it could’ve been prevented if you had ended him. Perhaps you’d be banished for negligence or charged with the guilt of a fallen brother- or sister-Assassin.

Your knuckles rapped on the metal door in front of you and you took a deep breath. A Master Assassin felt no fear when it came to scaling buildings, killing people in high places, taking  Leaps of Faith. .. And yet, you were about to shit yourself because you had to speak with your superiors.

“Enter.” sounded the way-too-familiar voice of Thomas Howard, Eldest of Council and thus, the highest power when it came to the Brotherhood of Assassins. And so you went, closing the door behind you after slipping through the tiny gap you had created by pushing it open.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you were surprised at how confident your voice sounded.

“Yes, Miss (L/n). You may approach.”

The walls were covered in photographs of places, people and objects, red thread lined through here and there, revealing the on-going development of plans. You halted at the front of Mr Howard’s oaken desk, folding your hands on your back.

The middle-aged man looked at you thoughtfully.

“Miss (L/n)… You’ve been our best Master Assassin ever since your brother died. Is that correct?”

“Affirmative, sir.” you replied, swallowing away the lump in your throat at the mention of your deceased brother. “For five years now, sir.”

“Time and time again, you’ve proven loyalty to the Creed. I would trust you with the Brotherhood’s most secret investigations concerning Pieces of Eden and the extermination of Templar forces.”

You bowed your head humbly. “Thank you, sir. I’m honoured to hear that, sir.”

“Now.” he said, standing up, his robes swaying at the movement. “I need you to follow me.”

Why the secrecy, you wanted to ask, but opted to bite your tongue instead. It would be too rude a question, especially to the Eldest.

And so you went after him in silence, the only sound the beat of your footsteps.

“I will explain in further detail later, but we’ve picked up on a lead that runs deeper in importance than just exterminating the Templar Order. No, what we found will shake the world. You’re my most capable Assassin, so I need you on board.”

You nodded. “Sir, I’ve sworn fifteen years ago that I would do my all for the Brotherhood, that I would give my life and my dignity if it meant to serve it,” you paused before adding “...Sir.”

Mr Howard hummed in response. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, though.”

“Sir?” you asked, but he didn’t reply anymore.

“How about my other mission, sir?”

“I’ve placed Bethany on it. She’ll handle it just fine.”

“But Bethany is just a novice, sir. She won’t be able to—”

“I need you here.” Mr Howard said, displeased with your prying, and the tone of his scolding voice made you immediately cast your eyes downward.

“I apologise for my nosiness, sir.”

“Alright.” he said, and swiped a key-card to open a large, thick door.

The room was near empty, an ominous hue omitted by fluorescent light, a large table littered with files and documents in the middle. A few members from the High Council stood around, but an unfamiliar woman had her eyes on you. You locked her gaze to yours and raised an eyebrow.

Who was she?

“Here at last, Thomas.” an older lady you knew well stated, clearly unhappy with his late arrival. Siobhan Vermont glared at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“I apologise, Mrs Vermont. The most important thing is that we’re here now, and I guess there are a lot of questions.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but someone cut you off before you could even start.

“You withheld information from us, (Y/n). You forgot to mention a rival assassin roaming the streets of Jerusalem. Someone of your ability should notice a thing like that right away.”

Casting your gaze downward, quite ashamed. “I apologise, sir. I should’ve reported it, but I threatened—”

“We already knew of their presence.” Mr Howard said. “There is no harm done, yet keep it in mind next time something like that happens.”

Your head whipped up to him and you frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Mr Howard walked to the strange woman and whispered something to her. She nodded and went to the adjacent room silently.

“This is a mission we hoped we never had to plan, but the situation forced us into cooperation with people who have ties to the ICA. Something big is going to happen, something that will make the entire world shudder, something that will make the eradication of our own, current enemies seem insignificant.”

Mr. Howard ushered you to the middle of the room, to the table, and on the other side of it, someone was being led forward as well.

When you halted and looked up, resting your hands on the files underneath you. In front of you, mimicking your position, he stood. 

Icy blue eyes met yours, something in his gaze stirring.

“We meet again.” he dryly stated.

You sighed, feeling puzzled, then, your gaze hardening.

“So it would seem.”

#in your likeness #IYL #agent 47 x reader #Agent 47 #Assassin's Creed X Hitman crossover #Hitman fic

[pkg4mumtown]

Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 1)

AN: Finally got far enough along in writing to post the beginning. First Hopper fic so...yea...let me know what you think so far.

Warnings: smoking, cursing, y’know normal Hopper stuff, Female Reader

Summary: You’re a new officer being assigned to Hawkins without being warned of the attractive but grumpy Chief.

Title: The New Kid

Chapter 1 of ?

Chief Hopper slammed the door of his Blazer shut, squinting at brightness of the sun he had underestimated. He set his wide-brimmed hat firmly on his head and slid aviators on his face, all while never dropping the lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He strode over to a white-haired, stocky man who stood just inside the open gates of the Indiana Law Enforcement Academy. The older man gave Hopper a pointed look as he strode through the parking lot.

“C'mon, Hop, no squares on academy grounds,” the man sighed. He wore a tan uniform and wide brimmed drill instructor cover on his head, like the other instructors at the academy

Hopper grimaced around the cigarette, pulling it from his lips and flicking it off to the side, “I’ll pick it up when I leave, Cap.”

The white-haired man shook his head and laughed softly, leading Hopper inside the confines of the academy, “Haven’t been a Captain in years.”

“Bridge, you’ll always be ‘Captain’ to me,” Hopper slapped Bridge on the back. “What do they have you doin’ now?”

“Basic Training Commander,” Bridge winked and tipped his hat.

“Look at you,” Hopper chuckled and shoved Bridge’s shoulder.

They walked in silence for a minute before Hopper finally spoke up, “So, why’d you call me here? I’m betting it wasn’t just to catch up,” Hopper looked over at the shorter man, who sighed.

“Hop…” Bridge started, “…the director, deputy director, and myself have decided to attach another officer to your station.”

Hopper stopped walking all together, giving the man an incredulous glare, “Excuse me?”

“Look, after the lab and Byers fiasco, you’re lucky we're not adding ten times that. It was a shit show and the media were hounding us as to why Hawkins has only six officers, three of which never seem to leave the office,” Bridge stressed. “We had the Roane County Sheriff’s patrolling the town for you and your boys, just to keep the citizens at bay, while you were doing fuck knows what, Jim.”

“While I was fixing the problem,” Hopper growled. “You have no idea what was going on!”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Bridge challenged with raised eyebrows.

Hopper ignored him and kept walking with no direction, “And anyway, the lab is empty now.”

“The ratio is still six to thirty thousand people, man. Detroit's ratio is one to four hundred.”

“Detroit is also the ‘Murder Capital’, is it not?” Hopper huffed. “Why’d you call me here, then? You could have told me this over the phone, so I could at least throw something after I hung up on you!” he raised his voice slightly, itching to pull out another cigarette.

Bridge smirked and tilted his head up, indicating Jim to follow him. The sound of gunfire grew louder with every step, telling Hopper that they were heading to the range.

“Thought you might want to check out who we’re assigning to you,” Bridge said as they finally came to a stop.

Below them stood about twenty recruits in unmarked tan uniforms with black ties, which would change according to their departments after they graduated.

“That one,” Bridge pointed to the recruit on the far left, a moderately tall woman with her hair pulled back into a bun. With her strong shoulders and stern expression, she definitely looked like she could hold her own amongst the males in the class.

Hopper tilted his glasses down and scrunched his nose at the brightness, “The girl?”

“Jesus Christ, Hop,” Bridge sighed.

“It was a question!” Hopper retorted back, huffing at Bridge's insinuation.

Bridge rolled his eyes and nodded, “Yea, the female recruit.”

At that moment, one of the drill instructors shouted a nearly indistinct command. It was unintelligible to Hopper’s ears, yet all the recruits responded immediately by clutching their right hands to their chests. Hopper watched, intrigued, as they fired the last of their rounds single handedly. His gaze swept over all the recruits and their targets before focusing back on the female as she shoved the barrel of the revolver between her duty belt and her trousers. Hopper’s expression turned impressed as he peeked over his sunglasses while she flicked open a pouch, retrieved a speed loader, and reloaded before shooting again.

“When did you guys start grading one-armed reloads?” Hopper wondered.

“When we finally got speed loaders that weren’t shit,” Bridge chuckled and shrugged. “Better to make it mandatory so they don’t fumble later.”

Hopper stuck around for a while, to make his trip worthwhile. He watched from a shaded area with Bridge as they started a defensive tactics lesson, always keeping his eye on the girl. He eyed her and a male recruit curiously as they circled one another in a scrimmage. The male was aggressive and lunging in order for her to practice a specific maneuver, which she did fairly well after deflecting some of his hits. The ferocity in which she fought back made Hopper curse under his breath in admiration.

“So, what d'ya think, Hop?”

“Why her?”

Bridge groaned, “Hop…I thought you were better than this!”

“Better than what? I’m just asking why her specifically!” he raised his voice in irritation.

“Because she’s a woman?” Bridge retorted and raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, man, because she actually has skill. Like the Sheriff’s or Trooper material, not for some boring town like Hawkins. I’m just…” Hopper sighed, “I don’t know, it feels like a waste of resources plus she'd be bored off her ass.”

“We don’t decide their departments, Hop, she chose local police over Staties,” Bridge pursed his lips and chuckled to himself.

“What?”

“Maybe she’ll kick your boys into gear. Lord knows, your station could use some energy.”

Hopper just rolled his eyes as the dig.

“Her station request, though, was anywhere but her hometown and we were already planning to add another officer to your station anyway,” Bridge revealed.

“Hmm,” Hopper grunted, “bad family relationship?

“Probably a question for her, not me.”

-

I shrugged on my heavy, oversized, black duffle bag and picked up my equally oversized briefcase before leaving my sleeping quarters for the last time. With my free hand, I pushed my aviators, a graduation gift from my best friend, up the bridge of my nose. Said friend had already departed the premises after the graduation since it was a bit of a drive back to our hometown.

The academy grounds were a sea of uniforms from local police to Sheriff’s deputies to Staties, with various shades of blue and tan. My uniform, however, was the only blue one with a “Hawkins Police Dept.” patch. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or excited when I found out, since the town had a reputation of being quiet, save for the couple occurrences over the last two years.

I made my way back near the front of the Academy, pushing through the sea of people still lingering while they congratulated the new officers. I peered over people’s shoulders, looking for the exit and finally seeing the open gate. I spied the bus stop just beyond it and stepped into the parking lot, only to be stopped when I heard my name called.

“Y/L/N!”

I snapped my head to the left, seeing Commander Bridge leaning against a Blazer with another tall officer. He waved me over with his hand and said something to the officer. I glanced at the side of the Blazer, my eyes widening when I saw “Chief” in bold print followed by “Hawkins Police Dept.” Not an officer, then.

I stood straighter as I approached my new boss. His all tan uniform was almost form fitting his large frame, while a wide-brimmed hat adorned his head. As I approached, he took his sunglasses off and hung them on his shirt, revealing impossibly bright blue eyes. I let my eyes trail up his form, lingering on his lips pulling in as he took a drag from the cigarette in his mouth.

“Officer Y/L/N, this is your new boss,” Bridge motioned with a wave of his hand.

“Chief Hopper,” the man stuck his hand out. I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over the dark blonde beard adorning his cheeks and framing his lips.

I quickly dropped my briefcase to the ground and stuck my hand out as well, “Officer Y/L/N, sir.”

“Yea,” Hopper chuckled and pointed his thumb at Bridge, “he said that. You can tone it down. Relax, you graduated.”

“Sorry, sir,” I apologized for no reason and paused. “Why are you here?”

“Bridge told me you dormed. Figured you might need a ride into town,” Hopper shrugged.

“Oh, well, you didn’t have to do that. I can take the bus, sir,” I gulped. An hour drive with my new, very attractive, boss? No, thanks.

“Well, I’m already here,” Hopper grunted out a sigh and grabbed my briefcase off the floor.

“Sir, no, I can—” I tried to stop him.

“For the love of God, Y/L/N, take a load off,” Hopper responded, almost annoyed with my behavior. He circled around to the back of the Blazer, “Any family you still have to say ‘bye’ to?”

“No, they didn’t quite approve of my career choice,” I murmured.

Hopper simply grunted as he opened the back hatch of the Blazer and tossed the briefcase not-so-gently in the bed. I shrugged my bag off and did the same, nearly jumping when he slammed it shut.

I turned back to Commander Bridge, offering him a smile and shaking his hand, “Thank you for everything, sir.”

Bridge laughed lowly and shook his head, reciprocating the handshake before slapping my shoulder, “Good luck, kid.”

I nodded and jumped into the passenger side of the Blazer, seeing the two men exchange goodbyes like old pals in the passenger mirror. I shook my leg nervously as the Chief rounded the Blazer and jumped in with a heavy sigh.

An hour drive and I’d already managed to annoy the shit out of him before the trip even started. Great.

Chapter 2

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #chief hopper x reader #chief hopper x you #chief hopper fanfiction #david harbour fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #Female reader

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Historical AU | Multi-Chapter | read on Ao3 

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

@today-in-fic

CHAPTER 1

Spring 1948 Adams Morgan, Washington, DC 2:47 A.M.

My nose burned with each inhale of fumes from the stale booze marinating in the hardwood floor. The room was dim but through the glow of red and blue neon I could make out shapes of furniture; chair legs, a few overturned barstools. It was a step up from a dive but not by much. There was a ringing in my ear like a schoolbell. I forced myself upright and felt a white-hot wave of pain crash into my right shoulder. “Shit.” I exhaled through my teeth and pressed my palm against a sticky wound. For an instant, I was back in that bombed-out jungle in the South Pacific, where an overworked medic from our company feverishly repaired shrapnel damage to my arm.

My fingertips found the bullet hole that punctured the thread count of one of my better dress shirts. Can’t wait to explain this one to my dry cleaner. The round might have gone through cleanly but all I knew was it hurt like a son of a bitch. My holster felt light and I found my gun about three feet away under a table in a puddle of what I hoped was discarded beer. I leaned over to retrieve it then I attempted to stand. Once I got my feet under me I found I was not alone. The bartender had a .38 aimed at my chest and a shaky trigger hand.  

“Don’t move!” he shouted. 

“Easy now,” I began as I put away my weapon and held up my hand, “I’m just reaching for my badge.” As I flipped open the billfold he saw the flash of gold then lowered his gun.

“Jesus detective, I’m sorry I pointed that at you. I’m just a little jittery considering what happened tonight”  I nodded and moved closer towards the bar. “Holy hell, looks like you took a hit,” he continued then splashed a bar rag with some water and handed it to me.   

“Can I get a whiskey?” I asked as I slid on to an empty barstool, trying to clean off my hand. Wouldn’t be nice to get fresh blood on a glass, he’s had enough to deal with tonight. The bartender grabbed a dark bottle and a short glass then gave it a hearty pour. I raised it with my good hand and tipped it back, letting the liquid fire coat the back of my throat. The throb in my shoulder started to dull.

“I called the police as quick as I could,” the bartender told me, “it all happened so fast.”  He poured me another and one for himself. 

“Did you see if anyone else was injured?”

“No. Anyone who was here ran outside. I ducked behind the bar and grabbed my gun. I suppose I should be grateful it happened close to last call.” I sat there thinking for a moment, trying to remember what I was doing there in the first place. A pulsing pain returned to my shoulder. The bartender’s voice entered my ear.

“You should probably get to a hospital, that shoulder looks pretty bad.”

“I’ll manage,” I replied before I finished my second round. I turned to look over my shoulder at the row of small leather booths behind me. Something about it seemed familiar. I could feel my wound oozing again so I pressed the damp rag against it and excused myself to clean up. When I entered the bathroom I was met with an unpleasant discovery.

Detective Jeffrey Spender was dead.  

Thick ribbons of burgundy and cherry red graced the wooden stall door like streamers from some morbid party.  The edge of the sink had a similar splatter pattern staining the porcelain. His body was face down in a puddle that was spreading like the Red Sea, an arm akimbo on the floor, at least one fresh hole in his back. His weapon was kicked across the tile.

When Spender returned from the war with a couple of shiny new medals on his chest, nepotism resulted in his quick promotion to a detective position at the precinct.  I knew Spender’s old man had connections with local law enforcement, not to mention his fellow representatives on The Hill.  And now the golden boy was dead. Tragically killed in the line of duty; that’s how the papers would spin it.

 I bent down to check his gun, one shot fired one in the chamber. It was quick. I moved the bar rag in my hand and gripped Spender’s shoulder, pulling him onto his side. I counted two shots, maybe a third. The acrid smell of iron was weaving its way into my nostrils as I crouched down and leaned closer. First round hit Spender in the right lower abdomen, appeared to be a close range shot based on the size. The gut shot wouldn’t have killed him instantly so the second ripped into the left upper chest to make sure he was taken care of. A third might have conveniently nicked an artery, causing more of the splatter. I craned my neck and saw deep red at Spender’s shirt collar.

It was very sloppy.  

If I heard gunfire I would have gone to investigate and perhaps the assailant ran into me as he exited the bathroom. Did he use a silencer? Why can’t I remember his face?  I shook my head and eased Spender’s body back down on the tile floor. Slowly I rose and caught my reflection in the small mirror over the sink. I looked like hell. As I reentered the main bar the front door gave way to three flatfoots and Captain Walter Skinner.  He advanced and holstered his sidearm.

“Detective Mulder.”

“Sir,” I said wearily with a nod.  He briefly noticed my injury then jumped right into the interrogation.

“What happened?”

“I’m a little foggy on the details but I remember following Detective Spender here.”

“And where exactly is Spender?” Skinner asked. I leaned against a booth and placed a hand on my neck.

“You’ll find him on the bathroom floor.” I saw the captain’s eyes narrow and he brushed past me. He nudged the door open with his elbow and surveyed the fresh crime scene, he then motioned for a uniform and gave instructions. The young cop hastily scratched everything down on a small notepad, tipped his cap, and left through the front door. 

“Did he tell you to meet him?” Skinner asked as he moved in front of me.

“No.”

“How did you know he’d be here?” 

I thought for a moment. Certain details were coming back to me.

“I believe Detective Spender was following up on a lead from a mutual informant. We agreed on a meeting to get info about one of Vincenti’s heroin drops. Spender was impatient and wanted to meet tonight. I wasn’t too keen on the idea.” I winced as I shifted my right arm. The whiskey I had was wearing off. 

“The commissioner is going to demand answers when he finds out Spender was murdered,” Skinner said as he adjusted his glasses.

“Well I’m sure he’s more than eager to crucify me,” I said.  

“Cut the melodrama.” Skinner responded. “I’ll finish up here. Go find Officer Pendrell outside and have him take you over to the hospital. Get patched up, get some sleep, then I want to see you back at the precinct.”

I held up my hands in acceptance and walked to the door, making sure to thank the bartender for the nightcap on my way out.  

Officer Pendrell took a long drag off his cigarette then let it drop on the sidewalk, stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe. I cleared my throat and said, “Captain said you could give me a ride.”

“Jesus Mulder--” he exclaimed with a plume of smoke into the night air.

“I just need some repairs.” I said with a nod to my right arm. “Skinner said you could give me a lift to Washington General.”

“Yeah sure,” Pendrell opened the passenger door for me and as I got situated he entered from the driver’s side. “What happened in there, Mulder?”

“Spender’s dead.” It was blunt but I was exhausted. “Not much else to say, though I’m sure the precinct will hear about it in a few hours.” I could feel Pendrell tense up as we drove. I flexed and opened the fingers on my right hand.  The slight tingling sensation was reassuring that the nerve damage wasn’t permanent. At least that’s what I was telling myself.  

Washington General Hospital

3:55am

Pendrell pulled the squad car up to the emergency department and practically shoved me out the door. Guess he didn’t want me bleeding on government upholstery. I made my way inside and squinted against the harsh lighting.  I spied the petite nurse behind the desk.

“Ma’am,” I began as I fished out my badge and approached, “I’m Detective Fox Mulder and I could use some help.” She rose and quickly walked around then gave me the once over, her fingers delicately reached for my good arm. 

“Let’s get you back, detective. My name is Dana,” she said as she ushered me down a short hallway and into an open room with several beds. I could feel my chest tighten at the sight of the drawn white curtains. Too many bad memories hidden behind those white curtains. A moan came from a shadow on one of the beds and thankfully she sat me down a few beds over. 

“You’ve lost a fair amount of blood. Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?” Dana asked as she pulled out a notepad. I shook my head. “Detective Mulder can I get your date of birth?”

“October 13, 1914.”

I watched her write the numbers down with what I presumed was immaculate handwriting, unlike the doctors she worked under. 

“What happened tonight, detective?”

“I took a hit to the right shoulder, not sure if it was a clean shot. The assailant got away.”

Two fingertips with red nail varnish touched the underside of my wrist and she glanced at a small watch fob, calculating my pulse. I saw her note the result on her notepad before pocketing it. She placed a hand on my shoulder as she reached for a nearby medical tray. It had an array of metal instruments, a basin, some bottles, and what looked like bandages. She slid it closer to the bedside and I straightened my posture. I could feel the fabric of my shirt sticking to the clotted blood on my shoulder. Dana turned to pick up a small stool and place it in front of me. She took a white cloth from the tray and splashed it with a liquid from a brown bottle. 

“Can you remove your shirt?” she asked

“Yeah I can try,” I replied. My left fingers fumbled with the buttons and I forced my right hand to finish the job. I winced then exhaled sharply. 

“Here, let me help.” She said as she placed the cloth down on the tray.

“Usually I’m offered a drink first,” I quiped weakly.

“Well from what I can tell, someone beat me to it.” the redhead said with a grin as she peeled open my shirt. I freed my left arm but hesitated with the right. It looked like I had a few too many and tried to get dressed; sitting there in my white sleeveless shirt with my dress shirt hanging on one arm. Dana reached for the damp cloth and held it on my shoulder, attempting to soften the skin. It was a nice gesture. Any other medic would have just ripped the damn thing off taking a layer of skin with it. I could feel her eyes sweep over my chest like a searchlight looking for damage. She gently stripped down the sleeve and placed the bloody shirt beside me on the bed. Dana leaned me slightly forward.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day Detective. The bullet passed right through.” 

Her bedside manor had won me over. I felt the cool cloth on the back of my shoulder as she cleaned the exit wound.

“You can call me Mulder.”

She playfully inquired, “Why not Fox?” as she sat on the stool in front of me.

“Even though it’s my first name I rarely use it. The Marines made quick work of that.” I saw a hint of a smile as she readied her suture tools. 

“And what’s your last name?” I asked in a feeble attempt at small talk. With a squint she quickly pierced the eye of the needle with a dark thread. 

“Scully,” she said, humoring me. “This will sting a little,” she cautioned. I failed in containing a wince from the all too familiar sensation of thread pulling flesh. Battlefield to back alley, I have scars laid out like a roadmap of my career. She worked quickly, weaving the filament like she was darning socks. I felt a sharp tug as she finished her last stitch. She covered her handiwork with a white bandage.

“Halfway there,” she stated as she stood to fix the back of my shoulder. She might have said something to me but I couldn’t make it out. I hated to admit it but I was transfixed. Her presence was like an anesthetic and I was numb in the best possible way. The final pull for the final stitch. She recited care instructions to me the same way a professor would read from a textbook. I pretended to listen as I opened and closed my right hand once again. She slid the tray aside and I rose to my feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, holding up a hand in case I toppled over.

“I’m going back to the precinct.”  I said as I folded my dress shirt over my arm.

“That’s against medical advice. Advice I just gave you. Will you please sit back down?”

“I can’t stay here tonight.”

She folded her arms.

“Is there someone I can call?” she asked. I thought if there was a favor I could collect but no one came to mind. It was probably best for me to sleep it off at my apartment.

“A cab. I’m going home.”  Scully shook her head and led me back down the corridor towards the nurse’s desk. I readjusted my holster across my chest and stretched my left arm. She dialed the operator with one pull on the rotary.  

“Hello, I’d like to request a taxi to Washington General for one of our discharged patients. Thank you.” She hung up the receiver and told me the cab would be here soon. “Be careful out there, Mulder.” 

I smiled and slipped back into my shirt, leaving it unbuttoned.

“Thank you, Scully.” 

She shook her head.

“I don’t know if I’d ever get used to that.” 

I watched her walk down the hall, graceful fingertips smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. She left me with the echo of heels on the hard floor.

I stepped outside the emergency room doors and inhaled an unexpected cloud of tobacco. As I coughed I looked for the source and saw a man, possibly a wino in a white jacket holding a cigarette. He gave me a puzzled look then said in a gravelly voice,

“Hey, are you a cop?”

“A detective actually.” I responded with an annoyed exhale.

“Oh. Well, you look like a cop.”

“Are you a doctor?” I countered. He took a drag.

“No. I found this jacket in the garbage out back.” Before I could respond the vagrant laughed loudly then took off down the alley. On any other night I would have given chase, but I was too tired for additional bullshit. Let the beat cops have him. 

Finally my taxi arrived and I was on my way home.

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #historical au #mulder #scully #noir fiction #wip #it took A LOT of coaxing to post this